Sorry if this is a short one.
Chapter 14 Part 1: Holy King Armand
Armand smiled at the southern nobles kneeling in front of him. He sat on a makeshift throne inside a red tent emblazoned with the sigil of the Southern Holy Kingdom, and in front of him the supporters who raised him to Holy King knelt to hear his words.
"Thank you, Nobles, for gathering here. I would like to give a battle report. We are two days from the city, and word is that most of the populace has left, though the Death Knight remained, and that she-demon. However, we know that our victory will be swift and assured. We will cleanse our beloved country of Traitor-King Caspond's taint!"
The assembled Nobles gave a great shout of agreement. They quickly set about organizing things under Armand's commands. Though he was young, Armand was an intelligent and gifted man, and he had quickly forged his unorganized southern peers into a hammer which had crushed the north. Now his Nobles drew up battle plans, gathered their armies, and placed battle lines that stretched from horizon to horizon.
Though they were at war, the south was as harmonious as their diligent forebears had been.
Suddenly, a squire stumbled into the tent. The Nobles stared at him disapprovingly, and the guards moved to throw him out.
"Wait-! I'm a scout!"
"Let go of him. Soldier, give me your report."
"It's unbelievable, sire! Most of the population of the capital is marching towards us! There are a hundred thousand of them, singing prayers and hymns. The northern army marches with them, but it is supported by all manner of hideous and blasphemous beats. Towering undead, Demihumans, Heteromorphs, and cold legions of skeleton warriors. They aren't flying the flag of the Holy Kingdom, they are flying HIS flag. The Sorcerer King's! I would estimate that dreadful undead king has almost 20,000 undead, but most are very powerful. Hundreds of Death Knights on Soul Eaters! We're doomed, and they are only an hour away! The other scouts in the area were all intercepted and killed by mysterious shadows, only I escaped."
"What would you have us do?"
The squire gulped at what he was about to suggest.
"I would surrender, my King. We can't win against the Sorcerer King, and his undead don't tire. We can't run forever."
One of the Nobles stood up, spit flecking his mouth as he shouted in outrage.
"How dare you suggest our Holy King would run in the face of danger! We are on the side of the gods, we will cast this unholy undead down and spit on his bones!"
Another Noble joined in.
"To think we would run? Take of this traitorous squire's head!"
They looked at Armand for permission, and he nodded. He turned to his Nobles as the squire was dragged away, screaming.
"My lords, what would you have me do? Remember the lessons learned about fighting the Sorcerer King on the field?"
Armand knew all too well what would happen if they fought that undead. Another massacre. His new country would be torn down and horribly defeated. He considered his options. He could attempt guerilla warfare, but he knew he couldn't last forever. He could try diplomacy, but he might receive tough terms. He could simply run, and although they might be let go, its more likely they would just be killed from behind. He couldn't stand and fight, and he couldn't run.
Meanwhile, the Nobles were fighting for who would lead the charge against the Sorcerer King, and Armand briefly regretted elevating such foolish Nobles to power. He had wanted easy to persuade peers, but he got incompetents instead, as likely to turn on him for no real reason as to fight his enemies.
"Gentlemen. None of you will lead the charge. I'm afraid that squire is correct, we can't fight. We can't run either. I've heard this Sorcerer King has a knack for outwitting his enemies, how right they were. Does any man have a suggestion that is not warfare?"
There were sullen mumbles, with some people starting to suggest something before realizing the folly and closing their mouths. Armand put a hand on his beard and sat on to his throne. He thought for about ten minutes in silence. He slowly realized he had no way out- surrender was the only option.
The power of a man who can single handedly turn a looming victory into a prospect of certain defeat! How frustrating!
He was about to get up when he heard screams coming from the fringes of the camp. They sounded like men in battle, and he heard frantic shouts outside the tent.
"Protect the King! Don't let them get clo-argh!"
"Run!"
"AIIIIEEEE!"
Armand stepped outside his tent. The Nobles followed tentatively behind him, like sheep hiding behind the ram. There were soldiers running through the camp in complete disarray. He slowly straightened, and looked around in disbelief.
Part 2: Southern Captain
He stumbled forward, desperately securing a crude breastplate. He managed to secure it, and then he buckled on his sword belt. Finally fully equipped, he ran forward. The tents were swarming with men running in all directions. A horn blew three times, signaling an attack. He sprinted forward, and started yelling as he went.
"Men! Assemble, get up, you wastes of space! Are you soldiers or boys?"
His inspiring presence yanked the chaos around him into brief order. Men formed up, and ran behind him. He rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. In front of him was a sight completely unseen on a battlefield. The tents were being quickly dismantled and dragged aside by skeletons, and as they were cleared, he saw another awesome sight.
Lines upon lines of mounted Death Knights strode forward in perfect lockstep. Scattered through the lines, undead beings of mythical power strode. Suddenly, with a grinding halt, the Death Knights stopped. They moved five steps to the side in a quick shuffle, revealing a bright crimson carpet. Golden Skeletons holding lances adorned with flags stood every two meters. As one, they raised their lances, and an undead strode down the line.
The undead had robes richer and more magnificent than any he had ever seen. At that moment, many men would have killed their neighbor to own that robe. The undead held a glittering staff in his hand which gave off a strong evil aura. Inside his eye sockets, flame's blazed furiously, a thousand times more present than the spark of undeath found in Elder Liches.
Captain Stagspell suddenly realised what he was looking at. The dreaded Sorcerer King. All the men behind him had stopped moving, and stared in awe. Even the bravest was paralyzed by the aura rolling off this monster. Suddenly, a throne appeared behind the Sorcerer King, stretching almost twenty feet into the air behind him. He sat upon it in a single majestic movement.
"Men of the Holy Kingdom! I have come to wipe you out. If you surrender and pledge yourself to me, I will let you live. If not, only certain death awaits you."
Captain Stagspell gripped his sword. He knew it was suicide, but he was determined he would never serve an undead. He activated every martial art he could, and charged.
[Greater Speed] [Limit Breaker: Body] [Flow Acceleration] [Quick Strike]
His men gasped as four martial arts were activated at once, a praiseworthy feat. As he charged forward, they followed. Hundreds of men charged after him.
[Invocation of Khaine]
The Sorcerer King uttered one spell. Suddenly, every soldier for two hundred meters fell to their knees. A red mist started to exit their mouth, coalescing into a cloud above the gathered soldiers. The mist flickered with lightning, and it blew in menacing shapes and shadows.
A red light was emitted by the cloud, and a person appeared on the ground. It was a red human with horns and a tail, who stood on the legs of a bull. In its hand was a wicked looking black blade, dripping with blood. Two tattered and black wings draped from its back. Stagspell watched, completely unable to move, as it walked towards the Sorcerer King.
"Invoker. State the target of your murderous desire."
The emissary of the God of Murder spoke in a guttural voice that seemed to be off balance with the world.
"Emissary. Please take the life of all soldiers of the Southern Holy Kingdom. I offer them as tribute to your dark god."
"As you wish."
The emissary snapped its fingers. Captain Stagspells vision faded to black, and soldiers everywhere started falling to the ground. Armand was the last to fall. He had stumbled towards the Sorcerer King, and watched as the fatal spell was carried out. He fell to his feet. All around him, his advisors and friends dropped like birds. Finally, he keeled over.
A short distance away, the men of the Northern Holy Kingdom watched in silence. There was no joy in what they witnessed, and they realized on that day that justice is not a comforting pillow. Justice is a blade that cuts away the unclean. It is the flame that purifies the profane. Their faces were solemn, but enlightened.
Part 3: Narrator
The coming days were difficult for the once proud nation. The Southerners refused to bend the knee to Ainz, having never been his ally. They only saw him as a manipulative scourge, an undead who somehow placed their northern cousins under his fell influence. The priests scurried to raise the townsfolk, and the newly founded country bustled with holy activity. They raised armies overnight. They sent requests to every nation, even vassals of the Sorcerer King. Those that stayed behind furiously prepared crops, and forged arms.
To them, the forces of good were arranging to snuff out evil, or be destroyed in the process. They worked in a fervor, and when the day came, they marched towards the north. They were greeted by all seven of the guardians and Ainz, sitting at a a stone table in their path, with a white flag flying in the wind next to it.
They were greeted with a parley, and emboldened by the sight of Ainz seemingly surrendering, demanded his surrender. He informed them that he was going to offer them mercy one last time, but they refused.
There, on the plains, far out of the view of anyone other than those eight, and the northern army, the Guardians went to work. Frostbite numbed, hellfire burned, blood boiled, and skulls were shattered. Beasts ate whole battalions, sprouting woods appeared inside the battle lines, with countless thousand never coming out. Lives were ripped out of bodies by the Great Necromancer. It was a brutal carnage, and it lasted for twenty minutes.
In the coming weeks, Ainz would offer new terms to the southerners. Accept his rule, or perish. Many chose to serve. However, the country was in ruins. Men who would have hunted and built were gone. Families were left alone, and chaos ensued. But when they thought that they were abandoned by their gods, someone new stepped in.
The adherents of Ainzism began preaching in the south. They came with wagons loaded with food, skeletons to do work, and helping hands ready to lift loads and move stones.
Many listened when their next meal depended on it. Ainz himself appeared frequently to help, though he was simply attempting to escape the ever-menacing pile of paper on his desk. With his constant presence and awesome power, many felt that perhaps it was time for a new god.
They began to wish for more open ties with the Sorcerous Kingdom. Most of them had not had a problem with Caspond, and they felt only envy as they watched the growing prosperity of the northern half.
Demiurge was there to anticipate what Ainz's intent was, and rumors were spread of how beneficial his rule was. The people quickly lost their fear and horror. It's hard to fear a skeleton that is your gardener. Its hard to fear a threat when it is next door helping clear a forest.
Most of the country converted to Ainzism, under the approving eyes of Neia Baraja. Slowly, the let themselves be drawn into the fold. Many of the northerners already considered themselves citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom. They moved freely back and forth, and abided by the tax laws of the Sorcerous Kingdom.
Slowly, the Northern Holy Kingdom disappeared into the Sorcerous Kingdom. Many of the leaders of the Southern Holy Kingdom, men who had been raised from the masses due to ability rather than birth, as was the custom in the Sorcerous Kingdom, felt that it was time they were integrated as well.
They despaired over how to get it past a populace they assumed were bigoted. For three days they debated, until they stepped outside and realized it had happened under their noses. Skeletons worked in every establishment. Battlefields were common places to buy a new household servant, as Ainz had set up a system where the newly spawned undead lined up. Each one was 15 gold. The undead obeyed the commands of an overlord without hesitation.
Albedo had thought it was a great plan, and indeed the coffers of the Sorcerous Kingdom had been fuller than ever.
The leaders decided to leave things be. There were some of them who objected, but there always are those who hate change. It was hard to pin down exactly when, but one day, they all knew they were no longer members of the Holy Kingdom. Indeed, such a place no longer existed.
The Slane Theocracy groaned as they watched another human nation fall and be absorbed. The realized with a chill that they were all that was left. Even the Demihuman nations had mostly bent the knee. To the Cardinals, they were an island in a sea of enemies. To everyone else, they were an obstacle in a sea of friends.
To Demiurge, they were a stepping stone his master would soon surpass.
Ainz, of course, had no idea.
A/N hey guys! Where should I go from here? I have a couple ideas, but I'll gladly take suggestions. Leave a review. Ass always, Hail Ainz-sama!