Correspondence
If he had thought himself tired previously, Bertold now wondered what he ought to call his present condition. Perhaps ‘exhausted’ would suffice, though even that seemed insufficient. His head swam with ideas and intentions, a swirl of fleeting thoughts, each one supplanted by another in quick succession as jostled constantly to gain his attention.
Suddenly his cacophonous reverie was interrupted by his teacher.
“The journey is the reward,” said the Cathayan.
Bertold shook his head and focused his aching eyes on his servant. “You know, reading minds is considered to be evil magic in many places.”
The teacher laughed. “I need not read your mind to know its condition. Your face reveals all, and I presume the use of my eyes is quite acceptable?”
Bertold rubbed his hands over his face, as if washing it (though without water). “No doubt I do look somewhat haggard. I like your sentiment, however. Perseverance is indeed exactly what I need right now.”
“The letters that came this morning, master” asked the Cathayan, "did they bring good news?”
“I was glad to receive them, and although they do not give me answers, they do give me hope. It seems dwarfs think like dwarfs and elves think like elves and Kislevites think like hardened, brute warriors of the north. Who’d have thought it, eh?”
“Hope?”
“Yes, teacher,” said Bertold. “From their words I see that those who serve the lawful gods remain united in their hatred of chaos. Each sees the world through their own eyes, yet each recognises the danger of chaos. Take Admiral Drengi’s letter …” Bertold shuffled through the parchments and papers on his table, plucked out one written in a very bold hand on heavy parchment (almost leather), and let his eyes wander across the contents to find a certain part. “Yes, here it is:
‘You ask me what has caused the receding of the wastes, and to that I answer that I do not know. None of our eldest and wisest can answer that, so for the moment we advocate a cautious approach. Where the norscans perform their heathen rituals and the orcs turn to the worship of Malal, we but focus on the affairs of this world.
‘If you wish to have my opinion on what to be done, it is education. I hope that you do not take this as an insult, but mankind is an amazingly changeable race. From what I have seen myself, a man can be a paragon of virtue, as well as the most vile of monsters. The deprivations of men are easily the match of any elf or orc. To combat chaos, one must take the long view. Today and now, the champions of the dark gods must be killed. But for the future, the young of the Norse must be taught what is proper. One Mathurian Kecherbound once said to me, that with our enemies if we treat them only as such, that is all they will ever be. For all those who still own their souls, know that they can be pulled out of the darkness. But for those who have already fallen, death is the only mercy that can be offered to them. And in doing this, be wise in your justice.’
“Let us ignore the slight against mankind, mainly because it is wholly truthful. Here is a dwarf who wants to fight chaos. To him the answer is plain - for the present we must fight, kill all who have fallen irretrievably into the clutches of chaos. Yet at the same time, he has the wisdom to see that there are those who need saving, ‘educating’ as he puts it, so that the fight does not go on forever. Kill the servants of chaos, and deny the wicked gods any new recruits. Clear and forthright, no ifs and buts, comprehensive in that it solves the present and the future. That’s the thinking of a dwarf.”
The Cathayan nodded. “True. But does it solve the riddle of the north, master?”
“Does he need to?” replied Bertold. “Let’s face it, if we killed every servant of chaos in battle as this dwarf would wish, then I doubt the riddle of the north would trouble us much. Except … can it be done? Could every servant of chaos be killed? If the overlapping of the realms allowed ever more foul creatures of chaos to spill into our realm, then the killing would never stop - for all those killed would be replaced, over and over.”
“I doubt many dwarves are much troubled by the idea of a forever war. Do they not live to fight?”
“They do love their fighting, but not first and foremost. They love honour and their way of life, and thus find themselves forced to fight often simply to maintain those things. You do see, however, how the dwarf’s answer suits him? He would have us fight, while preventing mortals from embracing chaos. Well and good, but the riddle would not be solved, the realms would still be intermixed, and if the strength of chaos were to wax mightily then the world would succumb entirely.”
“Perhaps the dwarf would try to save a dead horse as if it was still alive?”
Bertold rolled his eyes. “Now that one I have not heard. Let’s see if I can work it out. A dead horse cannot be saved, yet you suggest trying anyway. Are you saying that trying is better than not trying?”
“Do the impossible, for it may truly be possible,” said the Cathayan.
“I see. Yes, that fits. Well, that might satisfy a dwarf but not me. I would much rather discover what is possible and do that. Yet I struggle to find the right question, never mind a workable answer.”
“If you keep a green bough in your heart, the singing bird will come.”
“Yes,” said Bertold, “yes, I must cling to hope. Be ever the optimist. If only my aching head would let me.”
The Cathayan pointed at the table, specifically at a beautifully scribed vellum in dark red and blue inks. “What does the elf say?”
Bertold picked up the letter in question. “Well, his thinking is a little more convoluted, complex.”
“Like my little sayings, master?”
“Oh no! Thank the gods, no. Arduval Yavandir chooses not express himself by conjuring up images of singing birds and dead horses.”
The Cathayan chuckled. “So, will you share the wisdom of an elf?”
“Let’s see,” said Bertold scrutinising the elegant hand. “He’s pleased that I can think, and says he would have me for a friend. All very nice. And he knows dwarfs as well as we do, if not better - he puts here that they are ‘resolute and implacable’. See, no dead horses. He complains that the war has kept him busy, and that he would have liked to have prospered in this realm as we in the VMC have done.”
“You said 'complex', master,” the Cathayan interrupted, “but then tell me ‘he says this’ and 'he says that’.”
“Fine,” exclaimed Bertold. “Then I shall read his words. Now, where was I? Yes, here …
‘My goal in coming to the north was to take what advantage there was from the waning of the Realm of Chaos, to seek the key to redressing the balance and, more in hope than anything else, to try and forge the ideal of a new age of unity between the forces of Order against those of Destruction. High aims and concepts perhaps, but if one does not have lofty ideals, then surely we are destined never to rise above the ordinary, never to change our fates or fortunes.
‘It is with this aim, and in this spirit that I reply to you, not with the arrogance the Asur are well and rightly renowned for, but to speak to you as an equal partner, in the hope that by our actions, thoughts and ideals we can lay the foundations for a brave new world.
‘But I would give you council, the beliefs of my people woven deeply amongst them, and in truth the lessons learned from my own eyes. While we might strive to destroy chaos, such a thing can never be. For in all things there must be balance, all forces must pull in equal measure or we shall simply exchange one calamity for another. So while I say yes, we must strike at the Four with all our might, for they are fell and dreadful manifestations of the worst parts of all of us, in truth they are needed to balance the scales, even if it is only in the merest of pinches to the mix.’
Bertold stopped. “I like that,” he said. “‘The merest of pinches’. It makes chaos sound like something we could deal with. As if chaos were salt - to eat only salt would kill a man, but a little on one’s beef is lovely thing!”
“I know you jest, master,” said the teacher dryly. “Even a little chaos is still wicked, and always leads to more. Chaos is more akin to the plague than salt. If one child in a city succumbs to the plague, then the whole city is threatened.”
“You don’t agree with the elf, then, I take it teacher? Everything in balance?”
“No. Even a smidgen of plague is deadly. There is no yin and yang to chaos. Nor is it a flavouring for life.”
“Don’t blame the elf for the salt analogy - that was me being flippant.”
“Read on then, and we shall see if the elf redeems himself.”
Bertold ran his finger down the margin and found the spot. “‘So perhaps it is not so much chaos we must fight as the Four themselves, and their followers, and beyond that we must stand against all the forces of Destruction that we can give name to so easily. What I think is needed is that balance must be found, the horrors of the north muted in their power and scope and the world to be held in harmony.’”
“See,” exclaimed Bertold, “Yavandir says in no uncertain terms that we must fight the Four. He yearns for harmony - how can that be a bad thing? And more than this, he answers you directly, teacher, in the next part. Surely there is wisdom here if he predicts your argument and counters it?” He read on.
‘But I shall make no defense of chaos, nor shall I extol its virtues, just as I would not extol the virtues of the Cytharai. I cannot deny they exist, nor can I deny their place in the balance of things. Do they exist because mortals are weak or are mortals weak because they exist? Such questions are beyond me I confess. All I know is that they do exist and, in truth, must exist. Why must they exist I am sure you will ask, but this answer is simple. Can we measure the light without the dark, can we measure triumph without disaster, do we measure our gains with the ease with which they are made, or by what we have had to give to attain them? In all things there must be balance’
“Is there not good sense in this, teacher?” asked Bertold.
“Can one argue with the plague and so defeat it? Can a man debate his way out of death at the hands of a frenzied warrior of chaos?” came the teacher's reply.
“At least hear what else he has to say, before you mock,” said Bertold.
‘So while you are right when you say, “Chaos, on the other hand, brings only pain and destruction. It would swallow the world and all it contains body and soul, then twist and tangle, mash and mix all together, tainting and perverting until no one thing knows itself nor even knows it has a self and all are lost. Kin, friends, neighbours - all gone” I offer this caveat: “Chaos unbridled and unchecked.” Such is the state we find ourselves now, since the Gates of Heaven fell.
‘Our task then, is to redress that balance, to put that bridle in place so that we may reign back the predations of the Dark Gods and here, in this time and place we have that time as you rightly point out. Perhaps it is that the power of the Four is diminished and so one side of the scales is lighter, it matters not in truth. What we need to do is find any way to make sure the side of Order and Law is weighed more heavily.
‘If you seek such answers, then I welcome you, and I gladly add my council to yours and your other allies and so I will give my answers plain and clear to your questions:
‘"What do you think is the cause of the waxing and waning of chaos in the north?" For some reason the power of the Four has been weakened. Some say this is the renegade Chaos god Malal, and perhaps this is true. But perhaps there is a reason instead why Malal was allowed to awaken, perhaps elsewhere, somewhere deeper another thing has changed. This I would know more of.
‘"What do you believe could be done to drive it from this realm?" My hope is to create a new realm, in which the forces of Order hold sway, united as once we were in the ancient days, Elf, Dwarf and Man standing for the highest ideals before the whisperings of chaos sundered the ancient alliances and friendships
‘Perhaps too there are other, forgotten powers that might be brought to our aid. The Dragon, Ceomas is one that might be brought to our aid, with careful words and right actions – but I am sure there is also the legend of the Goddess Arianka, imprisoned by the Changer of Ways and while we talk of why the Realm of Chaos shrinks now, perhaps her imprisonment was why it grew in the first place?
“Now there’s an idea,” said Bertold in a conspiratorial tone. “Arduval has it right when he suggests that an ancient dragon might have answers for us. What is there that such a creature has not seen? The waxing and waning of chaos must seem as the seasons to a being so old.”
“It is no easy thing to speak to a dragon,” countered the teacher.
“Listen to yourself, teacher! Only a little while agao you were instructing me to tend to a dead horse. Talking to a living dragon seems a much more likely possibility. Now, listen the end - I have come so far I may as well finish it. Oh, and I hope you notice the note of humility.”
‘These are just thoughts I have, and I think will take those more clever than I to discern. But they are things I would bend my will to discovering, especially in the knowledge that I did not act alone.
‘I hope that soon we might meet, and greet each other as brothers in arms and together work towards a better end.’
“There you have it,” said Bertold. “No vanity nor arrogance. He even writes that this is just thoughts he has, and declares himself not as clever as some. He has the same yearning for an answer that I have.”
“And he wants to meet,” said the Cathayan.
“As I do too,” Bertold declared. “Perhaps then I shall meet someone wiser than you?”
The Cathayan gestured towards another paper, as yet unread. “That letter, master – it is from the Kislevites?”
“Yes, from one of their factions at least. The commander of the Mala Armia, one Mikolaj Kozlowski”
“You said they think like warriors?”
“Oh yes. Their answer to the riddle of the north is not unlike admiral Svengi’s, though his way of putting it is somewhat more graphic. Listen …
‘You wish for my opinion on the spread of chaos? Burn it. Burn its worshippers and destroy their gods’ influences. Build temples to Dazh's glory and purify the land. Chaos cannot exist if all its followers lack heads.’ ”
“Are they head hunters, master?”
Bertold grinned. “Perhaps not these men, but I am sure their grandfathers might have been! Still, they do have ideas beyond simple war, even if they want us to pay for all…
‘You speak of all the money that the VMC has invested, yet we have seen none of it. You wish to build to the glory of all "lawful" gods. Well, we worship one. Provide us with the funds and we will build a temple. Show that you are not simply talk and truly mean to help Kislev. Otherwise this is all just words, shadows and fallacy. You wish to know how to defeat chaos? Praise those gods who would fight it.’
“So you see, they do recognise that swords and spears alone will not win their war.”
“They have some wisdom, then?” asked the Cathayan.
“Funny you should say that, for yes they do, yet they apparently would not admit it themselves.” He read on …
“ ‘I fear you may be looking in the wrong place for wise men, we have no wizards for they are agents of false hope. Our scholars hold spears. We at Omutsninsk are simple soldiers. We rely on other Kislevites to act as traders, builders and we do not even truly bother with priests. Our gods are best served on the battlefield than in the churches. The only laws I serve are those of Dazh and Tzarina Katarin.’ ”
“Simple soldiers,” said Bertold. Maybe that is the real wisdom here? Maybe all we can do is fight. What use is a lifetime’s book learning and dialectic when a minotaur is charging at you?”
The Cathayan pondered a moment. “Unless that book learning was from books of magic. In which case one’s knowledge could tear the beast apart.”
Note: Thank you to Grumbaki and Arduval Yavandir (Uryens de Crux on this forum) and Mogsam for their letters. The sections in bold italics are all their words.