Chapter 24 Dreadhorde General

I've been busy lately, and it's quite stressful living in Thailand. Apart from Covid19 that we all suffered, there is a protest going on. It is organized by young people asking for a better future in the country. The government, however, never listen and used all their means to harm the protester. It started as a peaceful protest, but the police already use forces to deal with them (16 OCT 2020). As for now, the situation, hopefully, does not degrade any further, but it is still tense. It makes me quite depressed, actually.

I don't want to turn this project into some political debate or a news report, so if you want to know more, you can search for it on the internet. Keywords to look for: Thai Protest, Thai King, Gen. Prayut Chan-o-cha., etc. Be careful about fake news, though.

There are 24 people from Thailand reading this story this month, so I don't expect much.

Anyway, the story. I hope you like it.

Q&A

: (chapter 4) I forgot his age. Is he not too young to kiss a girl on her lips?

Jon was eight in the 3rd and 4th chapters. Yes, he is too young to do that. But he had not been taught how to act with the other gender. Not by Arlinn, anyway. And he's too busy learning how to survive in the multiverse from a werewolf in a haunted forest. Besides, to that point, he had been denied a mother all his life, so he would take anything she said like a divine edict. With my depiction of Arlinn Kord, it makes sense to me for him to do something we deem inappropriate for his age.

Animo fanfiction: This is one of those stories that sounds like crack while you read it yet it makes perfect sense when you understand it. I love this story.

That's quite a compliment. Thank you.

Previously

Jon solemnly nods. "What will be, will be, mother." He said. "I will make sure she stays alive."

Oh. She's enjoying this very much.

Since the moment she first planeswalked on this light forsaken place all those years ago, Liliana feels more and more in love with it. The air, the soil, the … corpses … It was as if everything on this plane exists to make her feel alive. Well, except the self-proclaimed Lord of Innistrad she met before the Mending. The vampire was an absolute bastard but don't let him know she called him that.

The irony isn't lost to her. Not even when she is surrounded by zombies or what the local called ghouls and skaabs. She isn't sure why they're called different. A reanimated dead is a reanimated dead, why bother classified it?

She mentioned it once and her two colleges, the Cecanis, almost tear each other apart. What a messed-up sibling they were. Had their parents never teach them to love each other. Calling them siblings is quite an affront to all proper siblings in the multiverse. Sure, her brother, Josu, sometimes an ass, but she knew he loved her and she loved him. Nothing will make them try to kill each other as the Cacanis does.

Oh wait, she killed Josu. Sort of. He died, and it was her fault.

Fuck.

Before she takes a trip down a memory lane, her thought is interrupted by two unfamiliar presence. Planeswalkers. The pull between her spark and theirs is getting stronger, indicating that they are moving toward her. Moving through the horde of zombies and didn't get attacked. It's quite an impressive feat. Then again, the corpses that she raised as of late are not to her usual quality. Namely, the bards.

She had buried them of course, but they crawled out of the dirt by themselves. She tried to cut off her supply of mana, but that did nothing. Somehow, during her reanimation process, she connects them to the plane's mana itself. She considered sending other corpses to tear them apart but finally decided otherwise. If they had defied the nature of life and death this much, then she might find some use for them. Besides, the songs they sang are not that bad, if they just cut down the heckling it would be almost bearable.

"Oh." Her eyes peak as she sees the two silhouettes in the distance. One big, a female, likely no one that she knows. And one a little bit smaller with curly hair, so, a girl? Definitely, no one that she knows. 'Hmm. They're ignited younger and younger.'

Ah, the joy of youth. So weak. So full of potential. So easily molded. So easily tricked. So joyful. And she definitely knows this. She traded her soul for it. And that is why she is going to renegotiate with her debtors.

And then the girl turns out to be a boy. Well, that quite disappointing. Not a big disappointment though. Truthfully, nothing in the schemes of things. 'Still, a boy with curly hair huh? Fashion is getting weirder and weirder these days.'

This brings up the relationship between the two newcomers. A mentor & mentee? A servant? A minion? A boytoy? A shapeshifter? A body snatcher? Or the key to the eternal youth she so desired? Liliana lets her imagination runs wild and it comes up with a lot of possibilities. None of them is any good.

Perhaps let him grows for a few more years and she would decide whether he is worth her time. Somehow, he reminds her of that fool Jace. Somewhat capable and easily manipulated.

Still, it does not explain how they could move through a zombie horde unscathed. She remembers that she and her 'associates' commanded them to tear everything that lives when they raised those bodies. Well, at least that what she thought any half-decent necromancer would do. Something like that should not need to even be discussed.

The Dominarian planeswalker turns to face the newcomer early. She needs to be ready. The first impression between planeswalkers is critical. It is the only chance to establish a power dynamic. Once the opportunity had passed, it would be hard to change one's perception. Therefore, she needs to be in her best game.

Perhaps she would throw in some seduction for the boy too, but not too much. Even a messed-up necromancer like her had standard. There is a line she wouldn't cross. And that says a lot considering the awful things she had done so far.

The two figures walk closer and closer. They seem to fit into the plane. Obviously, this is not the first time they came to Innistrad. Either they are local, or they have enough common sense to blend in, it does not matter much. She had an army. They are only two. The power dynamic is clear.

And, of course, Geralf fucks it up.

"Oh. Hey. It's frau Arlinn." He said. "How fares Ulwenvald? Have not seen you around lately. You're truly a sight for sour eyes."

Okay. That's a bit intimate.

"Dear O' dear, it's Arlinn." The sister added. "Want to have some fun with us? We're attacking Thraben. I, for one, could use some foreplay."

Okay. Geralf is a horndog, so she could understand that, but Gissa? What in the cursed sand of Amonket is going on?

"As much as I want to have a Cecani sandwich again, I had to pass. We come solely for business this time. Pleasure can wait."

WHAT!

Liliana couldn't believe what she heard, and by the look of the stiffened boy, so did he. Then she did some further thinking and found something isn't quite right. The boy looked surprised, but not disgusted. Which means either he knows his place or he is used to it. OR, OR, OR he is really the spawn between the older planeswalker and Geralf. Black hair. Pale skin. Girly looks. Hmm.

Didn't it is a common knowledge that you cannot have children after your spark ignite?

"Oh. Who's this?" The female Cecani's eyes trailed to the boy. "He sure has the look, but the timing didn't match. Not likely a nephew of mine. How old are you boy?"

"Er. Thirteen. My lady …" The boy replied. His gaze is stern. So, he did have a backbone, after all.

But those eyes. They are the eyes of someone who had been through some darker side of the multiverse. Not stern and lifeless enough to be from those who suffer from the true horrors that lurk in it, but not purely innocent one a thirteen-year-old boy should have either.

"Oh. My. A well-mannered as well. Quite a surprise." Said surprised Gissa. "Then don't forget to visit me again in five years, will you?"

That line went right over the boy's head, Liliana observed. As for the other two, however, didn't. They obviously understand it, but there is no negative reaction.

Sometimes Liliana wonders why did she work with these two creeps again? Now there are three of them.

Oh, Right. Griselbrand. She needs someone who knows where that damn demon went, and how to get to it. She needs to raise someone from the church who know its secret and history. And she needs an army to do so.

Curses.

"Ha. Same old Gissa." Said the one called Arlinn. "Since we're friends so I will warn you. Don't you even dare take advantage of my son." Her stance subtly shifted. Her manner becomes more predatory. Protective. Dangerous.

In a mere few words, everything changes. The friendly conversation becomes hostile. Either it is unmatched bravery or suicidal recklessness, or both, Liliana couldn't even read this planeswalker. All she knows is it takes a lot of balls to say that to a necromancer when you are surrounded by her undead army.

'Huh. A protective mother. At least she has one redeeming quality.'Liliana thought.

"Unless he is consent to it, of course. In this family, we do not discriminate. Not even to a corpse raising, ghoul calling, church defiling heretic." Said Arlinn. Lo and behold, the tension disappears.

'Oh, I take it back. I take it all back. These people are maniacs.' The Dominarian frowns.

"Mother!" The boy cries but nobody pays much attention to him. Typical. The adults are talking.

'This is a terrible idea.' Thought Jon Snow. Not because they would die or anything. It's his mother. He loves her with all his heart but sometimes she tends to embarrass him. In addition to the Cecani, there are three of them. Even auntie Narset and uncle Vol were not this bad. Why can't they just get to the point and finish what they came for, attack Thraben and get it over with?

Oh right, negotiation. He doesn't get that either. Why bother spins words when you can just say your piece and get it done. Bartering benefits when there is a common cause is both dumb and bothersome. Then again, what would he know? He's just thirteen. Someone once said a growing child should drink a lot of milk, but uncle Vol and Surrak both said that milk is for the weak before handed him a drink that burned his throat. He did not know what it was, but the burns sting even though he occasionally breathes fire.

And some men should not be allowed to raise children.

'Negotiate. What a peculiar word matches only how the adult does it.' Jon observes as best he could and becomes confused almost instantly.

"….. Before you three start stripping after enough eye-fucking each other, I suggest we remained civilized and fully clothed." Said Liliana Vess. Direct and uncensored, which earns a lot of points in his proverbial and non-existent book. "Do I need to remind you that we are in a present of a minor?"

"Don't worry. He got used to it." Jon sighs at his mother's replied. Is this one of her tactics to get the other side comfortable at his expenses. That seems like it. Well, it would be better if he wasn't a target of humiliation, but if it works then it works.

"You are a very terrible mother, aren't you?" The necromancer planeswalker raises her browns. She seems content to state the obvious. But how dare she. His mother isn't terrible. She's wholesome in her own ways. She picked him up when no one else would. Sure, she is addicted to sex. Very addicted but that was the wolf spirit's influence. Sure, she is reckless and remorseless when she wants to teach him something, but that all serve to make him stronger. Sure, she always brings him to fight after fight against an enemy that they couldn't beat, but ….

Come to think of it, the word terrible is not that far off. Never before he is so offended by something he agrees with.

But before Jon could retort, his mother had beaten him to it. "So, I had been told. I completely disagree, however. You better take that back!" She stares back with her radiant amber eyes.

Liliana's purple glowing eyes lit up to the challenge. The mana around them twirls as the staredown unfurls. Black, red, and green. Three colors of mana run rampant with two of them as a focal. Jon could feel all of it, and it makes him nervous. Fighting a necromancer when you are surrounded by her army is never a good idea.

Then Liliana decides to relent. "Whatever." She said. "I don't have time for this. State your business and get it over with."

'Avacyn's grace. It's working! Mother is a genius.'

"Well then. I believe we have a plan that will aid in yours. …" His mother starts her sweet talk. There is no turning back now.

The discussion lasts for a while. The older planeswalker said her piece. The younger one chipped in. Liliana carefully listened and judged. She tried her hardest to stay civilized.

'This is the worst deal in the history of deal, maybe ever.' Liliana thought. 'As if they could really lure the Lunarch out for her to "KIDNAP". What is their angle in this? Why are they helping her?'

Planeswalkers like themselves never help each other for free. Well, if they were, they wouldn't be for long. The Infinite Consortium exists for a reason after all.

Apart from their questionable intentions, she didn't trust them to deliver on their promise. What sort of a ridiculous claim that they had an inside person that can deliver the Lunarch to her, or at least lure him out in the open. When she questioned them about it, they told her that it's their trade secret. Totally not suspicious at all.

What is their real plan?

For now, she would play along. There is nothing that can stop her from attacking Thraben. If they somehow delivered, then it would make her work even easier. Two of them might cause some changes in her plan, but it doesn't matter. She will get what she came here to do, no matter how many bodies she needs to throw at it.

At worst, if Sorin came knocking, she could throw both of them under the juggernaut.

Oh. Poor Liliana. Only if she knows.

Meanwhile in Thraben …

Everything is a clusterfuck. Tension rises higher as the news of nearby settlement and scouts stop coming to the central command. Usually, no news is good news, but this does not seems to be the case. Any news is bad news, but no news is worse.

'Well. At least it is better than seeing a horde of zombies.' Thought Thalia. Her position as Lothar's apprentice allows her to stand beside him in the council room instead of guarding its perimeter. Even the air there is intense. It doesn't help that the bureaucrat always cowardly whining. How dare they? They are just a glorified clerk who plays politics. It's people like her who trained and fought darkness to protect everyone. They are Innistrad true protectors, not this stupid council.

The councilmen had doubts about how they should approach the enemy. Bah. As if they know how to fight. If they could just shut up and let Lothar do his work, the situation would be a lot more tolerable.

Then the war horn was sounded. That means only one thing. The enemy is spotted.

'Me and my damn mouth.' She rolls her eyes. 'Avacyn hears my prayer. Let it end already, or I will shove my sword down that blabbing vicar's throat.'

Then another round of horn blew. A force of thousands.

Then another. 'Tens of thousands.'

Then another. 'Hundreds of thousands?'

Then another. 'The horn-blower is probably in panic or doesn't know how to count. Or is just an idiot who forgets all the protocol.'

Then another. 'Okay. Now they are taking a piss.'

Thalia internally curses as the room she is in descends to total chaos. Cowards and fools, all of them. All they do is pray and talk, but how is that help the current situation. This is the time for action. If only those fools in the council would agree, it would be much less headache. Then again, it's Lothar's headache, not her. All she needs to do is observed and not killing anyone in the room.

Yet.

With the corner of her eyes, she sees Lothar's signal. The meeting is about to end. Her proper work is about to begin.

"Enough!" He slams his hand on the table. "Your argument serves no purpose. The enemy is close, and we must be prepared. I, as the guardian of Thraben, hereby invoke my rights to marshall our forces in the crisis. Anyone who disagrees will be branded as traitor and heretic."

As soon as he finishes, all the Lunarch guard draw their swords, ready to strike down anyone that dares to. Thalia smiles. The looks on those good for nothing fools' pale face is priceless. The fight is near, and she is eager for it. It had been far too long since her last fighting with her life on the line.

That last time she had done it was … well with Jon.

FUCK. She did it again.

A few hours later, the ruckus in the Thraben's council is finally over. Some priests and bureaucrats aren't agreed with the temporary take over, but they didn't dare to do anything. Good for them. It would be a shame if they had to spill blood from their own side before their enemies. Not that zombies have any fresh blood to be spilled, anyway.

The Lunarch, Mikaeus, officially transfer his political power to Lothar. Thalia had nothing against the Lunarch, being his personal guard and all, but he isn't a suitable person to lead them to battle. Strong in holy magic he might be, Thalia experienced firsthand when he blessed their cohort against highly trained vampire assassins a year ago, but he cannot command the troops as Lothar can.

No man she knew could command people as Lothar can.

That poses yet another problem, how could she take him Lothar's mantle after he has gone? Sure, she is currently training under him, but that only confirms that she could never be like him.

As she is about to be lost in thought, a bird landed on the window right next to her. Its eyes are white blank. 'Strange.' Its ankle is tied with a folded paper. 'Even more strange.'

A letter? But from whom.

Still, she didn't hesitate to reach for the letter. But before she unfolds and reads it, she makes sure that Carla wasn't around. Carla's normal teasing is annoying enough, she didn't need to add this 'unknown letter' business into the mix.

It turns out her roommate had a very vivid imagination, in a lewd kind. Every time she had a chance it always 'Jon this', 'Jon that', 'Is that for Jon', or something of similar effect. And she didn't need that right now.

Seeing that Carla is nowhere in sight, she unfolds the letter and carefully reads. It's probably nonsense, or a prank anyway.

"Dear Lady Thalia …" She reads the first line, then the last line. "…. Always yours and only yours, Jon Snow." and almost tear the letter in two. Someone must have pulled a prank on her. She suspects it's Carla, perhaps her and the others.

Her heart races as she scans the room, expecting Carla or her colleges to jump out at any moment. Times passes, but nothing happens. She waits a bit longer, still, nothing happens. Only then she gets back to the letter.

… Letter …

Dear Lady Thalia

You might be surprised that I would contact you after all these years, in this time of crisis even. I understand and sincerely ask for your forgiveness. Know that I had missed you since the day we part. If it is not too much for me to dare hope, did you feel the same as well?

Alas, I wish this could be a love letter that I heard the other boys and girls talk so much about. No. The situation is grim. Far grimmer than anyone in Thraben imagined. Since the time we part, my mother had taken me on her quest for redemption. We heard many whispers, vanquished many foes, learned many secrets. But none of which is as important as what I am about to inform you now.

Please believe me. The fate of Innistrad depends on it.

We discover a lead many moons ago about a conspiracy regarding the Helvault. Dark whispers of a great demon being locked away inside it, as you might know already considering your position if the news that reached me was corrected. Your superior might already guess it, but I am afraid this is far sinister than just breaking the demon free.

I had learned from many reliable sources of a secret that even the higher echelon from the church might not even allow uttering. Just knowing part of it was the reason my mother was excommunicated.

The Archangel Avacyn is trapped inside the Helvault as well, and the only one that can open the Helvault are those that bear her specific holy mark.

It led me to believe that this attack on the great city is just a distraction. Their real goal is to get someone that bears the mark. If I had to guess, it's the Lunarch. It might be best if you take him somewhere safe. He is the key. You must protect him at all costs.

The enemies do not just want to set the demon free, but to kill our holy lady while she was still recovering from her entrapment.

If we failed here, then Innistrad was doomed.

From the intelligence we had gathered, there are two forces attacking from east and west. From the size of the forces, the west attackers are probably a decoy, perhaps you should move the Lunarch there while your main forces deal with theirs on the east, but you probably know more how to deploy armies than I.

I beg you. Please do not tell the secret to anyone else, not even to your mentor. I do not wish you any harm.

If you finish reading this, please burn it away as soon as possible.

Always yours and only yours

Jon Snow

… Letter …

Thalia's hands shake after she finishes the letter. There are too many things to unpack. Considering what she believes Jon is, the matter is even more complicated. Being a prodigy of the Guardian of Thraben had thought her to be more inquisitive than anyone. She learned too well that nothing is ever as it seemed. There are always heretics and monsters lurking at every unexpected corner, and it is her duty to seek it out and destroy it. In the end, there are many more questions than answers.

She is only certain about one thing. If this is a prank by her colleges, they did too great a job making it believable. Alas, that possibility is too unlikely. The tone of the note screams of Jon to her. There is no mistake in it. Sure, she might not know of his handwriting, since she spent time kissing him instead of seeing him write. But every words and phrase only remind her of Jon. He is quite unconventional like that, and that was what drew her to him.

So, Jon probably wrote the letter himself. On his own or instructed by his mother, that she doesn't know. It is far too unlikely for this to be a coincidence. Jon and, by extension, Arlinn are planning something.

Could she believe Jon, though?

How much of what he wrote was the truth?

Scanning the letter again she searches for some inconsistency. The tone slightly shifts half-way through the letter. She didn't notice it at a first glance. Jon tended to prove himself being helpful, it was something that she couldn't forget. But suggestion regarding the Lunarch? Even Jon she knew would know he reaches too far.

Something is amiss here. And if so, what do they want with the Lunarch. Even if he were a werewolf, which she still believed he is, he would realize that if humanity fell his kind would be next. So, unleashing an ancient elder demon wouldn't serve his interest.

But if he was an ally, why did he want to move the Lunarch to the more vulnerable places? The inner city's defense is strongest, after all.

Even more suspicious was that he asked her to keep this matter from her mentor. This breaks all the trusts and rules she had abided by. It's something she could not do, not even for him. Especially, when he is likely an enemy whom she would face on the battlefield someday.

Taking a deep breath, with tears gathered at the corner of her eyes, Thalia makes up her mind. She cannot be emotional about this. She tells herself she is stronger than this. Her position requires her to be deceived.

"I'm sorry Jon." She whispers to herself. "But I cannot believe your lie any longer, no matter how sweet it is, or how I want it to be true."

She must see Lothar and show him this letter. He will decide what to do. Then she will face his judgment after she came clean about Jon Snow and Arlinn Kord.

Meanwhile, the raven saw and heard everything. It remained still and was ignored, even after the young cathar left the room. Its eyes remained white long after she was gone, but it returned to its normal color eventually.

If it could speak it would probably say, "I'm sorry Lady Thalia. It must be done. It seems that you discover a secret I wish you would never know, but it doesn't matter. Everything is according to plan."

Custom card of the chapter

Name: Worst Deal

Mana Cost: 2BB

Type: Legendary Sorcery

Card Text: You draw three cards and each opponent discards three cards. Each player loses 3 life.

Flavor Text: "This had been the worst deal in the history of deal, maybe ever"

Rarity: Rare