The vast room was exceptionally large and tidy for skaven standards. There was no straw on the floor, no rotting wood, not even as much as a puddle. Instead the ground was covered with white marble that reflected the thousands of candles that lit the room from golden chandeliers. In the middle of the room a large skaven figure paced up and down with large strides. From time to time he would stop in mid-strive and bark orders, just as he did now.
"Trittmik!"
Instantly a slave in the far corner of the hall sprung to attention.
"Get pointer, quick-quick!"
The slave immediately sprinted towards one of the long walls covered with intricate symbols instead. He carried a thin, metal spear that was about 3 metres long.
"Nurf-lair! Slave Pit! Gruyden! Zundap! Ferlangen!" the Slit Skythe barked in short intervals. Trittmik frantically pointed on different symbols on the wall every time the warlord spit out a name. He was the latest slave to carry that name in a seemingly endless row. Obviously the warlord did not care to learn a new name every time he had wasted one of his slaves, and Trittmik did not even remember his true name anymore. The only thing he knew was that he wanted to survive, and the only thing to do so was to please Slit Skythe as best as he could. He did not understand the symbols on the wall or the names the warlord called. Had he been a bit brighter he might have recognized the lines between the symbols to be tunnels and the various colours depicting different owners, but Trittmik was too busy struggling for survival to notice. Or maybe he had just stopped noticing as it was safer not to know anything in skaven society. Depending on who asked of course.

Slit Skythe was pleased. He had trained his latest Trittmik for hours during the last three days to ensure everything would go well during his little presentation. It was too unfortunate he would have to kill the slave afterwards to silence the witness. Or maybe he would just cut out his tongue to keep him from speaking. After all he had proven most useful, and Slit Skythe prepared for a long campaign. Most certainly he would not find the time to train another Trittmik once the other factions started their counter attacks.
He had spend long nights in front of the map, evaluating all options and possibilities, all dangers and perils. Ritzratz had been ordered to do endless calculations and evaluations of forces and resources while his gutter runners had completed the map of the area and gathered every bit of intelligence they could lay their dirty hands on. And of course his contacts had proven most worthwhile, too.
Now he had formed a master plan that only a tactical genius such as he could invent. He had planned everything to perfection, now it only had to be carried out. And of course the minor detail that he had to convince the other faction members to follow it. But surely they had to recognize his tactical genius, hadn't they? After all even grey seer Skritchit had shown him more respect recently. Not as much as was due, but that could be taken care of to a later point of time. For now he was content to know that the grey seer would not oppose him.
Much more difficult to convince than the grey seer would be Father Squee of clan Pestilence. In last weeks campaign he had assisted Slit Skythe against the Inferno Lords of the South. Of course Squee did not see they had only been successful because of his superior planning. He had even been so pompous to rename one of the conquered nodes "Plaguepoint", but with arrogance also came vulnerability. A mistake such a great mind as Slit Skythe would obviously never be prone to. But said Squee would be difficult to convince. He had hungered for underland in the south from the beginning. No matter what, in the end he would have to recognize the future of the Claws lay elsewhere.

Slit Skythe let Trittmik show the routes he had planned out once more before settling in his armchair. Yes, everything would go as planned. Now on to something much more pleasant, he thought to himself.
"Trittmik!"
"Yes master!"
"Get Ratsitek. And tell him to bring his plans…"