Kreyssig’s eyes blazed as he stared down at the discarded scroll. ‘There will be an ecumenical council,’ he said, his voice dropping to a venomous, threatening tone. ‘Do not make the mistake of dismissing the “machinations of a power-mad peasant”. I have been most thorough. My Kaiserjaeger have pursued inquiries in many places. I am quite aware of the Temple’s dirty little secrets, of what happened that night Grand Theogonist Uthorsson burned with the cathedral in Nuln. Tell me, how do you think the people would react if they learned Uthorsson was a servant of the Ruinous Powers, or that Thorgrad was a murderer?’
Von Reisarch’s face turned as pale as his white robes. The priest wavered, his attendants rushing forwards to support him before he could fall.
‘They might think the Sigmarite clergy was responsible for bringing the Black Plague upon us,’ Kreyssig continued. ‘They might rise up, tear this place down with their bare hands. Betrayal can make even the most loyal dog turn on its master. Then there are the other temples to consider. The wolf-priests of Ulric would be quite happy to see the Sigmarite faith abolished and, of course, the inquisitors of Verena are most zealous in their persecution of Chaos.’
The arch-lector leaned against the altar, vitality seeming to visibly drain from his body. ‘It will take time to bring the other arch-lectors to Altdorf,’ he said. ‘Three have already been claimed by the plague. It will take months for the others to make the journey.’
‘Then you will do without them,’ Kreyssig said. ‘Issue a decree reducing their authority, subsuming them to the Altdorf temple. If you present it as divine will necessitated by the crisis threatening the faith, I think you can make them understand. A little power is better than no power, after all.’
Kreyssig nodded his head at the scroll lying on the floor. ‘You seem to have dropped my proclamation, your eminence.’ He darted a withering glare at the vicar-general as the cleric bent to retrieve the scroll. ‘I want that pious blue-blood to get it,’ he growled.
Chastened by the threat hanging over his head, the arch-lector knelt on the floor and picked up the proclamation. ‘Sigmar will not forgive this,’ he warned.
‘The gods are only as powerful as the Emperor allows them to be,’ Kreyssig sneered. ‘You would do well to remember that, von Reisarch.’
‘Is that a lesson you have already taught Lector Schoppe?’
Kreyssig smiled. ‘He understands something you have yet to learn. You will either be my ally, or you will be my victim. It took some persuasion, but his holiness made the right choice in the end.’
The distant tolling of temple bells sounded faintly in the distance as Adolf Kreyssig marched through the empty halls of the Imperial Palace. At such a late hour, there were few functionaries about; even the overworked clerks under Lord Ratimir had slipped away to steal a few hours of rest before poring over the records of tax revenue from the eastern provinces. Emperor Boris had imposed a fine against the Grand Duke of Stirland for the reduction in grain and timber tariffs being collected in the province. Excuses about some necromancer running amok in Sylvania had only made the Emperor more determined to see the fees collected. Allow Stirland an indulgence and every warherd raid or goblin mischief would have the other counts begging for a reduction in their Imperial tithe.
A pair of armoured Kaiserjaeger flanked the doorway leading into Kreyssig’s chambers. Regarded as peasant rabble, Dienstleute by the nobles of the court, the Protector of the Empire preferred them to the more prestigious and esteemed Kaiserknecht and other knights at his disposal. It wasn’t so long ago that the Reiksknecht had been disbanded and outlawed. There was no knowing how many friends the outlaws might still have among the knights of the other orders. No, it was far safer to look to his own men to safeguard him.
Kreyssig gave a brief nod by way of acknowledging the stiff military salute his guards gave him as he approached. Arguing with that pious ass von Reisarch had worn him out. As satisfying as it had been to sink the cleric’s superiority, it had tested Kreyssig’s restraint to the utmost. He’d dearly have liked to kill the priest then and there, but without the arch-lector’s subjugation, he knew he could never proceed with his plans.
‘Commander!’ Fuerst beamed as Kreyssig stepped into the lavishly appointed anteroom that separated his bedchamber from the hall. The servant rushed forwards to relieve his master of hat and gloves. Kreyssig shrugged out of his cloak as Fuerst ministered to him.
‘It has been a trying day,’ he told Fuerst. His face contorted in an expression of disgust as he considered how even with the threat of ruinous scandal hanging over his cult, von Reisarch had imposed conditions and terms upon his capitulation. The end result would be the same, but von Reisarch wanted these concessions so that he and his god might save face. It was a contemptible display of hypocrisy.
‘I am going to retire early,’ Kreyssig said, waving his servant away. Fuerst bowed out, retreating to the little door concealed in the side panelling that led to his own quarters. All of the Imperial apartments were similarly appointed, doors disguised in the panelling to provide ingress for wardrooms, servants’ quarters and other such unseemly places whose presence was convenient but whose existence was best unobserved and unobtrusive.
Kreyssig withdrew into his chamber, sinking into sleep almost as soon as he lay down in the enormous bed.
It was still dark when he was awakened. Groggily, Kreyssig stared up at the velvet canopy, a dim blur in the shadowy murk of the room. The temptation to retreat back into slumber was almost irresistible, but even in his semi-coherent state his mind was vexed. What was it that had disturbed him?
The smell. There was a foul, animal stink in the room. That was what had disturbed him.
It was a smell that wasn’t unknown to Kreyssig. Furtively, he slipped his hand beneath his pillow, reaching for the dagger he kept there. Careful as he was, his action still evoked a warning hiss from the darkness.
Turning over in the bed, Kreyssig could make out a set of beady red eyes glistening in the darkness. The creature those eyes belonged to was only a dark outline, a black shadow behind the murk. He wasn’t sure which was worse, seeing the mutant or not seeing it.
‘I did not send for you,’ Kreyssig snarled at the shadow. ‘This is the Imperial Palace. You don’t belong here.’
The creature chittered, a sound that was unsettlingly like laughter. ‘Kreyssig-man want-need talk-talk,’ the mutant hissed. ‘Friends of Kreyssig-man listen when he talk-talk with god-man. Friends not like-like.’
Kreyssig snorted with contempt at the creature’s expression of displeasure. Was this sewer-crawling vermin actually trying to dictate terms to him? Angrily and without care for the mutant’s warning, he fished the dagger out from under his pillow.
‘I don’t care what you like and what you don’t,’ Kreyssig declared. ‘You should feel fortunate I tolerate you mutants to exist at all. My dealings with the Temple of Sigmar are my own affair. I employ you to spy for me, not on me!’
The mutant growled at him from the darkness, Kreyssig had the impression of fangs gnashing angrily. ‘Kreyssig-man promise much-much,’ the creature said. ‘Gift-give grain. Want-need more.’
Kreyssig fingered the hilt of his dagger, his skin crawling at the close proximity of the ratman in his chambers. He would never have given the slinking little beasts credit for such audacity as to violate the Imperial Palace itself. Now the loathsome mutants were compounding audacity with impudence. ‘You’ve already been given grain for your people,’ Kreyssig said. ‘Two storehouses. Enough to feed all of Altdorf for the winter.’
‘Want-need more,’ the mutant repeated its demand.
A horrible thought came to Kreyssig as he listened to that monstrous, insolent hiss. Enough grain to feed Altdorf for three months, yet these mutants already needed more. If their numbers were as few as he’d been led to believe… But could he believe? How many of the verminous things were actually down there?