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A War among the Wolves

A folk tale of Middenland


Middenland is a place of life-stealing winters and barren soil; of lurking beasts and silent forests. Little wonder that Ulric reigns strongly over the hearts of the inhabitants of so grim a land.

For Middenlanders, strength and self-sufficiency are the only virtues that really matter. The moral of this tale is typical - choose your battles carefully, lest you draw the attention of a power greater than anything you can match. - JWG


There was once a certain markgraf, whose lands bordered those of a baron. Now, both of these lords were good men, and treated their tenants well, serving Ulric in all things. But one day, the markgraf's chaplain came to him and said this: "My lord, yesterday my prayers were answered with a sign from Ulric Himself, Father of All[1]."

The markgraf was very excited to hear this, as any one should be, and replied, "Father, that is surely wonderful news! What was this sign, and what meaning do you take from it?"

The priest drew himself up and took on his most impressive tone of voice, saying, "As dawn came, a mighty cloud rose above the lands of the baron to the east. As I watched, the sun caught the cloud and made it golden, and it took upon itself the aspect of a wolf. I saw the wolf descend upon the baron's land; there it changed into the likeness of a sheep, and the colour went out of it." He paused for a second, taking a deep breath. "I have pondered on this omen, and I have now the truth of it. The baron is no true son of Ulric, but is a bitter coward, unworthy of favour. His lands are your lands. His castle is your castle. Ulric smiles upon you as His champion, and speeds you forth to destroy His enemy!"

So the markgraf straight away called his knights together, and the plans for the war with the baron were laid.

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In the castle of the baron there was also a priest, and this man also approached his lord with word of a sign from the On High. "My lord," he said, "this morning, as the sun turned its burning gaze upon the world, a great cloud rose above your land. The eyes of the sun cast golden light upon it, and I perceived that I looked upon a wolf. Now I saw a smaller cloud, with the form of a chicken, that stood a little above the lands of the markgraf to the west. The wolf pounced upon the chicken, and devoured it."

The baron furrowed his brow, and asked, "what is the meaning of this augury?"

"Sire, it is clear as the ice-beard of the Father of All. Ulric smiles upon you, and charges you to make war upon your enemy the markgraf. Call on your army and cast him from his lands!"

But the baron called on his guards instead, and said to them, "this man is a fraud and warmonger, and no true priest at all. He is banished from my lands henceforth: on penalty of death should he return."

As the priest was dragged away, cursing and howling, the baron summoned his knights and made plans for the defence of his realm.

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Before much time had passed, the war began. The markgraf's men-at-arms marched up to the borders of the baron's domain, and there made battle. The first engagements were indecisive, as were the next, and the ones after those. Villages were burned, crops were destroyed and innocents suffered - as it is always in time of war. The fighting roared on for many months, until at last winter came and forced a temporary truce.

As the markgraf and the baron sat down to the midwinter feast in their separate castles, envoys arrived from the Elector in Carroburg[2]. They were summoned to court to explain their reasons for going to war. And though it was the dead of winter and the roads were choked with snow, the two lords had little choice but to attend.

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The day came that the baron and the markgraf were arrived in Carroburg, the white city on the Reik, and found themselves standing before the Elector himself.

"My lords," said the Elector, "for much of the year the two of you have been engaged in profitless and blood-clumsy war. What has led you to this, and what will convince you to accept peace again?"

"Your grace," the markgraf replied, "I am compelled to make war by Ulric Himself."

"Your grace," the baron answered, "I am forced into war to defend my lands - Ulric Himself warned me that I would be attacked by the markgraf."

"Both of you claim Ulric’s blessing in this contest? Why should the Father of All set His children to squabble in this fashion? How can either of you dare to profess to know His will?"

"One morning," the markgraf said, "my chaplain told me of a sign he had witnessed - Ulric sent a miraculous cloud up with the dawn, and from its changes and motions the will of the Father of All became clear. I trusted my priest, and thus I went to war with the baron, who is a coward and a heretic."

"I also was told of such a sign," said the baron, "though my priest whispered in my ear that I was the one blessed by Ulric, and that I must make immediate war upon the markgraf. But I know that a cloud is only a cloud, and that the minds of priests are full of power and glory and other worldly things. I sent him from my lands at once; but I guessed that war would soon come to me anyway, and time has shown me right."

The Elector was silent for what seemed a very long time. But at last he spoke, saying, "Both of you are flawed men. The markgraf has too much faith, and does not temper his faith with wisdom. He sees only honour and courage and other high things, and thus does not see low ambition and greed when it comes to him with advice. The baron has not faith enough: he has only cynicism, distrust and other low qualities. He did not seek to bring war, but when war came he neither tried to end it, instead grabbing what gain he could from the opportunity."

"None of us can truly know Ulric's will, and indeed it is blasphemous to try. For myself, I balance the high things with the low, where it is possible to do so. Your lands and titles will revert to the possession of the crown, to be re-assigned to worthier men."

And so it was that the markgraf and baron were markgraf and baron no longer, but only landless knights of little account. The Elector had taken their lands and increased his own estates, and thus also his wealth, and in later days was made Emperor. So it is always when wolves make war.





[1] This particular epithet was common during the days of the Sigmarite Heresy, when many of Ulric's followers denied the divinity of Sigmar. It has since fallen out of favour, except among the most devoted and fanatical of Ulricans.

[2] Carroburg has been the capital of Middenland for most of its existence, and from time to time has been the seat of Emperors - most infamously, the dissolute Drakwald dynasty. Neighbouring Reikland has often set its covetous eye on the city, but the tremendous width of the Reik is too great a logistical hurdle, so that Carroburg has never remained in enemy hands for very long.