The Übersreik Chronicles - Blood Bowl Fan Fiction

Chapter 5

His knife and fork clattered onto his plate and both Felix and Manja looked up at Moritz.

"I'm not hungry," he mumbled.

"No need to chip the good china..." his father quipped.

"Love, it's not the end of the world." Moritz's gaze snapped to attention, solely focused on his mother with a spontaneous look combining fury and disbelief. "It's only a game."

Those four words, oft-spoken with well intentions but never received with the same good humour, made even the kind-hearted Felix glance up from his rapidly clearing plate. His eyes met his son's and he knew perhaps his attention was better occupied by the pork and cabbage.

"It's a lot more than just a game to me!" Moritz spat the words, realising as he did so that he had never raised his voice to his parents before, unless he was calling for help having gotten himself into some desperate scrape. "It's the only thing that will stop me from ending up doing exactly the same thing as dad and his father and his father."

He knew exactly what he was saying and exactly why those words hurt so much. It was too late for guilt or regret. His parents, specifically his father, had got Moritz and Benni a shot at glory with the Gryphons. They were the most admired youth side, the most successful, and the hardest to get into. Throwing them both in at the deep end had to have been a ploy by his parents to get him to give up on his dreams of getting out of the locksmith trade and into the glorious world of Blood Bowl. A fleeting thought crossed his mind that perhaps he should have been grateful for the opportunity.

Manja went quiet. She was normally the more outspoken of the Schrunks but her son's comment deflated her. She bore the resignation and dismay of an umbrella blown inside out by the winds of Chaos one too many times and abandoned in the street. She summoned just enough energy to slide together their plates - even though none of them were quite finished - and piled them carefully in the sink.

Moritz's father glowered. Manja had always been seen as more dominant, despite his high standing in the Locksmiths Guild and good reputation as a craftsman. The well-known saying 'behind every great man is a woman with a red-hot poker and an eye for a bargain' could not be more true than with the Schrunks. She took the lead when it came to making decisions for the family, about the house, or which affected the three of them. He had gleefully filled the role of breadwinner, accepting it without complaint and secretly glad that, whilst his responsibility was a big one, it seemed uncomplicated, controllable, to him. He had the skills and experience to ensure their cupboards were always stocked and nobody in the family needed to shiver in the winter or sweat in the summer.

He went about his life in a seemingly unperturbed manner with a quiet calm that Manja loved but that some found frustrating. He rarely picked sides in an argument and was satisfied to let others duel over things which he cared about, for the sake of a stress-free existence. But what he kept especially quiet from his wife and son was the reason for this.

He had more than a brush with violence as a younger man, before he was married, which risked ending his career. He had been quick to temper and a spilt drink in a tavern led to him being tossed into the Town Watch's cell for the night, where he had time to sober up and for the swelling of his knuckles to subside. It took a serious ultimatum from his father to make him realise that, if he continued to allow others to affect him, it would not simply mean he would be inconveniently detained, but a broken finger would mean the intricate handiwork necessary to continue to Schrunk legacy would be impossible. The frank conversation between his father and his younger self had been on his mind when Moritz first expressed a wish to become a Blood Bowler. Just as he had done during arguments or confrontations, his conscience told him not to worry; it was a phase, and everything will work out for the best in the end.