WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. FIGHTING THE UNDEAD MIGHT SOUND EPIC, BUT REALLY IT'S JUST A NIGHTMARE TO CLEAN UP ONCE YOU'RE DONE.

You know what creeps me out more than anything else in the Vampire Counts lore, other than the idea of being raised from the grave, I mean? The Black Coach; it's basically the Grim Reaper if he was a taxi driver… of DOOOOOM!

Anyway, back to Shepard.

Honor-Bound

Chapter 25

Bitter Harvest, Part 2

"I will admit that I was… disturbed, shall we say, when I learned of the connection between the Vampire leader and General Shepard. Had it been anyone else, I would have had them executed for bringing such a foe into the Empire; I have ordered such a fate for far less."—Emperor Karl Franz

…

"I remember this area well," Gregor commented as he rode alongside Shepard. "I trained here when I was young, and fought my first battle a few leagues south."

Shepard offered him a smile. "I'm glad that not all of your memories of this place are bad."

Gregor nodded. "I have served as a knight for many years, General; I have witnessed countless glories and celebrations, and I treasure those memories, even as I try to learn from the defeats and tragedies."

Before Shepard could comment, the wind changed, and her enhanced senses picked up a disconcerting scent.

"Smoke up ahead," she said grimly; one hand drifted to Unbak Urk, while the other gripped Stormwing's reins. "Not a lot, but it could mean trouble."

Gregor tensed. "Your orders, General?"

"I'll take Locke and half our cavalry to investigate." Shepard made a few quick calculations in her head. "You take command of the rest of the army and keep marching at the same pace; I'll send a messenger if we get into a fight, but unless that happens, I don't want our entire force strung out."

"Very well." Gregor nudged Mortis into a trot as he waved over several junior officers. "Fortune be with you, General."

Shepard smirked, though there was no humor there. "I don't need fortune; I have guns."

…

Back in Altdorf, Karl Franz and his most trusted advisors studied a map of the Empire. It was dotted with the best estimates concerning troop movements, both friendly and enemy. To the side were stacks of reports, concerning everything from supplies to weather predictions.

"What is the latest from the first counteroffensive?" the Emperor asked.

"Stirland has most of its forces falling into defensive positions around the larger towns and cities," Kurt Helborg said, barely looking at the parchment in his hand. "They are deploying skirmishers, along with those from Talabecland, to monitor the foe's movements. Averland is mustering in the Moot, to protect it from the undead, and to stock up on supplies before advancing."

Karl Franz scowled. "The skirmishers can't harass the enemy, since the Necromancers will just raise the dead again. We need to remove the head from this beast; once the Necromancers and Vampires are destroyed, the rest of the undead will crumble or fade away."

A shadowy figure, one studiously ignored by most of the attendants out of fear, spoke up. "My Witch Hunters are preparing forces to strike at those targets, but we still need a larger force to keep the undead occupied."

Helborg's mustache twitched, the closest he came to a smile. "Wissenland has already amassed eight thousand men, along with enough artillery to level Middenheim."

An engineer smirked. "General Shepard's improvements to productivity are showing; it would have taken five entire provinces pooling their resources to bring together that many guns."

"Speaking of General Shepard," the Grand Master of the Witch Hunters said, "we have learned something interesting about the Vampire leader. She is a von Carstein, though not a direct descendent of Vlad or Mannfred; a distant cousin, at best. Still, she has grown very powerful."

"A female von Carstein, you say?" Helborg scowled. "I recall a female Vampire escaping my blade the day I met General Shepard."

"And Shepard herself reported that that same Vampire was likely responsible for the Chaos attack on Middenheim…" Karl Franz glared at the map, as if it had offended him. "It all circles back to Shepard. I would not be surprised if this Vampire is attacking the Empire to get to her."

The engineer that had spoken earlier blinked. "Surely, my Lord, you are not suggesting that General Shepard is responsible for this attack!"

"Not intentionally, no." Karl Franz sighed. "But Nuln's Seneschal made an enemy the day she came to us, and it would seem that much of the Empire will suffer for it." He looked up at his council. "Grand Theogonist, you said that you would have an army of holy warriors to support our cause. Where is it?"

Volkmar the Grim, an old man whose age belied the strength his faith gave him, bowed his head, almost as if in prayer. "The devout are coming, my Lord, but many of them began their journey from the farthest reaches of the Empire. It will be several more days before there are enough to make a difference in the coming battle."

Only the Emperor's iron will kept him from growling in frustration. Aside from Wissenland, which was the furthest away from the undead host, the Empire simply wasn't prepared for an attack of this magnitude from Sylvania. Chaos forces from the north, Greenskins from the south and east, even Beastmen from within their own borders—all could usually be countered by one, perhaps two provinces. However, the speed and suddenness from the undead army, along with their overwhelming numbers, meant that the Empire would have to coordinate on a level that was rarely required. And even then, it was possible that they would not be able to win alone.

"Send out messengers to our allies," the Emperor ordered. "We will request aid from the Dwarfs, the Border Princes, even Bretonnia, if they will listen; if the Empire falls, all of them will be at risk."

"Can we hold the undead off until they arrive?" Helborg did not voice the possibility that help wouldn't even be sent.

Karl Franz rested his hand upon Ghal Maraz. "We must."

…

If not for the dying embers, the small village looked like it had been abandoned for years. Homes had been burned down to the foundations, the well was collapsed, and dust covered everything. Whatever had come through here had been quick and thorough.

"We were too late," Locke spat. "Whoever lived here is either slain or fled."

Shepard nodded. "Any idea what did this?"

"I do." An Ironrock Knight, a giant of a man named Nikolaus, saluted briefly with his lance. "See the scratches on the stones? I've seen it before; Ghouls did this, or I'll eat my helm."

"Ghouls are cowardly creatures," Locke said. "They would not attack a village, even a small one, without numbers on their side. To do this much damage so quickly, they would have had to number in the hundreds, maybe thousands."

"And they kept on going." Shepard dismounted Stormwing and knelt by what used to be a wall and studied the gouges in the stone. "There were probably so many of them, they didn't even fight; they just ran right over everyone."

Nikolaus tilted his head. "They almost always stop to eat the dead, but if they just kept on going, where are the bodies?"

"Haven't you ever heard of eating on the go?" Shepard felt sick to her stomach, but kept going. "They probably trampled the villagers to death, and the ones behind them picked up the pieces as they went. We don't see any blood because they kicked up so much dust."

"Then these Ghouls do number in the thousands." Locke scanned the area, trying to see in the early morning light. "Such a host could not hide for long."

Shepard stood and remounted Stormwing. "They don't need to hide, especially if they're just the first wave. Tell the men to rejoin the army; I want to check something, and then I'll catch up."

Locke nodded. "Be careful, General."

A nudge from Shepard sent Stormwing into the air, his powerful wings pumping to gain elevation. It didn't take long to pick up the Ghouls' trail; subtlety wasn't something they were known for. A long stretch of trampled brush and debris dragged from the village went into the edge of a small forest. It didn't take a genius to figure out that that was where the Ghouls were hiding; if the Imperials went in after them, the trees would prevent the Humans from staying in formation, and the Ghouls would ambush them from all sides. Shepard knew that the best option was to draw the Ghouls into the open, where her artillery would help thin out the numbers, and hopefully give the cavalry time to run down the rest.

Of course, as Shepard had known for years, plans rarely survived first contact with the enemy. It wasn't like fighting the Skaven or Goblins, who could be sent into retreat with enough firepower; most undead would keep on coming, either until they were completely destroyed, or whoever was controlling them was killed. Ghouls were, in theory, a little easier to deal with, but if enough of them were worked up into a frenzy, then it wouldn't matter how cowardly they normally were.

"Come on, buddy," Shepard said, urging Stormwing back to the army, "we have work to do."

…

Eliza nervously tapped her fingers against her worktable as she studied a design that she and Shepard had worked on. It was an ambitious project, to be sure, but if it worked, trade and communication throughout the Empire would boom. It was still years away from construction even starting, but it was so exciting to think about, and Eliza tinkered with the diagrams every chance she had.

It was also a good way for her to stay relaxed; it worried her whenever Shepard went out into battle. That worry also extended to all of Shepard's officers, though not to the same degree—though Locke was getting there—and that was under normal circumstances; the very real threat of an undead invasion made the whole ordeal worse.

A small sneeze caught her attention; sleeping in his crib, David rubbed his little nose with a tiny hand. Eliza looked around to make sure that all the windows were closed, then checked on the baby; after a few minutes with no sniffles or sneezes, she relaxed.

"At least you don't seem bothered," she said, then gently stroked his hair. "I'll bet you know that your mother will be just fine, don't you?"

Eliza hoped that was the case, anyway; Shepard was her sister in all but blood, her greatest teacher, and her first true friend. Losing her would be like losing her mother all over again; probably worse, because while Eliza loved her mother, she loved as both family and friend. And then there was David; she loved the baby almost as much as Shepard did, and would grieve for David's loss as her own if Shepard died. Though she prayed that it never came to that, Eliza swore that, if the worst happened, she would raise David with as much love and care as his mother.

A small cough caught her attention, and she turned to see Leitzer, raising one eyebrow at her. "Should I let the General know that you're stealing her son?"

Eliza just smiled. "She doesn't have to worry about that. We're already practically family."

Leitzer rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're done cooing over the baby, could you help me with this rotor assembly? You and the General are the ones who designed this thing, but I'm the one doing the heavy lifting."

"Coming!" Eliza quietly got up, brushed David's hair one more time, and hurried off back to work. There was still more to do.

…

"General, are you sure this strategy is wise?" Richter looked down at the map, and then at Shepard. "Ironrock Keep might be damaged and abandoned, but it would still be a better defensive position."

"It's too far north," Shepard argued. "And we need the Ghouls to come out of hiding; they won't do that if we've got walls to protect us. It's risky, but more innocent people could die if we don't do this."

"And if we keep the undead focused on us," Locke added, "we can give the rest of our forces time to regroup and strengthen their defenses."

"I know," Richter grumbled, "I just hate being part of the force that does all the important work."

Shepard gave him a dry look. "You know that's not true, so suck it up and get ready to fight."

Suitably chastised, Richter bowed his head. "Of course. My apologies, General."

Shepard nodded, then looked back at the map. "The problem is that we don't have much elevation on our side. Shooting is going to be a problem; we'll have to put the artillery and Handgunners in front, then pull them back after one, maybe two volleys."

"All they have to do is blunt their charge," Gregor said. "If that happens, the cavalry can break them, and then the rest can finish them off."

"That's assuming things go according to plan," Shepard countered. "That's why Locke's forces will stay with the Mako, in case we need some fast and heavy firepower."

Michael frowned. "This plan appears sound, but how are we going to lure these abominations into the open in the first place?"

"By playing to their nature," Shepard said grimly. "The Ghouls are always hungry, so we just need some bait."

The 'bait' turned out to be half of Locke's men, deployed in a large meadow; they would pretend to be simple travelers, hiding their armor and weapons under cloaks borrowed from the camp followers. They were also the first part of the counterattack; using as much food as could be spared, the hope was that the smell of cooking meat would hide the scent of steel and gunpowder.

Of course, in order to sell the deception, the men would have to leave their horses with the rest of the army, which would be just beyond the meadow, doing its best to remain silent. Because there was every chance that something would go wrong, Shepard had only asked for volunteers for the bait force. She'd felt a bit of pride when every single man had stepped forward, though she'd only picked half of them, since they had to present an easier target.

The bait force had set up camp, and pretended to be a bunch of carefree travelers, roasting meat over fire pits and laughing at stories. Since they would soon be in battle, they didn't eat any of the food, but from a distance, it looked like quite the party was going on.

Some time passed, and it wasn't until the sun was just starting to set that Shepard noticed movement on the far side of the meadow, just beyond the trees. Moments later, a horde of howling Ghouls charged out of the forest, waving weapons made out of wood or bone over their heads. Alongside their smaller brethren were several groups of Crypt Horrors, massively oversized Ghouls that wielded logs or even headstones as weapons. What was unnerving was that the enemy's numbers had been underestimated. Going by the damage Shepard had seen, she had guessed that there were two to three thousand Ghouls; it was hard to tell exactly, but it looked like the enemy was closer to twice that number.

"Come on," Shepard muttered, hoping the bait force would react in time, "get out of there…"

Thankfully, the men saw the army bearing down on them and quickly retreated. The Outriders among them paused long enough to unleash a barrage of gunfire at the leading edge of the horde, then ran as fast as they could.

"Sound the advance!" Shepard yelled, then spurred Stormwing forward. "Signal the bait force to head for the left flank! Artillery, prepare to fire!"

Handgunners braced their weapons, the Heavy Repeater crews readied extra ammunition, and the artillery crews muttered quick prayers. The army waited tensely, watching as the bait force got out of the line of fire; it was a race to see whether they would succeed, or the Ghouls would catch them. If it was the latter, it would be far better to shoot first, and at least make their deaths quick.

Shepard was incredibly relieved when she didn't have to make that call; the troops made one last sprint, and gave the rest of the army a clear shot.

"Fire!"

The army's front line erupted with fire and wisps of smoke. Bullets ripped into the mass of Ghouls; the monsters were so tightly packed that a few shots went clean through one target and into the one behind it. Cannonballs from the Helblasters and Great Cannons obliterated hundreds more, and thoroughly broke the horde's momentum. In fact, the sheer ferocity of the attack nearly made the Ghouls stop entirely; it almost looked like they might even run away.

But Shepard didn't want the Ghouls to leave; if they did, they would regroup, and probably attack at night, or simply avoid them and go after weaker targets. This was the best chance they had to eliminate this threat entirely.

"Cavalry, charge!" Stormwing lifted into the air, and Shepard hefted her repeater handgun. "Infantry, move up behind us!"

While Shepard flew overhead, Gregor led the Ironrock Knights in a wall of charging horses and steel. Behind the cavalry, Richter led the Greatswords at a fast march, their blades resting on their shoulders, ready to be swung; at their sides were the ranks of Halberdiers, and behind them were the Swordsmen. Michael bellowed sermons of retribution as he and his men marched behind Richter, while Parral and the other Jade Wizards readied spells of healing and protection. Locke divided his light cavalry, including the bait force, which had remounted, into two sections, to cover the infantry's flanks; the Mako trundled alongside Locke and his personal unit, occasionally firing from the turret when the opportunity presented itself, while the light cavalry opened fire as Shepard and the knights' charge brought them ever closer.

Despite the firepower hitting them, the Ghouls rallied and charged again, their howls and shrieks drowning out even the boom of the cannons. Because of this, the impact Shepard and the Ironrock Knights had when their own charge hit home was less devastating than expected. Still, hundreds of Ghouls were impaled, crushed, or trampled in seconds, and that was just from the knights; Shepard hacked, shot, and kicked any Ghoul that she could, and Stormwing accounted for dozens of kills by himself.

As the infantry caught up to the knights and the battle became a melee, the Ghouls' numbers became both their biggest strength and their greatest weakness. While four or five Ghouls could overwhelm a knight or a soldier, the only way for the back ranks to attack was if they leaped over the heads of those in front of them. Some Ghouls tried this, and a few even succeeded, but the Imperials had discipline and unity on their side. Halberds and swords rose and fell, claws and clubs hit shields and armor, and both sides suffered losses.

Had the battle been a simple matter of force against force, the Ghouls would have won by virtue of numbers alone. However, the Imperials had two vital factors that changed things into a more even fight. First was the presence of the Jade Wizards; their magic kept alive many soldiers who would have otherwise been torn apart. The other was Shepard; her presence rallied any who faltered, and with Stormwing, she was able to reinforce any part of the line that looked to be in danger.

As hard as she fought, Shepard was also continuously shouting orders as situations developed, and with banner-bearers and musicians to relay her commands, the army was able to react relatively quickly.

"Locke, swing around and hit the big ones on the right flank!" Shepard cut through a Ghoul that lunged at her. "Michael, I'm sending men to reinforce you!" Five more Ghouls tried to rush her, but Stormwing tore them apart. "Richter, head to your right and keep Parral covered!"

As she hacked apart yet more Ghouls, something appeared in the corner of her eye; Shepard barely had time to raise Spellmaw when what used to be a wooden beam smashed into her with enough force to unseat her from Stormwing. She rolled with the fall and readied herself to deal with whatever had hit her.

That turned out to be a massive Crypt Horror; the hulking monster was easily three times the size of a Ghoul, with bones, chunks of wood, and even pieces of stone piercing its body as crude decorations. With drool falling from its mouth, the Horror shambled towards her, its club raised high.

Shepard stepped out of the way of the blow, which tore a chunk of earth free. She then swung Unbak Urk into its elbow, nearly severing the limb and drenching her armor in something thick that might have been blood. The Crypt Horror roared, more in anger than pain, and tried to hit her again, but Shepard buried Unbak Urk into its skull with enough force that the misshapen head exploded.

"Oh, great," Shepard groaned, as three more Crypt Horrors broke through the line and barreled towards her.

Thankfully for her, Richter and the Greatswords arrived to help. Taking their namesakes to the Crypt Horrors like a team of lumberjacks took their axes to a tree, the Greatswords quickly chopped down the monsters. Their bravery was not without cost, however; nine men were crushed before the Crypt Horrors died. Shepard growled; most of the Greatswords were veterans that had served with her as far back as Middenheim, and there were far too few of those left as it was.

Shaking off the thought for later, Shepard jumped back onto Stormwing and had him charge into another pack of Ghouls. Once they were destroyed, Stormwing flew up at Shepard's urging, so that she could get a better view of the battlefield.

From what she could tell, the battle was going well. The undead were hurling themselves at the Imperial infantry, but the disciplined Humans weren't giving an inch; thanks to the Jade Wizards continuously healing the front ranks until the soldiers grew tired and fell back for the ones behind them, the Ghouls were being ground down. Shepard could also see Gregor leading the Ironrock Knights around for another charge, while the light cavalry and the Mako covered them with close-range firepower.

Though the battle was going in the Empire's favor, Shepard didn't want it to go on for too long; there was far more to do, and it would be pointless to exhaust her soldiers on what had to be the vanguard. She decided that it was time to clear the Ghouls out more efficiently.

Shepard waved to catch the attention of several officers below. "Push and burn!"

After battles with the Skaven, Shepard had worked with her troops in creating maneuvers specifically designed for dealing with swarms of enemies. This one required said enemy to be very close and packed together.

Once the order went out, the Swordsmen pushed the front rank of Ghouls back with their shields, then stepped aside, giving just enough space for the dozens of flamethrower-armed soldiers to safely use their weapons. Shepard had finally been able to create an efficient pilot light for the flamethrowers, so they no longer required two-man teams; instead, she gave the experienced torch-bearers another flamethrower, so that each close-quarters regiment had at least two of the weapons.

With muffled whoosh, columns of fire engulfed swathes of Ghouls, instantly burning the flesh from the closest, and severely injuring those further away. The flamethrower operators swung their weapons in wide arcs, killing hundreds more in short order. The smell of burning flesh wafted up and nearly made Shepard gag; she'd smelled it before, but it was something she would never get used to. Unlike the times most enemies she'd set on fire with bursts of plasma back home, she had no qualms about using fire in this world; nearly everything she could have used it on was fundamentally evil, and fire worked wonders on most forms of undead.

Before she could feel any sort of satisfaction when the Ghouls reeled back, before she could order the army to make another push, Stormwing let out a screech of warning. A moment later, something crashed into the Griffon, sending him spinning in the air. Shepard's vision was filled with pale flesh and snapping jaws that were filled with impossibly-long teeth. Stormwing roared in pain as a talon scraped his neck. On reflex, Shepard drew her pistol and fired into the maw as it tried to bite her, until the weapon was empty.

The bat-like monstrosity shrieked in fury and let go, flapping its wings and glaring at Shepard. It took her a moment to recognize the unholy cross of man and bat as a Vargheist, a deformed offshoot of a normal Vampire. Though powerful, they were ravenous monsters that sought only to feed on the living.

And this one wasn't alone; dozens flew from the sky, now almost completely dark, and swooped down into the ranks of Shepard's army. Caught by surprise, the entire left flank was in danger of being overrun.

We were suckered, Shepard realized. The Ghouls were meant to hold us steady for these guys; we can't fight on two fronts right now!

Gritting her teeth, Shepard had Stormwing fly towards the Vargheist that attacked her; thankfully, the monster wasn't too bright, and it quickly met Shepard's charge. Shepard was faster, though, and Unbak Urk sliced its right wing off, and the Vargheist plummeted to the ground.

Locke had also realized the threat the Vargheists presented, and led his cavalry in a desperate race to intercept them before it was too late. Shots rang out, mostly from the repeater handguns that were in range, but the Vargheists that were hit were too tough to be brought down so easily. Several regiments of Handgunners, who had mostly been denied targets, now had something to shoot at, something they did with gusto. With only the barest remnants of sunlight and the glow of the flamethrowers' efforts for light, most of their shots went wide.

While most of the Vargheists were flying low to attack the army, Shepard and Stormwing crashed into those that were still higher up, the former's axe and the latter's talons shredding a handful that couldn't get away in time. Down below, however, the other Vargheists were tearing apart scores of men, who now desperately protected the few Jade Wizards close enough to keep the rest alive.

With a bellow of rage that would have impressed a Krogan, Michael threw himself at the Vargheists, his Swordsmen right behind him. A mighty blow from his hammer caught one monster on the jaw with enough force to nearly rip its head from its neck.

"In Sigmar's name, I deny you, abominations!" Michael began to glow with a light that spread to his followers. "In Sigmar's name, I shall burn you from this world!" Two more Vargheists landed in front of him. "Come and meet your destroyer, filth! I shall send you all to the hell that awaits you!"

Michael brought his hammer down on the leg of one Vargheist, turning the bones to pulp, while his Swordsmen fell on the other with a zealous fury, undaunted by the handful of their number that it killed. The wounded Vargheist lashed out and grabbed a nearby soldier; heedless of the sword it drove into its arm, it bit down on his throat and tore away flesh and blood. In a moment, its leg began to heal.

"You shall pay for your very existence, scum!" Michael raised his hammer again, but this time, the Vargheist was ready. It backhanded the Warrior Priest with enough force to nearly crush his breastplate, and sent him flying into a pack of Ghouls that had used the Vargheists' attack to break through the Imperials' front lines. Gibbering and howling, the Ghouls fell upon Michael in a mad frenzy.

"Die, monsters!" With that simple phrase, Gregor led his Inner Circle into the Vargheists, their Demigryphs tearing the undead creatures apart twice as fast as the knights' lances and halberds.

The Vargheists were now on the back foot, and their position was made even worse when Shepard arrived, hitting them from behind. Between her, the knights, and the remaining soldiers, the Vargheists were quickly destroyed, but there was no time to rest.

"Reform the line!" Shepard roared. "Gregor, hit their flank! We can do this!"

Gregor nodded, but paused before he rode off. "General, Father Michael is—"

"Back, abominations! You shall not kill a servant of Sigmar so easily!" With one hand gripping a Ghoul by the throat, and the other slamming his hammer into another Ghoul's skull, Michael rose. He was covered in blood, and from the way it spurted, much of it was his own, but the priest refused to go down. Shouting praise to Sigmar, Michael's Swordsmen went to his aid, butchering the remaining Ghouls.

"It seems he's alive," Shepard said, with obvious relief in her voice. "Now get going; the sooner you charge, the sooner we can end this."

Gregor nodded and led his knights away. Shepard took a moment for both Stormwing and herself to catch their breath, and also to check on Michael, who was now arguing with a Jade Wizard.

"Move on, I do not need help," Michael said, even as he swayed on his feet. "I cannot rest until this battle is done."

"For you, it is," Shepard said, her tone daring Michael to defy her. "You did your part, Michael; you're no good to any of us if you die now."

Michael scowled at her, and it was then that Shepard noticed that only one of his eyes was glaring; the other was just a bloody socket. Shepard felt her stomach turn at the thought of her friend so badly injured.

"Michael, please." Shepard's voice was gentler this time. "For me."

With a heavy sigh, Michael allowed the Jade Wizard to lead him away for healing. Shepard only hoped that he would survive losing so much blood.

Now that that was dealt with, Shepard took to the air again; much to her satisfaction, the Ghouls were being routed. The flamethrowers had completely broken their momentum, leaving them exposed to the knights' fresh charge; if Shepard's estimate was right, there were only around a thousand of them left, and some of them were fleeing.

Before she could lead the final charge that would break the Ghouls, something in the distance caught her eye. It was a baleful green glow, growing brighter as it neared; as much as Shepard hoped otherwise, something told her that she was not going to like what was coming. As she flew closer to investigate, she found that she was right.

An army of thousands was heading her way. Unearthly spirits led the way, their unholy light illuminating the countless ranks of Skeleton Warriors, Zombies, and other forms of undead, including thousands more Ghouls. There was no way Shepard's force could fight that; they wouldn't even slow such a host down.

As much as it frustrated her, Shepard didn't even hesitate to issue her next order. "Fall back! Everyone, retreat now!"

"General, what are you talking about?" Locke frowned as Shepard landed nearby. "We've defeated these creatures!"

"Yeah, and that was a drop in the bucket," Shepard told him. "There's an army ten times what we just fought on its way. There's no way in hell we can stop it."

Locke paled. "Are they close?"

"Very. I'd say we've got an hour, maybe two. I want you to cover our retreat, in case those Ghouls get any ideas."

"By your command, General." Locke rode off, shouting orders as he went. The army quickly shifted, the back ranks helping the wounded to keep them from being left behind; everyone knew that those that were already dead would soon be joining the enemy.

Shepard slammed her fist down on her armored leg in helpless anger. She hated running, especially when people were going to die either way. This war was quickly reminding her of the Reapers, only instead of indoctrination, it was necromancy.

You're going to pay for this, Henrietta, Shepard promised. With one more glare in the direction of the approaching undead army, she rejoined her soldiers; she had a lot of work to do.

…

Henrietta smiled as one of her scouts finished the report. "So, she turned tail and ran, did she? Very well; I didn't intend to kill her yet."

"Why, though?" Zacharias idly licked the fresh blood from his sword. "From everything I've heard, this Shepard is a capable leader. Wouldn't it be wiser to kill her as soon as possible?"

The glare Henrietta sent his way made even the veteran warrior pause. "Don't try to advise me on matters you know nothing about. If Shepard had decided to make a last stand against me, I wouldn't have hesitated to kill her. But I don't want her to die, not yet; I want her to watch as everything she strove for burns, and realize that her entire life was pointless. I want her to die in despair."

"Then why fight the Empire at all?"

"Two reasons, actually." Henrietta leaned against her temporary throne, which she had forged from a dozen skeletons with her magic. "First, is that Shepard cares about the Empire, and I want her to lose everything she cares for. Second, she has proven to be highly resourceful, especially when she has allies nearby; if we take those allies away, she will have nothing to fall back on."

Zacharias nodded; Henrietta was driven by revenge, but her decisions had some tactical merit as well. What he didn't know was why she wanted revenge on Shepard, though he had a feeling that she would kill him if he brought it up. Considering how many Vampires now called her the Vengeful Lady, Shepard must have done something that Henrietta felt deserved vengeance.

"We will pause long enough to raise Shepard's dead," Henrietta continued, "and then we will march on Wissenland. It is Shepard's home province, and I want to see it destroyed first."

"There are several other territories between here and there," Zacharias pointed out.

"Their defenses are still in disarray," Henrietta said dismissively. "We can send some of our lesser elements to keep them occupied. If we take Nuln and raise their dead fast enough, we'll have all that we need to conquer Altdorf. Without their leaders, the Empire will be thrown into chaos, and the rest of the invasion should proceed smoothly."

Zacharias nodded, but refrained from warning her about overconfidence. In her volatile state, he wouldn't put it past Henrietta for killing him over the smallest thing; it was also likely that she wouldn't heed his warning anyway.

For now, he would content himself with the many minor victories they'd had so far. It had been too long since he'd been able to feast like this, and he was determined to enjoy it.

…

Eliza awoke to the sound of David crying and immediately sat up. She fumbled for her glasses, then dashed over to where the baby's crib was in her room.

"Hush, little one, I have you," Eliza cooed as she held David in her arms; after a few minutes of gentle rocking, he calmed down. "There, there, you're all better. What happened? Did you have a nightmare?"

David, being a baby, didn't answer, but he still looked upset. "Ah."

Eliza held him close. "I bet you're worried about your mother. Don't be; she'll be fine, and it won't be long before she's back and holding you again."

That seemed to satisfy David, and he was soon asleep. As Eliza put him back in his crib, she prayed that her prediction came true. She didn't want to lose any more family.

Well, that's round one of this war. Shepard beat the Ghouls, but there's a metric shit-ton of undead left to go, and as badass as she is, Shepard can't do it with what she has.

I realize that this chapter was still a little on the shorter side, but considering the size of this arc, the first couple of chapters were inevitably going to be shorter. Or I might just be subconsciously making these shorter so that I can manage this campaign in bite-sized pieces that won't make me lose my mind.

Now, a few things to clarify: in the game, Ghouls count as undead, meaning they don't run away. However, their lore states that, unless they have overwhelming numbers on their side, or are commanded by a sufficiently powerful leader (i.e., a Vampire or Strigoi Ghoul King), they're actually quite cowardly. Since I never stated that this group of Ghouls was led by anyone like that, grievous casualties were going to send them running. Also, Vargheists are a pain in the ass.

You might be wondering why I brought up Ironrock Keep if Shepard wasn't actually going to use it. First, it was mentioned because they were nearby, and it was a pivotal moment for Gregor and the other Ironrock Knights. And Shepard didn't use it for defense because it would limit how well she could use her cavalry, and in order to destroy the Ghouls, she needed to lure them out. Even if you outnumber the enemy by more than 2 to 1, are you going to attack a fortified position against an enemy that has artillery and other long-range weapons, when you only have crude clubs? I don't think so; Ghouls have enough intelligence to realize this.

Also, you would not believe how many people asked me when Shepard was going to fix those flamethrowers. She's working with half-remembered designs of, for her, ancient technology; some things are going to take a while to figure out. But now it's done, so enjoy your cooked Ghouls, compliments of Shepard.

And yes, Michael lost an eye. Not everyone makes it through a war in one piece. Besides, having a character with an eye patch sounds cool.

Next Chapter: Shepard retreats, but it won't be long before she has to fight again. This time, however, she won't have to fight alone.

In the forsaken lands of Sylvania, ancient Muffins stir…