Tilea Campaign Part 29

A Letter from Antonio Mugello to the most noble Barone Iacopo Brunetti, Regent of Verezzo

As I wrote unto my beloved Lord Lucca (whom I earnestly hope is seated beside Morr in the garden of eternal summer), imparting what little I had learned of events throughout Tilea, so humbly I send this missive to you. My love for Lord Lucca and my loyalty to Verezzo are now offered to you, noble lord, for you have been a faithful servant of the first and have become the guardian of the latter.

I have been lodged in Remas throughout the winter, a place most conducive to the garnering of knowledge concerning the whole of Tilea, although sometimes I witnessed the events themselves.

A month ago, I myself watched the arrival of the army of the VMC, led by General Valckenburgh, who had given up the siege of Pavona. I know not what you have heard concerning the VMC, but I presume that Duke Guidobaldo’s defamatory accusation that they were behind Lord Lucca’s murder and the looting of Spomanti must be painfully well known to you. From what I have learned, my lord, it seems to be generally accepted, at least here in Remas, that Duke Guidobaldo not only committed libel, but was himself responsible for the unforgiveable deed. My Lord Lucca warned me on several separate occasions concerning Duke Guidobaldo’s duplicitousness, and it gives me nothing but great sadness to know that his words are – post mortem – further proof of his great wisdom. Indeed, in the last missive I received from my Lord Lucca he informed me that he had met with General Valckenburgh and found him to be a most honourable officer, who had marched north out of an earnest desire to assist in the defeat of the terrible foe. Lord Lucca was rarely, if ever, mistaken in his judgement of another, and I can see no reason to suppose he was mistaken regarding the Marienburger general.

This, of course, explains recent events, most obviously General Valckenburgh’s siege of Pavona. And yet, despite an anger sufficient to lure him from his march north to face the vampires threatening every living soul in Tilea, he did not complete what he had begun. Considering Guidobaldo’s actions and subsequent lies were tantamount to a declaration of war, I have heard several Remans voice their confusion as to why Valckenburgh abandoned his retaliation, but – if you will allow me to offer mine own humble opinion – the answer seems clear to me. While we, who have suffered the loss of our dear lord at the Pavonan duke’s hands can feel only an enduring, righteous anger, General Valckenburgh personally suffered only slander, and as his fury had time to subside (as ours can never do) he must have decided that the pursuit of satisfaction regarding what in another time would be a serious matter, seemed proportionately petty in light of the great threat offered by the vampire duchess.

And so it is that Valckenburgh’s army is now camped here in the realm of Remas, apparently intending to rest a while. Perhaps they are waiting for Spring before recommencing their march? Or their halt might well be part of some grand strategy jointly agreed by the arch-lector of Morr, Lord Alessio Falconi and General Valckenburgh? I cannot know. It does strike me, and others too, as odd that Valckenburgh has now allowed himself to be delayed yet again, having only just overcome the anger that previously delayed him. Some say he is too easily distracted, but I believe, considering that which I am yet to relate to you, that he has more material concerns to factor in to his strategies, such as the reports of uomini ratto forces and tunnel mouths north of the Trantine Hills, as well as the razing of Luccini and kidnapping of King Ferronso by the Sartosan pirates.

By your leave, noble Barone, I will attempt to address these concerns, and more, in turn.

It is now commonly known in Remas that the uomini ratto are once again stirring in Tilea, what with Lord Alessio’s army discovering several entrances to huge tunnels north of the Trantine Hills, and even sighting verminous forces marching above ground. I cannot know what was said in the official missives, nor even if much more detail was contained therein, but enough Reman soldiers marching with Lord Alessio have sent word to their families and friends for the news to have spread. Perhaps unsurprisingly, knowing the uomini ratto’s cowardly nature (unless amassed in great strength) those forces fled back into the tunnels to avoid giving battle. Yet, the fact that they are openly active has begun to cause considerable consternation in a city with a somewhat chequered history of dealing with the verminkind. It has long been presumed in Tilea that rats lurk in the shadows, whispering manipulative lies, stealing valuables, sewing discord and disease. Some say that all those who dwell within a city’s walls are never more than two dozen yards from a rat! But it has been many a decade since verminkind have marched in strength within sight of men rather than concealed underground or in barren places while embroiled in their interminable civil wars.

Mugello’s letter is continued after the following story …

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Such a Shame-Waste!
Somewhere in Tilea, End of Winter, IC 2403-4

In the night’s quietest hour, in the city’s loneliest corner, several assassins, sharp of tooth and claw, were inspecting their work.

“A job very well done, master, yes?” said one, still clutching the heavy blade he had pommeled one of the victims with before strangling the man.

“They are dead,” said the master. “Which was our aim-desire, so yes, if it pleases you, heap congratulations where and how you like. But this here is nothing but a beginning-start. Here lie the foundations of that which we shall make-forge. No, not that … the first splinter-cracks in that which we will destroy. Yes, that’s much better.”

The bearer of the blade, Chinkill by name, looked at the sword now prominently lodged in the other corpse, his eyes then flicking to scrutinise the ragged edge of his own blade.

“Master,” he said, “forgive and pardon, but that blade is good and sharp – such a shame-waste to leave it here.”

“The sword stays. We must-need ensure the man-things think-believe their own kind did this,” said the master, his bladed hand sweeping to gesture at the scene about them, and coming dangerously close to cutting the tail of one of the watch-outs behind him.

“Yes, not us, never us,” hissed the first. He prodded his own victim with his taloned foot. “Yet master, a mere-nothing thought I know, but this one here has a knife. Would that not suit-satisfy in place of such a fine sword-blade?”

“It might just do,” the master agreed, apparently feeling generous. “But no, I like the sword. It draws the eye. A knife-blade is but a tiny-small thing and gives but tiny-small ideas – the tool of petty-squabbling thieves, too easily dismissed as bloody vengeance between the basest of man-things. This sword tells another story-tale, for it is the kind the man-thing guards carry. Let their captains suspect-believe their own guards bear the blame for this nasty-naughtiness.”

“So very clever, master, yes,” agreed Chinkill, while not quite yet fully willing to let go of the idea he might possess the sword. “Yet could not a soldier dispatch-kill such as these and be proud, boasting of his most satisfactory work?”

“A soldier might boast, had any one of them done this,” said the master.

“But none of them did, and so none will make such a claim. Then the captains will think-believe their command-control is weak, and that they know not what their own servant-soldiers do.”

“Yes, Master,” said Chinkill, finally giving up on his petty quest to obtain the blade.

“Now,” ordered the master, “look and look again. Make certain-sure there is no sign nor clues of our presence here.”

Chinkill looked at the corpses, then at the ground around them.

“Nothing. There was only your throwing star where now instead the sword is stuck-pierced,” he said. “But you have that back. This man-thing I squeeze-strangled, did nought but but scrape-scratch at me, pathetic-weak.”

“Look again,” commanded the master. “There must be nothing dropped, nor fur under his nails, not even a paw print upon the ground.”

Chinkill hunched down to look closer. He was getting nervous, as revealed by the raised fur on the back of his neck.

“Master, pardon-forgive, but do we not linger-stay here too long?” he asked. “If the man-things come now they will see us, here ourselves, and not just that we leave-drop behind. Then they will know all.”

“Hush-quiet,” snapped the master. “I am no half-wit fool. I chose this spot, particular and careful. I chose this time, exact and now. No-one will come. Four nights this place was quiet-empty. Besides, look, look,” he gestured at the guards stationed all around them, “we have eyes to see and ears to hear all around.”

“If anyone approaches, we shall know in plenty-enough time to escape-leave. Now, make haste, and be certain-sure there is no sign-clue of our presence.”

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Antonio Mugello’s letter continued

On more than one occasion I have heard it voiced that this resurgence of the uomini ratto could spell the end of all civilisation in Tilea, for if this is a new offensive, then it has begun just as the whole peninsula lies exhausted and weakened by the ongoing war against the vampires, having only recently emerged from several conflicts – the War of the Princes, the scattering of Khurnag’s Waagh and a veritable battering at the hands of Boulderguts’ brutes. There simply might not be sufficient strength remaining in Tilea to resist the verminous hordes. Fearful rumours are rife concerning what diseases they might already be spreading, who they are about to assassinate, and which foolish rulers they have lured into a deceitful alliance? In Remas, the memory of Arch-Lector Ordini’s ignominious pact remains a scab upon the city’s reputation. Is it any surprise that the Remans are openly asking which madman has called upon the verminkind’s aid, perhaps hoping to attain the upper hand in some petty squabble, to gain vengeance over a particular enemy or to retrieve some lost power? Since time immemorial many a fool has believed he can benefit from such a foul alliance.

I myself have heard myriad theories, and herein list the following not merely to repeat malicious gossip nor to revel in rumour, but to give the mind of the people, as such may contain more than one kernel of truth. I will address some of the most likely possibilities first, in that they concern wicked powers who would feel no compunction at allying with the likes of the oumini ratto.

Have the Sartosans made an agreement of some sort? Would such sea dogs baulk at the idea of sharing spoils with sewer rats, if not to do so could mean no spoils at all? The very fact that both appeared at one and the same time seems in itself to link them. Just as the Sartosans ravaged Luccini, the uomini ratto appeared, skulking at new tunnel mouths, so that those in between could not know which way to turn! If any state’s forces are divided, it may well be more easily conquered or robbed.

Has the vampire duchess, now hard-pressed by the gathering armies of Tilea, offered the uomini ratto some portion of the peninsula in return for luring away the armies currently threatening her? I do not pretend to know the mind of a vampire, and despite the noble trappings and haughty demeanour many adopt, I cannot dismiss the possibility that they could stoop so low as to bargain with verminkind. There seems to be no wickedness that vampires are not capable of, and thus only their evil pride might dissuade them. Much is known concerning the Duchess Maria in life, but all we can know now is that in undeath she is surely not the same. Anyone who surrounds themselves with a putrid court of rotting corpses cannot be so particular as to refuse to meet with verminkind.

Several noblemen (of which there are not so many in Remas, since the uprisings) have suggested that the VMC, ruled by greed alone, might have signed a secret contract in which they carve up Tilea between themselves and the rats – the VMC to rule the south while the uomini ratto ruin the north. I heard one signore say this would explain why the army of the VMC has marched north so leisurely, allowing itself to be easily distracted. It may well be to their advantage that Lord Alessio’s Portomaggioran and Reman army bears the brunt of the fight against the vampire duchess, for then both Portomaggiore and Remas can be all the more easily subdued afterwards. Furthermore, claimed the nobleman, the real reason General Valckenburgh lifted the siege or Pavona was because he considered such a ruined realm a waste of effort, and wanted to keep his army strong to defeat the weakened Portomaggioran and Reman armies, thus seizing much richer realms instead. I can say that I saw real fear in the eyes of those who listened to this signore’s words, for all must have suddenly suspected the army of the VMC’s prolonged encampment at Remas was an opportunity to reconnoitre the realm before seizing it for themselves. Those fearful people had not Lord Lucca’s wise counsel to guide them, but of course, had I spoken my mind, being a Verezzan rebutting a Reman gentleman in Remas, none present would be be likely to agree with me.

I even heard one fellow, Pavonan by his accent, say that the dwarfen king in the mountains has made a pact with the verminkind, to bring about an end to their meddling in the dwarfs’ mines. I voiced my doubt, telling the man that the dwarfs of Karak Borgo have always craved trade, and the sort of destruction the uomini ratto cause would not be at all conducive to such. He just laughed, saying that would be presuming the king of the dwarfs is in command of his wits, whilst his companion spat and declared no dwarf could be trusted.

Mention of this Pavonan brings me to a matter I must address, but I would first have you know that I have attempted to consider this dispassionately, as would an entirely uninterested observer, despite the fact that it concerns the murderer of our beloved master.

I have no doubt that the following intelligence is known to you, what with your closer proximity to Pavona, but it is clear that Duke Guidobaldo’s realm has suffered dreadfully during the winter, both due to its precarious state after being ravaged by the ogres and then as a consequence of the army of the VMC’s siege. Duke Guidobaldo’s own army is said to be fragmenting – indeed only yesterday I saw with mine own eyes some of Reman bravi who marched away with the Pavonans (to become notorious for the raid on Spomanti), had returned to the streets of Remas. Such mercenary bravi could hardly be expected to honour their contract with Pavona when there is nothing but misery and hunger for them there. The Pavonan people are now sadly starving, for the duke took food from them to feed his soldiers.

Furthermore, he has defaulted on so many loans over the last years that not one banking family is prepared to do business with him, and traders demand payments of gold in advance. What will come of all of this, I know not. Possibly his own subjects will revolt, turning against him, or perhaps he will resort again to acts of piracy and murder? Maybe his realm will simply diminish and fade into obscurity?

Or, and this is what plagues my nightmares, perhaps he thinks to regain his power and wealth by means of a verminous pact? Could it be that Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona – desperate as he is, humiliated, his pride in shatters, his realm suffering, and commonly known to be capable of such lies and treachery as would put the uomini ratto to shame – could it be that it was he who summoned the verminkind?

Of course, as yet it is unknown whether the verminkind will indeed amass in any strength; nor whether they intend a minor interference or a major incursion; nor whether they have in mind the destruction of the whole of Tilea of just some part thereof. What is known for certain, however, is that the Vampire Duchess has yet to be defeated. Twice before she sent armies south of Ebino, and it has taken battle after battle to prevent her further advance. Her aggressiveness is proven. If she is not destroyed then she will almost certainly send forth her armies again and again until she has the whole peninsula beneath in her evil grip.

All the reports coming from the Reman soldiers under Lord Alessio’s command agree that Duchess Maria once again resides in Ebino.

The walled and moated city teems with her undead servants. Every tower parapet is guarded by unblinking eyes. Every tomb, grave and burial pit in Ebino and Miragliano lies empty, the occupants now busied in her wicked service.

Mugello’s letter is continued after the following story …

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Glee!
Near the city of Ebino, at the end of Winter, IC 2403-4 

This day, this moment, felt like a culmination of Biagino’s life and undeath, as if everything that had happened to him, good and bad, joyful and sad and everything he had ever done, decent and dire, kind and cruel, led to this moment. Not the culmination, for it was not the end of his undeath, but it was a destination he had, until now, howsoever unwittingly, always been travelling to.

Once more he was directly serving his beloved mistress, and he knew her satisfaction. He strove ecstatically to do whatsoever she wished, and better still, he knew exactly what that was. When leading the army at Trantio he had had only the memory of her to guide him, her last words, which meant agonising over the details, every hour, alone, trying to fathom how those words could be obeyed in ever-changing circumstances. Now her orders were fresh in his mind, and she remained close enough that he could sense her driving will and sharp love in every moment. Her omnipresent guidance meant his decisions came easily, his actions were swift, his delight was magnified. He was a cherished son receiving praise from his doting mother; a beloved hound petted fondly by its mistress; a favourite blade admired in the moonlight by its wielder.

He rode atop the carroccio that once belonged the Arch-Lector Calictus II, captured in the same battle in which Biagino was kissed by the duchess and became hers forevermore. In life, Calictus had been his master; he himself was but one of the arch-lector’s many servants; and this great wagon had been the nearest thing to a church of Morr on the field of battle. Now his holiness was dead, while Biagino himself had become a High Priest. Much of Calictus’ army was his to command, raised from death to march again; and the carroccio, heaped with corpses, was now a formidable focus of necromantic magics in the service of his own Church of Nagash.

As the wagon trundled on, pulled by four pairs of entirely osseous horses, he allowed the magical winds of dark enchantment to flow through him. He fed on the power the unholy carroccio funnelled, delighted as his mistress’s diabolical will honed and shaped that power, and reveledl as it poured from him to animate the vast throng of witless worshippers (the Disciplinati di Nagash) all around him.

His senses were not merely sharpened far beyond those of mortal men, but magnified almost exponentially so that each of the cavorting corpses became an extension of his will, limbs with which to strike at the enemy. He even directed the horses. No lash or crop was required, as a moment’s thought could turn, speed or slow the beasts as easily as a man might walk.

Behind him stood two of his priests, members of La Fraternita di Morti Irrequieti. Their minds were bound to his will, just as his was to Duchess Maria’s, yeilding a very satisfactory feeling of balance. He could slavishly love and obey the duchess whilst receiving the same from his priests. His own subjection, which otherwise might seem pathetic and demeaning, was given freely, for he himself was the object of exactly equal worship. They were not his puppets, like his hundreds of Disciplinati, for they, like him, had minds. They obeyed because they yearned to do so, not because he directed their every movement. This is why he had created them – having only the Disciplinati to guard him would make him vulnerable. If he were to be distracted, even for a moment, then his Disciplinati would be also. These two priests, however, could react quickly, upon their own initiative. If Biagino were wounded, even dying, these priests would retain all the strength of body and will they ever had, while the Disciplinati would stumble and stagger in bewilderment, or even succumb to true death.

Nevertheless, despite his gleeful joy at all these things combined, at this very moment, the satisfaction which far surpassed all others, was the gloriously intense pleasure he gained from wielding the Disciplinati horde. Only the tiniest slivers of their minds remained, but they were all his to rule, and the sheer size of the throng made him feel mightier than ever before.

Some had been gifted to him by his mistress, resurrected after the Battle of the Isean Hills, close by the city of Ebino. Once dedicants of the Disciplinati di Morr, they had marched north to die. Although rotting, the winter cold had combined with necromantic magics to keep them quite whole, so that a good number, from a distance, might be mistaken for living men. Close up, however, their pallid-grey flesh, staring eyes and perhaps most of all, their stench, revealed the truth.

Biagino remembered just how ugly such flagellating cultists had been when alive, and it amused him to see now that death had made them even uglier, which, back then, he might well have presumed was not possible!

Most were still clad in the layers of robes they had worn in life, clutching whatever they had been carrying as they died. Many of their faces were obscured by hoods, but not all.

Still others had been with him much longer, for they had died several seasons earlier at the Battle for Ebino – indeed upon the same day Biagino had fallen. In life they had been part of Arch-Lector Calictus’s Holy Army of Morr. In undeath, they had marched south with him to Trantio, then fled the Valley of Norochia to escort him all the way back to Ebino. No-one could mistake these for living men, what with so much of their flesh having rotted away. In parts they were reduced almost to the bone, and their robes were torn, worn and rotted away to a much greater degree, to reveal their now stark chines.

Some amongst the horde displayed the wounds that were most likely responsible for their deaths – great incisions, shattered bones or crumpled skulls. Others had gaping tears in their flesh made by the teeth and nails of their undead comrades during momentary lapses of guidance from their new master.

They felt pain – excruciating pain – but of a kind that no longer arose from the physical wounding of their bodies. It was an agony that came from every part of them at one and the same time, both physical and spiritual. They were driven by a furious, hungry hatred, the last emotion remaining in the fragment of mind they now possessed. They seemed to leer, scowl and glower as they ran, although in truth, what remained of their decaying faces could appear no other way.

There was a cruel irony to their condition, for in life they had striven to scourge themselves with chains and knotted cords into an ecstatic pain and so induce a fighting frenzy that washed away their fear. Now, their every moment was a painful frenzy and they had forgotten fear entirely. Their old craving had been satisfied, to the full, and beyond even the extremity of their lives.

Biagino loved them all. To him, they were like tin soldiers are to a boy fanatically keen on his games of war; a precious collection to be set out this way and that, to admire from one angle and then another, while the excitement of the forthcoming battle grows ever stronger.

They were his playthings, his poppets, his bambinos. They were the blades with which he could slaughter Tilea.

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Antonio Mugello’s letter continued

Duchess Maria’s forces, combined with Ebino’s impressive defences, must be sufficiently strong to cause even a general of Lord Alessio’s proven ability, commanding a truly mighty army, to hesitate. He has built a fortified camp south of the Bridge of Pontremola, said to incorporate the bridge into its boundary. Now, apparently, he waits for the army of the VMC. Does he know, I wonder, that they are instead lingering here in Remas?

Speaking to several seamen of various origins, I have learned that the Sartosans, having already razed Luccini and its villages, defeating its small army in battle and taking the young king Ferronso hostage, then attempted to travel south along the coast. Upon their first attempt they had been driven back by the storms, which is when they took the young king, but then upon their second attempt the storm’s sister, with its easterly winds, apparently drove their fleet towards the island of Sartosa. Considering they attempted the same southerly course twice it seems plain to me that they were intending to raid the rich realm of Alcente. I cannot know for certain but were it not for the storms they would at least have passed by that realm. Considering their success at Luccini, where they had only to fight a small army, perhaps they believe Alcente will prove just as easy a target what with its main strength, the army of the VMC, camped many leagues away here in Remas. As I suggested before, perhaps this is the real reason the army of the VMC has halted? General Valckenburgh could well be torn between marching north as he promised to do, or returning south to protect his realm.

It is reported that Duke Ercole, once regent of Luccini and uncle to the captured king, and the condottiere General Marsilio da Fermo (Luccini’s military commander who once served with you, I believe, in the grand alliance army) have arrived together in Portomaggiore, seeking refuge after their defeat at the hands of the Sartosans.

There they are apparently pressing for Lord Alessio’s assistance in the matter of their kidnapped king. They know Lord Alessio well, and perhaps believe him to be fond of the young king, for after all he did attend Ferronso’s crowning. Of course, with no army of their own, with Lord Alessio’s army busy in the north and the rest of his forces no doubt ordered to guard Portomaggiore against Sartosan raids, they seek loaned gold to pay the ransom. Oddly, it seems to be the case that they do not know the actual amount of the ransom demand as their previous negotiations were disrupted by the battle. I suppose the Sartosans will let them know soon enough, for pirates are hardly known for their patience, nor can I imagine such ruffians take pleasure in the need to keep the young king alive.

The mountain dwarfs of Karak Borgo, having driven the last of Boulderguts’ ogres from Campogrotta and Ravola, establishing the Bretonnian nobleman Baron Garoy in the latter and General Mazallini and his Compagnia del Sole in the former, have apparently withdrawn back up the Carraia del Ferro to their mountain fastness.

It is a widely held opinion among Reman merchants who have had dealings with the dwarfs, that having defeated the ogres and re-seeded civilisation in the neighbouring realms, King Jaldeog expects trade to flourish and goods to flow once more, however the ongoing vampire threat and the appearance of the uomini ratto in the north make this unlikely, at least for now. Perhaps King Jaldeog intended to give both realms sufficient time to re-establish themselves, so that when the wars finally end, both will be ripe for rich trading opportunities? As defeating the ogres appears to have been the dwarfs’ only intended contribution to the wars, King Jaldeog may have expected the Tilean realms to defeat the vampires. Now, with the resurgence of the rats, the dwarf’s particularly hated enemy, he might be forced to dispatch his army once more down the Iron Road?

Last of all, I can report that here in Remas it is rumoured you have raised the militia of Verezzo, bolstered their numbers substantially and are currently busied with drilling and exercises, all the better the defend Verezzo from the likes of the duke of Pavona. Of course, as you know the full truth concerning this, my words are intended only to make you aware of what is believed in Remas concerning your affairs.

If there is anything I can do in your service, as your agent in Remas, either now or at an appointed time, then you only have to say and it shall become my foremost endeavour to obey.

Your most humble servant
Antonio Mugello

Next Installment: Part 30