The Watch Grows

"Pardon the boy, Sergeant, he's more enthusiastic than sensible," The most promising of the potential recruits said as he pulled the teenager back into line by the ear, then went back to leaning on the hard-used but serviceable great sword he'd brought with him to the headquarters of the Watch. The four potential recruits stood in the small courtyard behind Watch Headquarters, a wolfshead fountain spitting water in the center of the yard behind them.

Nicodemus nodded at the speaker, looking over the slim pickings his request for men to join the Watch had produced: a man old enough to be his father, another old enough to be his grandfather, a man nearly to drunk to stand, and a summer-green boy barely old enough to know his cock from a hole in the ground.

Commander Schutzmann had given him a warrant of equipment and pay for two more watchmen, to be recruited and trained by Nicodemus. Nicodemus' chest had swollen with pride when he received the warrant, a sign of Schutzmann's increased trust in him. The city was undermanned, the watch spread too thin and the Graf's coffers drawn low by the war. To be given the opportunity to recruit, train, and lead even a few men of the watch was a great sign of approval for one so young as he.

Nicodemus called out to them, "Why join the watch?"

The sober ones quickly responded with a chorus of "To serve the People of Middenhiem." The drunken fool drooled and then started as he realized where he was. Nicodemus gestured to Markus, one of the watchmen responsible for training.

Markus walked over and slammed a right into the belly of the drunkard, following it with a thunderous left uppercut to the chin when the man folded around the first punch. Markus stepped back behind Nicodemus as vomit spewed from the man's mouth and the other recruits shuffled their feet momentarily to avoid the reeking mess.

Nicodemus ignored the man's moans as he paced back and forth in front of the three remaining men, "We cannot afford drunkards in our brother watchmen. When the Storm of Chaos broke against these walls the Men of the Watch were weak and riddled with such men. Men who jeapordized our great city with their inability to stand watch through the long cold nights. Thieves who took the bread and salt of the citizens and then slept through their duty to the same people who gave them the keys to their city and their safety. Now The City of the White Wolf teeters on the brink, with only the Watch to protect her sacred places and people!"

Nicodemus stopped in front of the mewling drunkard, pointing down at him, "A man this besotted with wine cannot do his duty to his brothers in the watch, let alone the Graf and the people of the City. Officer of the Watch, remove him!"

As Markus dragged the man out of the postern gate to the rear of the courtyard, Nicodemus walked over to stand in front of the eldest of the men, looking hard at him as he said, "You have all come to me professing to bear a desire to be Men of the Watch, to don the blue and orange and carry the light of Ulric into the dark places, to enforce the laws of the Graf, Guilds and Empire."

A chorus of, "Aye," from the men

Nicodemus noticed a single, small bead of sweat pop out on the old man's bare scalp. Nicodemus reached back and snapped his fingers. The Captain's Clark, Ursula, stepped forward and slapped a roll of thick parchment into his palm before heading back through the door to the main building.

Nicodemus unrolled the parchment, checking the faded drawing once more against the face of the man before him. He smiled a wolf's smile as he saw several more beads of sweat sprout on the old man's hairless pate.

"Your body betrays you, Bergold." Nicodemus said as several men of the watch came out into the courtyard from the headquarters building.

"Wh-" the old man said, swallowing, his eyes locked with those of the young man in front of him.

Nicodemus shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him, "Bergold of Southgate, better known to his old comrades as Bergold Tarrif-Breaker or Sly Bergold." The man tried to back away, shaking his head in denial, only to sit heavily on the rim of the fountain.

Nicodemus continued reading, his voice loud in the silence of the courtyard, "Bergold of Southgate, also known as Bergold Tarriff-Breaker and Sly Bergold, who was accused, tried, and sentenced to life imprisonment in the Middenhiem Mining Colony and Penitentiary for the mauling of a Man of the Watch, Gregor Altman. When said Man of the Watch chased the prisoner through the sewers and lost an eye at the hands of the prisoner, who attempted escape with goods smuggled into the city. Bergold of Southgate, leader of the Southgate Nine, a gang which collectively were responsible for the murder of three excisemen, the mauling of said watchman and other, more minor crimes, etc etc."

Nicodemus allowed the parchment to roll up as he stared down at the old man, "If you had merely stayed in town and gone about some form of ligitimate business, you could have avoided us for forever. Ulric knows how you could escape the forces of Chaos that over-ran the Mine.... But rather than thank Ranald for delivering you from that place, you return here."

"I-"

"And attempt to infiltrate the Watch."

"It-"

"And get caught by the god's-son of the man whose eye you gouged out!"

"I-"

The wolf-smile returned, "Don't get me wrong, I am happy you did so, as I get to order you into irons. You do know the penalty for escaping The Middenhiem Mining Colony and Penitentiary, don't you?"

The old man shivered and nodded.

"I see that you do. I know a good Priest of Sigmar who might consent to grant you confession before your execution, I know no Ulrican will."

The old man tried to run for the postern gate, but ran directly into Markus' fists... repeatedly. Nicodemus nodded in satsifaction as he surveyed the boy and the man that Andric, Oldric and Diebold had recommended to him as prospective members. All was right in the world. His informants were coming through well, and Luther's discovery that the old Southgate gang was back in business 'neath the city was the confirmation he needed that there were more than one kind of rat beneath the walls.

Standing in front of the father and son recruits and drawing a deep breath, Nicodemus shouted the words his father had taught him, "To protect the citizens of the City of Middenhiem is the call."

The remaining recruits responded, "We hear the White Wolf's Howl!"

"To search out the dark places for those that prey on the City of the White Wolf, that is the call."

The recruits shouted, "We carry Ulric's fire to light our way!"

"The Graf has need of our hearts and strong arms!"

"For Winter is Coming!"