Three weeks had passed since warlord Slit Skythe and his army had reached the Ulricsberg and settled at Haunch Pass. All clans had been ordered by the Council of 13 to send troops to help in the siege of Middenheim, but the march from the Badlands up north had been a long and dangerous one. Over two thirds of his troops had not made it, and that was not counting the slaves. When they finally reached Middenheim and the Ulricsberg the siege had been almost over. Due to reports from his gutter runners about something called "Project Supremacy" they had rested a few miles short of the Ulricsberg and Slit Skythe had sent out all of his remaining scouts.
Only five of the gutter runners returned, and what he learned from them made his fur stand on edge. Project Supremacy had been a huge explosion device created by clan Skryre. When it had gone of almost all life in the Ulricsberg had been annihilated. Slit Skythe thanked the Horned Rat for his wisdom. Had he not ordered his forces to halt here they had been in the middle of Ulricsberg when the thing exploded.
Now the Ulricsberg was near deserted and filled with warpstone from the explosion. Had he had the complete ranks of clan Ratsnik at his demand, the Ulricsberg had been his by now. But as things stood he had been forced to forge an alliance with some other clans. The Claws of the Horned One was a fragile alliance, but it would help to defend the Ulricsberg from the greedy paws of the surrounding clans. Of course Slit Skythe would have to force the other members of the alliance into submission eventually, but until then they would serve as usefull pawns for his plots.
A knock on the door of his haven disturbed Slit Skythe in his thoughts. This had better be important or his guards would feel his wrath. Only seconds later Britzelik stormed into the chamber, his whiskers flapping with excitement.
"Mighty-mighty warlord! An army of manthings is-is approaching. They carry-carry many-many weapon-things. That's big-big loot for us, my warlord! Great things-things I will be able-able to construct for your-your army if we get them," the Skryre warlock babbled away. "Only few-few manthings, and weakened they are. Easy pray-pray for clan Ratsnik they are."

Slit Skythe watched as the manthings moved into battle formation. A mixed formation of infantry and cavalry, state troops and peasants, that was marked from the battles at Middenheim. This meant that they were veterans, but it also meant they were exhausted. He could only see two of the war machines warlock Britzelik hat been mumbling about, but that would just make it even easier to drag them down. The manthings would indeed be easy pray for clan Ratsnik as Britzelik had suggested.
He ordered Zuchtik, his moulder lieutenant, to send his giant rats over the flanks and set up his rat ogres next to his own bodyguard of storm vermin. He didn't trust Zuchtik to stand his rat in battle and preferred to have him and his monstrosities near him in battle. A mere precaution that had often proved to be worthwhile. Besides the rat ogres were fearsome combat machines indeed and a flank charge of these monsters was enough to break every opponent.
The left flank had been taken up by Britzelik. Slit Skythe did not trust his chief warlock anymore than Zuchtik, but he couldn't be everywhere himself. It was just by sheer coincidence of course that he had ordered Britzelik to the flank that was faced by two cavalry units and a war machine that Britzelik had called a "hellblaster gun". And it was also sheer coincidence that Slit Skythe had ordered his night runners to the same flank with orders to have a close eye on Britzelik…

Slit Skythe was furious. The battle was not going according to his plans at all. That worthless Britzelik had so far proved unable to destroy the Empire troops across him with the famous warp lightning spells of clan Skryre. Britzelik's apprentice Ritsrats was more successful and Slit Skythe was already wondering how Britzelik would respond to that when a loud rattling from his left was followed by an explosion on his right. The ratling gun next to Ritsrats had exploded in a spark of green and the warlock apprentice had only been missed by inches. "So that's how Britzelik responds to Ritsrats success," Slit Skythe thought to himself.
The rattling on the left flank grew ever louder and was soon mixed with high pitched shrieks of dying skaven. What in the name of the Horned One was going on there? Wasn't that ratling killing the manthing pistoliers as he had ordered? A whole of agony was the latest proof that the skryre engine was indeed shooting in the wrong direct. As if on command Britzelik's clanrat regiment turned and started to run and the jezzails next to them followed suit.
"Rats!" exclaimed Slit Skythe. He was certain now that Britzelik had betrayed him. That false rat had planned to kill his aspiring apprentice in the same battle that he wanted to use to discredit Slit Skythe and take his place! Britzelik would pay for this treachery, Slit Skythe swore to himself. But with the Skryre troops lost, all hopes of an easy win had vanished. It was time to retreat. With a wretched smile Slit Skythe saw the pistoliers going after Britzelik before he ordered his storm vermin to turn.

Britzelik was standing in front of Slit Skythe shivering from fear. The warlock had been mumbling excuses for the last hour and Slit Skythe was enjoying the traitor's fear. The warlord stared him down, secretly wondering how Britzelik had survived the blast from the pistoliers' handguns. He could not kill him now. Britzelik was far too important in clan Skryre that Slit Skythe could have disposed him just like that. He also needed new weapon teams badly after the others had blown up because of Britzelik's sabotage, and Britzelik's apprentice Ritsrats lacked the position in clan Skryre to get those devices as fast as Britzelik could. Britzelik would have pay for his deceit in arms, and one day, one day he would pay in earnest….