Chapter 6: Portomaggoire

“What a sight for sore eyes,” Roderick said, his shadow trailing out in front of him, mirroring his movements as he held out a hand. “See that, lass?”

“Don’t be stupid, Rick-rod,” she chided, pointing a claw at her goggled face. “Skyseeker sees all with gift!”

The endless carpets of woodlands had abated a few hours prior, the green and beige landscape stretching far into the west, its stopping point coming into view at long last. Rising above the shallow hills was a wide, flat stretch of stone, an imposing edifice rising some hundred odd meters into the sky. Battlements lined the peak of the obstacle in regular intervals, the fortified turrets standing out against the blue backdrop. She reached up and bloomed the image using her goggles, her sight bringing her far closer to the object. Notches and grooves had been sliced into its surface, forming bricks larger than her whole body. Upon closer inspection, she noted the edifice gently curved away to the left and right, the bastion forming a rough semi-circle of protection.

Rising up from beyond the wall were several strange shapes, Skyseeker picking out sloped rooftops and tall, domed structures, a couple of which were draped in colourful awnings. The haze of distance made it too difficult to pick out much more detail, but she thought she could see figures patrolling between the watchtowers.

“What Rick-rod know about Portquagmire?” Skyseeker asked, the man-thing setting off towards the wall.

“Portomaggoire,” he corrected. “and very little. I imagine civilised folk will be more welcoming than the mercenaries out here in the country, but we should still be cautious either way.”

“Welcoming enough to let me walk paw-feet into city?” Skyseeker asked. “Marvelous! Mission easy-peasy!”

“Ah, almost forgot about that,” Roderick said, glancing down at her. “The gates will be guarded, and if word has reached Portomaggoire about the Skaven invasion, which it likely has, they’ll be inspecting anyone who comes through. Assuming the city’s still open to visitors of course. You might be able to pass off as a dwarf – keyword being might – as long as you don’t speak, and we find something to cover you up.”

“Cloak covers Skaven just fine-fine!” she replied, pulling her hood over her face to demonstrate, the leaves tied to it rustling with the movement.

“Yes, except wearing a camouflaged cloak isn’t exactly in line with dwarven fashion, and won’t blend in well inside the walls. Smuggling you through the gate won’t be an easy task.”

“Still have long time to get to city,” Skyseeker pointed out, snickering under her breath. “Will come up with clever ruse soon!”

They weaved through the fields, the city entering and leaving view as the bumpy hills obstructed her vision. The hours of walking seemed to blend together for Skyseeker, but at one particular crest of a hill, she was able to see great stretches of blue water surrounding the city wall to each side, the water reflecting off the lowering sun. Unlike the rivers back in the marshes, the liquid here was mostly clear, its surface textured with breaker waves that flowed from left to right in mesmerising patterns. She couldn’t wait to take a closer look at it.

As their shadows began to shorten, then extend from behind their feet, they came across a feature in the ground, recognition flashing in her eyes. Another road cut a swath of cobblestones through the uneven terrain, the paved rocks trailing away in a crooked line, their destination obvious enough. It looked less abused than the one they’d seen in the dense forest. That meant man-things were active in this area.

“While walking on an actual road for once would be nice,” Roderick began. “every step closer to the city increases our chances of running across someone. Let’s keep our distance for now.”

Skyseeker agreed, the two keeping the road a short distance to their right as they approached the city. Clumps of forest began to obscure the base of the wall, Skyseeker just able to pick out the turrets through the gaps in the canopy. The sun was on its way to the horizon by this point, the sky painted a harsh gold in its wake. Before long, the sun arched below the wall, its heat slowly going absent, leaving Skyseeker cold and not a little bit apprehensive about their next move.

Skyseeker’s ears swivelled towards the city, the sounds of hushed conversations soon reaching her attentive hearing range, her glands bleeding a hint of fear-musk. How many man-things called this city home? If it was even a fraction of the size of Skavenblight, there could be tens of thousands of them. Killing them all would be very difficult, even for her prestigious self.

Roderick heard the noises too – a few sluggish minutes later of course – gesturing for her to stop.

“Good sign,” he whispered, inching through the woods more carefully now. “If the gates were closed, we wouldn’t hear a sound. Not at this hour.”

Keeping low to the ground, she followed him, creeping forward with a paw on a weeping blade. They soon came upon the edge of the woodland, the undergrowth forming a natural barrier of trees. She poked her head between two trunks, spotting the road just a few feet out in front of her. She followed the gentle curve of the pavement with her eyes, her muzzle trailing to the left, Skyseeker blinking as she took in a strange sight.

Only a short knife-throwing distance away was the foot of the wall, so unimaginably larger now that she was up close. It rose into the air like a sheer cliff face, made from hundreds of individual weathered stones, each one so large even a rat ogre would have trouble lifting one. Its slate-grey surface was smooth, but only just, the little gaps where the stones didn’t quite sit flush together drawing her eye. They made for obvious weaknesses for a skilled climber, but it was an impressive construct all the same.

Her gaze lowered, towards the wall’s solitary feature. The road wound its way up to a gate, the opening shaped like the man-thing letter V, but upside down. The opening tunnelled like a burrow into the thick wall, straight out onto the other side. The top of its arch was lined with rows of metal teeth four or five layers deep, the contraptions sitting into grooves in the ceiling. She had seen enough man-thing architecture back in Skavenblight to know those teeth were part of things called portcullises, which were barriers slotted neatly into grooves above the gate when not in use, beyond anyone’s sight.

Standing guard of said gate were a group of man-things dressed in wargear, six in all, halberds pointed to the sky as they stood in a defensive line. They peered out from behind their helmets at an approaching wagon, the contraption pulled along by a four-legged-thing, or a horse as Roderick called it. The driver yanked on the reigns, the wooden wheels of the vehicle rolling to a stop. One of the guards began to speak with him, but their drawling speech was drowned out, not just by distance, but by even more man-things.

Groups of them milled about the gate, some leaving – using another branching road that curved along the wall to the right and out of sight – most moving towards the city interior. A lot of them were dressed in colourless cloth outfits sporting minimum protection, suggesting they were slaves of some sort, while a few others looked like they meant business, garbed in protective leathers and even a few plated pieces like Roderick’s armour, swords and axes winging from their belts.

“Eeek! So many man-things!” Skyseeker hissed, her fear-musk filling the air. She ducked into cover, certain that she would be discovered if she exposed herself for a second longer.

“It’s a city, lass, what did you expect?” Roderick asked, peering through the shrubs to her side, chewing his lip in thought. “Looks like they’re inspecting everyone who enters. Not good.”

“Any other gate-things?” she asked.

“Certainly, but they’ll be just as guarded as this one. Hmm. Perhaps we can stop the next wagon, hide you along with the cargo or something.”

“That sounds like great plan… NOT!” she added. “This why man-things always losing, not know how to plan like Skaven plans!”

“If you have any suggestions, then let’s hear them.”

“When Skaven wants to make infiltration, simple plans often best ones!” She jabbed a claw up at the wall. “Look, plenty of holdhands for paws. Man-thing guards only watching road, not wall. Won’t see me!”

“You… want to climb a couple hundred feet of wall?”

“Rick-rod sounds doubtful. Should see Skavenblight caverns, rocks go for thousands of feet! Some are even this big” She spread her paws out as wide as possible to illustrate their size. “Stupid wall is nothing.”

“You did climb that tree fairly well, so I suppose I’ll take your word for it,” he replied. “There’ll be watchmen up on the battlements, mind you. They won’t be excepting a lone Skaven to climb up to their posts so brazenly, but still…”

She could sense his apprehension, insulting him mentally for being so idiotic.

“If man-things get in my way, it’s kill-stabbing time!” she declared, producing a weeping blade and twirling it through her fingers, its glow bathing them in green light.

“Skyseeker!” Roderick gasped. “Let’s make one thing very clear. While we’re in this city, killing is the last possible resort for either of us.”

“Aww, Rick-rod! How come?”

“These men are just doing their duty,” he explained, wagging a chiding finger at her. “They’re different from the men you’ve faced out in the country, lass. These are keepers of the peace, not soldiers of war.”

“… What about just one tiny little stab?”

“Absolutely not! Murdering is out of the question, unless you have literally no other choice. Understand?”

“You’re no fun,” she sighed, sheathing her blade, Roderick flashing her a stern look. “Fine-fine! Won’t stab man-things, but no promises!”

“Oh yes there will be. I want your word that you’ll do as I ask, Skyseeker. We’re here to seek transport, not to murder the town guard. My conscience is burdened enough, I can’t have you adding to it.”

She blinked in confusion, wondering how he could ration her killing to becoming his fault, but then she remembered she wouldn’t be anywhere near this city if not for Roderick’s input to the plan. He waited patiently for her answer, his expression unwavering. He was a determined individual, if nothing else.

“Urgh, very good-well,” she relented, lifting her goggles and looking him in the eye. It was a small gesture, but she had a feeling he would appreciate her candor. “Take word. Have all the words, like this one, and this one!”

“Thank you,” Roderick replied, relaxing a little. “Now that we’ve sorted that out, it’s time to go. We’re losing daylight.”

“How will Rick-rod get inside?” she asked. “Climb like Skaven?”

“Nothing so elaborate,” he answered. “I’ll try my luck with the front door first.”

“And if man-thing guards get suspicious?” she pressed. She tried to mask her concern, keeping her eyes locked on the top of the wall.

“Why would they? I am but a humble traveller in their eyes. Besides, attacking someone in clear view of the gate isn’t a good look for the guard, you needn’t worry,” he replied. Damn Roderick and his keen eyesight, could she hide nothing from him? “Get climbing, lass,” he added. “Meet you on the other side.”

He flashed her a grin, stepping brazenly through the foliage and onto the road, starting off towards the gate. She could almost see the confidence he was radiating, how did he do it? If their positions were reversed, and she were the one to walk through the gate in plain sight, her glands would shrink to the size of walnuts from how much fear-musk she’d spray. Such courage only existed in the toughest warlords. Her choice of ally was better than she first thought.

She slapped herself on the muzzle. Roderick’s tricks were distracting her thoughts, she had to stay focused. Save the admiration for later, assuming the man-thing actually got through those guards, of course…

-xXx-

Roderick watched the rat woman scurry through the woods, her pink tail vanishing into the undergrowth on his left. He feared what might happen should she be discovered during her climb, but right now he had his own problems to deal with, Roderick turning his attention to the gate.

The wagon seemed to have been given the all clear, the guards parting to let the horse trot through. A line of people had formed behind it, Roderick walking over to join the queue, standing behind a pair of older gentlemen garbed in overalls. They looked like farmers, probably from one of Portomoggoire’s outer settlements he’d spotted on his approach to the city.

As the line moved up, he turned his eyes towards the wall, searching for his companion. He spotted the Skaven after a moment, Skyseeker bounding up the great stones one leap at a time, her heavy panting carrying on the wind. Her custom-made cloak gave her the appearance of a jumping shrub, Roderick grinning in amusement as she crossed the halfway mark.

His smirk faltered as she paused in her climb to wipe her brow dramatically, Roderick silently urging the rat woman to hurry it up. To say she stuck out like a sore thumb would be an understatement, but if anyone could pull off a successful infiltration wearing a cloak like that, it would be Skyseeker.

“You hard of hearing sir? I said step forward, please.”

Roderick snapped out of his stupor, his gaze falling onto the speaker, one of the gate guards beckoning to him. The man wore a thick leather gambeson, the material stretching down to his wrists and knees like a tunic, his legs covered in a sheet of mail. He wore a white and blue surcoat over the gambeson, the Tilean coat of arms – a pair of crossed swords – etched into the front. His appearance screamed militiaman, as did the rest of the entourage flanking him.

“Name?” the guard asked. He sounded rather bored, and not a little bit tired too.

“I am… Riccardo,” Roderick replied, hoping his Tilean accent didn’t sound too forced. “Mercenary for the-”

“Didn’t ask your occupation,” the guard scoffed. “Pass?”

“Pardon?”

“Need to see your pass,” he explained, lifting a hand and probing the inside of his ear. “Orders are in times of war all citizens are required to carry a pass. Helps verify identity and reduces the risk of foreign intrusion.”

“Do I look like a Skaven spy to you?”

“You look like trouble,” the guard replied flatly. “If you’ve no pass, ask for a form at the town hall.”

“So I need to get inside to get a pass, and I can’t get in without a pass. How’s that make sense?”

“I’m a guard, sir, I don’t make sense of orders, I just carry them out.”

Roderick silently cursed, seeing that this approach was leading nowhere. He didn’t have time for this, plan B it was…

“Say, how much do you earn every hour you stand around watching that gate?”

The man’s left brow experienced a twitch. “Never enough these days.”

He hadn’t immediately dismissed him, that was a good sign. “I can imagine,” Roderick continued, reaching for his pack. He produced a handful of gold coins, making sure only the guard could see, the little tokens glinting in the setting sun. “How’d you like to earn a decent wage? just one minute of your time, I’ll pay you for a dozen hours’ worth of standing about. We have a deal? Or should I go visit one of the other gates?”

Roderick knew the man’s answer even before he’d even said it, the guard’s eyes lighting up as Roderick extended his hand. The man let his halberd rest against his side, using the other to swipe the coins, sliding them into the inside of his surcoat. “On your way then, mercenary. Have a nice evening.”

Roderick tilted his head in a nod, silently brushing past the procession of guards, the men narrowing their eyes at him. These Tileans were all the same…

He crossed beneath the raised portcullises, sconces mounted on either side casting a flickering yellow glow across the masonry. The ceiling was rounded and mostly bare, save for a massive trap door built towards the inner gate, the mechanism split into two halves. Roderick had been in more than enough sieges to know that this trapdoor made an excellent vantage point for defenders to shoot arrows, or drop rocks, on any would-be attackers.

Two more militiamen were posted just beyond the inner gate, but they paid Roderick no mind as he walked out into the street, taking a moment to admire the city proper.

Before him was a paved road, splitting off into two distinct paths as it distanced from the wall. Lining either side of the pavement were marble buildings three or four stories tall, their facades decorated with green window shutters, shaded by teal cloth awnings. Projecting balconies were decorated with lush gardens, carpets of vines trailing down some of the more ornate establishments. Even in the dawning night, the saturation of colour was a welcome sight from the wilderness.

Smoke trailed from the chimneys jutting from the sloping rooftops, the tiles painted a rusty orange that contrasted with the mustard-yellow walls of the buildings. While not near as luxurious as the Imperial capital of Altdorf, where one couldn’t walk ten feet without seeing some elaborate carving or ornate pillar, Portomaggoire seemed to be doing well enough for itself.

“Psst! Man-thing!”

Glancing to his left, he spotted a short alleyway driven between two of the tall dwellings, a conspicuous pink nose sticking out of the shadows. Relieved, he checked both directions of the street, then hurried over, leaning a hand on the corner of the wall.

“Over here!” the voice hissed. “It’s me-me! Skyseeker!”

“I’m right here, you can stop whispering,” Roderick said, peering back up at the great wall. “See you made the climb. Any trouble?”

“Nah, only had to kill two guards. Tried to ring alarm-bell, but I stopped them quick-quick!”

Roderick’s jaw hit the ground, Skyseeker snickering as she pointed a claw at him.

“HA! Look at face! Skaven only jokes with Rick-rod. Climb was no trouble.”

A half smile, half scowl touched his face. “Thank Sigmar for that. Now then, let’s see what we can do about your disguise. Turn your cloak inside out.”

“What was cover story-tale again?” she asked, shrugging off her garment. “Not thought of one yet.”

“I have. You’re a dwarf, hailing from Clan… Angrund,” Roderick said. “You came here in search of adventure and coin, but keep your lips sealed, you don’t exactly have the most inconspicuous speech. Shouldn’t be an issue, though, it’s not like someone will just waltz up and start talking to you, unless there’s actual dwarfs here.”

“Why do I have to be a stupid beard-thing?” she sulked. “Don’t even have beard!”

“Who would you rather disguise yourself as?”

“Uhhhmmm… Skaven?”

“Just stay close to me and you’ll be fine… I hope.”

He was once again treated to her slim body as she pulled her cloak over her narrow shoulders, her belts and straps clinging to her athletic figure. Skyseeker flipped the cloak so the foliage was on the inside, taking a few minutes to empty the pockets of knifes and warp-stars, stuffing them into the satchels vested to her chest.

“Tuck your tail away,” Roderick added, watching as she stuffed the appendage out of sight. The cloak trailed down to her thighs, hiding most of her torso, but leaving her digitigrade feet in open view. That was to say nothing about her ears, sticking out of the cuts in her hood.

“This is… going to be harder than I thought,” he admitted. “We need more cloth. Perhaps there’s a tailor nearby.”

“Tail? You just said put tail away!”

“No, tailor, it’s someone who sells clothes.”

“Why buy when you can steal?”

“What do you…” Before he could finish, she scurried up the far wall of the alley, leaping up the façade using the window sills as leverage, Roderick checking the street for any onlookers.

“Sky!” Roderick hissed, and now it was his turn to whisper. “What are you doing? Get down from there!”

“One seconds!” she declared, not bothering to keep her voice down. She reached a balcony up on the third floor of the building, balancing her feet on the short railing. The double doors leading into the dwelling were shut, luckily, the Skaven turning her attention to the tarp sheltering the jutting balustrade.

Pulling out her weeping blades, she hacked at the corners where the cloth connected to the awning, soon freeing the fabric from the structure. She let the tarp drop, where it hit the pavement by Roderick’s feet with a loud slap, then she clambered back down the wall, dusting her hands proudly as Roderick scowled at her.

“Do you always just do the first thing that comes to mind, lass?” he asked. “You could have been spotted just now.”

“But I wasn’t,” she pointed out, as though that was the end of the problem. Shrugging, she turned her attention to her stolen prize, using her enchanted blades to cut the cloth into smaller pieces. “Need Rick-rod’s knitting thing,” she added, holding out an expectant paw.

“It’s sewing needle,” he sighed, fishing into his pack. It took about ten minutes, but once their work was done, Skyseeker was mummified in the fabric of the tarp, every part of her save for her muzzle draped in thick, dark material. The added layer of cloth gave her a slightly bulkier appearance, making her look more like a monk than a dwarf, but hopefully the added brawn would help sell the image.

“Guess that will have to do,” Roderick said, hands on his hips as he appraised her. “At least until the stitches break, or you start talking.”

“Hey!” she complained. “Heard-listened to many beard-things in my day, know their stupid speech! Want to hear my impression?”

“Not really.”

The Skaven cleared her throat, ignoring him as she held a hand to her breast, putting on a terrible gruff accent.

“Greetings, fellow beard-things! Someone borrowed Warpstone from me twenty thousand years ago and I’m still angry-mad about it. Who else hate-hates the pointy-ears? Stink of trees and flowers and… trees. Not surprising if they breed-mate with trees, disgusting surface-dwellers.”

“Please let me do the talking from now on, okay lass? For both our sakes.”

They moved back onto the street, Roderick taking the path leading furthest from the gate, Skyseeker struggling to adjust in her heavy clothing and the lack of counterbalance with her tail.

As they turned the next corner, Roderick tensed, spotting a young man coming the other way. He seemed to be on his own, which made as good a test as any to see if Skyseeker’s disguise would work.

“What do I do?” Skyseeker demanded, sidling up to Roderick’s left.

“Just act natural. You’re a dwarf in a human city, you’ve nothing to fear.”

They kept their pace as the stranger walked closer, Roderick cringing as Skyseeker started to whistle out a tune. It wasn’t really a whistle, nor a tune for that matter, Skyseeker sounding like she was trying to shoo a fly away by blowing air on it.

Fortunately, the stranger didn’t even bat an eye, Roderick keeping the Skaven as much behind him as possible as the young man walked by. Clearly the people were content, here in civilisation, and Roderick couldn’t blame them. After so many months roughing it in the wilds, it felt good to be standing behind some walls.

“Phew! What an impeccable disguise I’ve connived! Anyway, where is Rick-rod’s ship?” Skyseeker asked, stopping beside a mailbox, giving its metal lid a tap. “And what is this thing?”

“Over in the port district, and that’s a letter box,” he answered.

“Oooh,” she gasped, bending over and giving the box a curious once-over. She pulled on the handle, the lid opening in such a way that one couldn’t easily reach in to grab its contents. Fortunately for Skyseeker, her arms seemed to be more muscle than bone, and after a bit of fiddling she was elbow-deep into the box.

“Which way is port?” she asked, the sound of rustling paper reaching his ears as she pushed her bicep through the lid. He considered telling her that she was invading people’s privacy, but she probably wouldn’t care. Or understand for that matter.

“West side of town, I’d imagine, but that can wait. I’ve spent several long months sleeping it rough out there, I plan to take advantage of this change of scenery as soon as possible.”

“But what of mission?” Skyseeker urged, pulling her hand out from the lid, a letter with a red seal clutched in her paw. “And ship? And relic? And Fredwil? Time is of essence!”

“We’ll be saving plenty of time travelling by sea, lass, and sleeping in an actual bed with a hot meal will do us both good. Besides, who knows when we’ll get the chance to rest up like this again?”

“Point made,” Skyseeker conceded, ripping the seal of the letter with a claw, slowly prying the parchment out. “Relic not going anywhere. Perchance we do some… explorations of this city, too?”

“Sure, we’ll wake up early, have a look around when there’s less people.”

Skyseeker shrieked, Roderick’s eardrums bursting as she hopped on the spot. “Splendid! Always wanted to explore man-thing places. Well not really, but now I do! Is Portstagmire like where Rick-rod grew up?”

“Our dwellings aren’t so different from these,” he answered. “A little less colourful, perhaps. If you’re done fiddling around with that letter, we should go find someplace to rest up.”

“Just making sure enemies aren’t plotting, stupid!” she snapped, bringing the letter to her face

“Well?” he asked after a few moments. “Any plots we should be aware of?”

“Not on this one,” she replied, tossing the parchment over her shoulder. “Felt more letters inside box-thing. Let’s check another.”

“Let’s not,” Roderick said, placing a hand on her back, ushering her away from the mailbox. “Neither of us have ever been here before, lass. There’s no enemies, plots, or schemes. We’re safe here.”

“For now!” Skyseeker added. “Man-things very tricky creatures. Walls keep enemies away, yes-yes, but also keep others from escaping! You’ll see!”

They rounded another bend in the road, the sunlight grazing the very tips of the rooftops, the encroaching darkness making it hard to see. Here the path forked into two directions, splitting past a triangular flank of a building. The junction was marked by a tall post, which was capped with a glass container. The place was deserted save for a woman leaning against a door to the right, Roderick catching her features as she looked up. She was an attractive woman, if a little on the elderly side, her cleavage proudly displayed though the low-cut neck of her dark dress.

“Why’s that man-thing over th- BAH!” Skyseeker suddenly shrieked, scurrying behind Roderick’s leg. The mantle of the post had flared to life, a brilliant point of yellow light blooming through the glass container. Roderick could see no mechanical means to suggest it was powered through steam, like the lamp posts in Reikland. Perhaps the Tileans used some other mechanism?

“Relax, Sky, it’s just the lights coming on.” He glanced back the way they’d come, seeing more mounted posts flaring to life, more light driving back the dark.

“I-I knew that,” Skyseeker mumbled, dusting herself off as she took up her spot again. “Anyways, what was I saying? Oh! Why’s that man-thing looking at you?”

“She probably thinks I’m looking for some… relief.”

“That’s a SHE?!” the Skaven exclaimed, tilting her head in the woman’s direction. “GASP! A man-thing breeder… Not thought I’d ever see day…”

“Did you just say ‘gasp’?” Roderick asked. “Never mind. Let’s go this way.”

“But I want to ask it questions! Breeder to breeder!”

As they approached the fork, the woman spoke up.

“Where you off to, honey?” she asked in a breathy voice, gesturing with a gloved hand. “All your night’s desires are right here~…”

“Sound like good deal,” Skyseeker whispered. “Rick-rod! It’s talking to you-you! Take the offer!”

“I’ll have to pass on that one, madam,” Roderick said, turning to address the woman. “Good day.”

He hurried a protesting Skyseeker along, only resuming their prior pace once the woman was out of sight. The Skaven gave his thigh a slap, frowning up at him from beneath her hood.

“What was that about?” Skyseker demanded. “She-man-thing gives you deal-offer and you just walk away? Elaborate!”

“I wasn’t buying what she was selling, let’s just put it that way.”

“What way? Explanations!”

“Well,” Roderick began, running a hand through his hair. “Up here, everyone has to find a way of making a living, and some women like to… offer themselves to people.”

“Just spit it out, Rick-rod! Simple words.”

“She was… asking me for sex,” Roderick relented.

“Sex. I see. That makes sense. Wait! I don’t follow. Why did it want to have sex with you?”

“Take a wild guess, lass. Everything out here costs gold, and that’s her way of earning it.”

“Hang on,” Skyseeker began. “You said female man-things not like Skaven breeders, but female back there has breeding career!”

“It’s not a career, some people simply have no other choice,” Roderick explained. “It’s a tough world out here for women. With every other husband and son coerced into these never-ending wars, it’s left a lot of poor widows behind to fend for themselves. It’s a pity.”

“If you pity her, why not take deal?”

“Paying for sex is not exactly a good look for a general,” Roderick answered. “Plus, I prefer my lasses to be a little on the younger side.”

“Do you have a breeder, Rick-rod?” Skyseeker asked, peering up at him from behind her hood.

“What, you mean a wife? No. Between my exile and this mission, I haven’t had much time to woo the wenches.”

“Interesting,” she muttered.

“Indeed? How so?”

She ignored him, lifting her muzzle up and taking a loud sniff of the air. “Oh! Food-things nearby! This way-way!”

She took him by the hand, guiding him further up the road. Roderick took a whiff, but all he could smell was the faint stench of body odour and motor oil. As they turned the next corner, that began to change, one of the buildings further up the street catching his attention.

Muffled music leaked out of the windows of a unique dwelling, this one sporting a pair of batwing doors. Its stone façade was painted over a rusty orange, the building five levels high, making it far taller than any of the surrounding dwellings. A rickety sign plastered above the doors swung gently in the breeze, a nearby streetlamp providing enough light for Roderick to read off the letters.

“The… Crippled Gryphon?” he muttered, chuckling to himself. “Now that’s ironic, isn’t it lass? Good find by the way, a tavern is perfect.”

As they moved up to the door, he pulled Skyseeker aside, the pair stepping into a nearby alleyway. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he started, keeping his voice down. “You wait here, while I head inside, buy us a room for the night, then we’ll figure out how to get you in. Shouldn’t take two minutes.”

“Counter scheme,” she replied. “I go in, while you wait here-here. Master of disguises, I am!”

“Your tail’s showing,” he pointed out, Skyseeker squeaking as she quickly shoved the appendage back into her cloak. “I know you were a trader, but I think bartering with a fellow human should be my task.”

“Whatever,” Skyseeker said, turning around. “Alley much more interesting anyway. Hey, a rubbish bin! Ohhh, I hope there’s food inside!”

Roderick stopped the excited Skaven from launching herself into the nearby dumpster. “Please don’t eat that, Skyseeker. I’ll buy you food, alright? Proper human food, you’ll love it. Just be a bit patient.”

He didn’t like the way she was looking at the pile of trash, but she stayed on the spot once he let her go, Roderick dipping back out onto the street.

“Two minutes,” he insisted, Skyseeker offering a thumbs-up as he rounded the corner.

Mounting the short flight of steps, Roderick pushed the batwing doors open, the chill of the night replaced by a cozy warmth as he stepped inside. The music he’d heard from the street grew louder, his eyes falling on a trio of musicians gathered on a stage built into the left side of the room. Two of them were men, one holding a jingling tambourine, the other tucking a fiddle beneath his chin. The third was a woman, her lips pursed over the end of an ornate flute, the three of them filling the tavern with a jolly tune.

A wooden bar occupied the right wall of the room, the countertop’s edges smoothed into curves, the corners carved with intricate patterns. It was flanked by rows of colourful bottles, and even a few tapped kegs of beer. Between the bar and the stage were dozens of chairs and couches, the walls supported by table booths where patrons were eating and chatting.

Humans were the majority of the guests, but Roderick could pick out a few of the other races. A group of dwarfs were lounging around in one of the booths, their hearty laughter loud enough to overpower the music, and there were a pair of elves leaning against the far windowsill, their pointed ears displayed for all to see.

Roderick made his way over to the bar, shouldering his way through the crowded floor. A stout man wearing a dirty apron over a white shirt was wiping mugs down with a cloth, Roderick catching his attention with a thump on the bar-top.

“Greetings, innkeep,” Roderick said, nodding to the man. “Looking for a room. Preferably one with a bath.”

“You’re telling me,” the innkeeper replied, pinching his nose. “You look like you’ve just gone to the chaos realms and back. What’s your story, stranger?”

“Let’s just say I’m not picking up hitchhikers ever again,” Roderick said, placing a pouch on the counter, the coins inside it jingling. “How much?”

“You’ve come to the right place. Bed and bath’ll be fifteen gold for the night.”

Roderick blinked. He’d taken a modest sum from the mercenaries on the night of his escape, but that was a steep price for an inn. “And for two beds?” he asked.

“Another ten,” the innkeep replied. “You here with company?”

“No, just curious,” he replied, setting the coins down. Things might get a little cramped, sharing a room with the Skaven, but he needed to spend his money wisely – who knew when the next bribe might come up.

“Also in the mood for a good meal,” Roderick added. “The road’s been long, and I feel like I could eat for two.”

“In that case, six gold will get you our heartiest dinner. Another coin and I’ll make it a platter. We’ve got a roasted boar tonight, fresh off the spit.”

“I’ll take it.”

The innkeep whisked up his money, stashing it below the counter. “Thank you, stranger, I’ll have a maid prepare your room. Drink while you wait? First one’s on me.”

Roderick nodded, the innkeeper turning to one of the kegs, tankard in hand. When he turned back, the mug was filled to the rim with creamy froth, Roderick feeling the cool ale through his glove as he took it. He raised the drink to his lips, taking a small sip, his eyes going wide as the bitter liquid parched his throat. Emboldened, he took a less restrained gulp, raising his head to the ceiling. By all the gods, it felt delightful to have his belly warmed with ale after such a long absence.

After three seconds, he’d downed the whole thing, setting the empty tankard down, the movement disturbing some of the bottles on the racks. Forget being stingy with his money, he’d earned a few luxuries after his perilous trip from the Empire. He ordered another, thanking the innkeeper as he turned away, the wonderful music capturing his attention.

The musicians were building the tune towards a crescendo, the woman with the flute getting up from her stool to parade about the stage, never missing a note as she began to dance. Some of the more boisterous patrons started to join her, shoving aside the chairs to clear a floorspace, their drunken twirls and twists making the group of dwarfs hysterical.

Roderick grinned, taking up a spot in one of the unoccupied corners, leaning against the wall as he sipped his drink. Watching the guests stumble and laugh reminded Roderick of the times he and his warband had returned home after many months of war, ready to celebrate all night long.

His smile faded. That had been long ago, when there had been time for parades and benders that went on from dawn to dusk, before all the threats to the Empire had begun to get out of control. Could one forgotten relic really save the Imperial people? The Empire needed good soldiers, not magical artifacts, though from what Skyseeker had told him of the relic, he imagined the Conclave would be very interested to use its power to turn the tides…

“Psst! Man-thing!”

Roderick yelped, drawing the eyes of several nearby guests. Trying to compose himself, he turned his head slowly to the right, finding himself staring right into a familiar ruby-red iris, the globe framed by a small crack in the brickwork.

“S-Skyseeker?” Roderick whispered, making sure no one was looking. “What in the… How did you get in the wall?”

The Skaven’s answer was a nefarious cackle, her pink nose appearing through the gap as she angled her muzzle through. “Rick-rod get room yet?”

“It’s being prepared right now,” Roderick answered, raising his drink. He wanted to chide Skyseeker for not waiting outside, but at least she had the foresight to be discreet.

“What you drinking?” Skyseeker asked.

“Nothing.”

“Can I have some?”

“No.”

“Please!”

“It’s ale, lass. A human drink. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Yes I would!”

Roderick sighed, seeing he may as well let her have a taste. He fetched a straw from the bar, dropping it into the froth and returning to the corner. He brought the tankard to the crack, Skyseeker’s muzzle pressing against the sliver as he angled the end of the straw towards her. She pursed it between her buck teeth, taking a noisy slurp. Just like him, her enthusiasm grew with each sip, Roderick having to pull the mug back when she refused to stop.

“Steady on, lass,” he chided. “drink it too fast and you’ll-”

Skyseeker belched through the gap, Roderick dispelling the stench with a wave of his hand.

“Bleh! So bitter!” she complained, smacking her lips together. “Feel even more thirsty now. Want another sample.”

“As long as you pace yourself,” he grumbled, Skyseeker reaching impotently out of the crack with her paw. He resumed watching the musicians, offering Skyseeker a sip every now and then, if only to keep her occupied so she didn’t draw unwanted attention. He wondered how much tolerance a Skaven had for alcohol, and if he wasn’t making a terrible mistake indulging the rat woman.

Soon the innkeeper gestured for his attention, gesturing to the back wall, where a passage led off deeper into the building. “Room’s ready stranger,” he said, sliding a key onto the bar-top. “First one on the left. Bathe well.”

“My thanks,” Roderick called back, turning to the crack. “You catch all that, lass?”

“Be there in jiffy!” she hissed. “Need to plan escape routes first.”

With that, her eyeball swept away, Roderick able to pick up her scurrying as she navigated the wall’s interior. Shaking his head, he retrieved his key, moving towards the passage.

He turned into a long hallway, the music fading into a comfortable backdrop. Candlelight flickered across half a dozen doors, three to a side, the furthest on the right the only one that was open, the sounds of clanging pots and pans spilling through the gap. That was likely the kitchen.

Roderick pushed the key into his assigned room, the lock turning with a click. Inside was a modest space, if a little cramped, with a bunk on one wall and an empty tub on the other, the receptacle made up of vertical planks of wood, rather than the traditional ceramics he’d expected, making it have more in common with a sauna tub. A faucet was suspended over the bath, mounted to the wall alongside two valves, one blue and one red. There were bars of soaps and cleaning oils placed on a nearby shelf.

In the middle of the space was a table, and what sat atop it captured his attention. A giant silver platter with a rounded lid rested on its cloth, the scent of smoked meat filling the room. This must be the meal he’d ordered, the scent making his mouth water.

He pulled up one of the chairs, tossing his plumed helmet on the bed, working to remove his gauntlets. As much as he wanted to dig in right away, manners dictated that he wait for his companion first, Roderick freeing first his left hand, then the right, giving his clammy palms a flex. Only now was he aware of all the grime he’d accumulated during his travels, Roderick turning his gauntlets over to see dirt and blood splattered across the steel. The innkeep was right, he could use a good wash.

Before long, he heard the telltale panting he’d come to associate with Skyseeker, Roderick glancing at the walls for any gaps she might poke her snout through. He blinked when from between two of the floorboards, a clawed finger broke through, the digit soon followed by a whole paw. The padded hand felt around for the other side of the plank, gripping it tightly and wrenching it to the side. The nails came loose with little pops, the plank lifting away from one end as Skyseeker used her head to leverage it away.

The gap was thinner than the breadth of her muzzle, but once again Skyseeker demonstrated the flexibility of her bones, squeezing her torso through the floorboards, her countless belts catching on the wood. With a twist, she succeeded in squeezing out, flopping onto the ground with a tired look on her face.

“Welcome,” Roderick said, gesturing to the platter. “Hungry?”

“Positively,” the Skaven replied, climbing into the seat beside him. Her stature put her head at just over the table’s level, Roderick smirking as she struggled to peer over the lip.

“Let’s see what we have,” Roderick announced, gripping the lid by the handle. He pulled it away, exposing an assortment of foods that could have fed a whole family of people. There was an overflowing lump of browned, sliced pork, wisps of steam gently curling away from the meat. Sitting next to it was a generous pile of roasted vegetables, the potatoes and pumpkins sprinkled with crispy herbs. Glass bottles of creamy sauce stood to one side, alongside a whole loaf of toasted bread and a stick of butter.

Skyseeker’s mouth was a small ‘o’ of wonder, the Skaven watching as Roderick picked up a set of provided cutlery. She looked too stunned to speak, perhaps she’d never seen so much food in one place before, or maybe she just didn’t know what any of it was.

“This is pork belly,” he said, slicing into the meat with his knife, dumping a generous portion onto a plate and sliding it over. “The orangey skin on the side there is very tough. We call it crackling.”

She took an experimental bite, her wicked teeth slicing easily into the skin despite his warning. Her expression shifted into awestruck, her face brightening as she chewed loudly.

“Good?” he asked, chuckling as she nodded her head vigorously. While she destroyed her portion, Roderick set aside a handful of vegetables, popping open one of the sauce bottles. He drizzled the steaming pile with gravy, then dug in, his stomach grumbling its approval.

“Wash tha’?” Skyseeker mumbled over a mouthful of food, pointing to the butter.

“That’s butter,” he explained. “You spread it on that bread there. Supposed to be eaten as an appetizer, but who cares at this point?”

“Bread?” she echoed, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “Bleh. Remember eating man-thing’s bread yesternight. Too chewy.”

“Unlike my rations, that’s freshly toasted bread,” he explained, bringing his knife over, the loaf giving off a satisfying crunch as he took off a slice. He smothered it in butter, the crust melting in his mouth as he took a bite.

Convinced by his expression, she took her own sample – Roderick stopping her from using her weeping blade to do so – and while she enjoyed the crust, she wasn’t all that fussed over the butter, deigning to eat it dry.

They were mostly quiet during their feast, too busy wolfing down their appetites to speak, but the silence wasn’t unpleasant. Just the act of sharing a proper meal for once was a nice experience, practically novel by Roderick’s recent standards, and the comfort of four solid walls put him at ease. Even Skyseeker seemed less suspicious of her surroundings.

“You know what we need?” Roderick asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. “More drinks. Want something, lass? Pitcher of water, perhaps?”

“More ale!” Skyseeker answered. “Skaven needs refreshment.”

Shrugging, Roderick stood up, the chair squeaking as he pushed it out of the way. Locking Skyseeker in the room, he hurried back to the bar, ordering a bottle of beer that the two of them could share.

Balancing two tankards in his other hand, he made his way back, finding that Skyseeker had devoured over half of the platter in his absence, the little Skaven showing no signs of slowing down. He’d expected her to be paunchy as a result of her appetite, but at a glance her stomach was still flat and lean. It was as though she was burning off all the calories she was putting on.

“Take it slow on the beer, lass, seriously” Roderick said, placing a tankard in front of her, pouring her drink until the foam reached the rim. “It’s not a competition.”

“Why can’t it be?” she asked, knocking the drink back until half of it was gone, only pausing so she could take a breath. “Bet three warpstone Roderick can’t match thirst.”

“Oh-ho, you want a drinking game?” he chuckled, pouring his own. “As you wish. Whoever concedes first sleeps on the floor. Winner gets the bed.”

“Deal!” she snickered. “Man-thing has no chance.”

Not wanting to lose face, he sculled his beer in the time it took Skyseeker to finish off her first, the Skaven blinking up at him in awe. She quickly masked her reaction by slurping at her tankard, droplets of beer dripping down her muzzle. When she put her drink back down, a moustache of foam was plastered on her face, Roderick laughing as she wiped it away.

“This all very strange,” Skyseeker began, spearing a slice of roast onto a claw. “In Skavenblight, whenever I eat things, always felt… exposure. Enemies always watching and plotting to steal.” She devoured the meat, tilting her muzzle up at him. “But with you, Roderick, I feel… not like that. Makes Skaven think of… what? Why you smiling?”

“Because you said my name properly for the first time,” he chuckled. “That ale must be going right through you.”

He wasn’t mocking her, but she seemed to take his words as a challenge, gripping her drink in both paws. They shared another round, pint for pint, Skyseeker smacking her gums together when she finished. His belly was cold with ale, the bitter taste on his tongue complementing the sensation.

“As I was saying, before I was RUDELY interrupted,” Skyseeker continued, taking the bottle and refilling their tankards. “is that, what’s stranger-er, is no rat before Roderick treated me this way-way. You give kindness when rats would give death-stabs. Thought niceness was stupid until… until… Hey! Where food gone?”

There was only a slice of bread left on the platter, Roderick offering it to her when she stared at it like she was a starved wolf eyeing up a chicken. He may have Skyseeker beaten on the drinking front, but she could put away the pounds like they were nothing.

“Perhaps I should have bought a meal for three,” Roderick mumbled, lifting his tankard. “Oh well.”

“Kitchen raid time!” Skyseeker shouted, spilling some of her drink as she took a draw. She set it down hard, tracing the rim with a claw as she hoisted a dagger into the air. “Grab all the food and ale, yes-yes. Share some with man-thing friend of course.”

“Appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Roderick replied. “Seems like decent fold run this establishment, let’s not spoil the mood by robbing them.”

“Oh, Roderick, you worst friend,” she grumbled. “Never like my schemes.”

“Just looking out for you, lass.”

“That’s it! That’s what’s confusing me!” she exclaimed, gesturing to him with her tankard, spilling some of the ale onto the table. “Why you look out for Skyseeker? Roderick like Skaven or something?”

“Well… I suppose you could say that I like you,” he stammered “I’ve not had many people I can be so… open with before. It’s nice.”

“I see,” Skyseeker mumbled, finishing off her drink. She slammed her tankard down, Roderick blinking as she poked him on the arm. “Another!”

Realising he’d been staring at her, he refilled their drinks, raising his tankard to her as they drank together. They downed one round, then another, Roderick laughing when Skyseeker started to doze off, almost slipping off her chair at one point. She snapped back into the present when he gave her a playful nudge, tapping his drink to hers and sculling it without waiting for her.

“Man-thing cheats!” she growled, grimacing when she swallowed a shot of ale. “M-Must have given Skaven more potent cup! Where’s the food gone?”

“You ate it, remember?” he asked, setting his empty tankard down. “Keep up, lass, you’re lagging.”

It looked like each drink was causing her physical pain. She relented, slamming a fist onto the table, the plates and cutlery bouncing with the impact. “Arrgh! You take victory, Roderick. Stupid man-thing and his stupid man-thing ale. Bet you not so good if we had to share warpstone!”

“Hey, it was your idea to challenge me,” he said, chuckling for no particular reason. “I just… encouraged you to raise the stakes.”

“I’m going on raid!” she exclaimed, bracing herself against the table as she stood, the Skaven smashed beyond belief. When she set off towards the door, her tail waving around lazily behind her, her foot got caught on the leg of her chair, and she slipped, slamming face-first onto her plate, which happened to be covered in excessive amounts of gravy.

“My eyes!” she yelped, cradling her face in her paws, her pink nose covered in sauce. “Send help!”

“Ouch. You alright?” he asked, taking her by the shoulder, the Skaven swaying on the spot.

“Just dandy… ish,” she giggled, her tongue snaking out to lick her chops, the gravy sticking to her muzzle in clumps. “Ale making Skaven feel all… buzzy. Must be man-thing equivalent of warpstone. Skaven likey~”

Her tail whipped to the left, sending her empty tankard flying across the room, Roderick wincing as it made a loud crashing sound against the wall. Perhaps a drunk Skyseeker wasn’t such a good idea in hindsight. But as long as he kept her confined within the room, he should be able to contain whatever chaos she might ensue.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, leading her toward the bathtub, her light frame easy enough to support. He turned the hot water on, testing the temperature with his finger to make sure it wasn’t scalding.

“Wassthis?” Skyseeker asked, leaning on the rim of the tub, her red eyes watching the water level rise.

“Might as well give you an all over, you’re covered in what appears to be corn, and Sigmar knows what else.”

“You want Skaven to bathe!?” she asked. “Only thing I bathe in is success!” She dipped a paw into the tub, clicking her front teeth together. “Hmm… it is very warm-hot. Screw it.”

She began stripping off her disguise, the tarp piling around her ankles as she discarded the heavy clothing. Next she shrugged off her tattered cloak, the cloth flitting away to reveal her dark fur. Like a woman discarding a bath robe, she flung the cloak aside, Roderick clearing his throat as she stood there in just her sling and loincloth.

He turned around, giving her some privacy, hearing the Skvaen unclip her many belts and pockets. After dumping those, there was a loud splashing sound, Roderick feeling water on his back. She must have divebombed straight in.

“Ooohh, now this is nice-nice,” Skyseeker sighed, Roderick taking a peek to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself. Her modesty was still covered by her sling, thankfully, the Skaven dunking her head into the water, her black fur becoming waterlogged. She threw her muzzle back after a moment, droplets of water flinging across the room, her fur so heavy it clung to her back and shoulders, further accentuating her athletic build.

Careful to avert his eyes, Roderick walked over, the tap squeaking as he turned the flow off. “Looks like they only gave us the one bar of soap,” he said, appraising the cleaning oils provided to them. He grinned when Skyseeker submerged herself again, the Skaven blowing bubbles in the water. Her ears were the only thing not submerged, the little membranes twisting in his direction. “Try to save some for me, lass.”

“You got it, stinky!” she chimed, reemerging to flash him a toothy grin. She watched him as he moved away, stacking their plates and cutlery together and setting them on the platter, Skyseeker whistling that awful tune again as she started running her padded hands through her damp fur.

“Uh, man-thing,” she began. “What’s soap, and how does Skaven use it?”

“It’s that white bar on the shelf there, and you just scrub it against yourself. Don’t you have soap in Skavenblight? Actually, don’t answer that. Dumb question.”

“Need demonstration,” she chimed, covering her moth as she began to snicker. “Can… Can man-thing help?”

“You… want me to wash you?” he asked, feeling heat in his face again. Damn it, why was he getting so easily flustered? Perhaps he’d had too much to drink himself…

“Is that not what man-things do?” she asked. “Skaven bathe together all the time.”

“Considering how feral you all are, I find that hard to believe. Besides, didn’t you just say you don’t bathe?”

“Just shut your hole and do it, man-thing!”

He supposed she was still clothed, so he didn’t have to worry about things getting weird. “Very well,” he said. “Just let me get these vambraces off. Don’t want them getting rusty.”

She chittered in amusement, Roderick shooting her a suspicious look across the room. She only laughed like that when she had a little scheme going, or perhaps it was simply a result of all the ale she’d drunk.

Setting his bracers down, he made his way over, crouching behind the Skaven as she turned her back to him, passing the bar of soap over her shoulder.

He took it, his hand brushing her soft paw as he did, Roderick dunking the bar into the water. He started off on her shoulder, sliding his fingers down her toned bicep, feeling her firm muscles twitch as he touched her. She was clamming up, bundling herself in her arms as though the water had suddenly run cold, Roderick remembering that in her very first moments of living, she had almost been eaten by her sibling. Since then, she had never let anyone lay a hand or paw on her, and the fact she was enduring his close proximity was a good step in the right direction.

Skyseeker’s fur was in a state. It was mangled and covered in filth, globs of dark fluid seeping away as he spread the lather. She hadn’t been lying when she said she only bathed in success, which probably meant piles of trash in her culture.

He moved over to her other arm, kneading the soap into her developed shoulders on his way over. She was built like a swimmer, her porcelain flesh just soft enough to be malleable, while still retaining all the muscle groups that gave her the dexterity one of her profession demanded.

He washed away more grime from her dark coat, the bathwater turning brown around her. He raised her paw by the wrist, making sure he scrubbed at the underside of the limb, Roderick frowning as he encountered resistance. Near her elbow joint, her short fur had tangled into a knot, Roderick able to see the individual strands pulling away from her flesh. It looked painful, but she had never uttered a complaint about it before.

“Your fur’s all twisted,” he grumbled, Skyseeker watching as he rummaged through the shelf of bottles. “Let’s see here… ah ha!”

He held up a short hair comb, an unspoken question in the Skaven’s eyes as she watched him bring the plastic teeth closer. He elected to let the comb do the explaining, swiping it across her coat. When he brushed across the tangled fur, Skyseeker grumbled, Roderick stroking against the clump from different angles until the hairs started to untangle themselves.

“This is weird!” she complained, but whether she was talking about being groomed, or by the way he was combing her, he couldn’t tell. Maybe it was a combination of both.

“Just hold still,” he grumbled, holding her shoulder so she stopped twisting away. “It might hurt a little, but it’ll feel much better after, trust me.”

“Fine…”

Her tail flicked across the walls of the tub as he worked out the knot, finally able to comb across once it had come loose. He found another clump on her shoulder, and he worked that one out next, Skyseeker letting him manipulate her body so he could get the right angle. This one was much worse than the last, Roderick able to see a patch of her underlying pink skin near the root of the knot. Some of her fur must have torn loose after so much tension had built up there. Was she not in serious pain? Perhaps she was, but had come to the point she was no longer bothered by it.

“I don’t think I can save this one,” he said, reaching for his dagger. “Hold still.”

She flashed him a sceptical look as he brought his knife down, slicing the knot away at the base, the Skaven gasping in surprise. The result was immediate, her skin slowly falling away to rest in its natural position, the tension melting with it, if her blissful expression was any indication.

“Change mind,” Skyseeker sighed, trembling as he combed against the grain of her coat in search of more knots. “Weird is good-good…”

“It’s a miracle you’ve gone on for this long,” he commented, the Skaven bending forward so he could work at her upper back, using his free hand to untangle the next clump. “If I ever got a knot in my hair I’d have to stop immediately.”

“That’s because dumb man-thing’s weaker than Skaven,” she answered. “Skaven toleration for pain much higher! Eeek! Not so hard!”

“Sorry,” he said, stifling a chuckle at her immediate contradiction. She sucked in a breath as he worked out the tension in her back, running his hand through her wet fur as he trailed lower. The flare of her hips was all the more pronounced at this angle, the dimples of her cheeks hidden just beneath the waterline. Even with the distortion of the water, he could see how pert they were, like two softballs full of springy muscle.

“What you see, man-thing?” Skyseeker asked, snapping him out of his peeping.

“W-What? Oh, you mean the knots? Just a few more here…”

“Thank you, Roderick,” she mumbled as he cut another clump loose, stowing his knife away once he was done. “Feel much better now-now.”

“Glad to hear it. Now it’s on to phase two.”

He retrieved a bottle of shampoo from the shelf, upending it onto his palm, rubbing his hands together until they were crowded with suds.

“What’s phase two?” Skyseeker asked, eyeing his hands over her shoulder.

“Shampoo. This’ll wash out all that crap you’ve been lugging around. It’s meant for hair, but fur’s basically the same thing. I think.”

He delved his fingers into her coat, starting at her neck. Her fur was so fine, the strands indiscernible from another at a touch, almost making it feel like soft velvet. Her tension seemed to have melted away along with her tangled fur, Skyseeker slowly relaxing with each stroke of his fingers, her head lolling forward as he worked the suds in deep.

As he trailed down to her pinched waistline, she twitched, her tail batting against his arms as he rid her of the clinging muck. Like a dog wagging its tail, it must mean she was excited, though it was starting to get in the way of his work…

Skyseeker let slip a squeak as he grabbed her appendage, holding it aside as he traced the dimple of her spine, the Skaven shuddering as he ran his hands down her lithe figure.

“Sorry, did that hurt?” he asked, watching as the tip of her tail coiled around his wrist.

“N-No,” Skyseeker sighed. “D-Don’t pull tail, makes Skaven feel… strange.”

She didn’t elaborate on what that exactly meant, and Roderick didn’t ask, his hands trailing closer towards her flared hips, her tail releasing him after a moment. He skirted the spot where her tail joined to her lower back, noting that her dark coat trailed up the appendage a few inches before transitioning into pink, scaley flesh.

Cupping a hand in the water, he washed the suds from her back, Skyseeker shivering as the filth trailed away. It was a bit of an effort using just his hands, but soon her fur was shiny and clean.

“Poosham smells funny,” she mumbled, twisting her neck round to give her shoulder a sniff.

“Shampoo,” he corrected. “I don’t know how you can pronounce so many words wrong, lass.”

“Man-thing tongue has stupid way of speaking,” she snapped. “Do front now!”

She displayed remarkable flexibility as she bent herself backwards over the lip of the bathtub, her body conforming into a smooth arch. The movement inadvertently pushed out her bust, giving Roderick a view right down her cleavage.

“If you insist,” he replied, averting his eyes. He skirted round to her left, squeezing out another glob of shampoo onto his hand. Her abdominal muscles flexed as she presented her flat stomach to him, Roderick reaching over to rub the lather into her belly. Hopefully, she did not mean for him to wash her whole front…

He could feel the channels of a burgeoning six-pack, hidden beneath her silky coat, feeling tough muscles fight back against his questing digits. The Skaven flinched with every minute movement, apparently quite ticklish, her upper torso twisting while her waist remained still. She was so sinewy, her abs shifting in such a way that he was mesmerized by their flowing movements, the way her wet fur clung to her skin only accentuating her form.

He perked an eyebrow, noting that she had a belly button, tracing the navel with a finger, Skyseeker giggling as he let his curiosity get the better of him. The lines between exploring her and washing her were starting to blur now, Roderick skirting her mound and making small circles with his thumbs. So many parts of her was similar to a human, and he wondered where else she might be familiar…

Trying to refocus, he ran his hands over her pinches waist, pushing the lather into her sternum next. Her bust was still contained in that dirty sling she always wore, but the fabric was soaked through thanks to her earlier cannonball, Roderick just able to see through the cloth. Like the rest of her, her breasts looked to be wholly covered in her luscious fur, the pair of mounds rising and falling as Skyseeker took in deep breaths.

“Uhm, all done here,” he stammered, Skyseeker watching him through lidded eyes as he pulled away, the thin lines of red tracking him as he moved behind her again. Was that disappointment he saw in her gaze? He wasn’t sure…

He cupped the back of her head, Skyseeker so relaxed he had to lift her skull back above her shoulders of his own accord, Roderick kneading his soapy palms into her hair next – or the fur on top of her head, to be precise. Roderick gave her scalp a light massage, the Skaven smiling as she sunk deeper into the water. It looked like she was melting into a puddle. She was always so on edge, always convinced her enemies were just around the next corner, and it was amusing to see her so relaxed, so trusting to let him touch her.

Her ears flicked as his fingers brushed them, Roderick taking one into his palm, the fur covering the little dish-shaped protrusion giving it a thin, pleasant texture. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, and Skyseeker’s eyes blazed open, her tail sitting up as straight as an arrow.

He went to apologise, but the Skaven cocked her head, encouraging him to keep going, Roderick all too happy to oblige. He took care not to put too much pressure on them, as they were very sensitive, judging by her reaction just now.

He moved to her other ear, using his free hand to run the suds down her long skull, his digits passing between her large eyes. He paused when he heard a strange noise fill the room, Skyseeker slowly opening her eyes to give him a questioning look.

“Are you… doing that?” he asked, Skyseeker glancing away from him.

“Yes… I mean no! No…”

He gave her a knowing look, one she pretended to ignore, Roderick resuming his washing with a grin. A few strokes down her forehead later, and the noise returned, Skyseeker’s eyelids fluttering, its source unmistakable. He could see her lips pursing over her buck teeth, the little sounds she made suggesting she was grinding them together. What was the equivalent of a rat purring called?

Bruxing, that was it.

Feeling bold, he rested her muzzle in his palms, using his thumbs to stroke the suds into her cheeks. He could feel the dense muscles surrounding her jawbone, much more powerful than those on a human. She could probably chomp straight through bone with those wicked incissors of hers.

He moved further down her long face, the whiskers bridging the end of her snout brushing his hands. Wetting his palm, he wiped the lather across her button nose, Skyseeker giving him a strange look.

“That tickles!” she giggled, batting his hand away. It was such an odd noise coming from the rodent assassin, but one that he found pleasant to listen to.

“That about does it, you can rinse yourself off,” he said. He expected her to move herself below the tap, but instead of doing that, Skyseeker dunked her head below the water again, spraying droplets towards Roderick’s face when she resurfaced.

There was a folded towel placed beside the tub, and Roderick passed it over, Skyseeker stroking the fabric as she stepped out of the bath. After he explained that it was not for petting, but for drying off her fur, she got the picture, wiping herself down, drips of water pattering against the floor.

Once she was dry, she turned to face him, Roderick unable to help but admire her new look. The bath had done wonders for her fur, her coat so fine and silky, seeming to shine as the strands caught on the candlelight. With all the dirt and knotted clumps gone, her body was almost flawless, Roderick finding himself wishing he could touch that fur now that it was fluffy and dry.

Damn it, what was wrong with him? He should know better than to think of Skyseeker that way. She was a Skaven, for Sigmar’s sake. A fine companion, yes, but a spawn of Chaos nonetheless…

“Roderick’s turn!” she chimed, bringing him back to the present.

“For what?”

“For bath, stupid! Man-thing reeks more than Skaven do.”

“Oh, of course.”

Not wanting to wash in Skyseeker’s filthy water, he reached into the tub and pulled the plug, the grime gurgling away into the drain. As he refilled the tub with clean, steaming water, Roderick began stripping off his armour, Skyseeker giving him a curious look as he fiddled with his sabatons. He worked one leg free, then the other, giving his toes a wiggle as he planted them on the cool floor. She seemed to find his feet especially strange, cocking her head towards them, though she didn’t voice any observations.

He set his leg armour aside, then pulled off his mail skirt, exposing the leather pants he wore beneath. Last came the cuirass, Roderick feeling a sense of liberation at finally getting out of the tin suit for a small while.

As he began to unbutton his tunic, he realised Skyseeer wasn’t affording him the same privacy as he had for her, her crimson eyes examining him from feet to face, then back again.

“Well?” he asked. “Turn around, lass.”

“What-What? How can Skaven wash man-thing if turned about?”

They both shared a collective moment of confusion. “You… want to wash me?” he asked. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.”

“Roderick cleaned Skaven, now Skaven cleans Roderick. Courteous!”

“You don’t have to feel indebted to me,” he replied, shifting from foot to foot. “I can wash myself well enough.”

“I want to do it!” she exclaimed, stamping down with a paw-shaped foot. “Man-thing always doing kindness things, Skaven wants to give back. Need to learn secrets to kindness, and practice makes perfect! Yes-Yes!”

“I… very well. But turn around while I get in.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Skyseeker rolled her eyes dramatically, then looked away, her tail waving behind her. While she wasn’t so bothered about wearing waterlogged clothes, Roderick only had the one set of undergarments, and he’d rather not chafe his privates when they got moving tomorrow.

He slipped out of his tunic and hose, then fumbled with his underwear, checking to make sure Skyseeker was still facing away from him. He kicked off his briefs, completely nude as he stepped into the bath. When he glanced back at the Skaven, he saw that she had produced one of her knives, using its reflective surface to peer at him, a conniving smile on her face.

“Hey! I told you not to look!”

“You said turn around, and as you can see, Skaven is turned around. Roderick should have chosen words better.”

His cheeks flushing, he covered up his privates, lowering himself into the hot water. He picked up the discarded bar of soap bobbing on the surface, scrubbing it under his arms and ribs.

He heard the pitter-patter of Skyseeker’s feet as she moved closer, Roderick covering his junk with his thigh, hoping the soap bubbles would give him enough privacy from her prying eyes. Was it just curiosity that was driving her, or was there some ulterior motive behind her actions?

“Tables have turned, it seems!” Skyseeker chittered, taking up the shampoo bottle. Copying his example, she squirted a generous amount onto her paws, rubbing them together as she approached him from behind.

“You don’t have to do my whole body,” he said, flinching as her paws slapped loudly onto his shoulders. “Unlike you, I’m not covered head to toe in fur.”

“Beg to differ,” she replied. He felt her warm breath on his neck as she leaned closer, her paws making circles on his back. “Man-thing covered in small-tiny furs. Fascination…”

“Just worry about this bit,” he continued, gesturing to the top of his head. His hair was a dusky shade like coffee beans, its length level with his shoulders, Roderick bracing himself as her fingers delved into it. Her claws were no joke, one wrong move and she would slice him up, the fact she was a clumsy drunk making him unsure about all this.

His worries were for nothing, Skyseeker taking great care to be gentle with her claws, putting only the faintest amount of pressure on them, their sharp points scratching his scalp with all the lightness of a feather. Just as he had done with the comb, she raked her paws with the grain of his hair, a tingling sensation rolling through his scalp as she spread the shampoo over his head.

Roderick caught himself leaning back, her furry paws so soft and silky. It felt like she was massaging him with a pair of satin gloves. He was so relaxed that it took him a moment to realise it wasn’t the lip of the tub he was leaning against, but Skyseeker’s front, her flesh providing as much cushion as a down pillow. He stammered out an apology when he realised her breasts were touching his upper neck, Roderick able to feel their firmness through the sling she wore, but all Skyseeker did in response was smile down at him, continuing to wash his hair as she switched the subject.

“Roderick, you remember breed… wench, on street?” she asked, poking his ears just as he had to hers.

He was too out of it to voice a reply. Her claws felt like a comb in their own right, and the fact someone else was washing his hair was just a nice sensation. He elected to prompt her on with a wave of his hand.

“Remember how you said you like breeders who are… not old? Have any other preferences?”

“Why the sudden interest?” he murmured, shivering as those tingles started spreading down his spine.

“Man-thing breeder’s… confusing,” she replied. “Skaven Warlords kill for breeding rights, but Roderick has picky needs. Want to understand.”

“Don’t call me picky,” he grumbled. “I’m simply beyond the point of bedding wenches in exchange for coin.”

“So you don’t want to breed?”

“I-I never said that,” he said, the insinuation making him stammer. Women of his kind hardly ever broached the subject of sex, and it took months of courting just to be able to even mention it in passing. Skyseeker may be a naïve Skaven, but she was a woman, and hearing her discuss it so openly was a little off-putting.

“I’m simply on the lookout for a more… stable relationship,” he finished. “A decent woman, one with a kind heart, that’s what I prefer.”

“What about more physical preferences?” Skyseeker pressed. “To take a completely random example: you like shorter breeders, or tall ones? This hypothetical example, of course.”

“I’ve honestly not thought much about it. Haven’t had the time to, what with all that’s been happening lately.”

“Then take guess! Say I had pistol to your head, what would Roderick pick?”

“By Sigmar, a pistol? This is quite the hypothetical! I suppose I’d pick someone shorter if I had to. Satisfied?”

“Yes-Yes… Good…” Skyseeker muttered, resuming her washing of his hair. When it was thoroughly lathered, she cupped a paw into the water, rinsing the suds away, Roderick still able to feel her claws stroking his hair, despite the fact she’d stopped.

“Gimme,” she chimed, Roderick opening his eyes to see her plucking the soap from his hand. She began washing down the rest of him, spreading the soap over his back, Roderick feeling the spongy pads of her paws as she slid them over his skin.

The combination of her teasing claws and her tickling wet fur was filling his mind with white noise, Roderick too deep in a haze to tell her he was perfectly capable of washing himself. When she finished his back, she walked her fingers across his ribs, focusing on his chest next, pressing the pads of her fingers into his pectorals, as though testing his firm muscles. Though he had lost some weight during his time in the dungeons, his recent endeavours had left him fitter than he had ever been, Skyseeker peering over his shoulder to run her eyes over his strange anatomy. Strange to her, of course, she’d never seen a human as exposed as he was before.

“Roderick is stronger than most Skaven,” she whispered, her red eye filling the side of his peripheral as she leaned on his shoulder, her fluffy neck tickling him. She lowered her hands to his stomach next, her fingers prodding at the channels of his washboard abs. “Hard strength concealed behind soft flesh, intriguing! Another of Roderick’s schemes Skaven has missed…”

Her tone implied she was impressed, Roderick tensing as she drew a lazy line across his stomach with her index claw. He had been washed by other people before, as a General he had been allotted many perks, one of which being a group of consorts who bathed him regularly between battlefronts. He’d shared many a bath with those of the fairer gender, so why was all this tension building up inside him? Why did being touched by this rat woman make him feel so light headed?

She brushed his groin area, the conspicuous bulge he was sporting barely hidden beneath the dirtying water. He needed to put a stop to this, this wasn’t right.

“Hey!” Skyseeker complained, Roderick lifting her arms by her wrists. “What Roderick doing?”

“I’m as washed as I’ll ever be,” he replied. “Fetch me the towel, will you?”

“Oh. I-I knew that! Was just making sure you were… clean, yes-yes…” She scurried behind him and out of view, Roderick’s world blotting out as she threw the towel over his face. He scrubbed down his wet hair, giving Skyseeker a turn around gesture with his hand as he dried his shoulders.

Rolling her eyes once more, she looked away, picking over the leftovers on the platter to occupy herself. This time he made doubly sure she wasn’t peeking, quickly stepping out of the tub and fetching his briefs once he was dry.

As he buttoned up his tunic, there was a loud thunk, Roderick blinking in surprise as he turned around.

There was no sign of the noise’s source, or Skyseeker for that matter, Roderick glancing about the empty room warily. The solitary window was shut, the curtains drawn over it, and the door handle was still in the locked position. Scratching his head, he moved to check under the bed, then the table, not really expecting to see her there but looking anyway. Where had she gone?

“Skyseeker?” he asked, waiting for a reply. He heard a soft grumble behind him, then the short squeaking noises he’d come to associate with the Skaven’s snoring. His eyes fell to the floorboards, the one she’d pried open slightly out of line with the rest. Leaning down on his knees, he lifted it away, a pair of crimson eyes staring up at him from between the dark gap.

“Skyseeker? Why are you in the floor? Get out of there.”

“Napping!” she chittered, waving a dismissive paw. “Leave Skaven alone.”

“We’ve got a perfectly good room here, and you choose to sleep with the insects?”

“Floor like burrow,” she replied. “And Roderick won competition, room your reward.”

“Competition? Oh, right, the drinking game. I was only joking about that, lass, you can have the bed, I’ll make do on the floor.”

“Nonsensical! Man-thing won, Skaven lost, is only fair Skaven gets burrow.”

“You’re not sleeping in that tick-infested floor on my account,” he chided. “Especially not after we just cleaned you.”

“Well where will YOU sleep? Roderick can’t fit in floor!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing this was getting neither of them anywhere. Perhaps he should have bitten the bullet and bought a room for two after all. He considered their situation for a second, a compromise soon coming to mind.

“We could… share the bed, lass.”

Skyseeker opened her mouth in a mix of surprise and horror. “Scandalous!” she exclaimed. “Man-thing can’t SLEEP with Skaven! W-What would Horned Rat say?”

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “You want the whole tavern to hear you? If you don’t want to share, at least sleep on top of the floor, not beneath it.”

“Hmm…” Skyseeker mused, chewing on a claw, fixing him with a thoughtful expression. She mumbled something about the Horned Rat again, then seemed to make up her mind.

“Man-thing is very warm,” she mumbled. “Would make nap-time warm too. I accept your deal, Roderick.”

He took her paw, guiding her out of the floor and towards the bed. Usually he would sleep in just his briefs, but for politeness’s sake he decided to keep his tunic and pants on.

He paused by the mattress, his heart humping a little faster in his chest for whatever reason. Skyseeker seemed to mirror his hesitation, the Skaven extending her arm to touch the bedsheets, all while staying as far away from the mattress as possible.

“What is this thing?” she asked.

“It’s a mattress, made from cotton,” he explained, lifting the covers away by the corner. “Which is a kind of fluffy plant. That there is the pillow, also made of cotton, but stuffed with goose feathers”

“Man-thing nests… very soft,” she mumbled, stroking the pillow like it was some kind of house pet.

“What do Skaven beds look like?” he asked.

“Some prestigious rats fill nests with blankets, but most sleep in burrows full of rocks. Good for the spine!”

“Do Skaven weave blankets?”

“Of course not, stupid! Stolen from other nests!”

“Which are themselves stolen from cities up on the surface, I imagine,” he mused, slipping beneath the sheets, the insulated covers holding back the cool air. Skyseeker followed his example, swinging one long leg onto the bed, then the other, Roderick shuffling away to give her room. The bed was a single, and even with the Skaven’s smaller frame, there was barely enough room for the both of them, his left arm dangling over the edge of the mattress.

He recoiled when her winding tail batted him in the face, the Skaven wriggling on the spot as she tried to get comfortable. The indent he created in the mattress meant she found herself being pulled towards him, her fluffy coat brushing against his arm.

“Sorry!” she squeaked, tugging her tail under an arm, the appendage wiggling like a snake as she tried to control its erratic movements.

“It’s alright,” he mumbled, turning on his side so he could make more room. Once she was settled in, she threw the covers over the both of them, the combined heat of their bodies already creating a nice pocket of warmth.

Without warning, Skyseeker shifted, Roderick watching her discard her cloak, dropping it off the edge of the mattress, exposing her shiny black fur. He’d found out firsthand how soft her coat was to touch, but now that it was clean and dry, she felt even more fuzzier than normal, and his mind wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or flustered that his arms and chest were unable to stop coming into contact with her.

“Man-thing very warm,” she muttered, sharing none of his prudishness as she shuffled closer, her back firmy pressing against his chest. “Reminds Skaven of… hot things.”

“Uh, thanks?” he stuttered, holding his arms up, not sure where to put them now that she was so close. Her scent rose to his nose, so potent now that there was nowhere else for it to go. She smelled faintly of the soap he’d used earlier, but there was a deeper, more rich scent hidden behind it, one that his brain associated with coffee, of all things, almost earthy, but not in a bad way.

“D-Don’t smell Skaven,” she grumbled, perhaps hearing him sniffing the air.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Just don’t!” she said, not elaborating further. Shrugging his shoulders, he promised he wouldn’t use his nose, pulling the sheet a little higher over his shoulder. He tried closing his eyes, but with her tail constantly flicking against his legs, and the compromising state he was currently in, sleep was the last thing on his fretting mind.

“Y-You can touch Skaven,” Skyseeker added, seeing him struggle to find a spot for his arms.

“Oh, I-I wouldn’t… Are you sure?”

“Touch, don’t smell, that’s Skaven’s rules for nap time.”

Slowly hooking an arm across her stomach so as not to startle her, those flat muscles in her belly flexed as he hugged her. With her back to him, he couldn’t see her expression, but he had an inkling her eyes were angled straight ahead. She was as tense as he was.

“This is weirdest thing Skaven has ever done before,” Skyseeker commented, and for once he was glad for her tactless nature. Her blunt statement seemed to melt through the lingering tension like a knife, Roderick chuckling as he eased down onto the pillow they were sharing.

“Which part? The fact you’re sharing a bed with me, or that you’re in a bed at all?”

“The… first one. No! The second! Maybe both. Always try to find own private nest to sleep before. Breeder sharing nap with other Skaven always makes breeder… nervous.”

“I can imagine,” he replied. “Are you… nervous now?”

“… No,” she replied after a moment. “Should be, but not. Not know how Skaven comes to that conclusion.”

“Maybe because I’m not a Skaven?” he suggested.

Skyseeker didn’t reply, curling her paws beneath the pillow. As the minutes ticked by, she seemed to grow more relaxed, gently easing into his chest, perhaps attracted to his body heat. Likewise, Roderick felt the prospect of sleep slowly becoming easier to grasp, his eyelids soon growing heavy as his body registered the fact it was surrounded by soft sheets and soft furs on all sides.

“I-I like you, Roderick!” Skyseeker suddenly exclaimed, Roderick tilting his head.

“Well that was sudden. Where’s this coming from?”

“Before, Roderick said you like Skyseeker. Wanted to… reciprocation!”

“Oh. Well… thank you,” he said, not sure how else to respond. With that, she pushed her head into the crook beneath his chin, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Soon her stomach began to rise and fall in a steady rhythm, the Skaven’s breathing slowing as she drifted off.

Roderick closed his eyes, the sensation of his fingers running through Skyseeker’s damp fur during the bath echoing through his mind. He remembered how close she’d come to touching his groin area, just the mere recollection of the event making his head spin. Why was he acting this way? Was he so deprived of female company, that he was starting to see Skyseeker in that kind of light? It was borderline heresy to be even considering it, but no matter how much he tried to stave the thoughts off, it was impossible to ignore them for very long, not with the Skaven’s soft body pressed up against him.

He needed to get his act together, and fast. Deciding he’d sleep on these troubled thoughts and sort them out in the morning, he settled in, inadvertently pulling Skyseeker a little closer as he let sleep take him.

Chapter 7: Setting Sail

Roderick rubbed his eyes as he threw off the bedsheets, swinging his bare feet onto the cold floor. Sunlight was bleeding through the slivers between the drapes, drawing bright bands of yellow across the wall and table, the scraps of the hearty meal they’d enjoyed last night still messing its surface.

“Ready for some breakfast lass?” he asked, yawning into a fist. He turned to pat his companion on the arm. “Assuming you’re not still full from last night. S-Skyseeker?”

The bed was empty, the Skaven nowhere to be seen. He looked around the room, checking beneath the table, then inside the bath, scratching his chin in confusion. He remembered waking up during the night a couple times, feeling Skyseeker’s soft presence bundled up against his chest, so she must have departed recently.

He crouched down to check beneath the floorboard, but again she wasn’t there. She must have left, but where, and for what reason? He knew that if anyone was sneaky enough to move about the city undetected, it would be Skyseeker, but he still worried for her all the same.

I’m worried about a Skaven, he thought, shaking his head. Truly strange times for us all.

His jumbled thoughts from last night came flooding back, a part of him briefly wondering what exactly was strange about looking out for a friend. But did friends bathe each other? Only partners or consorts would do such a thing, and Skyseeker was neither of those things. He could have put a stop to her efforts to put her paws on him, but hadn’t. What did that make of him?

Trying to dispel these thoughts, he checked the room over one more time, calling out her name, just in case she was napping in the brickwork. There was no reply, Roderick running a hand through his hair as he paced.

She had told him she’d wished to explore the city, perhaps she’d started before he’d woken up. Either that, or she was in the kitchen eating all the food. Perhaps he should make sure it wasn’t the latter, then figure out what to do if that wasn’t the case.

Pulling on his armour, feeling refreshed after a good night’s sleep, he unlocked the door, making his way back into the tavern lobby. The musicians had departed, leaving the stage barren, along with most of the seats and tables. A few patrons still lingered about, including the two elves he’d seen before, one of them glancing up at Roderick has he walked by their table.

The innkeeper was still manning the bar, dressed in the same apron and tunic, looking not in the least bit tired. He must be used to working long nights in this place.

“Morning, stranger,” the man greeted, nodding to an empty stool. “Drink? More ale if you’re feeling adventurous, apple juice if you’re not.”

“Juice is fine,” Roderick said, sliding out a few corns from his money pouch. The innkeeper placed a mug on the bar-top, Roderick taking an eager sip. The juice was sweet and tasty, quenching his dry mouth.

To the right of the racks of bottles and kegs was a door, and it opened a few moments later, a maid hand dressed in a black and white gown carrying a bowl of soup or porridge in her hands. Neither she or the innkeeper looked like the victims of a kitchen raid, so he could rule out Skyseeker being in the pantry.

“So,” Roderick began, leaning on his elbows. “What’s been happening around here? Anything interesting going on in the city? “

The innkeeper regarded him for a moment before replying. “Normally I’d charge for gossip, but since you’ve already paid up, a few words couldn’t hurt.”

Roderick’s smile was thin. At last, he’d seen the limit of the Tilean lust for gold.

“The Skaven invasion’s got everyone riled up,” the innkeeper added, wiping a mug stain off the counter with a rag. “The militia’s not quite enforcing conscription, but there’s posters nailed to every wall and door, offering a very fine wage for anyone who signs on. If what I hear about all these wiped-out mercenary bands is true, they’ll need every able man they can get if the rats come knocking.”

Roderick shifted at the words ‘wiped out’. Was he talking about the band he’d been a part of? Had they really been killed to a man? There was no way to be certain, but he still felt a pang of guilt rise up in his chest all the same.

“Is the port still open?” Roderick asked, changing the topic.

“Certainly. We don’t call this place Portamaggoire for nothing. If the trade routes were ever cut, city would die a slow death.”

“Any special ships coming in lately?”

“Special?” the innkeeper asked. “As in, the Enlightenment herself special? Most interesting ships docking here are caravels, the occasional galley perhaps, why you ask?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting an old friend here, he’s sailing in from the Empire. He’ll stick out in a crowd. He’s a druid, dresses in a big green robe, wears a wreath of sticks on his head. Seen anyone like that?”

“A magician, eh? Let me think. I do recall a mage passing through some time ago, but he came in with a caravan. If he sailed in on Imperial business, you’ll have to ask someone at the harbour, afraid ship business doesn’t reach this far into town.”

The elves seemed to grow interested in their conversation, one of them whispering to the other while pointing in Roderick’s direction. He decided to preempt them, leaning an arm on the backrest and waving a hand to get their attention.

“Help you two with anything?” he asked, Roderick taking a moment to look them over in more detail. They wore leather armour from neck to toe, parts of their tunics the same colour as leaves, probably to help camouflage them as they stalked the forests. Like Skyseeker, they wore baggy hoods with long capes, but unlike the Skaven’s raggedy fabrics, these elves wore capes of fine linen, a symbol of a spiralling tree weaved into the material. Slung over their backs were quivers of arrows, as well as great bows, the weapons as tall as Roderick was.

The one on the right regarded him with a pair of icy blue eyes, the rest of their face obscured by a cowl. Even in a public tavern, they seemed to value their notoriety.

“Tell us something, manling,” the elf began, a male by the tone. “For what reason does a mercenary have to meet with a druid?”

“And what reason do you have to eavesdrop?” Roderick asked back. “Why’s it any of your business?”

“Druids are commendable,” the other elf added, this one a female. She had eyes that were almost as blue as her male counterpart, but not quite. Apart from that, it was hard to differentiate them, they looked like twins. “They are knowledgable of the world’s plight, by manling standards. A common brigand would do well to not disturb a Jade Wizard with his stink.”

“His Skaven stink,” the male elf added. “You reek of the vermin. Almost thought a rat had stumbled through the door, when you walked in last night.”

Roderick sipped at his drink, hiding his hesitation behind the mug. They weren’t aware of how close their analogy had been to the truth, thank the Gods, but the comment carried an unspoken warning. If Skyseeker went anywhere near these elves, she would be discovered in an instant. It was a miracle she’d taken to moving through the walls.

“That’s because I had to fight my way through the vermintides just to get here,” Roderick explained, touching the hilt of his Skaven sword for emphasis. “One tends to get a little messy hacking through rodent after rodent. Not that either of you would know, you take pride in killing from afar, up in your trees and out of harms way.”

“I was fighting before you were even born, mayfly,” the female snarled, her blue eyes flashing. The male placed his hand on her sleeve, gripping her arm tight.

“Not here, Shessare,” he muttered. “Do not let yourself be antagonised.”

The female settled back in her seat, glaring daggers at Roderick, who smiled back.

“Don’t take that the wrong way,” Roderick assured. “I was simply stating the fact that if I were sitting up in a tree, leagues and leagues away from any front line or danger, I’d smell pretty nice too. If anything, I’m complementing you, Shessare.”

“Do not speak my name,” the elf woman growled. The innkeeper, watching the exchange silently from behind the bar, thumped the counter with a fist, seizing everyone’s attention.

“I don’t want any trouble inside my tavern, understood? I just mopped, so take it outside if you can’t be civil.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Roderick replied, holding up a gauntlet. “The elf asked me a question, and I’ll answer it. This druid, Wilfred, he’s come to rid me of this country. No offense intended,” he added, glancing at the innkeeper. “He’s expecting me, so if you’ve any information to volunteer, speak now, otherwise I’ll be on my way.”

“What makes you think we know anything of this mage?” the female elf, Shassare, asked.

“Did you hear the part how I mentioned Wilfred wears a wreath? He acquired that from the branches of an Athel Loren Glade Tree. I imagine a pair of elves would be very… attuned, to something like that if it was nearby.”

“Perhaps you do know this druid,” the male elf mused, clasping his gloved hands together. “He came in on an Imperial wolfship two of your weeks ago – though why it is referred to as a wolf alludes me, crude thing that it is. Considering it’s the only one of its kind in town, that should be enough for you to find him.”

“Well that’s… helpful,” Roderick replied, blinking in surprise. “If I know anything about you treefolk, you’d never help someone for free. Or at all for that matter.”

“Oh, we aren’t helping you, manling,” the female interjected. “We are simply letting you march to your death even quicker than you would otherwise. Falsely claiming to be a companion to a friend of the Glade is a tremendous insult. One that would warrant death from afar. We’ll be watching.”

Roderick took that as his cue to leave. He ordered some breakfast from the innkeeper, then retreated back to his room, feeling the elf’s eyes’on his back all the while. It had probably not been in his best interests to antagonise them so, not with Skyseeker under his protection, but what’s done is done. He should make haste to Wilfred’s ship as soon as possible.

He closed his room door behind him, wondering where he should start searching for Skyseeker. Should he just prowl the streets, hope that she came to him in time? Perhaps he could enlist Wilfred’s help, assuming he could convince him he wasn’t joking about having a Skaven companion.

As he paced around the room, a measure of panic starting to surface, there was a knock on the door, and a small part of Roderick was sure it would be Skyseeker, summoned back to the tavern through divine intervention. Unfortunately, it turned out to be just a maid hand, delivering the bowl of porridge he’d bought a few minutes ago.

He thanked the woman, the bowl warming his hand through his gauntlet, then moved to take a seat. Halfway between the door and the table, he nearly tripped as his foot caught on something, Roderick peering down to see the floorboard had moved in his absence, and a familiar squeaking sound was whispering through the crack.

“Skyseeker!” he sighed, lifting the board away to expose a groggy rat woman. “Where in the Gods names have you been?”

Skyseeker lifted her head on her slender neck, peering around the room through heavy eyelids, which were crusted with sleep. She looked like the most tired being in all of existence.

“What-What? Skaven been… been right here-here all night.” She cradled her temple in her paws. “Oooohh, head-face feel like flames. Put it out!”

“I told you to take it easy on the ale,” he chided. She’d only had about half the bottle, how could that wipe her out so hard? Perhaps Skaven couldn’t handle their alcohol like humans could, she was almost half his size. His frustration slowly gave way to pity as Skyseeker started mashing her palms across her muzzle, grimacing all the while. “I suppose it’s my fault for introducing you to it in the first place. Come on, get up.”

“Always stupid man-things fault!” Skyseeker snapped, letting him take her paw into his hand, guiding her out of her hidey-hole. “Rick-rod should know that by now.”

“Here,” he asked, offering his canteen. “Drink up. You had me worried there, lass. Where did you go?”

When she finished with his canteen, handing it back to him, she looked at everything but his face, mumbling something under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I said not remember,” she repeated.

“Is that soright So, you went to bed, got out of bed at some point, left the room, then came back here while I was out in the lobby just now? All that happened, and you don’t remember a thing?”

“… Y-Yes? Yes. That what happened, exactly that!”

Roderick groaned, throwing up his hands. “Whatever, never mind all that, lass, we’ve got bigger problems. This place isn’t as safe as I first thought.”

“Ah-HA!” Skyseeker exclaimed, holding out a triumphant paw and pointing at herself. “I knew-knew it! ‘There’s no plots of schemes, we’re safe here’ – that’s what man-thing said before. Now who’s the stupid one?”

“Just listen for a moment,” he urged, and to his surprise, she did, her ears tracking him as she pursed her lips. She took the threat of new enemies very seriously. “There are elves in the tavern, I was just talking with them, and they smelled you on me. I managed to mislead them, but we need to leave. Grab your things.”

“S-Smelled breeder-musk on man-thing?” Skyseeker asked, the notion making the little Skaven flustered. “How… scandalous.”

“Never mind that, just get ready to go. They said they’ll be watching me, so you’ll have to leave by the floors, or walls, or wherever it is that you use to get around.”

“Hunted by pointy-ears, how intriguing! Horned Rat will be most impressed when Skaven gives them a good slipping. But first, a quick breakfast!”

“There’s no time for that,” he chided. “I’ll get you something later. Meet me in the alley outside, the one I told you to wait in last night, remember? Avoid the lobby if you can, and keep far away from the elves.”

“Don’t tell me how to sneak-scurry, fatfeet,” she grumbled, pulling on her disguise. “Ready! Let’s skedaddle!”

She bent to lift up the floorboard, slipping beneath the wood with a snicker, the board slapping back into place. The pitter-patter of her feet crossed to the far side of the room, and then the Skaven was gone.

Roderick checked the room to make sure he had everything, tidying up a little to hide any evidence of the Skaven’s presence. With a little luck, they would mistake the fur clogging the bath drain as hair.

Tucking his helmet under an arm, he walked out into the hallway, making his way to the exit. The two elves were still at the same table as before, Roderick doing his utmost to ignore them as he slid his room key over the bar-top, the innkeeper thanking him and to come visit again.

-xXx-

The streets were a little busier compared to the night before, the early hour meaning very few of the city residents were starting to go about their business. As long as he and Skyseeker didn’t dawdle, they should reach Wilfred’s ship before the city woke up and became clogged with people.

As Roderick turned to the right, walking into the alleyway flanking the tavern, he found Skyseeker huddled up against the dumpster, head tucked under an arm as she snoozed. She looked like a beggar, the image only furthered by her tattered hood and the heavy awning cover she’d bundled over herself like a quilt. At least none of her Skaven features were exposed, the pedestrians walking along without so much as a word.

He called her name, waiting impatiently as she continued to snore. How could she be so tired all of a sudden? Feeling a little impolite, he nudged her with his foot, Skyseeker awakening with a startled chortle.

“Huh? Wha-? OH, Rick-rod! You took time! Waiting hours for you.”

“And I see you’ve been vigilant in the meantime,” he noted.

“So where to next?” Skyseeker asked, stretching her arms over her head. “Fredwil’s ship? Man-thing know where it is?”

“Indeed I do. He’s somehow gotten his hands on a wolfship, been docked for a few days. I was expecting something a little less conspicuous, but I’m not complaining. Those ships are fast and loaded with guns.”

“How does man-thing know this?” she asked, sticking to his side as he began to walk across the street. The sea was to the west, so all they had to do was walk that direction until they reached the port district.

“Those elves I mentioned told me,” he answered, Skyseeker glancing up at him, her unspoken confusion clear as day. “They think Wilfred will sort me out once I find him. Wish I could see their faces once that happens. Perhaps we will,” he added, checking over his shoulder.

“Not that it bothers me-me, but why did you incur pointy-ears’ wrath?” she asked. “Rick-rod knows we have enough enemies already-ready!”

“I’ve never been one to knuckle down at the words of an elf,” he muttered. “Especially ones as pretentious as those two. You should have heard what one of them called themselves. Shessare. Sounds like a Bretonnian dessert or something.”

They continued on through the narrow streets, the sounds of boots clocking against the cobbles echoing beyond every twist and turn. While a few of the citizens turned to give Skyseeker curious glances, that was the limit of their suspicions, some even parting to let her walk by uninterrupted. Perhaps they really saw her as a dwarf, and did not wish to get in her way.

“Rick-rod! Think-Think disguise is working!” Skyseeker hissed, Roderick noting she was gluing to his flank at all times. “Ha-Ha! Seeing stupid man-things always makes Skaven laugh.”

She seemed more chipper today, their night spent together having done wonders for the both of them. While Roderick had conflicted thoughts about sharing a bed with her, he wondered if she felt the same way. She hadn’t brought the event up yet, so neither would he.

“Just try and keep your voice down,” he replied, the pair turning down another bend in the street. “The ruse won’t last long if people hear you shouting me-me and Horned Rat all the time.”

“Then I’ll switch back to beard-thing impression! Got lots of practice since last time. Want to hear it?”

“No, thank you,” he sighed, his annoyance betrayed by his smirk.

Ten or so minutes of walking later, the streets began to widen, Roderick and Skyseeker finding themselves standing on the edge of a market square. Stalls draped in all manner of colourful awnings filled the space, the men and women stood behind them shouting the prices of their wares. Dozens of people weaved between the stalls, their wide-brimmed hats and long-sleeved tunics shielding them from the rising sun’s heat. A few guards stood watch here and there, their long halberds towering above the layers of heads.

“Oh, I completely forgot!” Roderick said, planting a fist in his palm, Skyseeker flinching at the gesture. “You said you wanted to explore the city. Shall we go for a walk? After we get something to eat?”

“W-What about elfy-things?”

“What are they going to do, shoot us out in the street? The guards will deter them from getting in our way, trust me. So what do you say?”

He couldn’t help but feel he was asking Skyseeker out on a date, but he quickly reminded himself he was just entertaining her, nothing more.

“Ah, uhm… n-no,” Skyseeker mumbled, trying to look at anything but him.

“What? But you said last night that you wanted to explore.”

“Time’s changed,” she replied. “Man-thing city… boring, actually. Best we scurry on quick-quick.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, and now he felt as though he’d just been turned down. “Is this because of the elves?”

“Uh, that too!” she stammered.

“So there’s another reason? And that is?”

“N-Nothing! I never said no reasons. Never said anything about exploring city last night while man-thing slept.”

“You what?” he asked, spreading his arms out wide. “You went out on a bender? Skyseeker, I told you to keep a low profile!”

“Lies!” she snapped, then looked away sheepishly. “How did man-thing know I went into city?”

“Because you just told me!” he exclaimed. “Lass, this city is full of armed men, what if you’d been discovered?”

“But I wasn’t!” she replied. “How many times must I say-speak – Skyseeker is Clan Mors’ best assassin.”

Roderick tried to utter a reply, stuttered, then gave up, throwing his hands up in frustration. This explained why she hadn’t been in the room when he’d woken up, and why she looked so tired when he found her.

“At least tell me you didn’t kill anyone,” he sighed, bracing himself for her answer.

“Stupid man-thing, always thinking the worst. No kill-stabbing happened, just like I promised.”

“Thank Sigmar,” he breathed. “And you’re certain you weren’t discovered?”

“Positively!”

“Then… perhaps this turn of events wasn’t as bad as I first thought.”

As the words left his lips, he heard a scuffle behind him, Roderick turning to see a pair of guards hauling a man through the square, their gauntlets tucked beneath his arms. The man looked like a merchant, with a green chaperon upon his head, and dressed in a fancy quilted coat. The citizens turned to stare as the guards roughly dragged the merchant away, Roderick able to pick up the tail-end of his babbling as the guards hauled him off.

“-please listen to me! There was a rat! A Skaven is in the city! It was in my shop, please, you must believe me! I have proof, witnesses!”

The guards dragged him around the corner and out of sight, Roderick shooting Skyseeker a frown, the rat woman shrugging in response. “What?” she asked. “Could mean other Skaven in city! Best keep eyes peeled.”

“What part of being discreet don’t you understand?” he sighed, rubbing his temple with a hand. “What did you do? Why are they hauling that poor man off?

“Poor!” she echoed. “Man-thing deserved what happened. Uhm, not that I would know what happened. Or that anything did happen, yes-yes…”

“You’re horrible at lying, lass,” he said, prompting her on. She stared up at the sky, refusing to make eye-contact, Roderick shaking his head when she refused to add anything.

“Very well, don’t tell me,” he grumbled. “probably for the best I don’t know what happened anyway. Let’s forego exploring and move on, before these Skaven sightings start to spread.”

He strolled into the square, Skyseeker hurrying after him. She opened her muzzle to speak, then stopped herself when Roderick flashed her an annoyed look.

As they blended in the crowd, the scent of cooked meat began to hang thick in the air, Roderick following his nose towards its source, soon coming before a stall towards the centre of the market. Behind the countertop was a portable kitchen, the sections of stoves and appliances connected together by brass hinges and cogwheels, reminding Roderick of foldable compartments one might find in a toolbox. The kitchen was open to the sky, letting the smoke rising from the beds of coals dissipate into the air. A pig roasting on a spit was being tended by two men in chef aprons, one of them walking over to address the people lining up.

“Feel like bacon, Skyseeker?” Roderick asked, joining the queue.

“What is bacon, and why are we here?” she asked back. “Thought man-thing said we should be moving on.”

“I’m not walking another step on an empty stomach. This shouldn’t take a minute,” he answered. “And bacon is meat from a pig, by the way, a farm animal.”

She licked her front teeth at that, Roderick just able to see her eager expression through the shadow of her hood. After a few minutes, it was their turn in the line, Roderick ordering two serves of meat, then another when he remembered Skyseeker’s endless appetite. The chef wrapped his order up in a paper parcel, Roderick handing over a sum of gold in exchange. Next, he located a fruit stand, buying a pair of fresh apples to go with the meat. Meal in hand, they departed the square from the northern side, finding a secluded alleyway where Skyseeker could expose her paws and muzzle away from prying eyes.

Unwrapping the parcel, Roderick handed over a strip of bacon, watching as Skyseeker chewed through the tough meat effortlessly with her sharp teeth. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she swallowed it down, her mouth forming a little o of wonder.

“Palatable!” she exclaimed. “Best meat eaten since ever!”

“Nothing like bacon to start off the morning,” he replied, starting on his own piece. The bacon was just under the point of being burned, exactly the way he liked it, the fruit adding a sweet aftertaste.

“Apologising,” she suddenly began, Roderick turning to see Skyseeker peering up at him, a dim look in her eyes.

“What?”

“For causing ruckus,” she explained, clicking her front teeth together in what might be irritation. “Was not thinking straight last night, which is unlike me – being an intellectual. Not intention to make Rick-rod angry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he replied. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. Alcohol can make a person do crazy things, especially if they’re wet behind the ears. I remember my first night on the town was just as disorderly.”

“Oh? Do tell!”

“Well, me and a couple of friends went out to a tavern not unlike the Crippled Gryphon, celebrating something or other. A couple beers in, one of us thinks we should relive our youths and play a game of hide and seek on the street outside – it’s a children’s game, where a group of people hide while one person tries to find everyone. Anyway, a couple rounds later and I’m trying to hide, and by this point the street’s pretty well known, and all the good spots are taken. But then my eyes turn up, and I get the brilliant idea that nobody’s going to find me if I’m up on the roof.”

“Should have fallen and broken my neck that night, but by some miracle I make it up there, and I settle in behind the chimney, drink in hand. A couple minutes go by, and I hear people shouting my name, telling me that they give up. Not a chance of that, I thought, drunk Roderick’s going to win this game. After a suspiciously long while, I peek over the gutter and see my friends have gotten the town guard involved in the search. That should have been my cue to realise people were getting worried, but I’ve never been one to let victory slip me by.”

“I close my eyes for a moment, and next thing, it’s dawn. I’d spent the whole night up on that roof, freezing my balls off for some stupid game. My friends were inside, having long given up, and one of them gave me this look, said he was just about to go inform our field commander that I was missing in action.”

“Did you tell them where you were sneak-hiding?”

“Not a soul,” he chuckled. “And that’s what bothered my friends the most in the end. Not the fact I could have actually gone missing.”

Skyseeker giggled, failing to suppress a smile. “Would not have told either,” she said. “Need hidey place for next game!”

“Needless to say, I’d been drinking quite a lot, and my sense of judgement was pretty far gone by that point. I assume that was the same case with you last night.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped. “Had control of all faculties, like always! Always know where I am, what I am doing.”

“So when we… washed each other, slept together, spoke about all those things… that wasn’t the ale talking?”

“Ale… may have had some influence,” she admitted, staring at the spot between her feet. “Did… man-thing not like bathing? Will do better next time, promise!”

“No, no, the bath was fine, really. I enjoyed it,” he stammered, his cheeks warming.

“S-So did I!” she chimed, locking eyes with him for a second. She looked away, scratching her muzzle pensively. “A-Anyways, what… ‘speaking’ did Skaven do? Not that I forgot!” she hurriedly added. “Just need remindening, please.”

“Well let’s see,” he began, noting Skyseeker was tensing up as she waited for his answer. “you asked me what kinds of things I look for in a woman, then wrapped up the night by saying you liked me.”

“What.”

Skyseeker had the deadpan look of one who’s just been told a terrible joke, the Skaven hiding her expression by slamming her paws into her face. “N-No, wait-wait! Th-That’s not… I never said that! That was ale talking!”

“You just said you had control of all your faculties.”

“Stop nitpicking!” she complained, glancing through her fingers to give him an exasperated look. “Stupid man-thing drink jumbled words! Made me sound like breeder in heat who wants attention. Which I’m not! Well, technically am that, but that’s not point!”

“You know,” he began, a mischievous smirk on his face. “We stupid man-things have a saying. A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.”

“B-But I’m not a man-thing! It doesn’t count!” she wailed, pulling her hood over her face to conceal herself from him. “A-And I like you as FRIEND. There was NO romantasy in Skaven’s words. Zero, negative even! Why would Rick-rod even suggest otherwise? Wait, did it? Stop smiling at me like that-that!”

She bent so far forward her head was almost resting in her lap, Roderick chuckling as she started babbling under her breath. He didn’t get the impression that she was disgusted by this revelation, it was more like it taken her by surprise, and her clumsy explanation suggested he’d embarrassed her greatly. It was amusing to see her so flustered, Skyseeker was always so focused on her mission, that he’d started to think it was all she cared about. It seemed he was wrong.

“Perhaps the ale had more of an effect on you than you care to admit,” he said, trying to rescue her verbally.

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “It was a long nap time. Saw very interesting things, including man-thing’s- NO. Stop.”

She met his eyes again, quickly looking away as she snagged another bacon strip from his parcel, stuffing it – and her whole paw – into her mouth. Roderick took another bite of his apple, the two falling silent as they ate. It wasn’t an awkward silence, though there was some tension in the air, but one of a wholly different quality than before.

His words might have been considered uncouth if he’d spoken them to a human woman, but Skyseeker didn’t appear offended, the occasional glance she sent in his direction proving the fact. Her excuse for explaining how she liked him had been clumsy, but endearing in a way, and Roderick would be a fool to not realise she may have a small crush on him.

He thought back to how indecisive he’d been right before sleeping, debating his conflicted feelings towards Skyseeker. She wasn’t at all like a human woman, both physical and otherwise, but it was those parts of her that were so fascinating. She didn’t mince words, she didn’t ty to act polite, she just did and said the first thing that comes to her mind. That kind of to-the-point attitude made her easier to understand than most of his previous partners.

A part of him reciprocated this crush of hers, but when he opened his mouth to say so, nothing came out. Perhaps he could put into writing what his words never could, and make her a poem? He had done something similar once before with a previous suitor, around the time he’d first signed on with the Imperial army. Nothing had come of it in the end, but she hadn’t complained about his poetry skills…

He would need time and some parchment first, but with a bit of luck, he’d have both by the time they’d set sail.

He looked up at the sun, seeing the morning was passing swiftly. Tossing the apple core away, he dusted off his hands, gesturing to Skyseeker with a gauntlet.

“You ready to move, lass?”

She nodded, wolfing down the last of her bacon, licking her paws clean with her long tongue.

“Ready-Ready! Time to sail-sail!”

-xXx-

With their bellies full, they pressed on through the tight streets of Portomaggoire, the dwellings as colourful as they were unique, no two buildings quite the same in size or shape. They took on a more rustic appearance as they approached the city’s western portion, form giving way to function as warehouses and industry took precedence.

They soon came upon a staircase, Roderick taking the lead as he began descending the steps, Skyseeker trying not to trip on her cumbersome disguise as she followed. Two residential buildings sat flush against the steps to either side, their windows open to let the salty air seep inside. The scent of the sea was thick, Roderick resisting the urge to pinch his nose. He’d spent most of his life fighting far from the coast, so he wasn’t as accustomed to the smell of the barnacles and seaweed as these Tileans were.

He peered up at the rooftops, hand on the hilt of his Skaven sword as he scanned his surroundings. Until he was proved otherwise, he would take the elves’ threat seriously, though it remained to be seen if they would catch on to Skyseeker’s true identity.

His companion noticed what he was doing, following his gaze up as she squeezed past his flank.

“Any pointy-ears?” she asked, something metal in her paw catching the light as she held her arm out. “Say word when you do, will give them nasty surprise!”

“Put that away,” he chided, pushing her arm down. “Flaunting your Skaven stars is a good way to draw suspicion.”

“It’s warp-star, stupid!” she corrected. “Get it right!”

As they reached the bottom of the staircase, a flock of seabirds raced up from the rooftop ahead of them, their small wings framed against the blue sky. There were dozens of them plaguing the air, Roderick watching what must be half a dozen flocks draw circles overhead. Every now and then one of them would swoop down to the ground a short distance away. They were getting close to the port.

They took another staircase down, this part of the city made up of tiered levels as the land lowered towards the sea. After dipping beneath an archway and turning another corner, they emerged into the most spacious part of the city yet.

Forming a crescent shape was a stone foundation, thick jetties and wharfs jutting from the cobbles at various spots along its curved length, spearing out into a panoramic view of an azure ocean. Bobbing in the water were ships of all sizes, from small dinghies and private yachts, to commercial liners and cargo haulers, their sales flapping in the harsh winds. There were bright markers in the water to help keep the docking lanes clear, the buoys sporting small glass orbs upon their tops, the devices similar to the street lamps. Perhaps they acted as small lighthouses when night fell.

“What is THAT?” Skyseeker exclaimed, faltering when a pair of guards walked by from right to left, turning to scrutinize her. She must look quite a state to them, draped in a cloth that previously belonged on a veranda.

“It’s the port part of Portomaggoire,” he explained, leading her onwards. They were closer to the left side of the port than the right, so searching the lefthand docks was the first step to finding the wolfship.

“Not poRT. I know what port is, I mean that thing!” she snarled, jabbing a paw out to the water.

“The trade galley?” he asked, Skyseeker rolling her eyes at him. She rushed over to the lip of the port, peering over the edge of the stonework, her red eyes tracing the white sands as they gave way to the ocean below. The shallows were full of rock clusters, algae adding a splash of green to the murky blue. She must have been asking what the ocean was.

“Eek! See that?” she shouted, her finger aimed into the reefs. “What in Horned Rat’s name was that?”

“A fish,” Roderick answered, grinning as the Skaven became mesmerised as the little creature reappeared, darting between the rocks, its long tail glittering as the scales caught on the sunshine. Knowing that she had lived in an underground city most of her life, it was likely she’d never seen anything like a fish, or this amount of water before.

He encouraged her to move on, the pair sticking close to the water so Skyseeker could watch the marine life swim by. Rows of warehouses lined the port’s inner side, their cavernous interiors occupied by skeletal frames of ship hulls, carpenters sawing planks and hammering nails clustered around them.

Some of the builders looked up as Skyseeker wandered over to the nearest one, the Skaven admiring their work from a short distance away. She seemed infatuated, her eyes tracking the movements of one of the men as he shaved down a plank using a plane.

“They make all of hulk things?” Skyseeker asked, gesturing to the ship frame. This one was mostly intact, a few days from being seaworthy, if Roderick had to guess.

“That’s right,” Roderick replied, stealing a glance at the sun, guessing it was around ten o’clock. “Takes many months, sometimes years to produce a ship from scratch like this.”

She noticed where he was looking, reading his thoughts without having to ask. “Apologise, man-thing, getting distracted by things,” she said. “Should be making haste to wizard ship!”

“No, it’s fine,” he replied. “It’s only natural you’d be curious about all this stuff. It’s… cute, in a way, you being so amazed by all these normal things.”

“Nothing normal about any of this,” she said. “And don’t call me cute!”

They moved further up the dock, each warehouse sporting a ship frame in various stages of completion. Skyseeker seemed a lot more livelier than usual, her energy failing to deplete as she hopped from one strange thing to the next. Perhaps all those knots in her fur he’d gotten out during their bath had something to do with it.

A trade galley up ahead pulled out of the quay, its sails curtaining them from the sun’s light for a moment. Roderick squinted into the distance, his features lighting up as he spotted something he recognised.

“Ah-ha,” he announced, clapping his gauntlets together. “I think I see the wolfship. There, at the far end of the port.”

“Where?” Skyseeker demanded, following his gaze. She reached into her hood, the telltale clockwork clicking of her goggles reaching his ears, the Skaven zooming in down the dock. “Which one? Boats all look same to me.”

“You’ll see when we’re closer.”

After a few minutes, they reached a more populated part of the port. Roderick could see swarms of humans and even a few dwarves lining up before a few wharfs, each man and woman carrying some sort of pack or container. They were filing up onto wooden planks extending off the bows of a pair of bulky ships, guards checking the passports of each boarding passenger. Beyond them were stalls just like those in the market, gutted fish and choice cuts strung up on lines of string.

“Your invasion’s got a lot of people running scared,” Roderick noted, pausing to count the number of guards.

“For good reasonings,” Skyseeker chittered. “A Skaven has breach-crossed Portmacgyver walls. Flee in terror, peasants!”

Roderick hushed hush her, apologising to the few nearby families who’d overheard her.

As they navigated throught he crowds, Roderick noted that benches were lined up against the dock’s edge, facing out to sea. As his gaze fell over them, the cool breeze whipping his hair back, he did a double take, realising that sitting upon one of them was someone he recognised.

“What you looking at, Rick-rod?” Skyseeker demanded. “If you say your boat’s on other side of port, I will stab you.”

“No, that’s… that’s him,” he said, Skyseeker turning to follow his finger. Sitting there with his back turned was an old man, his long silver hair blowing in the breeze. Draped over his shoulders was a robe the colour of grass, and upon his head rested a wreath of sticks, the wood looped around itself though it was as flexible as shoelace.

“Really-Really?” Skyseeker asked, tilting her muzzle. “THAT is the grand wizard you spoke-speaked of?”

“Sure is. Recognise him anywhere.”

“B-But he’s just sitting there!” she argued. “Where’s his doomwheel? Or his throne of skulls? Or his army?!”

“He’s a druid, not a Chaos Lord,” Roderick chided. “Come, I’ll introduce you.”

He could see Skyseeker was hesitant to follow, Roderick pausing to look back at her. “Don’t fear, lass, Wilfred’s as reasonable as they come, trust me.”

“I-I do,” she muttered, catching up with him. “Any last second advice? Want to make good-great impression!”

“Just be yourself. Actually, don’t do that. Be honest, but don’t mention how we met. And say nothing of your mission. Or the fact I told you why the Emperor sent us hear. You know what? Just let me introduce you. Better that way.”

She hung back while Roderick approached the bench, noting that the old man was cradling a pipe in the corner of his lips, a little wisp of smoke trailing from the bowl.

“Wilfred? It’s me. Greetings.”

Without turning round, the old man lowered his pipe, sighing out a puff of smoke while shaking his head.

“Fifteen days, three hours, and fifty seconds. I awaited your arrival for over two weeks, and your first offer to me is your greetings? In Marienburg, a peasant was lashed twenty times for keeping a wizard waiting. You should be offering your apologies, general-who-was, if you knew what was good for you.”

“I’m surprised Grim Death didn’t get to you before I did,” Roderick replied tersely. “You look like you’ve aged fifteen years.”

Despite his withered appearance, the old man leapt to his feet, propping himself up on a staff. To any common man it would appear like a walking stick, but even to Roderick’s undisciplined senses, he could feel the power radiating from its wood, the air filing with swirling energy. At its tip sat a refined emerald, cradled in the grip of spiralling vines, the precious gem seeming to shine as the wizard planted the haft of the staff in the ground.

As Roderick squared off with the druid, he noticed the lingering Skyseeker brace herself, a hand creeping down towards her sheaths. He couldn’t see her tail, but he imagined it would be standing out as straight as an arrow, the Skaven glancing between the two men.

“I see your insolence hasn’t wavered,” the wizard grumbled, and then he cracked a smile, chuckling as he placed his pipe back in his mouth. “You’re no spring chicken yourself, Roderick. You’ll be grey too before long.”

“It’s good to see you again, old friend,” Roderick said, returning the smile. He stepped forward, clapping the old man on the shoulder.

“Likewise, Roderick, likewise. Now let’s have a look at you.” He stepped back, beginning to pick and fret over Roderick’s armour. “My my, another scar on your cheek! I knew the mercenaries would impede your journey, but to take your Reiklander armour, and your sword…”

“What do you mean, you knew?” Roderick asked, narrowing his eyes. “Did you see me get waylaid in a crystal ball or something?”

“I foresee all things,” Wilfred replied, waving a mystical hand.

“Then you could have sent aid instead of sitting around here smoking pipeweed,” Roderick mumbled.

“Sent aid? Across half the country? You escaped your predicament long before my help would have had any impact, I knew you would be resourceful enough to make it here of your own power.”

“That’s where your wrong, Wilfred,” Roderick countered. “I made an… unlikely ally along the way. One who’s saved my life a number of times.”

“Oh?” Wilfred asked, raising his bushy eyebrows. “Where are they? I would be glad to pass on my thanks.”

Roderick gestured behind him, Wilfred turning around, blinking when he noticed the demure Skyseeker watching on from afar. Taking this as her prompt to introduce herself, she came forward, glancing up at Roderick as if for reassurance, one he replied to with a nod.

“Salutationings,” Skyseeker began, waving a paw. “I am… Drawfius of Clan Angry. Angry? Angrund! Am definitely not a raki – that means Skaven in beard-thing tongue!”

She gripped the lip of her hood, peeling the fabric back just enough to expose the tip of her furry muzzle, Wilfred recoiling a little.

“Just kidding! See? I AM a raki! Not actually a beard-thing!” she announced, snickering like she’d just pulled off the greatest scam of all time. “Real name is Skyseeker of Clan Mors, Master Assassin, chosen of Lord Gnawdwell, and disguise extraordinaire! Hehe!”

“Now this, I did not foresee,” Wilfred muttered, stroking his long beard pensively. “What a fascinating turn of events! You managed to ally with a friendly Skaven,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. “Well done, Roderick. None have ever managed to do something like this before.”

“Not friendly!” Skyseeker insisted. “More like… uh, neutral.”

“And your name is Skyseeker, correct?” Wilfred asked. “What an interesting name. Are you perhaps an astrologer by trade?”

“Oh yes-yes! Astrology, thaumatology, trigonometry, dabbled in all arcane arts in spare time,” Skyseeker answered. “-And! Superb warrior as well! Beat Rick-rod in duel once.”

“There’s a lot of context she’s neglected to add,” Roderick chimed in.

“A she, you say?” Wilfred got down on one knee, lowering to Skyseeker’s eye level. “Well, miss Skyseeker, you have my gratitude for aiding Roderick in his quest. I’d love to know how the two of you met. And how this dual went.”

“It’s a long tale, and not the good kind!” Skyseeker replied, beginning to list off her fingers. “It’s full of action, suspense, a giant feather-thing, betrayal, reparations… oh! And a bath.”

“He doesn’t need all the details, lass,” Roderick said. “Let’s find someplace quiet, and we’ll give you the short version.”

Skyseeker took up the rear as the two men pushed through the throngs of people, soon emerging onto the far side of the crowd, ducking into a secluded alleyway where they could talk without being overheard.

Roderick started from the beginning, recounting his events from when he’d been forcibly employed by the mercenary Commander, to his strange meeting with Skyseeker, and their trip across the Trantine Hills together. She butted in every now and then to provide key details – usually ones that involved her being put in the spotlight – Roderick doing his best to incorporate her deeds without getting off track. He didn’t mind embellishing Skyseeker, if it meant convincing Wilfred she would be a useful asset.

The old wizard listened to their story patiently, glancing between the two without so much as a word. Roderick left out the part about confessing to Skyseeker what his true purpose in Tilea was – that was one boundary he feared Wilfred would not appreciate him crossing.

“Quite the series of events,” Wilfred said once the story was finished. “Yet, there’s one thing I don’t understand,” he added, turning his brown eyes on Skyseeker. “Why have you followed Roderick all this way? Surely you must have known there would be risks coming here, does your Clan not have need of you?”

Skyseeker raised a explanative paw, then lowered it when she couldn’t think of something to say. Roderick spoke up before the pause dragged on.

“She was ostracised from her Clan,” he explained. “When they found out she was assisting me, they branded her a traitor, right lass?”

“Uh, correct!” she said, snickering under her breath.

“A fellow exile, hmm?” Wilfried noted. “No wonder you two got along so well.”

“Had nowhere else to go-go,” Skyseeker added, drooping her head as though overcome with grief. “Lived with rats all life, purposeless without them! Then, hatched a brilliant scheme – follow Rick-rod to ship, see new places, explore new things. Always wanted to go on a cruise!”

“Oh, you wish to travel with us?” Wilfred asked, twirling his chest-length beard with a finger as he considered. “Well… it will be a lengthy voyage, and I’d be glad of the opportunity to question an astrologer from an alien culture such as the Skaven…”

“Questions?” Skyseeker exclaimed. “Screw that! Take it back, will stay in Tilee-place.”

“I worried you’d be against the idea,” Roderick noted, addressing the wizard.

“It’s certainly a… strange occurrence,” Wilfred admitted. “But, any friend of Roderick’s is a friend of mine, and I’d be glad to have you join us, miss Skyseeker.”

“Skaven senses Fredwil’s about to say but,” she mumbled.

“You’d sense correctly,” Wilfred replied. “While I have no qualms, the crew I enlisted might not be so… forthcoming, about letting a Skaven on board.”

“Could sneak onto ship from water,” Skyseeker suggested, but Roderick shook his head.

“I’m not going to make you stay crammed in the cargo hold like a… well, rat,” he replied. “You deserve better than that.”

Skyseeker flashed him an appreciative look, one she hid behind her hood soon after.

“Think we might be able to convince them otherwise?” Roderick asked Wilfred.

“Their captain is one Arnulf Von Kessel,” Wilfred said. “It may be difficult, but not impossible to persuade him to see reason. He’s from Nordland, originally, used to be part of a handgunner troop before transferring to the Navy. His wolfpack’s assisted us in a couple of our campaigns up in Kislev.”

“You trust him?”

“He respects the Conclave, so it wasn’t all that hard to sway him to our cause. Trust is subjective, but he can be bought, and as long as we can convince him that miss Skyseeker’s presence will be of aid, he should be forthcoming with the idea.”

“How soon can this Von Kessel set sail?”

“We can go right away. I’ve had the good captain keep his men prepared for your arrival. All he needs is the go ahead.”

“Then we have no time to waste-lose,” Skyseeker replied, taking Roderick by the hand. “Onwards, man-things!”

She dragged Roderick further down the port, Roderick struggling to keep up with her quick strides. Wilfred followed after, using his staff like a walking stick, the old man chuckling at the sight of him being led around.

As they approached the far end of the port, Roderick began to see the wolfship in more detail. It was anchored to the furthest quay, its sails reefed into their posts. The vessel was massive, dwarfing the few ships docked onto the nearby wharfs, making them look like toy boats in comparison. Despite this, design of the ship was sleek, the hull as narrow as possible while still maintaining a large crew, the vessel a near-perfect balance of mobility and firepower.

The rear of the ship was tiered into three levels, the upper two smaller than the lowest, likely the captain’s cabin and other officer chambers. The midsection of the ship was a large, flat deck maybe twenty meters across, the rails brimming with maybe a dozen gunpowder cannons, the barrels turned towards the sky, but the array of weaponry didn’t end there.

The hull was pockmarked with two layers of portholes, brass brackets spanning the ship’s entire length giving the vessel a layer of protective casing. Oars jutted out of the lowest layer of aforementioned ports, while more cannon barrels occupied the higher layer. Woe betide any ship in range of a broadside, there was enough cannon there to level a small town.

The most prominent detail of the ship was the forward section, where a forecastle bulged from just beyond the ship’s nose, the bunker-like feature three tiers tall with a flat top. Roderick could see maybe twenty windows built into the structure, and sprouting from each one of them were even more gunpowder barrels. That was only what he could see from this side, another twenty weapons likely lay on the opposing side of the forecastle, ready to fire on anything in front of the ship.

The forecastle overlooked a monumental ram, a giant pole the size of an oakwood’s trunk projecting from the ship’s nose, the feature tipped with a block of stone, chiselled into an approximation of a sheep’s skull the size of a dragon’s head.

“I don’t like it,” Skyseeker chittered, turning her nose up at the ship.

“What?” he asked, blinking. “You don’t feel inspired by the sight of so many guns? Few would dare to attack a warship like this, and those that do wouldn’t last long.”

“It’s too big!” she complained. “And you know what big means? Slow!”

“Not for a wolfship it doesn’t. Hint’s in the name.”

They made their way up the quay, passing stacks of wooden crates and barrels draped in fishing netting, walking along the wolfship’s immense length. It was fifty or sixty meters long from bow to stern, several hairy ropes connecting the deck to the metal posts lining the quay.

A wooden plank extended from the ship’s midpoint down to the pier, and as Skyseeker dragged Roderick towards it, two guards intercepted her. Unlike the militiamen, these men sported full armour plate, polished to a shine. Dangling from their right shoulders were small, red capes, and embroidered upon them was the Reikland coat of arms, the golden thread seeming to shine in the sun. These were not sailors, but soldiers of the Empire, Roderick’s chest welling as he finally looked upon his own countrymen for the first time in what felt like an age.

The guards crossed their spears, creating an ‘X’ in the air and blocking access to the plank, Skyseeker loosing a very Skaven-like squeak as they glared at the unlikely pair.

“Stay your weapons, men,” Wilfred called, sidling up beside Roderick. “Your General returns to us at long last.”

The two guards relaxed when they noticed the wizard, though they still spared wary glances at Roderick and Skyseeker. They took a moment to look him over, and perhaps upon recognising Roderick’s features, they lowered their spears, saluting him like fresh troops ready for inspection.

“I’m not your General any longer,” Roderick said, but he did wave for the guards to be at ease.

“For now,” Wilfred added, turning to the men. “Fetch the good captain, please. Tell him I’ve brought two new guests.”

One of the guards nodded, turning to walk up to the wolfship, disappearing behind the deck’s railing. He reappeared after a few minutes, now in the company of one other, the guard stepping aside and allowing Roderick to get a look at who it was.

The man was of similar age to Roderick, perhaps a little on the younger side, dressed in a black open-neck tunic and matching baggy trousers, the sleeves of his white undershirt ending just above the wrist. His face was obscured behind a ginger, bushy beard and a thick, handlebar moustache, and on his head rested a wide-brimmed barett, its fabric striped in white and red bands – the colours of the homeland. Two white feathers protruded from its top, probably peacock feathers. This must be captain Von Kessel.

His heeled boots clicked as the captain walked off the plank, clasping his arms neatly behind his back. He glanced at the three newcomers in turn, his eyes lingering on Skyseeker’s smaller frame for a second before they settled on Roderick.

“Hail, Roderick Erdmann,” Von Kessel began, his tone neutral. “I had begun to fear you would never arrive despite Wilfred’s promises to the contrary.”

“Greetings, captain,” Roderick replied, and although he’d not had to address a superior in some time, his arm snapped up in a prim salute all the same. Old habits die hard, he supposed. “I hope my delay did not cause too much idleness for you and your crew.”

“I was looking for an excuse to give the boys some shore leave,” Von Kessel replied, returning the salute. In Roderick’s peripheral, he could see Skyseeker tilting her head, watching the whole ritual with a bewildered expression. “The trip around Brettonia was long, but not uneventful,” Von Kessel continued. “More than a few pirates accosted us, and there’ll be many more to come the closer we get to the Vampire Coast. I pray to Sigmar this… ‘task’, will be worth the effort.”

“If you truly doubted our intentions, you would never have taken whatever offer Wilfred gave you,” Roderick surmised. “I don’t know how much he’s told you, but rest assured that once our mission is complete, the strength of the Empire, and its safety, will be secured. You have my word.”

“An exile’s word holds less sway than you think,” Von Kessel replied, Roderick narrowing his eyes. “Yes, I’m aware of your recent exploits, Erdmann. Even in the Imperial Navy, your reputation proceeds you. I’m not sure what it is the Conclave sees in you,” he muttered, glancing over at Wilfred. “but, with the Emperor’s blessing, I’ll forgive a little deviancy if it means the betterment of Riekland.”

“A sentiment I’ve come to appreciate as of late,” Roderick replied, giving Skyseeker a pointed look. That seemed to bring the Skaven more attention from the captain, Von Kessel’s eyes turning to her next.

“I was not aware you were travelling with company,” he muttered. “Who are you?”

“I am-!” Skyseeker began, but Roderick cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Let me,” he whispered, then raising his voice, said: “Captain, you’re aware of the Skaven invasion in the province, yes?”

“Obviously. If the rumours weren’t enough, we spotted rodent ships just off the coast the day before we docked. Our spotter counted twenty vessels.”

“The situation on land is dire,” Roderick continued. “Tens of thousands of rats plague the countryside, and coming in from the north was no easy task. I saw entire companies being wiped out to a man,” he added, looking away grimly.

“I see where this is going. This stranger assisted you?” Von Kessel asked, preempting him.

“In more ways than one,” Roderick replied with a nod. “She knew what routes the vermintides were taking, and how to best avoid them. Put simply, I wouldn’t be here without her.”

“And this answers my question, how?”

“She knows every move the Skaven will make, because she’s one of them. But far different in many ways,” he quickly added when the captain’s eyes blazed open. “She’s an outcast, in that she’s a follower of Sigmar’s teachings.”

“It is?!” Von Kessel asked.

“I am?!” Skyseeker asked.

“Yes and yes,” Roderick answered. “She’s sympathetic to our cause. I’ve taught her all I can in the short time since we met, and her faith is strong for a non-human.”

“I do not care if it’s memorized every grimoire,” Von Kessel snapped. “You’ve brought a rodent into the city, and you dare to imply you wish to bring it aboard my ship? This is outrageous! To ally with the forces of Chaos is treason beyond measure.”

The two guards gripped the hafts of their spears, their blank helmets turned in Skyseeker’s direction, the Skaven’s arms darting beneath her disguise in search of her blades. If the captain gave the order to seize her, Roderick wasn’t sure which side he’d pick.

Wilfred, who’d been stood off to one side in silence until now, clicked the end of his staff against the cobbles, all eyes turning to him. “Captain, calm yourself. The general has spent every waking moment in service to the Emperor, only a fool would think he’s stopped doing so now.”

“Fool?” Von Kessel repeated. “I’m the only one who’s not short a few marbles! To assist an exile was one thing, but a Skaven as well? The Emperor would never agree to this… collusion with the enemy.”

“But the Conclave does,” Wilfred countered. “Think of the opportunities this brings us, imagine what we can learn from a Skaven informant. Their resources, weapons, strategies. We would have far less to fear from the Skaven with the kind of knowledge miss Skyseeker here possesses.”

Roderick was certain Von Kessel would order his men to take Skyseeker’s head, but the captain backed down after a tense few moments, shaking his head adamantly.

“I’d be a traitor myself if I went against the Conclave’s wishes,” the captain grumbled. “Very well, it can sail with us, but on one condition.”

Von Kessel walked up, stopping a few paces away from Skyseeker, holding out his palm. She gave his hand an experimental sniff, shrugged, then tried to high-five him, her paw missing as the captain flinched away.

“Don’t touch me, filthspawn,” the captain grumbled. “Your weapons, hand them over.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Roderick butted in. “She’s quite harmless.”

“Sure, and I’m Sigmar reincarnate,” Von Kessel replied curtly. “this thing isn’t boarding my ship while it’s armed. I wont risk the lives of my men on your assurances, Erdmann.”

Roderick went to complain, but this time Skyseeker cut him off.

“I agree-gree!” she chittered, Roderick blinking in surprise. “As Horned Ra- Uh, Sigmar says: always in best-best interest to obey pawleaders. Will give Kessel-man weapons, yes-yes…”

She threw back her hood, the captain and his guards tensing as they saw the Skaven for what she truly was, Skyseeker reaching into her cloak. What followed was like a gag from something out of a theatre play, Skyseeker pulling an obscene number of weapons and devices from her cloak, more than should be physically possible to fit inside her sparse clothing. She placed enough knives to equip a squad into Von Kessel’s hand, along with two pouches of warp-stars, and a crystal orb that looked suspiciously like the ones the globadier had used to nearly poison Roderick.

“Take that off,” Von Kessel ordered, physically struggling to balance her armament. “I want to see what else are you hiding under… whatever that is.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her disguise off, the fabric sliding up her angled legs, then her torso. She threw it aside, where it landed on the cobbles with a thump, now standing there with just her camoflauged cloak and undergarments.

Her body was mummified in all sorts of pouches and slings, and she began to take them off one by one, the captain opening them to insect their contents. Some were filled with disassembled dagger parts, as though Skyseeker expected to be switching out the hilts and blades on the fly, while others contained what looked like powders. She even had a spool of rope in one pocket, as well as a few tiny bundles of a familiar fruit.

“I thought you said you ran out of olives,” Roderick noted.

“May have… exaggerated for pity points,” Skyseeker admitted, smirking up at him.

“No, really? That’s unlike you, lass,” he said mockingly, Skyseeker giggling at him.

“Your hood, pass it over,” Von Kessel said, shooting Roderick an annoyed look. He must not appreciate their playful exchanges.

Since the captain’s arms were so overloaded with her gear, he had to bring one of his guards in to help, the man patting down Skyseeker’s cloak while she stood there, her dark coat roiling in the wind. When he concluded the cloak was empty of weapons, Von Kessel gestured at her waistband next.

Here was where Skyseeker stored her prized weeping blades, Roderick reading her hesitation like words from a book as she placed a paw on one. She looked to him for reassurance, and when he nodded back, she unclipped the sheaths, handing them over.

“Watch paw-fingers, Kessel-man,” she warned, reaching down to her waist. “Blades are as sharp as my wit! Cut arm clean off.”

Next, Skyseeker produced a full-blown handcannon, the weapon having been tucked into the back of her loincloth. Confused, Roderick placed a hand on his holster, thinking she might have taken his at some point, but the pistol was still there on his belt.

She held the handcannon out grip-first, surprisingly attentive for once as she offered it. Roderick stepped forward before the stunned captain could take it, throwing his hands up.

“Hang on. Where in Sigmar’s name did you get a gun?” he asked, more surprised than anything. She thrust it into his hands, and he turned it over, admiring the golden etchings lining the the barrel, the polished sandalwood grip feeling smooth and glossy beneath his fingers. It was of decent craftsmanship, if a little on the decorative side.

He could see the conflict in her eyes, but after a few moments, Skyseeker relented.

“Bought-purchased last night,” she explained. “Forgot to get ammunition, though. Apologising…”

“You bought this?” he asked. Perhaps that man in the market square, the one who’d been hauled away by the guard, was the gunsmith she’d taken it from. “But… how? This must have cost a small fortune.”

“Oh! Meant to say steal,” she corrected. “You like-like it? Meant to be surprise…”

“Surprise?” he echoed. “How do you mean?”

“It’s gift, stupid!” she growled. “Know that Rick-rod likes guns, so took-stole gun, to give to Rick-rod when least expected! Not surprise anymore,” she added, glaring up at Von Kessel.

“Oh,” Roderick stammered. “Well… thank you, lass. That’s very thoughtful.”

Skyseeker rubbed her head like a woman might stroke their hair after being flattered, looking away with her muzzle split in a grin.

“I suppose it would be fine if you held onto that,” Von Kessel muttered. “Turn around, rat.”

Skyseeker did a full spin, the guard crouching down to look her over for any contraband. “What’s this?” he asked, gesturing at her goggles, which dangled around her neck.

“They’re for seeing!” she explained. “sunshine too bright out here.”

“It’s clean,” the guard announced after a second, Von Kessel nodding his head.

“Fine. Give it back its cloak, I don’t want to see its hideous face any more than I have to.”

“Hideous! At least Skaven doesn’t have red pubes growing out of its face,” she muttered, snatching her cloak from the guard, the grass and sticks threaded to the mesh rustling as she donned it.

The captain glared down at her. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing! Just talking to self, hehe…”

Von Kessel bit his lip, turning to jab a finger at Roderick’s chest. “You keep that thing on a short leash, you hear me? If it lays a finger on any of my men, speaks out of turn, even looks at someone the wrong way, I’ll hold you responsible. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Roderick replied.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. Both of you,” Von Kessel added with a pointed look at Wilfred. He motioned for them to follow, turning to walk up the plank, Skyseeker and the two guards taking up the rear.

A short walk up the gangway, and they were on the ship, Roderick leaning a hand on the railing as he stepped onto the deck. A few sailors had taken an interest in their little meeting with the captain, at least a dozen burly men in sleeveless shirts gathered round to see what all the commotion was.

The deck was laden with barrels and winch posts, the spools of rope trailing from the railings to the towering sails, the cloths forming grids against the blue backdrop. A grated hatchway that led to the hold sat in the middle of the space, and to the sides were staircases leading to the fore and aft sections.

“Ahoy-hoy, maties!” Skyseeker called, leaping on to the ship, turning to address the gathered men. “Move tails and set sails! Desert lands await!”

“Silence,” Von Kessel snapped. “You are not to address any of my men. That’s my second stipulation.”

“No need to be mean-mean, was just breaking ice,” Skyseeker whined, looking genuinely saddened by being shut down.

“What are you all gawking at?” Von Kessel growled, the men switching their focus from Skyseeker to him. “You’re not being paid to stand around! Report for rolecall and then get to your posts, we sail for Arabia immediately.”

The sailors hurried off with a chorus of yes captain’s, the order to depart already being shouted down the length of the ship.

“Since I have a ship to run, I’ll let you show the late general and his… companion, to their quarters, master druid,” Von Kessel said, turning to Roderick. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a wide berth and ask someone else. Good day.”

With that, the surly captain departed, shouting orders to his underlings as he made his way up to the forecastle, leaving Roderick and Skyseeker alone with Wilfred.

“That went well,” Skyseeker chirped.

“But he clearly hates you,” Roderick replied.

“Exactly!”

“Be wary, miss Seeker,” Wilfred warned, raising a crooked finger. “Von Kessel’s tolerance has its limits, and there are those on this ship who hold nothing but disdain for your kind. Until we make landfall in Arabia, your safety isn’t guaranteed.”

“Just how Skaven like-likes it,” she tittered, unfazed as ever.

“Come,” Wilfred added, gesturing with his staff. “Let’s show you around.”

They followed the wizard towards the ship’s aft section, Roderick holding Skyseeker back as a pair of sailors cut in front of their path, rushing towards a winch in the centre of the deck. Men were running about everywhere he looked, some climbing the rigging to access the reefed sails, others hauling spools of rope from one end of the ship to the other.

A cranking sound rose above the shouting, Roderick watching as the arm of a crane hovered just off the portside bow, the gears that powered the mechanism rotating slowly. A spool of chainlink draped from the claw, and as Roderick watched, an anchor rose up into view, the chrome dripping with water.

The three of them walked up a set of stairs to the quarterdeck, where the ship’s steering wheel was located, the device taller than Skyseeker was. Behind it was the ship’s next tier, the structure forming a block that made up the very rear of the vessel.

“Through here is the mess cabin,” Wilfred said, gesturing to a doorway built into said structure. Skyseeker took a quick detour towards the wheel, the Skaven giving it a tentative spin.

“Don’t touch that,” Roderick chided, guiding her away. “I don’t think the captain would appreciate you messing with everything.”

“Aw, but I want to steer boat!” she complained. “Imagine, clawcaptain Skyseeker, rat buccaneer of Tilee-place coast! Sure ta’ be the skurviest rat lass of all toime! Ya-harr!”

“I think Von Kessel would sooner dive overboard than let you navigate his ship,” Roderick muttered. “Your pirate accent is terrible, by the way.”

“You’re terrible,” she hissed, punching him on the leg.

Wilfred ushered them through the door once they’d caught up, the pair emerging into a room longer than it was wide, two rows of tables occupying the floorspace. To one side lay a sectioned-off kitchen, no bigger than the one they’d seen in the market. There was no one inside on the count of the ship being prepared to leave.

“Feel free to pop round whenever you fancy a bite,” Wilfred said, leading them between the tables. “The chefs usually work at the set meal times, but there’s a pantry over there with cured rations if you need a snack.”

Skyseeker was already halfway across the room before he’d finished his sentence, throwing the pantry doors open and delving into the shelves inside. Wilfred quirked a bushy eyebrow at the scene, turning his gaze to Roderick.

“Has she not eaten this morning?” he asked.

“Believe me, she fancies a bite pretty much every other hour,” Roderick explained. “I hope the captain stocked up.”

“This place stinks of man-things,” Skyseeker muttered, returning with a bundle of dried meat in her arms. “Smells worse than Rick-rod.”

“Well, with a complement of over one hundred and fifty men, the ship tends to get a bit pungent,” Wilfred said. “You get used to it after a while, for better or worse…”

“One fifty!” Skyseeker repeated, stuffing her new prizes inside her hood. “That’s tiny! Skaven hulks carry six times as much.”

“Down here’s the upper gun deck,” Wilfred continued, moving over to a step ladder in the far corner, the wizard climbing down it without difficulty, despite his withered appearance.

Roderick followed him, helping Skyseeker down as they stepped out onto the first of many decks making up the wolfship’s hull. Looking down its length was a lot like staring down a cathedral’s hall, except the roof was an inch above his head. He could just make out the nose of the ship some sixty meters away, the aisle flanked on either side by bronze cannons, their carts secured to the portholes by knotted ropes. Along the middle of the deck were chests filled with rifles and pistols, as well as barrels full of cannonballs, staircases and skylight boxes filling the spaces between.

“Impressive firepower,” Roderick noted, voicing his approval in the form of a whistle, the noise making Skyseeker’s ears flick. He had to raise his voice a little to be heard over the dozens of men shouting orders throughout the deck. “How many cannons does this ship have, exactly?”

“Standard procedure is to have a minimum of twenty a side at all times,” Wilfred answered. “That not accounting for the forecastle, which can fit fifty, sixty guns if it’s all hands on deck.”

“What’s on next deck?” Skyseeker asked, eager to explore.

Wilfred showed them down another step ladder, the lower deck more or less identical to the previous one, except there were seats instead of cannons, the thick ends of rowing oars sticking out of the ports. Roderick could see a few grapeshot weapons sitting flush against the hull, leading him to believe they could be fitted to the ports if the crew needed to trade speed for more firepower.

“Below us is the cargo hold,” Wilfred continued. “As well as the bilge pumps. I’d recommend limiting your time down here, people like us would just get in the way of these men.”

“Where do man-things sleep?” Skyseeker asked. “Barely enough room to walk-skitter.”

“Everywhere,” Wilfred answered, gesturing to the ceiling with his staff. Hammock sheets were strung up in rows across the roof in every direction, making the whole deck look like it was shielded by a white tarp. They looked like they were raised and lowered by pulleys, hinting that even when deployed, there was scarcely an inch between each bedding. “This deck, the one above, even the cargo hold, everywhere double’s up as a bunking area. Free space is limited on this ship, so every part of it is used.”

“This is why I didn’t join the navy,” Roderick muttered. “At least in a barracks you’re not breathing the same air as the man beside you. Sigmar forbid someone farts in here. Don’t tell me one of these is my bunk.”

“Ah, that brings me to where you will be staying. Back this way.”

They climbed back into the mess hall, Wilfred leading them up yet another step ladder, the three of them clambering out into a spacious area – spacious by warship standards. Ringing around the hatch was a continuous wall in the shape of the letter ‘U’, with the northern wall made up of doors and stained glass, sunlight spilling inside. Two doors led away to compartments on either side, while the deeper part of the space led off into a lavish compartment, with tiled flooring, dressers, curtains, and a dining table fit for a lord. Roderick guessed that was the captain’s quarters down there.

“I convinced the captain beforehand to lend you the secretary cabin,” Wilfred said, walking over to the compartment on the left. Inside was a bed that was folded out from a slot in the wall, as well as a writing desk and chair. A plain curtain drawn over a solitary window provided the cabin’s sole feature.

“Better than those hammocks by far,” Roderick said, nodding in approval. “Thank you, Will.”

“Don’t say I never look out for you,” Wilfred replied, waving a hand. “I’m not sure where we can put miss Seeker, however. Perhaps we can roll out a spare sheet here, between your cabin and mine.”

“Not to worries,” Skyseeker chimed. “I’ll sleep with Rick-rod.”

“Oh?” Wilfred asked, his tone curious. “Is that right?”

“She means sleeping literally,” Roderick explained hastily. “We’ve been sharing the heat of a campfire for weeks, so we’re used to bunking up.”

“Can say-speak that again,” Skyseeker giggled. “Rick-rod gave me bath last night.”

“Indeed?” Wilfred said, grinning over at Roderick. “Well then, that was very kind of him. Just take note that the only bath on this ship is in the captain’s quarters, and that one’s strictly off-limits, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Too much information, lass,” Roderick muttered, feeling warmth in his face.

There was a sudden thrum of sound, what seemed to be the far-off beat of a drum reverberating through his bones, Roderick glancing over his shoulder in surprise. Skyseeker’s reaction was more colourful, the Skaven grasping his leg with a paw, turning her muzzle at odd angles as she searched for the source.

“Do not worry,” Wilfred said. “those’re just the sailing drums. The men on the oars use it to row in time with eachother, since shouting across the deck while pulling a ship tends to get tiresome. I believe this one signals we’re pulling out of the harbour.”

As if to illustrate his point, Roderick began to feel the subtle pull of the ship’s fleeting momentum, more shouting audible through the windows. The captain’s men were well disciplined if they could ready the ship so quickly.

“Let’s go see-see,” Skyseeker chittered, moving over to the exit. Roderick followed her out, the beating drums growing louder as he emerged outside. Looking over the railing, he saw they were on the ship’s tallest level, Roderick seeing Von Kessel and one of his officers man the wheel below. He couldn’t see where the drums were coming from, perhaps they were in the lower decks, or the forecastle.

“Rick-rod, look!”

Skyseeker rushed over to the port side, her crimson eyes peering over the railing. Below was the quay, a few men who must be locals pulling threads of rope clear as the ship began to distance from the port, all the ropes weighing them down now released. Roderick noted that the plank had been drawn, the two Reikland guards helping to store it in a slot on the main deck.

Above them, the ship’s sails drew to their full lengths with a series of loud flaps, the cloths bulging as they caught on the winds. Looking further down, Roderick watched as oars jutting from the lower ports paddled into the waves, helping to guide the ship into deeper waters.

As the ship began to pick up speed, Skyseeker hopped onto the railing, Roderick shooting out a hand, fearing she might fall. She smirked at him as she lifted her paws, demonstrating her dexterity as she balanced there on the beam, her tail levelled out as counterbalance.

“No paws, see?” she said, waving her arms around. “having tail is advantageous! Rick-rod should get one.”

“Say goodbye to Tilea, lass,” he said, leaning his hands on the beam nearby. Portomaggoire was sliding ever further off to the left, the people in the harbour becoming little specks.

“BAD-bye, Tilea!” Skyseeker shouted, waving a paw. “It was not fun! Too hot, too tree-y, and too many bird-things! Worst place ever!”

“I fear it will only get more dangerous from here on out,” Roderick muttered. “from what I know of the desert locals, the Tilean’s will look downright civil in comparison, and there are creatures worse than gryphons in this world…”

“What could be worse than giant bird?” she demanded.

“I don’t know, and I’m afraid to find out.”

“Never fear, Rick-rod,” she continued, brandishing a butcher knife. “Anything stabs you, I’ll stab them first.”

“What in the… where’d you get that?”

“From messy hall! It was in pantry,” she explained, twirling the knife through her clawed fingers.

“You do realise if the captain sees you with a weapon, we’re both doomed, right?”

“Will be doomed-dead without my knives,” she countered. “A Skaven without a knife is like a… like a… Skaven without a knife! Yes-Yes!”

“I thought you said you agreed to be disarmed.”

“Temporarily!”

“You never cease to amaze me, Skyseeker,” Roderick sighed, rubbing his temples with his gauntlets. “You don’t need your knives or your weapons. If the captain wanted you dead, he’d have already ordered it by now.”

“You want Skaven to scurry around… without weapons?” she asked, grinding her teeth in irritation. “That is… most resolutely stupid thing Rick-rod has ever suggested, and you suggest a lot of stupid things!”

“I just want you to give my countrymen a chance,” Roderick replied. “just as they have taken a chance on you. This is Von Kessel’s ship, you should follow his rules.”

“Why you care about what Kessel-man says anyway?” Skyseeker asked. “Called you names, chittered implications. Got feeling you not like him.”

“It doesn’t matter if I like him or not,” he explained. “He believes me and Wilfred’s efforts will help the Empire, and that kind of faith is hard to find these days. We should respect his wishes. You, should respect them.”

“But you heard Fredwil! Every man-thing on wolfboat is out to get me, need to be prepared for sneaky-attack…”

“I’m not out to get you,” he pointed out. “and neither is Wilfred. So long as you give no one a reason to fear you, these sailors will treat you right.”

“But if sailors see knifeless rat, that is best chance to attack me!”

“And if they see you with a knife, they’ll come to the same conclusion. You’re preparing for the moment everyone will come after you, but by stealing a weapon, you’re making yourself a threat in the process. See what I’m saying?”

By the way her eyes stared passed him, the only movement on her expression coming from her twitching nose, he already knew her answer.

“Look,” he added, placing a hand on her arm. She was used to his presence by now that she no longer bristled at his touch. “I know it’s hard for you to do this, you’ve been hardwired to be suspicious of everything since the day you were born, but have faith in my countrymen. Have faith in me.”

She paused to consider his words, eventually taking his hand into her paw, giving it a squeeze.

“*Sigh*… Fine! Just for you-you, Rick-rod.”

She extended her other arm, the one with the knife, and turned her palm over, the blade twirling end over end as it sank to the sea, splashing into the murky depths after a moment. “There, knifeless.”

“You could have just put the knife back,” he pointed out. “but that works.”

Still holding hands, they turned to watch as Portomaggoire sank into the haze, the forests beyond its walls, and the mountains beyond them, sweeping away into the horizon. A kind of elation swelled up inside Roderick at having finally acquired a mode of transport, but it was tempered by his apprehension of what lay ahead.

It was general knowledge that the further south one went down the continent, the less influence the Empire had, and the harder the grip of Chaos became. That was to say nothing of what would happen if he and Skyseeker reached the relic together, as they’d agreed, and which one of them would try to claim it for themselves.

Roderick glanced over at her, seeing that her features were void of anything reminiscent of worry or suspicion, the Skaven simply enjoying the sensation of the winds’ caress. He envied her ability to disregard the threat of looming danger, though it must have crossed her mind at some point. Could he convince her that the Empire’s need was greater than her clan’s own? Would he have to resort to force if he couldn’t? He didn’t want to bring her to harm, but they were both envoys of two civilisations that had long been enemies since either of them were born, their alliance would have no foundation once their end goal was within reach.

He looked back at the city, wondering if Skyseeker’s claim about everyone out to get her wasn’t wholly unfounded.