As Fredericka trotted with her skeletal horse towards the settlement of Gisoreux with her personal retinue of minor novice necromancers to hold their fledgling undead army together, the nervousness that she had felt ever since Master Kemmler died had only grown exponentially. Throughout the quick trip to the settlement in questions she had made sure to give her Master Lyle on a crash course on the few spells that she knew in and specialized in when it came to the necromantic arts. True to what Master Kemmler infirmed long before his death, his replacement seemed to take to the spells like a duck to water, able to now cast "The Invocation of Nehek" as well as "Van Hel's Macabre Dance."
That didn't mean that there weren't any concerns for her and her inner circle of remaining necromancers within the Barrow Legion. Firstly was the fact that they were now desperately marching onto the aforementioned Gisoreux with strength lacking in a way that gave the nervous necromancer pause for concern. Sure they had around 1500 skeletons and zombies along with some horrifying hexwraiths, cairn wraiths and snarling dire wolves to bolster their ranks, but she knew that didn't insure victory. Nevermind the fact that she was still barely an apprentice at her craft and hadn't been to any true large pitched battle when it came to her tenure with the legion. She mostly accompanied her master on forages to acquiring dark artifacts throughout the old world as well as practicing her craft along her own novice necromancers.
She swallowed nervously as she side eyed her new master chatting it up with Wendel, with both having wide smiles on their faces which was unusual for the latter who was usually nervous and long faced in his stance.
"And then the dumb bastard dropped his knife over the counter! Lookin' like some dumb S.O.B. who just realized he got caught playin hookey by his mutha!" Her new master laughed to himself, much to the amusement of Wendel who found himself engrossed in the story.
"Then what happened master! Did the blithering fool flee like the coward he clearly is?"
"As if! He tried jumping over the counter, but his fatass couldn't even lift himself off the ground! The fact that he had his drawls hangin' on his knees didn't help! I can only hope he considered a career change from robbery in his nice lil' comfy jail cell!"
Since the moment Fredericka met him, she had been...unbalanced by how easy-going, and approachable Lyle was. He appeared to be the almost antithesis of her master...or any necromancer truly. Clearly, he had the natural talent for necromancy as he should, but his disposition was...unusual.
Where Kemmler had an air around him that threatened to swallow those whole who were unfortunate enough to disturb him, Lyle seemed more than willing to approach or convince those around him to do the approaching. For some of her newest colleagues, it almost seemed to be a breath of fresh air in comparison to the dark and foreboding countenance that Kemmler had.
Yet for long stays like herself, it was unnerving. She didn't know whether to follow suit or to continue in keeping this pseudo-teacher/master professional relationship that the pair had made. Fredericka had made it clear to Lyle that even though she was teaching him the spells, he was the inheritor of Blackstone Post and the Barrow legion, and wanted to stick to this professionalism. Yet his offputting personality complicated things...especially when he complimented her looks.
Coughing to herself, she rode her horse closer to the pair, hoping to get her last bit of word in before they approached the now close town that they were nearing.
"So yeah. After that, the poor dumb bastard's shorts finally came down, and then afterward so did he. When the cops came to arrest him everybody kinda felt bad for the dumb fat bastard so they made sure to give him some medical treatment before they carted him off to the jailhouse."
"Medical treatment master?" Wendel questioned.
Lyle chuckled uproariously. "Oooh yeah. The store floor wasn't made of carpet, unfortunately. Made out of niiice smooth marble which his forehead greeted on his way down-oh hey Freddy how you doin'?"
"It's Fredericka Ma-... never mind. Wendel. A moment please?"
Blinking before bowing his head nervously, the dirty-faced yet young necromancer nodded. "O-oh. Of course." He muttered before pulling on his horse's reins, falling back behind the pair and allowing Fredericka to ride next to her new master.
"You shouldn't become too familiar with your lower necromancers master. They can be a great boon in the battle to be sure, but can also become lethal to your cause if given the right chance...or trust." The pillaging of artifacts from Blackstone Post after Kemmler's death showed that in spades. "You should make sure that they know their place."
"My oh my Freddy! You gettin' jealous?"
Sputtering and fighting down a sudden rushing heat to her cheeks, the dark-haired necromancer tried to glare at her master as she was floored at the accusation. "Master! Th-that's not the point! The point is that you need to make sure that these acolytes respect and fear you so that they will follow your commands without hesitation in battle!"
"Yeah, speakin' of which, what can you tell me about these Bretonnian pricks that we're gonna be takin' on. Anything special I should know? You've been so focused on incantation this, and incantation that ever since you practically started frog-marching all of us to this settlement you say we gotta attack, that I know diddly squat about the jerk offs were fighting."
Annoyed at how quickly he had changed the subject, but not finding a reason to refute his question, Fredericka decided to be of service to her master as best as she could given the circumstances. "Very well Master, that is within my power. The men of Bretonnia are a backwater and a backward lot that have a nobility that is comprised of knights that worship their so-called 'Lady of the Lake' who gives them magical boons for their worship. Their peasantry is a foolish, even further backward and inbred lot that also worships the lady but with nothing in return to show for it."
"Huh...sounds like you've got an ax to grind there Freddy."
"Not so. I'm just stating facts about your foe my lord. Their peasants are truly the dregs of man in the old world. I've seen so many with such hideous deformities horrid smells, that one can't help but wonder if they haven't already been touched by Chaos. The peasants will be no threat to you once beaten into submission."
"Uh-huh...so how come your old master didn't."
"That's...because the nobility are another matter altogether. Though arrogant to the highest degree, no one can deny that Brettonia's knights are possibly the finest in all of the old world, able to cut swaths through hordes of foes with ease like butter through a hot knife...they will be the true challenge should we find ourselves confronted by them."
"So a bunch of prissy pretty little knights who like to lord themselves over their stinky smelly peasants. Where have I heard of this before?" Lyle smiled ruefully to himself.
"Underestimate them at your own peril master...or in this case all of our peril. We may have hordes of undead, but against a knight of the realm...nay...a grail knight? Numbers may become non-existant." She really meant that. Fredericka highly doubted that they would find any, but anything could happen. Best prepare for the worst just in case.
"Grail knight ya say? Ya mean like the ones in King Arther and-Oh hello! I think we've got a welcoming committee!"
Blinking at her master's words she realized that in a fashion, he was correct. Completely taken by surprise she could only look in shock at seeing an enemy Brettonnian army set up in battle formation a few miles away from the very town they had come to conquer. It was then that Fredericka wanted to slap herself at her inexperience and stupidity. How could she forget to send scouts to comb the area!?
"Huh…" Lyle said to himself as he squinted at the Bretonnian army in the distance. Now I may not have an algebra major...I mean I've got economics which is close enough...but, I don't think they've got as many troops as us if I had to guess."
"I believe you may be right master!" Wendel said, riding back up to the pair and witnessing this sight himself. "Dare I say we outnumber them by a large number! Perhaps our worries were for not!"
"...say…" Lyle cut in, squinting critically. "You said these Brets had knights, right Freddy? They're the kind that rides horses and whatnot correct?"
"That...would be correct, yes."
"So where are they exactly?"
Noticing that there were indeed no knights amongst their number...only peasants carrying shields, spears, swords, with bows and arrows Fredericka felt momentarily perplexed. Was this some sort of trick?
"Wait, wait, wait. Hold, up I see a few near the center!...like...only three though…" Lyle pointed out. And sure enough once again. Standing heads and shoulders above the rest of the soldiers in attendance were three knights utop their horses. "Certainly know how to get people's attention, that's for damn sure."
"Then it would appear as though our intelligence reports may have been a bit...overblown." Fredericka said as relief began to fill her body. "This must be the garrison and what we see are some local knights with a mustered force of peasantry. I would be surprised if they number barely over 1,000 men."
This was actually fantastic news for Fredericka and the legion! The rest of Duke Chillfroy's men must have been mustering at castle Artois, leaving Gisoreux vulnerable! Without their precious knights, these peasant levies would fall like wheat in a field to their unyielding undead might!
Giving a rare cruel smile, the dark-haired necromancer turned to Lyle. "Master. The Duke of Artios, Lord Chillfroy is clearly back in Artois with his main army. This peasant levy is no match for our own forces! Let us sweep over them in an undead tide and use their corpses as fuel for our war machine!"
Many of her fellow colleagues began to mutter agreements, eager smiles at an easy victory not far away, ironically glad that their intel report had been overblown. Yet once again, her master surprised her by...taking off the robes that she had given him...and then his white shirt!? It was then that she was being exposed to his rather form-fitting physique with a fairly decent six-pack and fit muscles to boot, being a major antithesis to what a necromancer would usually look like without clothes on.
"M-master! what are you-
"Ey! Skeleton dude!" He called out to one of the nearby skeleton spears, causing it to swivel its skull towards him. "Lemme borrow your spear for a bit if ya don't mind." Almost automatically, it complied with his request, handing it to him quickly whilst he put the bottom opening of his shirt through the spear and allowed the spearhead to enter the collar portion. "And that oughta do it. Let's see if it works in the movies like how it works in real life...or fantasy life in this case." He said more to himself than anyone else as his own skeletal horse began to move forward and surged ahead of the undead army, much to the gaping and stunned looks of herself and her fellow necromancers.
"M-master, what in Negash's name!?" Had he taken a leave of his senses!? Had the magic she taught him had a side effect on his mind!?
Stopping momentarily to look back, the frustratingly shirtless and handsome master that was now trying Fredericka's patience smirked knowingly at her. "Ahh, don't worry Freddy, no need to freak. I'm just doin' a parlay ya know? Seeing if we can't work this out diplomatically."
"D-diplomatically?" She could almost feel her brain grinding to a halt. They held a clear overwhelming military advantage over this upjumped dung eating peasents and he wanted to negotiate? "Master, please think this through! There's no need to negotiate! We can simply butcher the lot of them and possibly even press Chillfory to Castle Artois once we're done here! Why jepordize everything with a meeting!?"
"So less people have to die? Thought that was obvious?" The young man pointed out as if he were discussing how the sky was blue. "I mean if we negotiate a peace, that's less zombies and skellys we gotta burn through just to beat these guys black and blue am I right? If they know they can't win, then why not let em' talk it out?"
Closing her eyes and nearly double facepalming in frustration, Fredericka reigned in her patience and tried again. "Master. They are lead by Bretonnian Knights...they are some of the most arrogant, pious, and ridiculously rigid people in all of the old world. They pride themselves off of their wretched chivlrous code and for them to give up without a fight would be a fate worse than death itself. You're just wasting your time!"
"Meh. I think I'll be the judge of that. Sides. Seems to me like those knights in question are mighty interested." The young man said smugly as looked back towards the Brettonians' direction. To her and the rest of her fellow necromancers' surprise, sure enough Lyle's words rang true. The three Brettonians knights they had seen amongst the peasants before seemed to be riding ahead, going utop a small hill and waiting expectantly not making another move. "And you said I'd be wasting my time. I think you owe me an apology, beautiful." The young brunette looked like he couldn't help but be smug, as he smirked right at her direction...Negash above if he didn't have nice abs.
"Master...this could be a trap...they could b-
"Whoah, whoa, whoa. Trap? I thought you literally just said they were chivalrous? Now I don't have a doctorate in chivalry or whatever entails it, but attacking someone whether they practice the art of raising corpses to fight or not while a white flag of parlay is being waved doesn't sound all that chivalrous to me. What do you think, Wendel?"
Suddenly put on the spot, Wendel's blue eyes suddenly darted to his master and his senior barrow legion member Fredericka who was giving him a subtle yet stern look. "I...You're technically not wrong Master Lyle."
"Well okay then! I suddenly don't fear for my life as much! Let's go chat up these fancy schmancy knights then shall we?...now...since there's only three of those armored schmucks up on that hill, it's only fair if we have the same number so they don't piss their pants in fear...so I'm gonna need two other volunteers with me! Whose game?"
Her master was mad. That was Fredericka's only explanation as any control of her situation began to slip through her fingers. She was too hasty she realized. Too bold in striking out with the army. She should have bided her time, and tempered her master's boisterous and wayward personality, for clearly she had underestimated it from the get go. If there was one thing Lyle shared with Heinrich Kemmler it was that neither of them seemed too inclined to listen to those beneath them, though in different ways.
But, she felt she had no choice but to do what her previous master did not when it came to being aggressive with the Barrow Legion's forces. Their enemies were eveywhere! Whether it be the Bretonnians, the Empire, the dwarfs, or even those accursed and reclusive wood elves, the followers of the teachings of Negash had no friends. And once word got out about Kemmler's death, it would only be a matter of time until the many beasts that circled them would pounce. It was why so many of the previous necromancers cut and run once news of his death broke out!
Yet in spite of the fear and trepidation, she knew she could not openly rebuke her master here. Not now. Not when so many other necromancers were watching this display with rapt attention. To question him now would undermine his authority, and weaken his position. Others may doubt him and look to her to lead. Something she had absolutely no interest in doing herself. For she knew that if she took that step she would paint a target on her back for enemies without as much as the enemies within. It would precipitate the beginning of the end for the legion and she knew it.
Which unfortunately only leads to one course of action. "...Very well Master Lyle. Let us meet with these wretches...but I warn you, their arrogance can be insufferable."
"Oh, please." The young man rolled his eyes with a smile. "If I could handle half the bastards back home I could handle some schmucks who look like they just got done filming a Monty Python skit."
"A..Monty-what now master?" Wendel questioned as he moved forward with his own skeletal horse, clearly volunteering himself.
"Ah, it's somethin' I'll explain some other time my man. One of the things that you're no doubt gonna hate about me is the many obscure references that I'll be dropping from my world, kind of like bad fanfic that my sister reads from time to time. So you two ready or what?"
"At least clothe yourself somewhat master...to make yourself at least respectable and presentable." Fredericka blushed, shoving forward his robes whilst trying not to stare too intently at his broad shoulders and six-pack.
"If you insist, Freddy." Her master replied with a charming smile. Why must he be so insufferable and willful?
Once sufficiently clothed in a new robe, the trio of necromancers rode their horses toward the hill that the Brettonian knights were pitched upon, making Fredericka nervous as they drew closer. In a fight, she could at least put a barrier around herself, and she trusted Wendel to do the same. Unfortunately, it was something that she had neglected to teach Lyle for the duration of their trip and now that they were drawing ever so closer to the knights she was now kicking herself for not thinking of teaching such a crucial spell earlier.
They would have to make due until only a good set of yards separated both parties with the Leading Brettonian, one with a scarlet cape spoke first. "I will tell you this only once heretic. Disband your undead horde and crawl back to whatever cave or coffin you crawled out of and mayhaps I might extend the Lady's mercy to you."
Instead of seeming frightened or offended by his demands, Lyle bizarrely enough looked ecstatic. "Holy shit...are you guys French!?"
"...French?" The knight responded perplexed."
"Eh, eh, eh...say baguette...c'mon say it...say it c'mon!" Fredericka could only watch as her master seemed more akin to a child at this juncture, making her want to sink into her robes and disappear from the situation entirely. The other two knights just looked silently at one another utterly perplexed, with Wendel sharing in their confusion.
Seeing as to how he wasn't getting a response, her master just shrugged."Eh, it was worth a shot. The names Lyle Spolleta, How you doin'? Now I ain't the most proper guy around I'll admit, but it's a bit rude to go round' throwin' demands before you at least introduce yourself don't you think Frenchie?"
Face nearly obscured by his helmet, it was hard for Fredericka to gauge the reaction to the Lyles' overly friendly introduction. If the tightening of his horse's reins was anything to go by he clearly wasn't amused. "You are speaking to Gerome Dubois Necromancer! Head lord of the settlement of Gisoreux and vassal to Lord Chillfroy of Artois! Mark that name down in your mind for it will be the one that will personally strike you down should you press on in your unholy deeds."
"Well nice to meet ya too G." Lyle openly smiled. Fredericka was beginning to wonder if he purposely refused to pronounce people by the proper names at this point. It certainly seemed to succeed in frustrating the Brettonian knight further if the clenching of his shoulders seemed to be any indicator. "And I'm glad that we're on the same wavelength here. Really I am. Even though you may sound all cold and hard like your oh-so-shiny armor from the few sentences I've heard from you, I'm glad to hear that much like myself, you wanna avoid a fight too. So with that bein' said, I'd appreciate it if you were to tell all your boys in the back to lay down the pointy sticks they got there and surrender."
Gerome gave a large 'harumph', indicating how unimpressed he was. "By the lady, she must be testing me to not just send a necromancer my way, but to send one that has clearly gone as mad as anyone desperate enough to covet powers that corrupt mortal men!" The two other knights behind him chuckled openly, finding amusement in their speaker's words. "If you believe that the noble knights of Artois will simply give in to unholy powers right at their doorstep, then, please! Present your neck to me so that I may spare us all the effort and let the holy lady sort you out!"
"So quick to violence!" Lyle laughed, finding his own form of amusement in Gerome's words. "Come on G, have a bit of compassion. I mean, take a look at all the fleshy and bony boys I got behind me. I don't know what the education system is for you knightly folk, but I'm pretty sure that even if you flunked in math, you could see that I outnumber you by a crap ton. So why not spare yourself the pain and embarrassment of what could happen if we actually do this."
"Foolish churl!" The knight blustered. "You can have all the corpses behind that you could want, but they mean nothing when we have the favor of the lady on our side!"
"The lady you say?...well where is she then?"
"...what?" The knight replied momentarily taken aback.
"The lady. Y'know the one that you keep talkin' about, the one I keep hearing about that you Bretonnians worship...Oi, Freddy, these people do worship a lady who literally lives in a lake, correct?"
"So the legends say." She replied, unsure of where her master was going with this.
"And I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that she's magical or something to that degree?"
"That is also correct...she's the one who honors knights with the privilege of becoming grail knights, which grants them feats of speed, strength and endurance that no normal and mortal man could normally accomplish, including a much longer lifespan."
"What madness are you speaking here?" The knight questioned, sounding more confused than angry at the moment. "Are you meaning to say you have never heard of the holy lady? What fungus filled cave have you been living under? It is she whom you should be praying mercy to at this very moment so that I do not give you a long and insufferable death just for existing!"
As if suddenly having an epiphany, Lyle landed a fist into his open palm as if he had made the discovery of the century. "Ahhh, I see. So you guys are basically worshipping the equivalent of a bog witch...or a lake hag in this case."
Gasps immediately rang out from the Brettonian side with all three of them physically reeling from the proclamation. Even Wendel and Fredericak gaped at the derisive insult their master had just uttered from his lips. Not for the first time, the female necromancer was wondering just what her master was hoping to accomplish. Was he trying to get these knights to kill him? Did he just enjoy pushing people's buttons whenever he had the fancy to do so?
Finally the Brettonian to Gerome's right spoke, armor physically shaking in barely controlled fury. "You...you dare…" Everyone tensed when he reached to his side, clearly making a move towards his sword, but a hand from Gerome stopped him.
"Calm yourself Fabien! You fall for the wretched necromancer's plot even now! Remember! We are knights of the lady! Not upjumped thugs playing the part under the flag of parlay!"
"I mean I wasn't even trying to piss you guys off I was just stating an observation." Lyle shrugged, looking entirely unconcerned in spite of the murderous intent seeping off the knights. "But it's whatever. You guys could worship a tree for all I care, not that I'm sayin' you would, but even so, I'm not someone who judges."
"Enough!" Gerome ground out, frustration clear in his tone. "It is horrid enough that you insult the lady, but to insinuate that we worship the same gods as those damned wood elves? Have you no shame!?"
Blinking, Lyle found himself momentarily flatfooted. "Wood elves?...So there are elves here?"
"Do not play dumb you churl! If you have come here only to hurl insults at us then this meeting is pointless! We shall settle this on the battlefield, and when we are through, I will mount your head on a pike as a warning for the rest of your kind!"
Fredericka resisted the urge to sigh. She saw this coming a mile away. Bretonnians have always been predictable, especially the nobility in how they might respond to certain insults or innuendos. At least the Empire brought some form of variety. With Imperials, you never knew what you were going to get given that they weren't a particularly unified people, to begin with, not to mention that different parts of such a nation worshipped different gods. With Bretonnians. It was always so painfully boring in how it could always go. Even the peasants here were absurdly boring with how dimwitted and uneducated they were.
Sensing that the conversation was about to end, Fredericka was about to interject herself into the conversation to see about getting her master to see sense in the futility of this parlay if only to hasten the demise of these puffed-up knights. That was until he of course said something of great interest.
"What about the boys in the back?" Lyle said, pointing out the peasants still lined up in battle formation behind the knights.
Not even looking back at the peasants behind him, Gerome nearly spat. "What about...them?"
"Well, you're dead set on fighting right? Well, do you speak for those guys back there? Do they feel like havin' ago?"
"We speak for the peasantry, you ignorant buffoon!" Gerome was clearly losing his patience. "What need would there be for you to speak to them when you can speak to us!?"
"Gee, I dunno?...maybe because they may have...different priorities over you guys?"
"What are you insinuating your misbegotten abortion of life and death!?"
"First of all...rude. Second of all, at this point, it's clear you guys wanna have a go. But, are those boys back there as enthusiastic as you? Are they so willing to die and fight literal corpses in the name of your oh so special lady of the lake?"
Fabien piped up this time. "Any true man of Bretonnia would be willing to lay down their life for the lady! If not for her, they would be toiling and suffering under the Empire or finding themselves at the abuses of the beastmen and wood elves in the south, along with the wretched norscans and dark elves to the north! Without us-nay! Without the lady they are as vulnerable as a newborn babe freshly swaddled in its crib!"
"Well! I'm glad you're so confident in them!" Lyle chuckled, grinning openly much to the frustration of the knights. "So if that's indeed the case, why don't I just ask them personally if they're up to a fight? See if they ain't up to just chatting it up and talking things over a beer or two?"
"You will do no such thing." The third knight said lowly and dangerously. His hand was already on his sword pommel. "You leave this hill and negotiations are over. Do this? And you're life is free for our blades to claim."
"So quick to violence yet again...Is your lovely lady this big of a fan of sheddin' blood or are you guys ju-
"Insult the lady once more, and your life will be forfeit regardless!" Gerome barked out, tightening his reins further.
"Do that and you can join our army." Fredericka found herself glowering, finding her spine at the continued threats at the Bretonnians. Stupid and reckless moves or not, she refused to allow her new master to die when the Barrow Legion's existence hinged so heavily on his.
"Eyyyy, come on guys, let's all take a chill pill! No need to start threatening or whatever it is you usually do when their isn't someone like me along to break the ice." Lyle said placatingly with his hands. "And if me leaving the hill is such a problem, then we can settle this another way."
"And what way would that be yo-
"HEY PEASANT BOYS!" Lyle suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, catching almost everyone around him off guard, whilst also getting the attention of the still in formation peasants beyond the hill. "YOU GUYS WANNA SETTLE THIS PEACEFULLY? WE CAN AVOID A FIGHT IF YOU JUST SURRENDER! JUST GO BACK HOME TO YOUR WIVES AND KIDS AND ALL WILL B-
"What in the lady's name are you doing!?" Gerome nearly screamed himself. "Did you not hear what I just said? We are the negotiating party!"
Ignoring him, Lyle continued on. "COME ON GUYS, JUST LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND GO HOME! YOU LET US BE IN CHARGE AND WHATEVER MONEY THESE GUYS TAX OFF OF YA I'LL REDUCE IT BY HALF!" With his volume level heightened, the peasants were definitely giving the impression that they could hear him. Many were looking curiously at each other as if they couldn't believe what this master of the undead was claiming.
Fredericka almost felt herself being overwhelmed by the absurdity of the situation. Was this really happening right now? Was her master, the leader of the feared Barrow Legion actually resorting to bartering with Brettonian peasants to secure victory?
It seemed the knights could scarcely believe it themselves. "Cease your vile tongue you damned Necromancer!"
Again Lyle Ignored them. "CMOOON! THINK ABOUT! IF YOU LET ME BE IN CHARGE I'LL GIVE YOU GUYS BETTER HEALTHCARE AND FOOD! IT'S PROBABLY BETTER THAN WHAT THESE BASTARDS FEED YA! WHADDYA SAY!?"
Before Fredreicka could even ponder on what in Negash's name was healthcare, she heard steel being drawn and suddenly she tightened her grip on her staff as she witnessed the third knight fully draw his sword.
"Say the word, and I will silence him personally, my lord."
"Nay!" Gerome barked out, his body tense. "If word gets out that we started violence under parlay, Duke Chilfroy's reputation-
"WHATEVER YOU GUYS WANT I'LL HAVE IT BUILT!" At this point the majority of the peasants seemed to actually be paying great heed towards Lyle's words, hanging off of them as if they were gospel themselves. "YOU GUYS WANT A SHINY NEW BAR TO DROWN YOUR SORROWS IN YOU GOT IT! WANT A PLACE WHERE YOU CAN PAY FOR SOME HONEYS AND GET SOME ACTION IN I'VE GOT YA COVERED! JUST WALK AWAY AND WE CAN HELP EACH OTHER OUT, CAPICHE!?"
And then it happened. From the right upper right of her master she heard a whistling sound. She heard before she saw it, but she almost saw it too late. It was the whistling of arrows. Arrows heading straight for her master.
She tried to scream. Cast a spell. Anything. It all happened too fast for her however.
Wendel was close enough though. Close enough to tackle Lyle right off his horse which was peppered with arrows.
Screams and curses rang out, and without warning after getting their horses under control after a brief moment of panic the knights made tracks, kicking up dirt and heading straight back to their peasant levy army.
"The fuck just happened!?" Lyle ground out as he carefully moved Wendel off of him. "Jesus Wendel, you could have warned me that you were gonna suicide dive my ass the second I...Wendel?"
Fredericka and Lyle could only stare numbly at the sheer amount of arrows that peppered his body, particularly staring at a point where one arrow seemed to jut through the back of his head and through where his right eye used to be.
"Wendel...Wendel talk to me man." Gone was the amused sounding tone that Frederick had come to associate with the young master. "C'mon...c'mon now, you can't…Jesus Christ...oh Jesus Christ." For the first time since she had met him, Lyle was short on words. Fredericka could only wish that it hadn't come at the cost of the life of a fellow acolyte. Wendel was amongst the kindest and trustworthy of the barrow legion members that she knew...why did it have to be him?
Lyle continued to look into Wendel's marred and unmoving face. The new master of the barrow legion looked ashen in complexion as he stared open-mouthed at the death of a young man he had only just met not too long ago. The now blonde necromancer's body was filled with arrows, on his legs, arms, body, and of course, one through his skull, coating a portion of his dirty blonde hair with a shade of crimson as a result.
Finally, Lyle began to shake. But, it wasn't with fear as Fredericka first thought. No. It was with the tightening of his fists on Wendel's bloodstained clothes that he began to tremble…
"Fredericka." He ground out, his eyes never leaving Wendel's still face. "You can...we can bring the dead back to life can't we? Can you-
"It doesn't work like that master." She said at barely above whisper level. "We can reanimate his body, but his soul...it's gone."
A pregnant pause filled the space. What more could she say? What could she say other than the fact that they needed to leave? To go back to the army and stick with the original plan. Strike down the garrison.
Almost as if to drive this point home, a warhorn rang out in front of them. As one, the Brettonian army rumbled into action, with the voices of the knights from before, standing out amongst the rest to whip the peasants into activity.
They needed to go back to their own army, quickly. "Master. I know it must be difficult, but there is nothing we can do now for Wendel. We-
"Those muthufuckas." She heard him whisper out. "Those goddamn...motherless fucks!" Fredericka almost jumped at the amount of vitriol Lyle put into his curse. It was a stark contrast to the easy-going and teasing tone that he had in his voice up until this point. "Those tin can cocksuckas wanna go and talk lady this and lady that with bein' all proper and shit and then they pull this!?" He raged and ranted before standing up suddenly with a face full of rage. Fredericka felt herself taking an involuntary step back at the sight of the anger in her master's body and his voice.
"You wanna pull that shit with me!? Vaffanculo!" The young man roared, with his eyes full of anger. "Freddy!"
"Y-yes!"
"Get on your damn horse! I ain't leavin' this place until I got those higher than thou hypocritical jackasses with heads separated from their shoulders!" the young man barked out as he got on his horse. "Let's move dammit!"
Scrambling to keep up and moving so fast, she almost missed how Lyle had put Wendels' body carefully upon the back of his own horse before moving backwards heading towards their undead army as the Brettonian forces lumbered forward to give battle, still some distance away to give them some time.
As they rode back, Fredericka couldn't help but flicker her eyes from their own forces and to the infuriated face of the man she herself had only met days ago. Was there another side to Lyle that she had yet to see? Was everything put on at this point a facade? Would he have a clear enough mind to lead them to victory?
These were all questions that burned into her mind as they finally rejoined the main army, the other five necromancers looking at them nervously as they arrived with Wendel's lifeless body.
One of said necromancers, Hans, stepped forward concern and fear written on his face. "Wh-what happened up there Fredericika? H-
"You stop talking." Lyle ordered, taking Hans aback as he witnessed the look of smoldering fury on his new maste's face. "Were...were short a wizard or whateva the fuck!...can you guys keep this army moving?"
"I...yes." Hans replied numbly surprised at this personality change as Lyle looked at their forces critically.
"Awright all of you listen the hell up! Wendel...Wendel didn't make it. Those guys back there? The ones you all said liked to act with honor and all that jazz? They let arrows fly at us while were talkin' it out...and Wendel saved my ass by taking those arrows for me...Now I don't know about you, but I'm in a pretty pissy mood right now, and I'm thinking about evening the score with those lake witch worshipping bastards by kickin' their asses big time!" Lyle said to Fredericka and the necromancers in attendance, their undead soldiers showing no reaction to the speech as was expected. "So you guys just gonna stand there and take it? You gonna stand there and get all scared cause those tin cans had to pull off a cheap ass move like that to get one over on us?...well are you!?"
An unsure "no" wrang out from the small group, which most definitely didn't seem to satisfy the new master of Blackstone Post.
"I DIDN'T HEAR YOU!? ARE YOU ALL GONNA STAND THERE AND TAKE IT!?"
"No!" Lyle's new followers squeaked out, mostly out of fear from the high octaves of his voice.
"I CAN'T HEAR YA!"
"NO!"
"Freddy!"
"Y-yes master?"
"What are we gonna do!?"
"We….w-
"Were gonna kick some Bretonnian ass right?"
"I-ye-
"Were gonna kick some Brettonnian ass aren't we!?"
"W-were going to kick some Brettonian ass! Yes master!"
"And who are we doing it for!?"
"F-for you!"
"Wrong!"
"W-Wendel?"
"Damn straight! That kid saved my ass! So we're gonna return the favor! So what are we gonna do you pale-faced bastards? What are we gonna do!?"
"Kick some Bretonnian ass sir!" Fredericka and her fellow acolytes found themselves shouting, even as she could see the Brettonians begin to occupy the hill they had just vacated.
"Why're we doin' it!?"
"For Wendel sir!"
"Say it again!"
"FOR WENDEL!" They shouted at the top of their lungs.
"FOR MUTHUFUCKIN' WENDEL!" Lyle shouted, raising his staff in the air. Fredericka wasn't sure if he did it intentionally or not, but the second he did raise his staff, the zombies and skeletons raised their many mishmashes of weapons, screaming and shrieking into the air with their unholy voices or energies, filling Fredericka with fervor she didn't know she had in her as the reinvigorated Barrow Legion faced down the Brettonians that stared them down from the hill.
And then just like that. The battle for Gisoreux began.