Most gunpowder in the Empire was manufactured in the vast workings around the great city of Nuln but the works at Nuln were under an Imperial charter. The Charter meant that, in effect, the Emperor and his armies had first contract on all powder, after Karl Franz took what he needed, the various electors and merchants who gained Imperial sanction took their fill, finally nobles and towns who themselves held Imperial patents were able to place their own requests. The reality was that even an operation on the scale of the Imperial Arms Works usually ran dry somewhere between the Elector's and the towns. That meant that regional mills were able to make money supplying the lack and exporting to foreign buyers like Kislev. 

The powder mills of Grunwald and Sons were located to the north west of the city, well into the foothills of the Middle Mountains. On the forested fringe of the mountains there was plenty of timber for charcoal, as well as caves filled with guano for the provision of saltpeter. Most fortuitously there were several good sources of sulfur. Unfortunately for Natasha and Marius, the River Eishalt also provided ready transport, but owing to the presence of several waterfalls, only down river. They road along the rutted cart track into the tag end of a rainy afternoon. Natasha pushed them harder than she might have under normal circumstances, taking the opportunity to put Marius and his new steed to the test. She had to admit he wasn't a total failure in the saddle, although if he kept gripping with his knees like that his saddle would have pounded his ass raw by the time they reached the mills.

Civilization fell away quickly, even on the road. As night approached they reached one of the small cataracts. A small walled compound had been constructed around the falls. A network of cranes protruded from inside like trees stripped of bark. Here barges coming down river were unloaded, their cargo portaged across the falls and onto new barges for the final stage to Wolfenburg. It was an impressive undertaking, serving the powder miles, the mines and some lumber interests. The lumber wasn't barged. Instead it was floated down river with marks carved into it to show who had cut it. When they reached the portage they were directed onto a channeled section of the falls where they crashed to the river below. Occasionally a trunk would stick and a crane would remove it, the workmen adding an extra mark for the additional payment of a poorly stripped tree.

The spent a warm night in the corner of the alehouse that served the workmen, though the fish stew being served was so unappealing that both Marius and Natasha preferred their own trail rations. They rose early the next day and rode on, moving into increasingly wild land as the hills began. The passed a group of cursing waggoneers who were hauling some kind of equipment to heavy to be portaged on an eight ox team. The teamsters sweating and cursing up a storm as they tried to get their wheel free of a mud hole. They stayed the night in a fortified inn, where the emaciated old innkeeper told them they would reach Gunstat, as the locals called the small hamlet around the mills, late the following day.

The weather had finally turned fair as they moved along the road. True to Natasha's prediction Marius looked to be in some discomfort. It wasn't that he was a bad rider exactly, in fact he was moderately skilled, but it was clear he hadn't ridden warhorses in the past and the violent movement of their hyper developed muscles was something he would have to get used to. Konya bristled with pleasure in the cooler air as they climbed over a low ridge to find a stream running in the shallow valley on the other side. It had no bridge but looked easily fordable, the roadway dipping to the water and reemerging on the other side.

"Saumthings not right," Natasha said as they descended the trail towards the water. She resisted the urge to reach for her sword as she tried to figure out what had disturbed her.

"There aren't any birds," Marius said and he was right. The low burbling of birdsong was gone, replaced only by quiet and the rustling of leaves in the gentle mountain wind.