If there was going to be one thing that Lyle would do after he conquered this castle that Freddy said was important it was going to be one thing and one thing only. Get a better mode of transportation. The amount of pain that his back was in was seriously starting to grate on him. It was getting to the point where he was starting to wonder why he didn't just grab a carriage from within the gown that he could just chill out in until they reached this castle that Freddy claimed was oh so important. Granted, the idea of getting a castle was a very tempting thing, but still…

Regardless speaking of the girl who Lyle was discovering was determined to be attached to his hip at all times, she at least went through the trouble of taking his mind off of such pain in his back by telling him rather important matters regarding the knights of Bretonnia that he was most likely going to be squaring off against soon at the castle.

Even if it did sound outrageous as much as it was ridiculous. "...These guys...drink water that she's bathed in?"

Lyle's face looked like he was barely containing in an incoming storm of laughter, but Freddy looked the epitome of Seriousness to counteract it. "Yes, master. Though I've never personally seen it myself, if the legends are to be believed, the very first grail knights were created through such a process. I'm loathed to admit it, but even one of them is a terror in battle. They're one of the many reasons why the peasants rarely if ever rebel. It would turn from a rebellion to a slaughter in short order."

Despite the graveness that laced her voice, Fredericka could only look perturbed as her master started hunching over on his horse, his body shaking as he held a hand to his mouth. For a moment, concern spiked inside of the tired-looking necromancer. Was her master concerned? Had the intimidating legend of the grail knights begun to unnerve him? If so it was worrying since she only just scratched the surface of just what they were capable of. Perhaps she could look at it from a positive spin seeing as to how he might take the threat of them seriously.

Such thoughts were thrown to the wayside when a low chuckle began to emulate from her master. His body shaking as the chuckles began to evolve into a full-blown uproarious guffaw, the young dark-haired man looking as though he were struggling just to stay in his seat. So much for him taking the threat seriously.

Frustratingly to the female necromancer, the laughter continued even as he began speaking to her. "These...these tin cans punks...they simp for her bath….her bahaath(Wheeze)." He was struggling to finish his sentence. The sheer incredulousness in his voice contrasted greatly with the seriousness of the topic as their horses continued to trot forward with the rest of the undead army. "Ah, Christ...I-I can't breathe! Freddy, I can't breathe!"

"It's no laughing matter master." Fredericka groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "They're truly a force to be reckoned with. These grail knights can accomplish feats that are considered superhuman even compared to the most bestial and chaotic of creatures."

"Oh, I'm sure Freddy I'm sure." Lyle acquiesced still chuckling to himself with a big fat grin on his face. "Good Christ, the internet dwellin' virgins back home would absolutely love the sound of this. They'd be immigrating to this country at just the chance for somethin' like this!"

Fredericka just huffed. "Unless they're of noble blood, they would be treated no better than the standard peasant master. Dare I say they might even be treated worse by virtue of them being foreigners."

"Izzat so?...speakin' of peasants. I ain't no farmer or anythin' Freddy, but I'm guessin' these fields are for farmin' right?" Lyle queried, gesturing to the wide-open farming plains that he and their forces were passing through, with lines upon lines of fields for crops to be grown with a noticeably sparse amount of poorly dressed peasants working the field wearing nothing but the ugliest of rags.

For a beat, Fredericka observed the area, with a strange look on her face before she offered an answer. "That would be correct master."

"Well...like I just said I ain't no farmer, but shouldn't there be more people workin the farms? I mean these fields are massive and I'm not seein' any fancy farm equipment or machinery to help em' out. Shouldn't more people be tillin' these fields, these guys look they're not gonna get through the day at this rate!" It was hard for Fredericka to argue that point. Indeed it seemed as though for each different farming field only one person was working it, which was a woefully short amount of these bretonnians to work with to get the new crop set up. Some were still digging ditches for the crops to be built in fact, falling greatly behind others in what should be accomplished.

Thankfully, she was fairly confident she knew the answer to this question. "If I had to hazard a guess master, I'd say it's because since we're within Duke Chilfroy's personal lands, he must have drained the fields of every capable man or youngling who could hold a weapon and is mustering them into his forces as we speak. Most Lords like to avoid drawing too much of their peasantry away from the farms for obvious reasons, but there will come times when they resort to desperate measures. Your victory earlier has become the cause of that."

"huh...I...I'm not sure how to feel about that." Lyle meant it to, as he continued to look at the peasants with a somewhat concerned look. "Now don't get me wrong, I'm glad I'm makin' the head tin can in charge sweat a little with how we did back there, but still...are...are these poor bastards gonna starve if they can't get their crops planted."

"That would be the least of their concerns." Fredericka groused as a sneer began to overtake her features. "Should their crops not be plentiful enough, they would gladly take starving to death over the alternative of facing the wrath of their liege lords."

"Well. I mean that ain't their fault, right? I mean I'm the one causing this problem right?"

"It's not always the case master Lyle. Sometimes the weather can ruin a crop. Sometimes a plague can kill off the farming population leaving inadequate hands to handle them. Sometimes a beastmen or orc Warband kills off a great deal of peasantry before a lordling can respond, but in the end, it all leads to the same conclusion. The harvest being inadequate and the peasantry being punished.

"...sounds just living for these peasant guys is a constant existence of one foot in the grave and one foot in a searin' fryin' pan."

"Such is the will of the lady." Fredericka openly spat. "To have nobility guide the peasantry with their so-called chivalry...even if it kills them in more ways than I can count."

"Well...I mean there's more of these peasants than nobles right? There's gotta be. I mean even if they these guys got armor-

"You clearly weren't listening before master. Maybe if the peasants were organized...maybe if the majority weren't inbred, poorly educated, or malnourished, maybe all of them could stand a chance against the standard knight. But against the grail knights? It would be peasant blood instead of water that soaked these fields."

Lyle went silent for a beat after that. Freddy hadn't lied to him yet so he had little reason to doubt her words. The humor that he previously had found in the original nature of the grail knights was starting to sound considerably less humorous in the face of these facts. Much like when Wendel appeared to be dead, a somber moment seemed to overtake Lyle as he recalled how filthy and frightened the peasants he fought looked in the battle for Gisoreux. The thought of his literal undead horde cutting them down in the hundreds felt a great deal less gratifying.

Whilst dwelling on such thoughts Lyle heard a sharp snapping sound with him and Fredericka immediately turning to their right towards the noise. After what happened last time during a certain parlay, neither would admit it openly but both had developed a healthy sense of paranoia to surprise attacks that may greet them when they least expect it. To their relief, it was simply the site of a peasant, dressed in a mishmash of sewn together dark rags holding their gardening hoe with the metal end snapped off. Even from here, the hoe looked to be in as good of a quality as the rags the barefoot and soil-covered peasant was wearing. Said peasant was so dirty that Lyle couldn't even see his face completely, what with it being smudged in dirt.

Staring at his broken hoe with what could only be an utter disappointment, the peasent resorted to kneeling into the ground and digging out the small trenches with their bare dirt-covered hands, straining the rag-covered body as much as it allowed to get the job done.

It was a depressing sight for Lyle, as the gravity of the situation for these agrarian-based repressed people peasants began to sink in.

"...Awright stop the column." Lyle announced stopping the portion of undead directly under his command. Once the other necromancers noticed him do this, a chain reaction of sorts with the other necromancers following Lyle's example and halting their own controlled corpses.

"Is there something wrong, master?"

"Dam right there is." Lyle groused as he slid off his horse and stretched his back out, praising to God that he could finally give it some form of relief as he mosied his way towards the back of the column. "Not even the lowest of the low should have to work with shoddy equipment like that if ya ask me."

As he said that he didn't have to go far until he reached one of the few wagons they had within the column. Inside of it was a mishmash of different looted equipment that was taken from their battle at Gisoreux. There were spears, swords, longswords, shields, and of course some of the gardening equipment that peasants took into battle, most likely on account of them not having anything else to bring. After critically looking at the shovels and hoes, in particular, Lyle managed to grab two that were both in good condition and fortunate enough to not be covered in blood along with a pair of dark brown gloves before he moved away from the cart. From there he briskly made his way towards the peasant that was unfortunate enough to have to dig with their bare hands.

Up close and personal to the peasant, Lyle couldn't help but feel bad for this peasant. They wreaked worse than the sanitation plant he worked at for a summer so long ago and they were even with them being so close. Their collection of tattered rags was filthy, their hands and feet were caked in dirt, and their ankles and forearms looked a little bit on the thin side. Even the homeless back home seemed to somehow resemble being in a better condition.

"Master! Wh-what are you-

"Relax, Freddy, just helpin' someone in need." With him speaking he immediately caught the attention of the peasant. From their kneeling position, they turned their hooded form over to him and gasped at the sight of him. They went from kneeling to sitting position quickly as said peasant tripped on a loose clump of dirt and fell on their rump, the action causing their hood to fall off and reveal their face.

Now it was Lyle's turn to be surprised. In front of him wasn't a peasant man, but a woman. She had short, dirty blonde hair, earthy dark brown eyes, and full lips that were parted open in shock from just looking at him. For a moment they flapped open like a fish gasping for air before her teeth clenched together.

"Ey, Ey, Ey. Easy now. I come in peace Miss." Lyle said placatingly with what he hoped was a winning smile. He'd be lying if he said that despite her appearance that she didn't have a pretty face. "I eh...saw your trouble with the shoddy equipment you were workin' with and me bein' the charitable guy that I am...thought you could use an upgrade in quality."

The peasant woman blinked those earthy eyes of hers, as if not completely comprehending what was coming out the master necromancer's mouth. Eventually, some air came from her lips before she eventually was able to form a coherent string of words. "I...I don't understand."

"What's there not to understand? You're hoe's broke, so you need a new one right? So take this one, we're not gonna need em. We're gonna be farmin' anytime soon."

"But…what about the gloves and shovel...my lord." The woman said the last part carefully, her voice dry and raspy. "What could I have done to have earned such...charitable rewards from someone like you?"

"Like I said. What am I gonna need em' for?" Lyle shrugged with that disarming grin of his. "I mean, can you imagine these skeletons and meatheads usin em? What would they need em' for? They don't gotta worry about dirtyin' or bruisin' their hands. Plus they...ah crap." Lyle said to himself, tempted in smacking his face if his hands weren't full. "Ey Freddy!"

"Y-yes Master Lyle?"

"Get me a pair of boots from the cart, pronto!"

"I...very well master." Fredericka looked as though she had mixed feelings about it, but she ultimately acquiesced, sending mental commands to a pair of skeletons to do just as he asked.

Turning back to the peasant woman the dark-robed necromancer looked a tad abashed. "Sorry bout that. Forgot that you'd might need those."

"I...I appreciate the gesture my lord, but I do not need them."

At that Lyle snorted openly. "Oh come on. What am I gonna do with it? You guys got quotas to fill, right? Well even with that bein' said you don't gotta worry bout that. These tin can schmucks clearly got you workin' overtime without any o' that extra pay that comes with it, and when I'm in charge, the new management is gonna have somethin' to say about how things are run around here. So come ooon." He added a bit dramatically with a smirk as he pushed the hoe and shovel forward. "Wouldn't ya wanna make your life a bit easier? Keep your hands and feet a bit cleaner in the process?"

"C-cleanlines is no issue my lord." The woman stammered, keeping her head low and daring not to look in his eyes. "I've...its. Well-

"Master you're wasting your time." Fredericka sighed as she walked over with a skeleton holding some smudged brown boots. "She'll never accept a gift from a foreign invader, especially a necromancer of all things."

"Oh what, does she think it's cursed or somethin'? Do these guys think I sacrificed a firstborn child just use some nasty voodoo crap to be super petty and give these guys a random curse?" Lyle chuckled to himself only to be greeted with a very pointed silence. The peasant woman found the dirt beneath to be very interesting at that moment, wishing she dared to put her hood back on. Fredericka's mouth on the other had become very thin at that moment, narrowing her eyes and looking away from her master.

Lyle stopped smiling. "...you serious?"

"It...wouldn't be the first time such a thing happened master...not through necromancy specifically mind you but through...more primal spells."

Blinking at such a proclamation Lyle quickly turned to the peasant woman still looking down on the ground. "O-okay look lady, uhh...I am not about that life, whatever you may think, I'm seriously just tryin' to help you out here. I mean how long is it gonna take for you today to get all of this planting done? Heck at this rate you might not even be finished by the end of the day with how little help you're receiving."

The peasant woman still looking down offered a softly heard reply. "Your...lordship is too kind… but I am afraid I once again must refuse...please. Allow me to return to my work..."

"Look, lady. I'm seriously tryin' to help you out! I mean from the looks of it you could get all the help you can get what with many of the hired help bein taken away by this Duke Chilfroy prick makin' a fuss."

"...My son and husband were two of those very...hired help as you put who have been pressed to lord Chilfroy's cause."

Lyle's smile faltered a bit at that. "Oh...well...that does make sense, so-

"Tell me my lord...these tools that you offer me...were they from the levies you fought you at Gisoreux as the rumors say?"

This line of questioning was starting to become a little uncomfortable for the New Jersey native. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

"No."

"Well...you still want em' anyways?"

"That heretical woman called you master...are you the one in charge of this undead horde? Did you personally...personally command the deaths of those men who were just trying to defend their home?"

"Only because they flung arrows at us first." Lyle replied with a bit more bark in his response. "I mean for Christ's sakes, they feathered one of my newest bros! Nearly feathered me if he didn't have such titanic balls!"

"I don't of any Christ you speak of, but if the Lady is merciful on your soul, you will have a painless death for when Duke Gisoreux smites your forces from our holy lands." The thin-looking woman replied with more iron in his voice than either necromancer anticipated. "We are not so desperate as to throw our lot in with your kind."

"Y'know even though that wasn't really a race thing you just said, it kinda felt like it was. Also, I don't know why you people are so hung up on this 'lady' you're so quick to throw Hail Marys for. I mean this conversation is startin' to sound eerily similar to one I had with another lady I met back at Gisoreux."

"Any woman worth their salt in Bretonnia will always be the first throw your perverted evils aside for the one true lady!" The woman nearly shouted staring right at Lyle's face with her previous fear evaporating.

"You can have your tongue removed for that woman." Fredericka growled, stepping forward with the skeleton dropping the shows and reaching for the sword at its bony hip.

"I believe that we will all die in your quest to make every living thing a part of your undead legion. Should I die now, know that my son and beloved will avenge me with fury in their hearts!"

"They'll join you i-

"Everybody calm the hell down!" Lyle nearly roared, snapping the two women out of their heated row and cowing them both at his tone. For Fredericka, it was a jolting and startling experience seeing as to how she last heard her new master take such a tone when he thought that Wendel had nearly died for a mistake he had made. For the peasant woman, she had gone right back staring at the ground again, whatever courage she had garnered for herself evaporating at his tone. To her, he most likely resembled a very miffed nobleman who was deeply unsatisfied with the season's harvest.

Inhaling and then exhaling Lyle closed his eyes, repeated the process, and then addressed the two women. "Freddy. If I need you to lose your shit on my behalf, I'll be sure to let you know about it. Got it?"

"Yes, master." She replied automatically, feeling quite chastised yet shameful at losing her composure so quickly.

"And you." He turned to the peasant looking firmly at the dirt. "If you don't want my help, that's fine. Just don't be a dick about it. Or in your case a bitch. Got it?"

"...my apologies."

"Good no-

"I would prefer if you did not insult the lady's name any further in return, however."

"You dare-

"Freddy?"

"Sorry Master."

"Well Miss…

"Lillie."

"Lillie. Nice name by the way your husband seems like a lucky guy. Anyways...I understand you're probably hung up on me at the way I disregard your lady or whatever. The thing is I find it hard to respect her when she allows people like you to give away most of your food, live in poverty, and let these tin can schmucks go marching up and down the land and shoving their metal boots up your asses while you're ribs are way too thin to look good in a cover magazine."

"And I would gladly continue to bear myself in hunger to give the nobility the strength that they need to protect us from the horrors that would come to destroy us...my lord." The woman was now seemingly struggling to say that last part. "I can tell from your accent, that you are no son of Bretonnia...are you perhaps from the Empire?"

"Nope."

"Oh...The border Princes?"

"Never heard of em."

"...Estalia?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Tilea?"

"Sounds like a kind of beer...I'm gonna guess it's not a beer."

Lillie looked momentarily befuddled before shaking her head, seemingly deciding that it didn't matter. "Regardless of where your motherland is, I am a proud daughter of Bretonnia. Though I live in what a foreigner like you would consider poverty, I would live in such conditions so as to preserve the life that the lady was so kind to give me. So that the knights of Bretonnia may continue to grant us the protection they're so kind to give us! While I thank you for the tools that you offer and...perhaps in your mind your intentions are noble, they are evil all the same because of the heretical life you live. So I will continue to work these farms with my bare hands so that I may continue to give 9/10ths of my work to my lord so that he may continue to protect us from men such as yourself."

Lyle's eyes were wide for a moment. Not because of how pretty of a speech it was, but because of something else entirely. "You...you give away 9/10ths of your food?"

"...you're unaware of this?" Lillie asked momentarily taken aback. "I was told by a lesser noble that it was common knowledge outside of our lands."

"9/10ths?" He repeated, as if he needed to hear it again to believe it.

"Y-yes."

He then turned to Fredericka. "9/10ths?" His voice was bordering on squeaking from sheer disbelief.

The dark-haired necromancer sighed. "She speaks the truth, master. 9/10ths indeed. For all farming peasants."

Lyle was almost tempted to say that dreaded amount again. As if saying once more and and the ludicrous amount could make it any less believable. He then turned to Lillie, mouth ajar. "...Wh-what do you guys have left to eat!?"

"W-we manage!" Came the meek reply from the peasent woman.

"Yeah, your skinny limbs are showing just how well you're managing for sure! This is the thanks you get for making their food? Enjoying the wonders of feeling your ribs poking through your flesh?"

"A-a foreigner like you wouldn't understand. The lady-

"The lady this. The lady that. Christ, have I had my fill of you guys talk about her. I'm not interested in hearing about how these high and mighty tin cans use her as an excuse to be dicks to you guys, lady."

"Th-then what do you want?"

"I want to help you goddamnit!" The necromancer found himself yelling from the bubbling frustration boiling up within him. It was getting to the point where he was quite literally shaking the shovel and hoe right in her wide-eyed face. "I'm literally trying to help you and you're letting stupid superstitions make your job a helluva lot harder than it has any right to be! It doesn't have to be this damned difficult! Nor do you and everyone else who was unfortunate enough to not be born with a silver spoon in your mouth have to just lie down and take shit from those bathwater drinking tin cans!"

"...please." The woman muttered staring frightfully at Lyle's reddening face."

"Please? Please what!? I'm trying to h-

"They're watching." She muttered. Her frightened voice was barely a whisper as her eyes darted to the left and then the right of her rapidly. It looked as though she wanted her head to move but, was too paralyzed to do so. Confused Lyle blinked for a moment before looking to his left seeing the far away yet clearly noticeable farmers on other plantations observing the conversation. At his gaze, they immediately followed Lillie's earlier example and decided to observe the dirt with rapt interest as they went back to tending their fields. He then looked to his right and it was the same story.

After witnessing this and seeing how Lillie was bowing her head down once more Lyle started to feel as though he was undergoing an epiphany as well as a bout of confusion. Was this truly how Lillie felt? Was this truly how all Brettonian peasants felt? Or was everything she just said a result of peer pressure and fear as to what your neighbors would do to you if you went against the grain...if you were to do something that your upstanding neighbors wouldn't appreciate. How quickly would those fellow peasants fess to the local knights that Lillie hear had taken help from a necromancer?...in Lyle's mind it probably be as fast as someone getting canceled for making a homophobic joke on Twitter. Or in his great great grandad's time being outed as gay.

Staring at the peasant woman who was looking at him in spurts, debating if she should join the other peasants in looking at the ground or looking at him, the New Jersey native found himself feeling like a right piece of shit for not fully grasping this poor woman's position.

Which realistically only left him with one thing to do. "Fredericka let's go."

"Are you sure ma-

"Did I fucking stutter?"

"Going now." Came the prompt and high-pitched reply from the beleaguered necromancer as the pair headed back to their horses, farming equipment still in hands along with the skeleton.

As the pair hopped back onto their skeletal mounts and began to urge their undead armies column forward again with the right mental commands, Lillie couldn't help but leave a shuddering breath of relief as she sank to her knees, tears nearly flowing out of her eyes. She'd survived bad harvests, ill-tempered knights, arrogant lords, beatmen and orc incursions as well now unexpectedly surviving the odd yet dangerous kindness of a heretical necromancer...and in a way even though he was the cause of the problem, he had just saved her from her fellow peasants.

She would pray for him she decided. Though he was clearly misled she couldn't call this necromancer a truly evil man. She would indeed pray for his death to at the very least be quick when Chilfroy's army confronted him.

…

If riding a horse was agonizing on Lyle's back, setting up and commencing a siege was an exercise in mental torture. Why? Simple.

It was mind rottingly boring.

When Lyle was told of the plan to lay siege to this Caste Artois he wouldn't lie to himself. The first thing that came to his mind was a very romanticized version of stories he'd been told in school. Of knights storming the walls of Jerusalem in a storm of steel. Of massive battering rams smashing their way through gates under a hail of rocks and arrows. Of suicidal men climbing latters to get to the top of a castle. The way video games portrayed such ideas certainly seemed to reinforce this idea.

Tragically, in spite of these ideas, even in a world of magic, reality slammed right into Lyle's early enthusiasm as they took the tedious process of surrounding the castle with their much larger forces, building a battering ram and siege towers purely made out bone hammered together with wood and just whatever else the lower necromancers could get their hands on. Everyone seemed to know what to do for the most part as Fredericka directed traffic, assigning people in the right roles with a timid yet firm tone.

Everyone but Lyle. The conversation...or rather confrontation he had with Lillie still lingered in his mind as blandly observed what was happening before him with little interest, taking up counting how many spears he could see poking up on the walls of the castle. Said confrontation left him in a relatively bad mood, hovering around his mind like a dark cloud that was only exacerbated by the sheer boredom he was feeling from doing a whole lot of nothing.

Even back home doing nothing was his prime enemy in life...including student loans. The impromptu game he was playing of counting spears on the Artoi's walls wasn't improving his mood any as he sat on a log bored out of his mind. What didn't improve his mood was how annoyed he felt at himself for thinking such thoughts about his boredom when women like Lillie were barely getting by and felt like it was an honor to do.

It gave him some perspective if nothing else.

"Master I really think you should be devoting any free time you have towards expanding your knowledge of necromancy. I don't know what you hope to accomplish by-

"Fifty one. Fifty two. Fi...no wait...need start over...skipped one...four...five-

Fredericka grimaced, clenching her eyes before shutting. How many times had he miscounted now? Even she was struggling to keep track. "Master if you would please at least take the time to learn the raise the undead spell! You will be surprised at just how much of a boon it could prove to be in the midst of a battle!"

"...21…." Lyle trailed off for a moment. His train of thought was broken as he lied squinted at the spear tips before suddenly thinking of something that had been rummaging in the back of his mind for quite some time now. "Say Freddy...you Brettonian?"

Once again, her master had changed topics as he had done so many times before. To Fredericka's immense frustration, however, she found herself flat-footed at how quickly he changed pace. One moment he was counting. Another moment he was perhaps skimming through the detailed books of spells she could provide him and now here he was once more asking personal questions about her. A question that to her shame, left her mouth floundering and her eyes wide as dinner plates.

"I was right wasn't I?" He asked with a self-assured smirk, his half open eyes of boredom, suddenly growing wider with a new topic of curiosity to feed upon. "You're a freakin' Brettonian aren't ya?" He nearly laughed at his apparent correctness and her reaction.

"Ho-wha! I-I…" The poor girl was flummoxed and caught utterly off guard. Only Master Kemmler himself had been able to guess the origins of her true heritage when he found her in Stirland!...was this because Lyle was his successor or…

Looking at a loss as to what she should do, the necromancer eventually sighed, giving into the change of subject and just rolling with it. If there was anything she could learn from conversing with Master Spoletta it was that sometimes it was best not to go against his sudden change in subject and instead to roll with it. "...if I admit to the truth will you at the very least look into learning more spellcraft in necromancy."

"Eh, why not. So spill Freddy. Am I right or am I right?"

"...for fourteen years I lived in the province of Bastonne...I...I would prefer not to get into too many details as to the how or the exact why I left, but needless to say it was a decision that I would make one thousand times over, master. Even should our campaign here fail I'll never regret that decision. It's what led to Master Kemmler discovering me in the Empire after all."

"Oof. That bad eh?"

"You saw how brow-beaten that woman and the rest of the peasantry were, master. For fourteen years I went through that...I've seen people that I used to call my family go through that. Yet every time a misfortune or misdeed fell upon us, more often than not thanks, to those so-called protectors of ours, we thanked the lady for allowing us another day to live." A humorless and derisive laugh slipped passed Fredericka's lips as she leaned against a nearby tree, seemingly exhausted just from recounting this. "For years I joined my family in thanking the lady until I had no more thanks to give...I grew tired of surviving and wanted to live. I...I grew tired of not having control over my own destiny I suppose you could say. Of not controlling anything really. Eventually, something happened that lead me...to leaving as soon as I could. I went to the province of Stirland to serve as a barmaid in a small tavern and it was there that Master Kemmler came upon me, after returning from a trip in Sylvania. It was...it was the happiest day of my life, believe it or not. I became so disgusted with who I truly was before I learned the wonders of using Dharr, that I consciously lost my accent so that no one may know who I once was...and so that I wouldn't need to be reminded of such."

To his credit, Lyle's smile faltered a bit at such words. "That...sounds pretty shit. I guess I shouldn't surprised that growin' up here gave you such low standards."

"Oh but it's not low standards at all master. With Master Kemmler, I gained power that I could only dream of having. Power over death. Over life itself, when I had no power over my own life back in Bastonne. With the Barrow Legion I can now shape this backwater country to something worth living in." She then leaned forward, a rare sense of fervor in Fredericka's eyes and voice. "...we can mold this country to whatever we want should we succeed. Think of how brainwashed and accepting people like Lillie are in this country, as they literally break their backs for the few that lord over them. I can tell you dislike such a thing master."

"Not gonna lie. It does rub me the wrong way somethin' fierce...who knows. If I'm feelin' particularly sadistic against those tin can bastards, I might just be tempted to abolish their religion altogether on the off chance that we really do succeed and kick all of these guys' asses. Maybe even take a piss in their sacred bathwater. Just to fuck with em' of course." The young man chuckled to himself as he eyed up castle Artois with a somewhat predatory look.

At those words, Fredricka showed a rare smile of her own. "Master...if you truly are suggesting such a thing. Know that I and the rest of the legion will throw the support you most certainly support."

"Careful now Freddy," Lyle smirked at the young woman. "You might piss off your family if we DO take over the country."

Freddy's smile disappeared. "That would be their problem. Not mine."

"Sounds pretty touchy."

"It can be when my father and mother allowed a sister and brother of mine to die."

"Oh...personal then."

"Very. And since they continued to thank the lady even after their deaths, I might just join you in 'pissing in her bathwater' as you put it. You may be a tad whimsical master, but I must admit, you're creative if nothing else in showing your disdain for others."

"I try...and speakin' of pissin' knights off...how soon can we take these walls, Freddy?"

"By Naggash, you change subjects as quickly as you change moods, Master." The necromancer said with a tad bit of exasperation.

"Hey now. I don't wanna hear you complianin' about me bringin' this up since this is some important shit. Plus all this talk about how much these knights suck, makes me wanna take it to em' personally. So with that being said, do you got an answer?"

"We still need to build two more siege towers to be sure tha-

"But, that's gonna take another week at least! Can't we just make do with what we got?"

"I won't have our success derailed just because you're bored master. Especially when you can use that time to be honing your skills."

"But, that's boring! I can only read the same damn spells and what makes em' tick so long before my brain goes numb! If ya really want me to learn them faster, then just have me throw said spells at those tin can schmucks!"

Her patience being tested, Fredericka still managed to come up with a reasonable excuse. "If it makes you feel any better master, we won't be able to wait any longer once the week has passed. Any longer than that and we risk other dukes or Naggash forbid, King Louen himself intervening with our horde being decimated by two armies...or more. Speed is without a doubt an integral part of our plan, but we must be crafty as much as we must be fast."

"I know that but...boring." Lyle grumbled almost petulantly. "Part of the reason why I wanted to know about your past y'know. Break up the monotony a bit."

It was then that Fredericka blinked because with Lyle saying that, an idea suddenly wormed its way into the matted-haired necromancer's mind. "Tell me, master. Do you care for the plight of the people of Brettonia? You must if what Lillie said angered you so."

"Well, it sure as shit doesn't please me if that's what your askin'. I don't appreciate the little guy gettin' stepped on just for bein' born dirt poor. My great-great grandad had to go through that crap somethin' fierce and it lead to him having to take...well...questionable choices in life. I don't appreciate these people's living conditions any more than I like my dad tellin' me how bad our family had it back in the day."

"So you wish to make a difference for their lives."

"Hell yeah, I do! Who wouldn't?...y'know. Besides the tin can simps that is."

"Then if you truly care, then you'll leave nothing to chance in the coming battle. This isn't just the benefit of yourself or the Barrow Legion after all, but the people who live in Artois. And maybe even Brettonia as a whole. Are you willing to gamble with their fates just because your a little bored and impatient?"

The Jersey native couldn't help but wince visibly at that. And here he thought his mother could give him a dressing down when she got in the mood. Still. He couldn't refute Fredericka's point. Maybe he was being a bit childish. After all, he didn't consider just how other people would get affected through his actions, let alone an entire country's worth of people with the majority seeming like uneducated peasants that got fed the bare minimum.

For Fredericka, she had to resist smiling at Lyle's contemplative face. Though he could be erratic and difficult to control, his confrontation with Lillie and what she could glean from him showed that in spite of being a necromancer he seemed to care a great deal about others. His rage at seeing Wendel nearly die was an early indication of such, and the way he made sure that the peasants calmed down at Gisoreux instead of looting the settlement also proved this.

It would make manipulating him that much easier. If there was every anything she learned from her previous master, it was that honorable men could always be guided for her benefit. Ironic that Lyle seemed to detest the Brettonian knights due to their own brand of 'honor'.

After mulling over her words, Lyle gave a sight of his own before scratching his head. "Ya sure know how to put a guy on the spot don't ya Freddy? Awright fine. One more week and those towers better are prepared by then. I zombies'ee this Chilfroy guy sweat for when we finally climb those walls.

"Consider it done master." Freddy smiled, giving a bow and feel satisfaction at her subtle manipulation. "I'll see about getting the others to double our horde's efforts in the construction."

"Will it be done faster in a week?" He asked hopefully.

"Master. Patience...the people of Brettonia are counting on you are they not?"

"Christ, you're makin' it sound like they're all my responsibility now or somethin...fine though. No longer than another week or so help me God, I'll just go world war z on these guys and just climb to the top of the walls using our zombies corpses."

He meant it too. Especially as he found himself staring at the those spear tips once more with the muttered pleading of Lillie still on his mind.

One week...it still felt like too long.

A/N: The battle for Castle Artois is next. I like the way the previous battle turned out in my writing, so I'm curious to see if I can do the same for siege battles. Please let me know what you guys think in the reviews and let me know in ways I can improve.