Title: Acheron

Author: Spike

Chapter: Nine

The first few rays of sunshine came creeping along the horizon, casting light where once darkness was and banishing all shadows. Numerous owls and nocturnal rodents retreated to their respective homes, and various livestock were stirring.

It was dawn.

The town of Breux was large in size, covering two square kilometres. It was made up with of simple buildings made from stone walls and roofs of thatched straw. It was significantly larger than many of the other settlements within the kingdom of Bretonnia in that it boosted a significant number of housing as well as a wide variety of small businesses that included a blacksmith, stable, a selection of stores and the obligatory Grail Chapel.

And from the outset, the town would've looked like any other Bretonnian settlement.

Had it not been for the hundred or so coloured tents that surrounded it.

Breux was simple in appearance but on this evening it was home to a mass of colour and noise. This evening a regiment of knights had come to defend the town, and the people within it, in the name of honour and defending the sacred realm of the Lady.

Rumours had been filtering through that an insidious Necromancer, by the name of Lord Varlak had taken up residency in this region of Bretonnia. Personal accounts from witnesses revealed that he had managed to take over an old tower to use their base of operations. The tower itself had been occupied by a garrison of soldiers for some time but it was likely that the Varlak had taken it over by force, using whatever dark and twisted spells he could think up from his twisted mind.

Once he set up a base of operations, Varlak immediately began cultivating the souls of Bretonnian peasants to add to his army of undead. He didn't attack immediately - instead he bided his time gathering his forces – even to the point of sending minions into Breux, in the middle of the night, to abduct its residents from their beds.

Of course it wasn't intentional that Varlak struck Breux, it just happened to be the closest settlement in the vicinity.

The knight of the region, understood all too well the growing power of the necromancer and his forces and decided to appealed for help. A messenger was sent to the city of Bordeleaux and within days, a large number of knights had assembled and set off for Breux.

When the knights arrived, the people of Breux were overjoyed to see their saviour knights arrive, ready to As such, all around the town were a range of flags, each displaying its own unique pattern with an array of bright colours. Most of them hung from the lances, which stood arranged on either side of the Breux's main road. Some of them even hung from the windows of the building themselves – no doubt by peasants who were in awe of the heroic visiting knights.

The knights were taking up residency within their own tents, set up within the general vicinity of Breux. The chief officers had the pleasure of residing in the village keep whilst the lower ranking officers had the privilege of the rooms within the village tavern. As such the camp was populated by the least important knights in the regiment (or at least those who were too arrogant to even consider using one of the peasant's houses).

The tents themselves were a variety of shapes and sizes. Some even had flags waving from the centre-pole, displaying a proud pennant proclaiming the knight's heraldry. Some even had shields displayed proudly, declaring the achievements of the knight for the whole world to see. But all had the unmistakable bight colours arranged in striking formations that made the Knights of Bretonnia so distinctive.

But with the day already beginning, the camp was already bustling with activity and noise. A mixture of sounds filled the air: The clash of swords as young Knights Errant duelled each other for combat practice. The pounding of a blacksmith's hammer upon both armour and swords as it sought to rid the damages wrought upon such lovingly crafted pieces of equipment. The whining of the horses as they were being scrubbed down by the squires for each carrying such enormous loads all day. There were a variety of voices in the air as well, discussing a variety of topics, ranging from battle, honour, the Lady and what a good day it was to die.

All the knights were anticipating a great battle to take place on this day.

And that was only the knight's camp. The village, however less populated at this early hour, was no better.

The majority of the peasants in Breux, had also risen from their beds and were already busying themselves with daily activities. Most of them were the farmers who had come to work on the fields and attend to their livestock. But some had come out of admiration of the knights and to watch them in all their glory.

Like the knight's encampment, there was a fair variety of noises resonating throughout the village: The sound of cattle mooing, the chatter of excited children, talk of the peasant girls on which knight was more handsome, the comments of the peasants - some out of awe for the knights and others on grumbling how much they had the nerve of striding in from out nowhere and taking the best of everything (although not front of the knights themselves of course).

All the peasants were anticipating a great battle to take place on this day.

Which is why most of them had retreated to the village tavern.

The village tavern has the busiest location the village: All the peasants had gathered there and had the entire building exclusively to themselves – they would've given the place up to the knights but they instead mentioned something about the 'demon drink'. As such they had all gathered to consume the village's grog and to speak in awe of their newly arrived heroes.

The peasants had absolute confidence that the knights will deliver them from the evil threatening their village. So much so, they decided against helping their saviours out in the field of battle and instead withdrew to the tavern to wait out the result of the upcoming conflict. And so, over numerous tankards of ale, the peasants, both young and old, spoke in a variety of voices but all in admiration of the knights

"Did you how many of them arrived here?"

"With them protecting us all, we can't lose!"

"The Lady has sent us a mighty legion in our hour of need!"

"That bastard Necromancer has no chance in hell of surviving!"

"He will regret the day he even thought of setting foot in the Lady's domain!"


Meanwhile, in amongst the Bretonnian encampment, far away from the revelry of the tavern, the knights were gathering for battle. Lances were being readied, swords were being drawn, banners were unfurled, fear and doubt were both banished for courage, horses pawed at the ground and prayers of victory were being spoken to Lady.

One hundred knights had gathered for this battle, on the promise of honour and an opportunity to fight a foe who had dared profane the holy realm of the Lady with his presence.

The knights couldn't ask for anything more.

Far above the gathering knights, upon a rock overlooking the field, Leon scanned battlefield, his mind busy with the day ahead.

He was dressed in armour that was at once both radiant and battered. At first glance, it the armour shown with the gleam of bright silver, proving itself to the naked eye as being a well maintained piece of equipment. Yet at the same time, it also bore years upon years of scratches, dents and sword marks.

The armour itself was decorated with two pieces of striking regalia: Across the breast rested a tunic proudly displaying the image of a grail, placed upon two upturned hand palms and with it's bottom being gripped by the fingers. The armour's shoulders guards shone with the gleam of gold. Both these pieces betrayed the knight's status as a commander.

It was within his capable hands that the commanding council of knights of Bordeleaux assigned to the unenviable task of leading this force of knights to liberate Breux.

Leon wandered through the Bretonnian encampment, his eyes looking for trouble, his eyes ready to detect any danger and his mind well prepared to act accordingly.

For the moment, the encampment was relatively quiet. There was little sign of movement in and around the many tents and the only sound coming from the tents was the soft sound of conversation.

Leon paused and raised his head, towards the direction of the village.

He could certainly hear the sounds of the overjoyed peasants emitting from the tavern. But none of the sounds within the encampment could even come close to replicating the elation the peasants felt.

Leon sighed – he could certainly do with such enthusiasm within his men.

Only thing's for certain: the paragon of virtue was far from his best.

The Grail Knight then turned his gaze skyward, his mind drifting back to the events that took place the previous day.

The journey to Breux had taken the proposed two days with the first going by with nothing out of the ordinary taking place. However, the second day didn't transpire without incident: A short distance from the village, the knights were immediately confronted with mass of undead. Ranks of skeletons and zombies, led by an insidious wraith had all gathered to do battle. Alas, Varlak had anticipated the arrival of the knights and took action to intercept them before they arrived. Needless to say, what took place on that day on that battlefield was a mighty battle. The knights, both Knight Errants and Knights of the Realm all charged headlong into the undead mass, their lances at the ready and their faces displaying no fear for the abominations that confronted them.

The battle lasted all day against a seemingly endless tide of undead. Eventually however, the leading wraith was confronted by a courageous Knight of the Realm and eventually slain. And with this act, the entire undead army found itself without its key driving force and consequentially fell apart. The battle had been won but not without it's casualties: even as the knights had brought down the undead in their hundreds, several of the knights themselves were cut down. These brave souls were later buried at the battlefield, in commemoration of their brave deeds.

As such, the previous night at Breux was a grim affair. There was no cheer of the victory struck earlier that day - Only the knowledge that the knights were now significantly depleted in number.

Worse still was that the attack looked to be working within the Necromancer's favour: No doubt he would use the causalities struck this day to add to his own force, thus making him stronger than before.

Thus, the surviving knights all bore an expression of grimness. Leon had noticed such a drastic change in mood throughout the course of the evening. He could see it all within the men he was given command of. All of them seemed all too aware that they were going to die. None of the knight showed any sign of being confident enough of returning alive. If there was any sense pleasure from his men it seemed from the prospect of dying an honourable death.

Leon sighed. He wasn't leading an army. He was leading a suicidal charge. And one nearly made up of young knights. Sure it was the way of the Bretonnian Knights to die a glorious death fighting a worth foe.

Especially considering that majority of knights will face an end to their knighthood just as it had barely begun.

But at the same time, it was also the way of the Bretonnian Knights to defend the helpless and protect the weak from all kinds of evil in whatever guise they come in. And in this case, the Knights were facing off against the Undead, an enemy renowned for never knowing any fear and never breaking under any circumstances.

The Grail Knight paused momentarily. It was then he could hear words being whispered – but it didn't take him long before he recognised the words as a prayer to the Lady. This particular one was always issued on the eve of a great battle. The prayer asked for courage of the upcoming conflict.

Leon sighed. Yes, in the end courage was all they had left…..

Oh well, if they were all truly to die in this battlefield then they should at least go out by killing as many of the undead fiends as possible.

And maybe the accursed necromancer as well.

At least that way they will die with honour.

It was the way of the Bretonnians after all.

Just then, he heard something come from behind…

Leon flicked his head around – only to be greeted with the sight of a young knight approach.

The lad was dressed in the tunic bearing the colours of a Knight Errant. Colours that Leon knew only too well.

"Artios!" Leon exclaimed "Good morning"

"My lord" the knight replied.

"You're still alive I see" the Grail knight noted "How has the journey to this village faired?"

"I slew many of the undead abominations"

Leon shot a sharp gaze at the young knight.

"Good work"

Artios blinked but said nothing.

Leon paused, his brow furrowing.

"I heard about what had happened on your previous expedition. Where you slew six Chaos Warriors of Slaanesh single-handedly.

"That's certainly an impressive achievement"

Artios said nothing.

"But I have also received word of you striking Roger"

"He challenged me my lord"

"And I believe you" Leon said, turning to face the Knight Errant.

"I recall the day I met you for the first time: You turned up at my citadel telling me you had committed an awful sin"

Artios blinked.

"You were so determined for redemption that when you swore an oath of servitude to me, you insisted that you be sent on the most dangerous of tasks. You wanted to slay anything in my name and you did so with efficiency and dedication.

"And in return I kept both your real name and your background a secret from the rest of the knights in my command

"So keep in mind that I have understood your request for redemption and that I have worked hard to help you, even to keep your past digressions a secret from your comrades in arms. Yet with this big a secret, it won't take much for it to become public knowledge and your name to be ruined thereafter"

"And in that case" Artios replied "I will continue to slay anything that dare oppose your name. For as long as you command me to do so"

"You keep doing so and I'll keep your past under wraps" Leon said "But keep in mind that I can only protect you so far – you will have to help the man who helps you"

"I understand entirely milord" the Knight Errant answered, bowing his head.

Leon paused, his eyes hardened at Artios.

The Grail Knight's brow furrowed, trying to sense whatever degree of sincerity the Knight Errant had in his voice and whether he understood the importance of what he was being told.

Leon then turned away. Sure this knight was a troublemaker and he had some unwelcome blood on his hands but, in the terms of fighting battles, Artios was easily the best Knight Errant he had in his company. Such was his prowess and his dedication to his assigned tasks that Leon had grow high in faith with Artios that he will return from any task both successful and alive.

He just hoped that he doesn't come to regret this decision of taking this knight in as a ward.

Eventually however, the Grail Knight nodded.

"But forget such matters for now" he said "For at the moment we have far more pressing concerns"

Leon turned to face the young knight, his eyes sparkling in an eager fashion.

"Ready to kill some more undead?"

The young knight didn't reply.

Without waiting for response, the Grail Knight continued:

"Well, you said you wanted redemption, hopefully this would be enough"

He then raised a finger directly towards the horizon.

And there, before the lines of the gathering Bretonnian army was a mass of undead. Hundreds of skeletons shambled forward bound by the most profane of magic. Zombies shuffled towards the knights driven by the most empty of wills. Numerous carrion swooped in from the sky with a blood-chilling shriek. Even several wraiths had gathered, their sightless eyes blazing with energy from the most twisted of power, their hands blazing with magic that only the undead could comprehend.

But when confronted with such a sight Artios didn't even bat an eyelid.

"So" he said "When do we ride?"

"Soon my lad soon" Leon replied.

"Can you see this blasted Necromancer in amongst that rabble?"

The young scanned the horizon, trying to find the source of the horde.

But when confronted with an undead legion of this multitude it doesn't take long to find the heart and soul.

Because, more often that not, it would be only thing still living.

And there it was: In the centre of the undead, stood a figure, summoning more zombies and skeletons by the second to add to his legion. The Necromancer was clad in robes of black and red and he clutched an ancient tome which he seemed to be drawing his powers from. The fiend wore a helmet which seemed to made of black iron and boasted a pair of red wings protruding from the sides, thus showing no face save for a pair of eyes that resonated from beneath his ugly helm.

Artios then pointed out the Necromancer to Leon.

"There" he said

The Grail Knight looked in the direction and raised an eyebrow.

"So there he is" he muttered "So we must concentrate our attack on him…"

"I don't believe it'll be that simple" Artios noted "Look what comes this way!"

Leon looked up.

And there he saw it: Descending from the heavens, riding on the beat of broken wings came several enormous monstrosities of rotting flesh and bleached bones. They were twisted creations of once noble beasts and they bore the most deformed of riders. The monsters thundered through the sky, a sight disturbing enough to send a mortal mind paralysed with fear and dread.

"Zombie Dragons" Leon said softly "Seems our Necromancer friend must be getting desperate"

"You think so?" the younger knight muttered.

"Yes but knowing our comrades, there will most likely be a rush to get to one of them and defeat it before anyone else."

The Grail Knight chuckled at such a thought but his apprentice didn't show any signs of seeing such humour.

"Such are the Knights of Bretonnia" Artios murmured under his breath.

Leon sighed.

"Well it looks like the odds are stacked against us" he said "And all we have is an outnumbered force of enthusiastic knights all too ready to surrender their lives in the name of honour"

Artios said nothing. Instead his eyes hardened.

Then the Grail Knight shrugged.

"Oh well, if there exists the possibility of being overrun by swarms of undead bastards then there also exist the possibility of dying a glorious death"

"At least that way" the younger knight added "The potential of being defeated didn't sound too bad"

Leon nodded.