Felix doubted that Ulli’s had ever been very long anyway. He could probably grow a better beard himself.

Nearby another Slayer, quite possibly the ugliest dwarf Felix had ever seen, bounced a tavern wench upon his knees, apparently unaware that all the men and not a few of the dwarfs were glaring at him. Felix was amazed that the girl would even touch someone so repulsive. Bjorni had a truly gruesome collection of warts on his face, and together with his missing teeth they made him as repellent as any gargoyle. Noticing that Felix was looking at him, he gave him a wink and a leer and then placed his head between the bar-girl’s breasts and rubbed his beard backwards and forwards. She giggled. Felix looked away. Bjorni was incorrigible.

Looking around, Felix could See a group of massive men, armoured in heavy plate, with cloaks of white wolfskin hanging around their shoulders. They sat at their own table and bellowed drinking songs as they threw back jack after jack of ale. One of them caught Felix’s eye and glared at him. Felix shrugged and looked away. He was no keener on White Wolf templars than they were on anybody who did not follow Ulric. A bunch of fanatic bigots, was Felix’s opinion, but he knew enough to keep it to himself. Nasty as they might be, they were deadly warriors, and with the huge Chaos army approaching every blade was going to be needed. He could not afford to be too choosy about the men he fought alongside. Hopefully, they would soon come to the same realisation.

There were many others present: Kislevite horse soldiers, mercenaries from all over the Empire and beyond. He thought he heard the babble of Tilean voices and the slurred accent of Bretonnia. It seemed that there were warriors present from all over the Old World. He wondered how they had got here so quickly. It hardly seemed possible that the rumour of war had reached the Empire, and yet…

He told himself not to be so foolish. These men had not come here because of the invasion. They had come because this was the wild frontier and there was always work for hired blades so close to the Chaos Wastes. Most of them were probably caravan guards or attached to the private armies of some Kislevite noble. Looking across at one haughty, well-dressed man surrounded by burly thugs, Felix felt sure that some of them were bodyguards to travelling nobles from his own land. Why were they here, he wondered? Who knew? There were always wealthy men who liked to travel and scholars and mages in search of new knowledge. Most of them came from the ruling classes. Who else had the money to pursue such interests? He tried to dismiss the idea that some of these men could be spies for the Chaos cults. He knew that it was all too likely, but he did not want to deal with the thought right now.

Eventually, just when he had about given up, he saw the face he wanted to see. Ulrika Magdova entered the tavern, her face a mask of worry. Even so she was still beautiful.