A little further along, following Durben's main road, they reached the Warden's residence. The window shutters were closed, and not a single light could be seen inside. Dozens of guards patrolled the surrounding area, and although it wasn't a fortress, the walls were thick, and some palisades blocked the entrances, giving a sense of security that didn't seem normal in such a peaceful territory. Some of the guards, restless, showed signs of nervousness as they carried out their duties.
"This is the end of my work. I hope you can clear up any confusion with the count," Ludwig said, taking the soldier's umbrella to hold himself. "I wouldn't want a man as capable as you to be lost due to an unfortunate event."
"The pleasure is always mine, Ludwig," Hans replied, his voice calm but full of appreciation.
—Mine too, Hans. I hope our next meeting isn't under these circumstances.
"Of course." Hans nodded, not giving much importance to the words.
Inside the mansion, he was told to change, just as Ludwig had promised. A bathtub awaited him in the guest bathroom, a gesture Hans wasn't about to refuse.
"Your clothes, Mr. Hans," said a servant, an older woman with a look of familiarity.
"Thank you," was all Hans replied. His tone was curt, without much interest. He knew there was something about this woman that brought back bad memories from other past experiences.
After a few promptings from the maid, Hans managed to dress himself, already accustomed to handling such situations. The outfit was completely alien to his style, and he felt somewhat ridiculous in the long, tightly cut jacket, a navy blue frock coat with gold embroidery on the lapels and cuffs. Underneath, a white linen shirt with a wide collar that tried to stand out elegantly. His trousers, tight knee-length breeches, completed the ensemble, the typical attire of high society.
Finally, he was led by the maid into the dining room. The place had high ceilings, with old chandeliers that, though useless, gave it an air of decadent elegance.
In the center of the room, an elderly, somewhat scruffy man sat casually cutting his steak. His long beard covered part of his face, and he seemed completely unaware of Hans's arrival. Around him, three swordsmiths watched silently, almost suspiciously, from the shadows. Each had a dagger drawn, and although their faces were hidden, their tense postures made it clear that something was wrong.
"There are rumors about you all over the county, the mercenary who takes on the most daring missions and always returns victorious. Some say you're just causing trouble from town to town." Although his words seemed aggressive, he spoke calmly.
"Many of my men here think I should hang you. They think a man like you is dangerous in these uncertain times." The count continued eating his steak, accompanied by a jug of wine. "What do you think of that?" he said, pointing his fork at Hans.
The mercenary remained calm, as always. He knew the count was testing his answer, looking for any crack in his facade. The silence that stretched between them wasn't awkward, but rather tense, as if they both knew one wrong move could bring everything crashing down. Hans let the silence last only a moment longer before responding.
"I'm sorry for the impertinence, but I'm sure I've done more for this county than any of your men." Hans's reply came out without hesitation, as if he'd rehearsed it for years, but his tone was laced with palpable truth. He knew the count's men didn't understand the value of what he had done, or perhaps they didn't want to. The mercenary wasn't looking for praise, but he wasn't going to allow his work to be belittled either.
The count finally looked up, regarding the mercenary with curious eyes and a hint of disdain. One of the swordsmen moved, preparing to draw his dagger, but the count raised a hand to stop him. The tension rose, but the count's booming laughter echoed throughout the dining room, shattering the tense atmosphere like a falling brick wall.
"Ha! How amusing!" The earl let out a deep sigh, letting his laughter slowly dissipate. "You know, I can't help but admire your… shamelessness, mercenary. The way you carry yourself, with such confidence, as if you were invincible." He smiled widely, but it wasn't a friendly smile. "And yet, you feel comfortable here, in my house, facing my men with that same arrogance."
Hans didn't flinch. He knew he was playing with fire. But the count wasn't an idiot. He didn't think Hans was just a simple mercenary with no skills. There was more to this man's facade. The way he remained calm, almost detached, suggested he had faced something far worse than a simple threat.
"I'm not looking for trouble, Count," Hans said, his composure intact. "But if you think I'm a danger, why didn't you hang me up?" Hans's steady gaze left no room for misinterpretation. "It's more than you need from me. Something your swordsmen can't handle."
The count stared at him for a long moment, as if evaluating every word the mercenary had just said. The swordsmen stood still, watching the two with a mixture of bewilderment and concern. No one dared to move, as the count's power still dominated the room.
Finally, the count let out a soft laugh, much less shrill than the previous one, but equally laden with venom.
"You are perceptive, I admit it," the earl said, leaning further back in his chair, relaxing slightly. "You are right. The situation is more complicated than it appears." He glanced briefly at his swordsmen before continuing. "There are… rumors of an invasion, a supposedly virulent plague in the surrounding lands. They say you have been solving similar problems in different places." His eyes shone with a mixture of intrigue and distrust. "Though there are rumors of disappearances throughout the county, entire caravans and their guards with no bodies to trace."
"A virulent plague might not be enough to describe what you're up against. Chaos cults attract attention when they reach a certain point, but this is far worse." Hans looked at the noble with a slight grimace, aware that not everyone in the Empire knew the true nature of the Skaven. Many preferred to ignore the threats lurking beyond their borders. He took a deep breath and, in a grave tone, began to speak with the clarity of someone who had experienced terror firsthand.
"The Skaven…" he began, his voice more serious than the earl had heard it before. "They are a plague. An invisible danger that crawls underground, waiting for the right moment to devour everything. They are rats, but not the rats you find in dungeons or alleys. These creatures have a twisted intelligence, like a cross between a monster and a strategic mind. They live in underground cities, spread across the continent, though few know it."
Hans paused, letting the words sink in, looking at the nobleman. His eyes were cold, as if the description displeased him even when he imagined it.
– What makes them even more dangerous, however, is not just their numbers, but their ability to hide. They are everywhere, beneath cities, among villages, in the ruins you consider safe. Their power is based on shadows and betrayal, and they have no qualms about attacking. They don't care about what they destroy or how many lives they take in the process. If they are interested in an area, they don't attack it head-on; they destabilize it, corrupt it from within. Sometimes, you don't even know you have them in your ranks until it's too late.
Hans leaned forward a little, lowering his voice so his next word carried the weight it deserved.
– And worst of all, Lord Wolfram, they cannot be negotiated with or controlled. The Skaven hate each other as much as they hate any other living being. They are like a pack of insects, a colony of insects seeking only to expand. If you don't stop them, they will destroy everything you know, without mercy or remorse.
Hans straightened, sparing one last glance at the Count's swordsmen before returning his attention to the nobleman.
– You may not have heard much about them yet, but believe me, the worst is yet to come. And when they arrive, there will be no safe place in this county. Unless someone with the knowledge and skills takes it upon themselves to put an end to the threat before it's too late.
With that warning, he leaned back in his chair, knowing the seed of fear had already been planted.