In the magnificent new palace, Clo, king of the Rikaner Kingdom, reclined on the Throne and listened to his chancellor speak in a low voice.
"We needn't pay those rumors any mind. We'll prove ourselves through action. While we hide here, they'll call us demons. Once we crush the Ratfolk, every criticism will turn to praise. And when we reclaim the Old Land, the great Montreal family will have returned to the Northern Frontier."
"This world belongs to the victors!"
Clo rose, crossed the Goose-Down Carpet, and descended the steps to the palace's circular terrace.
Hundreds of thousands of eyes looked toward him from the city streets. The king raised the Royal Sword, symbol of his authority, and shouted, "North!"
Their cheers rose like a tidal wave.
Old Ears of Wheat City
The basin had become a black sea, its surface surging with waves.
Cloaked Ratfolk priests and elders climbed the high walls and watched the columns of Ratfolk pass through the streets below.
Tens of thousands of Elite Ratfolk carried spears, radiating ferocity. Behind them marched Royal Guard Ratfolk nearly as tall as Orcs, bearing shields and wearing cloaks.
The ground began to tremble. Hundreds of Brute Rats in stitched leather armor lumbered forward in a loose formation, with short Ratfolk Assassins carrying twin daggers following silently behind them.
In the distance, a rhythmic chant sounded faintly, then drew closer and closer.
An enormous, writhing mound of flesh shaped vaguely like a Ratfolk rose into view at the end of the street, carried by thousands of Slave Rats. The hole-riddled Abomination's body writhed as she produced young rats without pause.
After the tenth Rat Mother passed, the final few hundred figures in the column came into view: members of various races corrupted by Chaos.
Among them were Elves,