A fiery tempered warrior and veteran campaigner, Axel Weissberg, Grand Master of the Knights of the White Wolf, did not suffer fools lightly. Thus, when Graf Todbringer announced his intent to hunt down Khazrak One-Eye, Weissberg had challenged his master in the most strident terms. His lack of tact earned him a fierce reprimand, and a curt order to remain in the city and follow Valten's orders to the letter. This Weissberg did, though with all the good grace of a wounded boar.[1a]
Middenheim's Last Stand
Behind the lines, Grand Master Weissberg spat on the cobbles and hefted his hammer. This was what happened if you left the City of the White Wolf in the hands of some puffed up southern milksop, he thought sourly. Well, it ended here. There were infantry falling back from the fight, spilling into the path of his Fellwolf Brotherhood, but the Middenheimers stood firm. They didn't balk at necessary sacrifice.
Horns rang out and a mournful howl was raised to the sky as the Fellwolf Brotherhood charged. The Chaos battle line shuddered as they drove the infamous Swords of Chaos back. Hammers pounded into breastplates and caved in helms. Enscorcelled blades hacked through plate armour, or were driven point first into howling faces. Armoured steeds slammed together, rearing in panic, crushing limbs and trampling the fallen. Grand Master Weissberg swung his own weighty hammer, cracking bones and smashing skulls with each ferocious blow.
Any other foe would have broken and scattered in the face of Weissberg's sudden counter-charge. Yet Archaon's will was absolute, and the Swords of Chaos Held their ground. Around the embattled knights, the Empire's infantry regiments were on the verge of collapse. Sensing that one last woe would tip his foe past breaking point, Archaon cut down the soldiers that barred his path and made straight to Axel Weissberg.
The Grand Master saw the Everchosen coming, and his expression set in a determined scowl. As Archaon pounded towards him, Weissberg urged his steed into a swift sidestep. He put his whole body behind his hammer swing, as though he were a woodsman trying to chop down a tree.
The blow was a mighty one, fit to unseat any foe. Yet Archaon's monstrous strength allowed him to catch the strike against his shield with ease, the dull clang of the impact almost shaking the hammer from Weissberg's hands. The Grand Master recoiled, seeking to gather himself for another swing. The Everchosen did not give him the chance. Archaon swung round in the saddle and the Slayer of Kings sliced through the air. The blade cut plate mail, flesh and bone, severing Weissberg's arm at the elbow. The old warrior roared with pain and shock, but only for a moment. Archaon's second blow punched through Weissberg's breastplate, into his guts and through his lower back. Axel Weissberg's torso was opened in a shower of viscera.
The death was horrific, as had been Archaon's intent. Men cried out in dismay as they were drenched in Weissberg's blood. Panic spread like wildfire through the Empire's ranks, fanned by the advance of the Swords of Chaos...