Age of Sigmar: Omnibus

‘Ulgaen, you say? Never heard of you. Do you know how many lodges Volturung is father to?’ said Golgunnir. ‘Do you? Scores. There are nearly a dozen that claim the name Volturung in their title alone. We can’t take every failing branch back. We’re full, sonny.’

‘You will address him as runefather!’ said Ulgavost angrily. ‘He and Tulgamar-Grimnir both.’

‘I’m twice the age of your runefather. I’ve five times more warriors to command, and I’m reckoned the fourth senior of Voltus-Grimnir’s sons. Now, my father is runefather, highest lord of all the Volturung kin-lodges, which I suppose includes you. Do you see what I’m saying? Your lot, you’re a stripling lodge looking for a handout. That is not the Fyreslayer way. If you’ve got ur-gold to pay us to fight, then fine. If you have something to offer us for our mutual profit, we can talk. But you’re not moving in no matter what, not if you brought me Grimnir’s golden big toe and dropped it at my feet.’

‘Do you think you might show me a little respect, young one?’ Marag-Or came forward. ‘I’m older than you by far.’

Golgunnir’s attitude changed a little. He bowed. ‘One as old as you, runemaster, is worthy of respect wherever he goes. I am sure space can be found, should you wish it.’

The gold beads woven into Marag-Or’s beard clacked as he shook his head. ‘I’m sticking with family. They may not have much in the way of gold, but at least they have manners.’

Golgunnir’s followers laughed again. The runeson gave them an angry look. A junior-looking runesmiter came to his side, and began to whisper in his ear, a concerned look on his face, he gestured at the Ulgaen. Golgunnir listened a moment, his face souring.

‘He’s getting an ear-burning,’ said Ulgavost out of the side of his mouth. ‘The bastard’s been playing with us.’

Golgunnir nodded exasperatedly then flapped the priest away.

‘My noble priest, Runesmiter Keskilgirn, reminds me of my father’s offer.’

‘There’s an offer?’ said Ulgathern-Grimnir.

‘Yes, runefather,’ he said disparagingly. ‘There is room for you to settle, in a mountain three days to sunward. The Steelspike we call it, good ore land there. Nothing fancy: iron and lead and your other essentials, and you’ll have to dig deep to get to the earthblood, but there’s plenty for a duardin with a strong back and a will to bend it. It is outside of our current borders, but it’s better than nothing. You are welcome to it in exchange for your fealty, and a pledge to maintain order in the valleys and hills around it. The contract’s in the book.’ He waved his hand at a richly bound tome, made with pages of pressed tin. This was brought forward to the Ulgaen. Drokki flicked through it and nodded.

A sense of relief radiated over the column. Ulgathern-Grimnir smiled broadly.

‘Tell you father that w—’

Golgunnir held up a heavily ringed hand. A sly smile stole across his lips. ‘Before you get too effusive in your thanks, there is one other thing you need to know.’

‘Here we go,’ said Ulgavost.

‘Steelspike is infested with skaven. You want it, you drive them out.’

Golgunnir shouted out orders, and the horns of the Volturung rang. The Volturung Fyreslayers turned about, the gates of the Voltdrang commenced their slow opening, and Golgunnir’s bearers began the delicate process of turning the litter around.

‘Wait! We can’t go now!’ protested Ulgathern-Grimnir. ‘Stop! You sully the customs of hospitality.’

‘Oh, yes. Forgot. You can camp here,’ said Golgunnir as the litter trundled round. ‘You’ll be quite safe. Chaos has grown tired of defeat before our gates. No doubt my father will send out food and ale.’ He said this as if he thought it a poor idea.

‘What if we fall in battle?’ shouted Ulgathern-Grimnir. The litter was facing back toward the gates.

‘Then your womenfolk, youngflames and such will be accepted into the lodge under the terms of bondage. They will have to earn their right to call themselves Volturung.’

‘That is unacceptable!’ shouted Ulgathern-Grimnir. The column was passing back through the gates of the Voltdrang.

Golgunnir laughed. ‘It’s all you’ve got.’

The litter passed through last. The gates clanged shut behind it, leaving the Ulgaen out in the rapidly cooling desert.

‘The thin-bearded weasling,’ said Ulgavost. ‘We throw our lives away fighting their battles, and our wives and children go into servitude for who knows how long.’

‘We’ll sort them out, won’t we, Grakki-grakkov?’ crooned Tulgamar-Grimnir to his magmadroth.

‘Little brother, Grakki-grakkov apart, I have no idea why father picked you as a Runefather,’ said Ulgavost, leaving the sentiment ‘instead of me’ unvoiced but heavily implied. ‘If it’s such a small matter why don’t they clear it out themselves? It’s a convenient way to get rid of us and keep their honour. Times are hard, but still.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ grumbled Ulgathern-Grimnir.

The gate horns sounded again. Smaller, subsidiary gates around the main opened and a stream of handcarts came out, marshalled by shouting victuallers.