IN THE SERVICE OF SIGMAR 
by Adam Troke 
	
	The beginning of the end.
	
	Lukas lowered his shoulder and threw his weight against the doorway. The force of his body shattered the rusted lock which held the door closed and bent the hinges apart in an instant, causing Lukas to stumble, drawn on by his own momentum. He fell out of the stinking apothecary and into the alley beyond. The first dim rays of morning shone onto his face, chasing away the darkness and the horror that lay behind him. Gasping for breath, he tugged sharply at the rope that secured his burden, a white-faced and injured man who staggered a few paces behind him. He cast his eyes over the group assembled before him in the morning mist.
	A dozen soldiers, clad in black leathers and armed with brightly polished halberds formed a defensive line between Lukas and three other figures all of which the young warrior recognised. The first was Rosabella, cradling her injured arm, her face drawn and her brow beaded with sweat despite the cool of the morning.
	Next in the group was Henckler. Kriesmann Henckler, Templar of the Cult of Sigmar, a witch hunter. Short, barely five feet if Lukas's eye was any judge, with the kind of fat that a man has when he eats far too much and exercises far too little. His hair was thin and receded, as if he was losing the battle to remain thatched. He stood hunched behind the warriors, apparently ill at ease, regardless of his halberd-armed protectors and unassailable status. The third figure towered over the rest like a warrior from legend. Tall and strong, with a nose hooked like a hunting hawk, Constantin Brandaur was the very embodiment of a knight, the Grand Master of the Order of the Hammer. Lukas looked at him and his heart soared. Brandaur was here, his work was done.
	'Take him into custody.' murmured the witch hunter, pointing a finger at the battered figure that Lukas held bound.
	At Henckler's command, half of the halberd-armed warriors pressed forwards, seized him from Lukas and dragged him away by the rope. A thousand pleas and excuses bubbled forth from his cracked and bruised lips. He scrabbled and clawed at the muck and litter coating the alley floor, pulling desperately against the rope, terror widening his eyes and giving him a burst of desperate courage. Indifferent to his pathetic supplications, the soldiers silenced his new-found protests of innocence with a balled fist to the guts. They had heard it all hundreds of times before and they certainly had no interest in the lies of another heretic damned to die, not this early in the morning.
	Breaking away from the templar master and Rosabella, Henckler stepped towards Lukas, his beady eyes glinting. With a gesture he waved the young warrior over to him, and Lukas obeyed at once, eager to please his employer and be done with the night's business. They paused in the shelter of a boarded-up doorway, huddling conspiratorially in its lee. With a small cough to clear his throat the witch hunter spoke again.
	'Lukas, my boy,' he said, keeping his voice low. 'You managed your errand then?' It was not a question that needed an answer, and Lukas stayed his tongue until comment was required. 'There are things I need to ask you about tonight, Lukas.' The man's voice was quiet and intense, and his eyes glistened eagerly. Licking his fat lips to moisten them, he continued. 'I need to know everything that happened, every detail. What happened to the...' he groped for a word, his mouth working silently for a moment, 'the product, where it ended up? How you were able to slay the enemy. Any wounds you suffered. Tell me boy, tell me everything.'
	Lukas swallowed hard, and nodded, running a gloved hand through his hair before clearing his throat and beginning, omitting no detail.
	
	Be honest in all your dealings, though it may cost you your life.
	
	It was freezing cold, and dangerously dark in the alleyway, as Lukas Atzwig slowly picked his way through the altquarter towards his target. Tall and strong, with smartly cropped blond hair and a handsome face that bore only a few scars and no pockmarks, Lukas was an imposing figure. Clad in black and brown leathers, with a sword at his side and a knife in his boot he was well protected for the night's work. The small box was in his left hand, leaving his right free to protect himself if the need arose. The crunch and squelch of detritus beneath his feet and the scuttling of small, creeping things were the only sounds. Even the shrieks and cries that punctuated any normal Altdorf night seemed curiously absent as Lukas picked his way from one alleyway to the next.
	The instructions were simple enough, he reasoned, stepping over a deep pool of stinking liquid. Gain entry by making use of their abhorrent secret sign. Traverse their foul underground domain, and locate Garramond Kerr. Capture him and slay his accomplices. Bring the 'product' back to the witch hunter, and leave everything within as it was found, to facilitate his investigations.
	Lukas Atzwig was a squire in the Order of the Hammer and danger held little fear for him now - he had seen far too much. For seven years he had served Gotthard Jaeger with enthusiasm and dedication, but the old knight had fallen in battle at Middenheim, hewn down by a servant of Chaos, leaving Lukas masterless and totally at the mercy of the order. And merciful though it was, the order could not merely elevate someone of low birth such as Lukas to a full knight, merely because his master had died - such an act would be at odds with the noble lineage of the order and make mockery of its heritage. Constantin Brandaur had explained this to him in hushed tones the day that Gotthard had fallen. If there was anything he could have done, he would have. The grand master assured him of that.
	Since then Lukas had excelled himself, fighting at the side of the other squires in the great battles in the north fought by the order, slaying warriors of Chaos with a skill and zeal that all could see. Now, weeks later, as Lukas crept towards his goal, he could see that Brandaur had been true to his word, and this task would see him right. He would become a full knight of the order. He could feel it.
	Constantin Brandaur and Kriesmann Henckler had met with him that morning in a strangely clandestine meeting held in the private chambers of the grand master himself. The presence of the witch hunter had put him ill at ease for a moment, for Lukas had heard of squires and even knights succumbing to the madness of Chaos, especially since the war in the north. As the meeting had progressed, though, the sense of concern had been replaced with elation - this was Lukas's chance. Henckler the witch hunter had outlined his need for Lukas in his plans, explaining how a vile cult was gnawing at the underbelly of Altdorf and a man of subtlety and skill was needed to bring it to its knees. Henckler had planned for another to complete this errand, but an ill fate had befallen him, and with time running short he had turned to his old friend, Constantin. In turn, the grand master recommended Lukas, who was both brave and cunning enough to complete the task, and in exchange for his cooperation, offered him that which he most wanted: a place within the Order of the Hammer, as a full knight. Lukas reasoned that fate had conspired to give him this rare chance to prove himself before Sigmar and earn the right to stand beside his brother knights.
	The wall of the shop was pitted and dirty, and paint was peeling from the stone in patches. Checking the worn and faded sign hanging from the old shop front, Lukas made sure he was in the correct place, before raising his hand to beat against the door of the dilapidated apothecary's, just as he had been told to do. Three taps fast, then three slow - the correct way to gain the attention of those within. He waited only a moment, his breath clouding around him in the cold air, before the small peephole in the door slid open. A pair of eyes, the left one milky with blindness, glared at him from within before harshly demanding his business.
	'I'm here to see the master.' he answered simply, being sure to keep to the script as he had been told it. The eyes staring at him gave no sign of recognition, and Lukas almost faltered, before continuing. 'I've brought the product.' he said slowly, to avoid mistakes, 'and I have not been followed.'
	The figure behind the door still didn't acknowledge him, just stared at him with open hostility. If it was meant to be intimidating to the young warrior though, the door guard was disappointed; Lukas had spent hours on parade under the gaze of men far better and more imposing than the dishevelled miscreant glaring through the peephole. After what felt like an age, the eyes moved away from the doorway to be replaced with a small wooden hammer of Sigmar, apparently worn and well-used.
	'What make you of this?' asked a gruff voice. 'What of Sigmar's hammer?'
	Lukas felt a small panic rise in his chest as he knew what was required of him. Fighting against the feelings of betrayal and dishonesty that boiled within his breast, he coughed once for effect before spitting directly at the hammer. The spittle splashed across its surface and dribbled down its length to drip onto the ledge of the peephole. Lukas felt his cheeks flush at the sight of what he had done, but steeled himself against it, clenching his fists. With any luck his face was already red from the cold. The hammer was withdrawn and the peephole slid shut with a snap. He could hear the bolts being drawn inside, and moments later the alleyway was flooded with light.
	'In,' said the voice that had spoken before.
	Lukas obeyed, stepping into the light, blinking as his eyes adjusted from the gloom outside. The small room was clearly once an apothecary's just as the sign outside suggested. Wooden counters were littered with broken vials and bottles of green, brown and clear glass.
	As well as the door ward, a scrawny looking fellow of average height with long, greasy black hair, there were three others in the room. Another man, this one of impressive bulk, lurked on the other side of one of the counters, his finger on the trigger of a crossbow, pointed directly at Lukas. The crossbowman had the look of a fighter gone to fat, his muscles sagged and wasted from lack of proper use. The next was a woman, although only a second glance revealed it, her short brown hair was unevenly shaped into a bowl cut and her muscular frame was far from feminine. In her hand was a short sword, and more so than any of the others, she looked fit to use it. Her face was thin and her eyes were sunk deep into her skull, like someone who had gone too long without good sleep. She chewed continually, her eyes never wavering from Lukas as he looked around.
	The fourth figure, and the final one to catch his eye, was a good looking woman, made all the more so by her ugly companions. Her plaited hair was the colour of a newly minted coin, and her smooth, clear skin set her above the others at a glance. A few hot meals and Lukas reasoned she might not look too bad at all. Reluctantly he pulled his eyes away from her; he had no time for such distractions now.
	'Drop your sword.' said the first of the two women, the unfortunate-looking one, motioning at him with her own weapon. Her voice was harsh and her words were clipped and short. 'Do it now, or else.'
	Lukas hesitated only a moment before complying, unbuckling his sword belt and letting it fall gently to the wooden floor with a muffled thud. He stood stock still as they looked him over with unveiled malice.
	'Check him out, Bella.' she commanded. The more attractive of the two women came forward and roughly searched him, her hands sifting through pockets without any pause for thought. She made a show of taking a handful of coins from him and pocketed them with a wink that drew chuckles from her accomplices.
	'That's all he's got.' said the searcher, motioning to the sword before picking it up and stepping away, back behind one of the counters.
	'Come on then, let's not keep him waiting.' said the woman, curling a dirty finger and motioning for Lukas to follow her. And with that she turned on her heel, pulling aside a filthy curtain to reveal a hole roughly smashed into the interior wall that led into a dimly lit passageway. Bella followed her, then the man with the milky eye. The crossbow-armed thug waited till last, motioning for Lukas to walk ahead of him.
	'Got to keep you where I can see you.' he said, patting his crossbow knowingly. 'Any time I want to use this, you're dead.' He chuckled to himself, enjoying his little joke.
	'I doubt that.' answered Lukas, before pressing on into the gloom behind the others, leaving Crossbow-man to bring up the rear.
	
	Protect the innocent, though it may cost you your life.
	
	The group disappeared down a dimly lit corridor where the occasional candle guttered on the walls, impaled on bent and rusty nails rather than proper holders. The grimy corridor, barely tall enough for Lukas to stand upright, led slowly downwards and eventually into an open sewer. The rank odour assailed his nose and drew bile to his throat. If the others noticed the stench they did not show it though, so Lukas pressed on, choking back the urge to vomit.
	The group continued in the murky gloom for a hundred paces more, before halting. Lukas could hear metal scraping against stone for a moment, and the sound of someone grunting with effort. Then they pressed forwards again, stooping to duck through a hole in the stonework.
	As his eyes adjusted, Lukas realised he was in a large room, the ceiling only just high enough for him to stand upright in. It was barely light enough to see, but despite the darkness, Lukas felt his heart leap to his throat.
	The walls of the room were lined with cages made of rusting bars of thick iron. In all, there were thirty cages, perhaps forty and each one of them was occupied. Lukas stumbled forwards unbidden, his eyes wide, trying to take in the details, but scared to do so.
	Huddled in the first cage he looked in was a bundle of rags, about the size of a large dog. It twitched occasionally, moaning in a soft, mournful voice. Lukas stooped to get a better look, and wished he hadn't. A small child, perhaps a girl, looked up at him from under the rags that covered her. Her eyes were pools of pain and suffering, her face was plastered with muck and great streaks of snot were gathered under her nose from too much crying. She lay on the cold stone in amongst her own waste, powerless against the iron bars that contained her. In all his life Lukas had never seen such a pitiful sight. He felt fire burning behind his eyes, and blinked hard to extinguish it, moving on to the next cage and the next. One after another they revealed similar horrors. Girls and boys, none older than fifteen or sixteen, in squalid prisons. The sounds of weeping and pleading had got louder since Lukas had begun to pay interest.
	'Help us,' one voice piped up, a boy by the sound of it. 'Please sir, for Sigmar's sake, help us.' Lukas turned away, glaring at Kerr's accomplices.
	'What is the meaning of this?' he barked, feeling his anger rising within him. It felt good, and he let it loose, his body shaking imperceptibly as his fury filled him. 'What the hell is this place?'
	The others, who had been watching him with indifference, now gave him their full attention. The crossbow was pointed at his heart once again.
	'Is there some problem?' asked the man with the milky eye. 'I thought we were all of the same persuasion.' His hand went to the dagger on his belt, although he tried to keep his voice level.
	'What are these children doing here?' Lukas blurted, having to raise his voice to be heard above the pleas for help, which were getting louder and more frequent with each passing moment.
	'They're for the trade.' Bella said, her voice calm and clear. 'That's why they're here. The master trades them for the stuff. You know.' She looked at him, her own eyes wide and imploring.
	'It's disgusting.' said Lukas, his mind reeling, desperately trying to find a way to free these poor children.
	'It's part of the plan. You knew about the plan before you came here,Lukas. Don't get on your high horse now.' Beside her the others bristled, obviously considering taking action against Lukas now that he was creating a scene. Lukas was silent though. Bella had said his name.
	Henckler had told him that he had an agent on the inside, and that, when the time was right, the agent would make themself known to him. With a sinking feeling, he realised that Bella was that agent. He was endangering her as well as himself and the mission.
	'Right.' he said, shrugging and hoping that was an end to it.
	With no more than a nod, they made to leave the room, pushing open a heavy wooden door, studded with bolts and reinforced with strips of iron. In the corridor beyond they passed three hunched figures stalking lithely the other way. They were stunted and small, covered in tattered robes with hoods pulled over their heads to mask their faces. Lukas couldn't help but stare. Each held, in gnarled, malformed hands, great lengths of chain. Their odour was so strong that it overpowered the lingering stench of the sewer. Lukas paused for a moment once they were past, and turned back, looking into the cage room. It was dark and ill lit, but he was sure he saw the hooded figures opening the cage doors. The pleas from within the room rose in volume, until Crossbow-man slammed the door shut.
	
	Meet your foe face-on, and slay him in Sigmar's name.
	
	They traversed the corridors again for perhaps a minute more, Lukas taking the time to gather his thoughts and steel himself against the horrors that he had seen. A deep sense of shame had settled in his guts.
	A piercing scream of pain pulled him from his reverie and back into the damp corridor, standing before yet another doorway. There was a dullwhooshing sound and another scream and then silence.
	The woman at the front pushed the door open and stepped inside, followed by Bella and Milky-eye. Lukas followed next, bracing himself against whatever was within. In his wildest imaginings he would never have expected what he saw.
	The chamber was neat and tidy. Work desks sat at right-angles with quills and inks and mountains of parchment on each. Carefully stacked tools sat on benches, with tubes, coils and all manner of devices used by the engineers of the Empire. Lukas absorbed all of this in an instant, turning his gaze on the wild-eyed figure holding a handgun.
	Or what looked like one. It was longer than any arquebus he had seen, longer even than a Hochland long-rifle and wider too. It had pipes and coils protruding from it at various points along it, several of them leading from it to an enormous metal contraption a few feet away. Like a boiler in a steam baths, or a vast oven in a bakery, it consisted of a series of furnaces and huge copper globes, each with a small dial attached to it. A series of levers was at one end, extending from a large iron box, and the whole thing was a maze of trembling pipes and riveted metal. It was vast and complicated. Whatever else Garramond Kerr was, there was no doubt he was a genius.
	Kerr held the gun in shaking hands, elated. He matched the description Henckler had given Lukas perfectly: tall and thin, with grey hair and a bushy moustache. He wore a thick leather apron and sturdy leather gloves to protect him, probably from the weapon he held, the barrel of which hissed and steamed, dripping a thick viscous liquid to bubble and spit on the stone floor.
	His target had been a bound figure tied to a stake against the opposite wall. The figure, now dead, steamed and dissolved before Lukas's eyes. Even the bones of his body were eaten away and the rock wall behind him showed signs of disintegration too. Lukas shuddered as he realised that another victim was bound and gagged beside the first. The figure wore plates of steel, looted from the Imperial army by the look of them, more armour than a common footman ever wore. With a sinking feeling, Lukas realised that some of the bubbling liquid pooling at the feet of the first victim had been armour just like it. His mind shuddered at the devastation a weapon like that could wreak on armoured knights.
	As Lukas recoiled inwardly, Kerr discussed something animatedly with the hooded figure beside him. Just like the hooded figures from the cage room, this creature was hunched and small. This one, however, was clearly inhuman. A hairy pink tail protruded from beneath the hem of its filthy robes, and a dirty, pox-marked nose extended from it's hood. Aratman. Lukas's master had told him of them. Vile servants of Chaos, a cancer on the Empire. Enemies of Sigmar.
	The ratman and Kerr gesticulated wildly at the next waiting victim, who shuddered in terror, struggling against his restraints.
	'Works, it does.' the rat creature shrieked, pointing at the smouldering mush to make his point. 'Pay now. Pay now, man thing.' Its voice was high-pitched, and sounded strange coming from a creature that was not a human. The sound of it made Lukas feel sick. Kerr seemed to be deflecting whatever payment was demanded, for he offered to demonstrate the weapon again enthusiastically, the strain of the situation evident in his eyes. 'Pay now.' reinforced the ratman one more time.
	This time, a shadow detached itself from the corner of the room - another ratman, this one clad in black, its weapon bared and menacing. Its inhuman features were undisguised like the first. It only came to Lukas's chest in height, but it exuded an aura of danger unlike anyone else in the room.
	Backed into a corner, Kerr turned to Lukas and the others who had just entered the room.
	'Do you have the product?' he asked, his voice shaking and unsure. His eyes scanned the group, before settling on Lukas. 'Do you have the warpstone?'
	'Yes.' Lukas answered stepping forward, brandishing the small wooden box. 'Yes, sir.'
	'Good, good boy. Bring it here then.' he enthused, apparently greatly relieved.
	Lukas stepped forward, flanked by Milky-eyed-man. As he approached, his mind reeled, looking for a way to recover his weapon from Bella.
	'Give me box, man thing.' the lead ratman demanded, its gnarled claws outstretched. 'Now.'
	Lukas smiled thinly, and unclasped the box for the first time, opened the lid and revealed the dully glowing green stones within. Warpstone. The eyes of the rat, murky black orbs, stared hungrily at the box's contents. With a twitch it stepped forward, grasping for it, but Lukas slammed it shut with asnap.
	Dropping the small wooden container, Lukas reached down across to Milky-eye and gripped the dagger sheathed at his waist. It was about a foot and a half long and razor sharp, and as Lukas drew it from the sheath he shoved the man hard, causing him to stumble and fall away. Turning back to the ratman, he saw its eyes widen in disbelief as he rammed the knife hard at its throat. Lukas acted so fast that the creature had no time to act and the blade pierced its throat to the hilt. Blood bubbled to the surface instantly, and the ratman gurgled, spitting crimson.
	As swiftly as he had struck, he drew the blade out again in a fountain of gore, spinning on his heel to face the other ratman, which in turn was lashing out at him, its own wicked dagger raised high. Its attack was cut short by a burst of intense green light that severed it at the waist and blasted one of the work benches apart. Kerr was screaming and ranting, and had fired in his panic. The second ratman fell smouldering to the floor in two halves. The smell of sulphur and burning flesh filled the room.
	Not giving the mad engineer a chance to fire again, Lukas attacked him instead, swinging the dagger upwards. Hatred drove Lukas on and the dagger came up, slashing through two of the coils running from the gun and up into Kerr's hand. The engineer shrieked in pain and horror as three of his fingers were severed. Involuntarily, he dropped the gun and fell in a mewling heap on the floor, cradling his hand as blood pumped steadily from the stumps where his fingers had been.
	His main targets dealt with, Lukas turned back to Kerr's enforcers, who were finally beginning to lurch into action. Crossbow-man was first, firing the bolt with trembling fingers. Lukas winced as the shot flew wide, striking something behind him with a wet thud. As the man dropped his crossbow and struggled to unhook a club from his belt, Lukas rushed at him, knife ready. Milky-eye intercepted him, punching him hard on the shoulder and caused him to stumble, then turned to face his attacker. As Lukas fought for his balance he could see Bella and the other woman drawing their own weapons.
	Panic galvanised Lukas into action again and he mashed his fist into his assailant's face, smashing his nose with the force of the blow. Milky-eye fell away with a shriek. Crossbow-man had his club out and ready and swung hard at Lukas. The young squire ducked back as he had been trained to do, before stepping in as the weight of the club forced his opponent to over swing. Crossbow-man bellowed in pain as Lukas stabbed the dagger into his guts. Blood flooded out from the wound making the handle slick, and Lukas lost his hold on it as the bulky fighter collapsed, screaming, to the floor.
	Panicking, without a weapon in his hand, Lukas spun around to see Bella fighting furiously with the other woman. Both displayed excellent skills with their weapons. Bella was faster, ducking and weaving with her rapier, while the other was stronger and took great swings, any of which could have beheaded her opponent.
	A blow to the side of his face sent Lukas reeling, bringing him back to the fight in an explosion of stars. He fell to one knee, his ears ringing from the blow. Milky-eye had picked up a wrench from one of the work stations and was wielding it like a cudgel. Lukas blocked the next blow with his forearm, a flash of pain exploding as the metal object struck him hard. Before his attacker could strike again though, Lukas powered forward into him. The man was far smaller, so Lukas simply tackled him by the waist to the floor and landed heavily on top of him. Both men scrabbled, fists punching and legs kicking as Lukas pulled himself up, sitting astride his foe and pinning his arms down with his knees. Milky-eye howled as Lukas threw his first punch and broke the man's jaw. His second cracked his cheekbone and on the third, Milky-eye lost consciousness. Lukas punched him half a dozen more times for good measure before staggering back to his feet. His body ached from his minor injuries.
	Kerr still lay cradling his arm, while behind him his machine was juddering ominously, thick greenish smoke spewing from the pipes that Lukas had severed. Checking Kerr wasn't going anywhere, Lukas turned back to his enemies. Bella stood over the other woman, who was clearly dead, and wiped blood from her rapier with a length of cloth. Crossbow-man had foolishly pulled the knife from his own belly and now vainly tried to stop himself bleeding to death, thick red fluid bubbling from between his fingers. Milky-eye looked dead. Either way though, he was in no state to fight back. Both the ratmen had expired too. The leader had finished twitching some time ago, and lay still.
	Turning to Bella, Lukas made a small bow, a friendly guesture, and spoke.
	'Lukas Atzwig, at your service,' he said, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve.
	'Rosabella Wolfe, at yours,' she replied, taking off his sword from around her waist before passing it back to him. The machine near Kerr was vibrating furiously, the copper pipes chiming as they clanged against one another. All the dials were at red. 'We need to get him out of here,' she added, moving towards Kerr.
	Lukas looked down, putting his sword belt back on. He was almost done buckling it when the shot rang out. Lukas looked up, to see Bella stumble away from Kerr, clutching her arm.
	'Get away from me!' the engineer shrieked, his face red. 'I'm trying to save the city!' He brandished the pistol at Lukas menacingly, but he could see at a glance it had only one barrel. In two steps he was beside the engineer. Lukas kicked him hard, first in the hand, sending the weapon skittering away, then again in the groin, the chest and the face. Kerr whimpered and lay still, bruised and defeated.
	'Are you injured?' Lukas asked, turning to Rosabella, who cradled her arm gingerly.
	'I'm fine,' she lied, eyeing the machine behind them. 'But we need to get out of here. Fast.'
	'Agreed,' said Atzwig, turning back to the engineer. 'If you can go on ahead and meet up with Henckler, I'll bring him.' Even as he spoke he was pulling off the man's leather glove to reveal the bloody stumps of his fingers. Kerr moaned in pain, but didn't resist.
	'All right,' she agreed, after a moment's thought before heading for the door. 'Can you remember the way?' she asked, looking back. Lukas nodded once, and she was gone.
	Lukas removed his gloves and got back to work. It took him a minute or two to improvise a bandage and wrap Kerr's bleeding hand in it, and in that time the engineer came around again. He ranted about his precious machine, about his work that had been ruined. He shrieked about the worthlessness of the hammer-god that watched over the Empire, and how only science could save it from Chaos. Lukas cuffed him sharply around the head for his blasphemy, and he fell quiet again.
	Next, Lukas scoured the room for the box he had dropped, gathering up the oddly glowing green rocks and carefully placing them back into the wooden case. The machine was spewing thick green vapours now, and Lukas choked as he worked. Once done, he wedged the box into his belt and looked for a rope. In the end he had to settle for the one that bound the second victim to the stake. A bolt protruded from his eye socket and Lukas avoided looking at it as he worked. He fashioned a noose and lassoed Kerr. By now the engineer was pleading with him, urging Lukas to allow him to save his precious machine. Lukas cuffed him again, so Kerr changed tack, insisting that they flee instead. The machine, he warned, would explode unless they did.
	Scalding liquid that burned like fire began to spray from the machine as rivets and bolts shook loose. Both Lukas and Kerr were sprayed by a fine green mist that itched and stung as they fled the room. They had barely slammed the door behind them before they were flung from their feet as the giant machine exploded, the booming echo deafening them both for a time.
	
	The End of the End.
	
	Henckler smiled as Lukas finished explaining his tale, and patted him gingerly on the shoulder with a gloved hand. Lukas couldn't help but feel sullied by his part in the mission, despite its obvious success. At a wave from Henckler, Brandaur approached, his eyes tired.
	'Wait here,' Hencker cautioned Lukas, before turning away to speak to the templar master. In whispered tones they conversed. Although Lukas could not hear what was said in detail, he heard his name mentioned and felt a nagging doubt enter his mind.
	Eventually Henckler turned back to him, his ruddy jowls shaking from side to side as he shook his head. Behind him Brandaur walked away, disappearing into the morning mist.
	Lukas felt a cold knot of fear tighten in his belly.
	'Lukas, you did well,' Henckler said, his voice quiet and low, 'but you have allowed yourself to become contaminated with the stuff of Chaos.' He gestured to Lukas's hands, filthy where he had forgotten to put his gloves back on. 'We cannot risk you spreading that taint to others.'
	Lukas felt his world spinning as the witch hunter spoke. He felt light-headed and sick. 'What?' he asked, confused. 'I did everything you asked. Everything, witch hunter.'
	'I know.' was the reply, cold and hard. 'And Sigmar will love you for it. But I cannot let you contaminate others. There were risks involved, Lukas. We told you there were risks. The threat of contamination is too great.' He shrugged, jamming his hands into the large pockets of his warm coat.
	'But you promised me a place in the order. You swore on it.' Lukas was shaking, fear and uncertainty rising in his breast, taking control of him. 'What will happen to me now?'
	'Nothing,' replied Henckler, drawing an ornate duelling pistol from within his pocket. 'Nothing at all.'
	He fired.
	Lukas fell back against the door as the ball took him in the forehead, blasting through his skull and pulping his brain. He slumped to the floor.
	Henckler stalked away from Lukas's cooling body, past the guards who moved to gather it up, to where Rosabella Wolfe stood shaking, her hand against her mouth. With eyes as hard as steel he looked at her, measuring her carefully.
	'You are quite certain that you weren't contaminated by the warpstone yourself, aren't you?', he asked, no hint of a smile on his face.
	Rosabella nodded once. And together they turned, stalked away into the alley and left the soldiers to gather the body for burning.