Chapter 313: Territory Construction (Part II)

"Short-sighted!" The more Kelitesilike thought about it, the angrier it became. It believed itself to be the only Skaven loyal to the Great Horned Rat. The other Grey Seers in the Clan were either fighting among themselves or, hmph, eyeing its position.

Growing old always brings a fondness for nostalgia; Humans are like this, and rats are no exception. Kelitesilike recalled how, in its youth, it had seamlessly made itself the sole candidate for the position of High Priest, and how it had ruthlessly fought Clan Pestilens, leaving them squeezed from both sides like bellows, daring to be angry but not daring to speak.

Rats are just like this. The Grey Claw High Priest, having climbed to the pinnacle of power, calls for an end to infighting and for unity, while internally suppressing the Grey Seers who challenge its position and externally suppressing other Clans that challenge the authority of the Grey Seer Clan. How could the rats below not follow suit?

"Everyone, what is everyone's meaning?" The ringing of the bell once more brought Kelitesilike back from its memories of those glorious years. It tapped the table with the scepter in its hand, signaling for the discussion to stop.

The Councilors, who had been chatting heatedly just moments before, suddenly fell silent. They began to look at their noses and hearts, with none willing to speak. This is the first rule of the Council of Thirteen: never express a clear stance.

"You, what are your thoughts?" The High Priest was clearly accustomed to all this. It pointed to the fourth seat of the Council, a black-furred rat who looked extremely brawny; even though it deliberately hunched its back, it still appeared a head taller than the Councilors on either side.

"In, in the name of the Great Horned Rat, beard-things, die! die!" This was Paskelite, the Supreme Commander of the Skaven, the most capable and skilled warmaster at present. However, to be able to sit in the fourth seat, it was clearly no mere brute.

"I, I believe that the Mors, the Clan Mors can solve, solve them by themselves! Genuoduoer does not like, does not like others snatching its prey!"

As the Skaven Supreme Commander spoke, the Councilors looked toward the vacant eighth seat; the elder of Clan Mors had not come to the meeting. The ostensible reason was that it was located in the Southlands, with mountains high and roads far, making travel inconvenient, but in the eyes of the Grey Claw High Priest, this was a great disrespect to the Rat God and to itself.

"You, what you say is so right!"

"I, Kashiruike, agree, agree with your view!"

Seeing a rat fire the first shot, the Councilors immediately stopped being silent; they began to act like friendly brothers. What Paskelite said sounded good, but the implication was not to give Clan Mors any extra support, which suited the other Councilors' desire to weaken the upstarts.

Kelitesilike thought of recent events. The trusted "strongman" it had sent to "provide magical support" to Clan Mors had "accidentally" died in the line of duty during a battle, which prompted it to finally make up its mind.

"I, I agree too!"

Sinuoli naturally did not know about the discussion happening in Skavenblight. He traveled unimpeded, going up against the Great Mortis River, and arrived at Khemri once again. The Immortal Emperor, having received word in advance, came out to greet him personally and invited the King of the Southlands to ride with him on the chariot that shone with magical flames and carried the blessings of the gods of Nehekhara.

"Grant a seat!"

Upon entering the main tomb chamber of the Great Pyramid, Sinuoli's treatment this time was vastly different from a few years ago. Sinuoli certainly knew this was not because Settra had suddenly changed his nature, but because the strength he had displayed was worthy of the respect of the King of Nehekhara.

"In my view, you possess much of the spirit of your ancestors!"

After opening the boxes to inspect the two grimoires, the Lord of the Sand Sea sighed. Ever since he had awakened, he had always wanted to find the Nine Scrolls of Nagash and suppress them, but he had never been able to fulfill that wish.

From notifying Sinuoli to having the two grimoires delivered before him, for the immortal Tomb Kings, it was merely a matter of a short nap; how could the King of Kings not be impressed by this?

Having obtained the promised fragments of the two Artifacts, the heart that Sinuoli had been holding in suspense finally settled. He was not worried that Settra would go back on his word, but rather that Arkhan the Black would learn the news and come out with an army of the dead to snatch them.

However, it seemed Sinuoli's worries were superfluous. The Necromancers and Vampires of the Old World craved the Nine Scrolls to increase their power, but Arkhan wanted to resurrect the Lord of Undeath. No powerful fellow wanted to find a master to ride on top of their head.

On the basis of the original Non-Interference Treaty, Sinuoli and Settra further reached a military agreement, though the enemies they would jointly oppose were limited to the Vampires of Nagash and the minions of the Tomb Kings.

Leaving Khemri, Sinuoli continued to lead his team back. Everything at the Red Cloud Mountain Fortress was normal. The King of the Southlands gave further instructions regarding reconnaissance and infiltration to the north and left Gotrek in charge of this task.

This Son of Grini had gained much in the battle against the Vampire Coast, but this would only be the sequel to his story. Sinuoli knew that the power contained within this young man's body was more than just chopping down a riddled Necrolith Colossus and smashing half a squad of deep-sea guards.

Passing through Coffin Canyon, Sinuoli saw that the construction site under Zhuwangshan was still in full swing, and the railway had extended a bit further than when he had left. According to estimates, it might take three years to fully connect it, but finishing the section to Tumobao might only take two years.

"My Majesty, the situation is a bit bad."

A day's journey away from Tumobao, the Superintendent of the Western Depot, Andemuge, snuck into Sinuoli's tent.

"How so?"

"We lack the power to counter spellcasters. That corpse pit is not peaceful; Henlide's cleanup of the Undead creatures is going smoothly, but we suspect that corruption is spreading in secret."

"Corruption?" Sinuoli frowned tightly. "What did I say? Execute first, report later, with royal authority!"

"But, but the fall of the Humans always has a process! Some might still be saved; it's not good to just chop them down, right?" Andemuge scratched his head; he was not a cold-blooded or murderous person.

"Hmm, well said!" Sinuoli also nodded; he had indeed thought many problems were simpler than they were.

"The friends from the Church of Sigmar have arrived. You go and liaise with His Holiness Kasimier VII and borrow some of his power. Once the Rune Smith Apprentices are sufficient, I will allocate some to you here."

Entering the city, Sinuoli discovered that the situation there was indeed problematic. The faith of the Lady had not reached the commoners, and the worship of evil gods had sprouted in many places, but fortunately, everything was still within a controllable range.

Relying on the help of the system, Sinuoli quickly eradicated some gathering places. Kasimier VII chose the center of this Lost Plateau as his place of residence, and the Dwarf King allocated a large area in the city center for him to build a church.

In the planning of the Grand Theogonist of Sigmar, the Southlands should be treated as a separate diocese, and the cathedral to be built must be according to the highest standard. Sinuoli had no objection to this; perhaps this could even stimulate the Lady and make her invest more power.