Boris Goldgather glared back at the rebel prince. ‘I have said I will accept your offer of surrender,’ he said. ‘Especially in one particular.’
‘Whatever we’re going to do, we’d better decide quick!’ Erich cried. From his place near the doorway the knight could hear sounds of fighting in the ballroom below. It would only be a matter of minutes before the Kaiserjaeger reached the upper arcade and the salon.
‘Captain, I rely upon you to get Baron Thornig and Ghal Maraz out of the Palace,’ Prince Sigdan told Erich. He turned his attention to Count van Sauckelhof, whose Westerland sea-dogs made up the bulk of the force which had stormed the salon. ‘Count, you will need to buy them as much time to get away as you can. Purchase it with blood if necessary.’
The Westerlander saluted Prince Sigdan. ‘We’ll give them as much time as they need,’ he swore. The sea-dogs were already filing from the salon, broadswords and cudgels clenched in their fists. Count van Sauckelhof cast his gaze across the other retainers who had accompanied their disparate group. ‘I’ll be thankful for any volunteers,’ he said.
‘I will need only ten men to help me here,’ Prince Sigdan said when he saw most of the rebels moving to help the Westerland count. ‘My own men and four others,’ he suggested. Three of the Sylvanians and one of the Reiksknecht turned away from the doorway, leaving van Sauckelhof with a force of some forty men, among them Baron von Klauswitz.
‘Archers form up along the arcade,’ Duke Konrad called. ‘Pick off as many of Kreyssig’s thugs as you can before they get close.’ The Drakwalder bowmen saluted their lord and marched off behind the other defenders.
‘We’ll keep them occupied as long as we can,’ Count van Sauckelhof promised Erich as he passed. ‘Ranald guide your steps.’
‘And Sigmar watch over you,’ Erich told the nobleman, feeling his heart sink. There was no delusion about van Sauckelhof’s chances against the Emperor’s troops.
Caustic laughter rippled across the room as the warriors marched out to the arcade. Boris Goldgather sneered at the assembly of rebels left behind. ‘You spend their lives needlessly. You have my word I will show leniency. There is no need for this subterfuge, I assure you.’
Prince Sigdan ignored the Emperor’s promises. ‘You’d better be going,’ he told Erich and Baron Thornig. ‘As soon as the Kaiserjaeger liberate this jackal, you can expect them to come looking for you.’
Baron Thornig bowed before the prince. ‘For a delusional Sigmarite, you’ve the heart of an Ulrican,’ he said. His hairy hand patted the haft of Ghal Maraz. ‘Don’t worry, the only way they take this trinket back is by prying it from my cold dead hands.’
‘You should come with us,’ Erich insisted, tears in his voice. ‘That maggot will never keep his word.’
‘He might,’ Prince Sigdan told him, ‘if you two quit gabbing and get Ghal Maraz somewhere he can’t find it.’ A wry smile flickered on his face and he jabbed his thumb towards the captive sovereign and his retainers. ‘Besides, somebody has to stay here and play nursemaid.’
Erich’s spirit was leaden as he turned and strode from the salon. For the second time, he was abandoning a brave man, a man he looked up to as leader and lord, to a cruel and merciless fate.
Grim in their black livery, the Kaiserjaeger trooped into the Harmony Salon, immediately confiscating weapons from the rebels. They had listened to the shouts of combat ringing across the arcade. The fight was over in a hideously short time. The answer for the brevity of the battle marched into the salon beside a vengeful Adolf Kreyssig.
Baron von Klauswitz had turned against his fellow conspirators. In the heat of battle, he and his Stirlanders had turned against the others, throwing the rebel ranks into confusion. Victory for the Kaiserjaeger had swiftly followed.
The other rebels glared at the double-traitor. Von Klauswitz squirmed under their gaze, keeping close to the immense bulk of Gottwald Drechsler, as though seeking protection from the vicious executioner.
‘You are unharmed, your Imperial Majesty?’ Kreyssig asked as he made his way across the salon.
Emperor Boris stepped out from behind the water organ, his expression shifting from relief to undisguised malignance. ‘Our dignity has been impugned, but we are unwounded,’ he said. His lip curled in a sneer as he watched the Kaiserjaeger disarming his former captors. He shifted his gaze to Drechsler. ‘You will be a busy man, Scharfrichter.’
The cold words brought a howl of rage from Duke Konrad. The Drakwalder hurled himself at the smirking sovereign, but before he could close with his hated foe, he was clubbed down by Baron von Kirchof. The duke’s blood dripped from the gilded pommel of Beast Slayer, which the Emperor’s Champion had recovered from the mirrored wall.
Emperor Boris shook his head reprovingly. ‘That is a poor show, baron,’ he said. ‘Duke Konrad is a Hohenbach. His blood is my blood. His home is my home.’ He turned his attention to the bloodied nobleman. ‘I am afraid I cannot let a mere duke possess so fine a weapon as a Runefang. Therefore, in my capacity as Emperor, I hereby instate you as Count Konrad Aldrech, Grand Count of Drakwald.’ He laughed as he saw the look of incredulity spread across his kinsman’s features. The laughter ended with a vituperative hiss.
‘Baron, return the count’s sword to him,’ Emperor Boris ordered.
Count Konrad’s death rattle echoed from the mirrors, his body twitching as life bled out from it. Baron von Kirchof slowly cleansed the gore from Beast Slayer with a strip torn from the dead man’s cloak. Sight of the callous murder brought a shriek of terror rising from Baron von Klauswitz’s throat. The Stirlander prostrated himself before the Emperor.
‘Mercy, your Imperial Majesty!’ von Klauswitz cried. ‘I have been loyal to you from the start! I only played along with these traitors to learn what that Sylvanian scum was plotting! I am loyal, your Imperial Majesty!’
‘I have no use for traitors,’ Boris said. ‘Especially those whose loyalty shifts with each change of the wind.’
The Emperor snapped his jewelled fingers and a pair of Kaiserjaeger seized von Klauswitz and dragged him from the salon. ‘The grand duke will pay a severe fine for inflicting a traitor upon my court, as will all those who are represented by this faithless rabble,’ Boris declared. ‘And they will pay well to keep their enemies from learning of this scandal and using it against them.’
‘You have broken your word,’ Prince Sigdan said, glaring daggers at the Emperor.
‘An empty promise given to a rebel and a traitor,’ Emperor Boris snarled, but his reply caused Kreyssig to stare anxiously at the renegade prince.
‘What promise?’ Kreyssig demanded, all deference vanished from his voice. The tone so shocked Emperor Boris that it took him some time to sputter out a reply.
‘He sent two of his rabble to sneak off with Ghal Maraz and a decree they forced me to sign,’ Boris reported. The Emperor’s voice grew more confident. ‘They were to return them to me if I allowed their friends to be released unharmed.’ He chuckled malignantly. ‘But now they’ll return them to keep me from hanging this scum.’
Hearing the Emperor’s oath, Prince Sigdan whirled upon the guards flanking him. His knee caught the leftmost Kaiserjaeger in the stomach, doubling him over and knocking the sword from his grip. Even as the other guards swung around to club the nobleman senseless, Sigdan was scrambling for the sword. Before any could stop him, the prince brought the sharp edge of the blade slicing across his throat.
‘There goes your bargaining chip!’ Kreyssig raged, shaking his fist at the dying prince. Noting their commander’s rage, the Kaiserjaeger forced the remaining rebels to their knees, ready to smash them senseless at the slightest move.
Emperor Boris walked forwards and scowled down at the dead Sigdan. ‘It is of no consequence. Sooner or later the pig would have died.’
‘His followers still have Ghal Maraz!’ Kreyssig yelled, astonished by his sovereign’s lack of concern.