"So you are the one causing such terror within the realm of The Lady."

It was a very feminine, delicate yet firm voice that woke Lyle up from what he thought was the dirt nap he had been put under after the madness that occurred in the great hall. It sounded as if the voice was chiding him like an unruly child, not unlike the way he and his siblings would come to blows in their younger years, but far more delicate and higher class sounding in Lyle's estimates.

Suddenly able to open his eyes easily Lyle found himself in a nearly pure white setting while lying on grass, the rushing of water filling the air thanks in no small part to the unique waterfall to the left of him. Before that waterfall was a crystal clear lake which displayed cleanliness that Lyle had yet to see in this world he had found himself in, with the waterfall coming in the form of a stone statue covered in vines and moss in the shape of a lady, holding a golden grail.

While this site was indeed beautiful Lyle still couldn't shake the feeling that he was in a dream or...a plane of existence that he had yet to comprehend. The fact that there were walls of what appeared to be white clouds surrounding his immediate area, much like mist, only further emboldened that belief and furthered his unease.

Lyle then broke out in a cold sweat, shoving his hands under his black rub and placing his hands on his stomach, taking them out and letting out a breath at the sight of no blood. A shiver went down his spine at the mere memory of it. The feeling of it. The lack of air.

He buried it then. Shoving it down his mind as he ignored his major blunder and reevaluated his surroundings, choosing to focus on the here and now, rather than the then and there.

Then he recalled the elegant yet distinctly french sounding voice he heard earlier. Immediately he began to get up from his impromptu sleeping spot, looking around himself warily. "Considering I'm a non-believer, I highly doubt the big man upstairs is letting me through the pearly golden gates...unless it really isn't the big man upstairs that judges people…"

The familiar voice from earlier spoke out once more. It came from the crystal clear lake. "I know not of this big man upstairs you speak of...but it is the judgment of The Lady you will face now."

Lyle's worry soon gave way to annoyance. "Ah Christ, you mean to tell me that this woman is actually legit as a Goddess?...fuck's sake I could take Buddha or Vishnu being legit, but a bathwater dealing lake witch? Seriously?"

The Jersey native's complaints were ruthlessly cut short when light burst forth from the lake, forcing Lyle to cover his eyes with a sharp yelp in surprise. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the intensity of this light for a brief moment before it began to visibly dissipate. Tentatively opening his eyes, Lyle couldn't help but gasp sharply at the sight before him.

Floating just above the lake now, dressed in what appeared to be a gorgeous white dress made out of lace with a laurel wreath of sorts on her blonde-haired head was a woman of peerless beauty. A woman with blue eyes was staring a disapproving hole into Lyle's head. Her skin was as pale as her bare feet which hovered just above the lake just noticeable with her dress cutting off at above her ankles, making her seem even more regal while she held an ornate-looking chalice in her right hand. Her lips were turned down in a frown as she looked at the young man before her.

As for Lyle himself? To his shame, he couldn't stop the blush that came to his face. While Lyle was wondering on one hand if this was the Lady of the Lake he'd constantly heard the people of Bretonnia yammer on about, he was also pondering if this was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He'd never seen skin that was so flawless, a dress that seemingly hugged all the right places. Hair that fit a person so seamlessly, and she hadn't even cracked so much as a smile since he'd seen him.

The head necromancer of the Barrow Legion couldn't lie as he felt his heart hammer in his chest at a rate that he found uncomfortable...he was smitten. And he didn't even bother to hide it as he smiled widely at the woman. "Well now...if ya don't me asking, who do I have the honor of speaking to, beautiful?"

The 'woman' looked even more unimpressed than she had previously, sticking her nose higher in the air, but continuing to stare evenly at the necromancer. "Morgiana le Fay...Brettonia's Fay Enchantress and voice of the lady."

"Morgiana eh? I like it! Rolls of the tongue, but a little long for my tastes...you wouldn't mind bein' addressed as Morgan would you?"

"That is not my name."

"No, but it's easier to say."

"Ah. So you are wicked as much as you are lazy."

"Much like how you seem stuck-up as you look gorgeous, beautiful." Lyle winked boldly, only garnering a delicately raised eyebrow in response.

"I have had more elegant and well-spoken knights try to woo me, young man. Continue to do so at your own peril."

"Beautiful, if I have to be in peril to impress a lovely dove like yourself, I'll gladly throw myself into a forest fire if that's what it takes."

Morgiana sniffed. "You're truly bold if nothing else if you believe yourself worthy for the voice of the lady."

"Voice of the lady huh? Now look I'm not gonna judge ya too hard, since I'm a nice guy...but, if you're the voice of the lady I suppose that means you're like her spokesperson...her representative right?"

"Her will is spoken through me." Morgiana declared with a sense of finality. "And it is through her will that I execute what it is she desires. Such as finding and vanquishing any that would or could bring doom to her realm and guiding those who are capable enough to destroy said threats."

"Oh! Is that so?" Lyle asked with mild surprise. "Does that include protecting the poor peasants that happen to live in 'her' realm?"

Morgiana waited for a beat before answering. "That would be the case, yes. They are her subjects after all."

"So then why aren't you spankin' the shit out of those knights who force them to live like literal dogs in mud huts and the dirtiest of rags? Even worse, tricking them into enjoying it like masochists that get off on eating dirt for a living?"

"An outsider such as yourself understands nothing about the roles that the people of Bretonnia must play to function as a society. To function as a shield to ward off the many threats that beset us all sides within the Old World." She was looking and speaking at the young man like a teacher who berated her students. It was as if she was reciting something from a question she had heard many times over. "The peasants toil gladly as you pointed out, for it is a burden for them to bear for the knights of the realm to have the strength necessary to defend those same peasants."

"You sure about that?" Lyle asked incredulously. "I mean the knights I've gone up against haven't been all too impressive in protecting her so-called territory...and as far as doing any actual fighting, I've seen those poor bastards in rags carry the load a helluva lot more in terms of duking it out!"

"You have yet to face any true knightly retinues, you naive young outsider." Morgiana admonished as she began to float closer to Lyle shaking her head as if disappointed with his answer. "You build yourself off of a power that is inherently evil as it is corrupted, so no matter the hardships the peasants endure, they WILL resist you with everything available to them. Even if it is with the rags on their back as you saw when one of them shoved a knife in your belly."

The necromancer tried to resist the urge, but he couldn't help but press a hand over his stomach, slipping it under his shirt and coming up with no blood. He felt his spine shiver once again. "Damn. Why don't ya tell me how you really feel? I mean, you know how to sweet-talk a guy don't ya?"

This time Morgiana smiled. And Lyle couldn't help but feel his stomach flutter at the sight of it. "Many questing knights would agree. It is through these 'sweet words' that are spoken from The Lady through me that gives them the strength and power to abolish outsiders like you who find themselves as tools for Nagash...or in this case the tool for someone else entirely."

"Look lady, I may not be a Brettonian like you lot, but I don't have to be to see that you treat a good portion of your people like the dirt that they subsist off. That's the beef I got with you, your lady, and your knights...among other things, but that's beside the point."

"And I suppose you would want them to be treated much like how you were treated back on Earth, wouldn't you Lyle?"

Lyle opened his mouth to respond yet again, yet found himself drawing up short when her words sunk in. "...Okay I'll bite. How do you know where I'm from?...and don't give me some B.S. answer like-

The Fay Enchantress then put a finger to her ruby red lips. "The lady granted the knowledge to me-

"-and there it is." Lyle sighed in equal parts resignation and awe. "Shoulda seen that comin'...she really is a frickin' Goddess isn't she?" It was something that Lyle himself was struggling to come to terms with given how little he believed in Gods or deities in general. Truly, he only thought of Gods or such concepts in a fanciful concept, seeing them as nothing more than fictional beings that people use to cope with the unknowns of the world. Not that his mother appreciated his more liberal interpretation given her Catholic upbringing, but Lyle didn't see that as his problem...not until now at least.

"Indeed. It's late that you realize that now, but it is heartwarming to see you recognize it all the same. The lady sees much. And what she sees she shares with me, outsider. I admit, that she has yet to grace me with the details of what your motherland is like, but I know more than enough to realize you're a grasping foreigner, fancying himself as a hero for her people, while also butchering said people by the hundreds...with the corpses of their countrymen no less. You paint yourself as a champion for the downtrodden young man, but I see that you are nothing more than a child looking for ways to amuse yourself, and this just happens to have caught your fancy."

The Jersey native couldn't help but look away a bit at just how much of a succinct dressing down he just received. "Well I mean...it's not like I wanna kill them. I wanna help em' but I kind of have to knock sense into them since they're getting in the way!...not that it's their fault, they don't seem to know better, but still!"

Morgiana folded her arms, while still holding her grail, now hovering only a few yards away from Lyle. "And killing them is your way of helping?"

"Oh, don't you get cute with me, beautiful. I mean. You have to be the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen, but like I said, that's beside the point. The point is, you and your knights don't have a leg to stand on since from what I've heard...you tend to just kill the peasants who tend not to agree with your way of thinking, and starve the rest of these poor red-shirts into submission! I mean c'mon, what kind of life is that?"

"One in service to the realm and the lady."

Lyle rolled his eyes, walking side to side for a bit while shaking his head in clear frustration. "If I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I could have bought a whole city of these poor bastards some actual food for a change! It just sounds like the limpest excuse! The same kind of excuse I'd hear from my dumbass pastor as to why kids in Africa have to starve while so many others get to live like kings! God's will he says. The lady's will you say. Come back to me when you can at least come up with a better excuse than him."

"I see…" The smile on Morgiana's lips quickly evaporated, a discourteous look overtaking her. "So you do not even believe in your own God...A godless man who believes that he knows what's best for the people of Bretonnia? It's little wonder the peasant I chose to strike you, so easily overpowered you. How could a man who lacks so heavily in faith in any God have a chance in the cruel world we live in?"

"...hold up...chose to attack?...the hell are you talkin' about?"

"It was no coincidence that particular peasant attacked you...Charles was his name. One of the more zealous and truest believers of the lady. I've granted visions to many knights to guide them on the quests to become true servants of the lady, granting a peasant a vision who had ill intentions for you barely took a thought...the sight of himself in shining armor, with a castle, and your skull mounted in his great hall, was more than persuasive enough to do what needed to be done...a shame he could not finish the job."

Visions. An implication that this woman was powerful and omnipresent enough to literally grant visions upon different people. Whether this was exclusive to people that believed in this Lady Goddess or anyone, Lyle didn't know, but it was an unsettling thought all the same. It was also galling to him. "Even if he did me in...there's no way he would have made it out of there in one piece, much less alive!"

"Men often forget such things when glory and honor are but hair's breadth away."

Lyle frowned spitefully. "...Beautiful you may be. Cold of heart you also are."

"We all have a role to play in the realm of Bretonnia Lyle Spolleta." Morgiana said, though with a tad more subdued tone, her eyes staring deeply into her chalice. "From the knights who must lead and rule, to the peasants who must toil, to me who people see when they desire guidance in the darkest of times...we all have our role to play. We take these roles upon ourselves and sacrifice so that we may see another day with the beasts that threaten to tear us down."

Lyle couldn't help but feel as though once again, Morgiana was saying something that she had recited more than was speaking from the heart...yet she was saying it all the same. It didn't stop the feeling of indignation that was rising within his chest. "So...that's it then? When the going gets tough and some assholes try to kill all of you, that suddenly renders you all inept at making things better?"

"You speak as if all knights of Bretonnia are villains that should be torn down. That narrow mindset will lead you to your early demise, young Spolleta."

"I'm waiting for them to prove otherwise...until then...I think I got extra motivation to do as you say. Tear these plated thugs down and do something more. After all, you said that punk with the knife didn't finish the job right? So whether I'm in a dream, coma, or what have you, I ain't out of the fight yet beautiful. And with that, neither is the dream for a better tomorrow for these people."

"You are not incorrect. With the lady's guidance, and in turn, my guidance, I will continue to lead Brettonia through the many trials it must endure in my time as Fay Enchantress."

Lyle however, allowed his smile to come back, shaking his head. "Nah...I'm thinkin' of a future without it...doesn't sound too far-fetched to me."

Morgiana's face grew down-right indignant. She hovered closer to Lyle, now only a few feet away from him, her bare feet not touching the grassy ground, putting him at eye level with her. "And you believe...that your army of the dead is an adequate substitute for this?"

Lyle's smile grew wider as he stepped closer to this gorgeous woman, their noses now barely touching, her lukewarm breath on his face nearly making him shiver. "Maybe...certainly sounds more badass than a bunch of simps drinking bathwater to supposedly get stronger...by the way...I'm curious, is it your bathwater or the actual Lady's bathwater they drink? I mean I guess in this case it would be called lake-water bu-GURK!" Lyle found himself suddenly bereft of air, as Morgiana suddenly snaked her right arm out, grasping onto his neck and squeezing, hovering a tad higher and lifting him off the ground, cutting off what other witty quips he could have said.

Lyle's eyes bulged, staring into the intense green eyes of the woman who made his heart flutter just by looking at her. Now it was her staring dispassionately into his eyes with righteous anger that shook him. It shook him more than the fanatic zealous rage of the peasants who nearly ended his life.

"We are in another plane of existence right now that you cannot even begin to fathom...you may yet wake from your wounds...yet if I will it, you may not arrive back in the mortal plane unscathed...and for the good of Bretonnia and her people I will do just that if necessary."

Strangled coughing was the answer that she received as Lyle grasped her arm, struggling to suck in air as green magical energy began to whip around her body, gathering in the arm that was holding the necromancer up.

"Contrary to what you may believe Lyle, I care for all the people. Be they peasant or noble, they are children that the Lady and I must watch over for not just the good of the nation...but for the good of the Old World and beyond. I must admit, you do not seem as wicked as the many necromancers I have personally smited, but what you bring is an insidious evil that cannot be allowed to take root...rest assured that with your perishing, Bretonnia will grow stronger from your short-lived yet misguided evil." The magic gathering in her arm began to permeate in her hand. Her veins began to glow a light green as her grip on Lyle's neck tightened. His arms began to flail and his legs began to thrash to no avail as oxygen began to become scarce. He briefly wondered to himself, if this was a dream, how exactly was he choking?

"I may not be able to kill you right here and now given how potent your call is on the many winds of magic you corrupt to surround yourself with Dharr...but I can cripple your mind easily with your vulnerable state...and with enough of a push, and with the true Lichemaster dead, your rotting corpse of a Barrow Legion will fall with it."

Much like when the peasants were attacking him before, Lyle's vision began to blur. Unlike last time there was a great deal more green covering it. In spite of it all, he could clearly hear what Morgiana was saying as his breath began to sputter.

"Do not think I hate you young Lyle. In a way, I pity you for the role you had to play. You are correct in assuming that some knights and even high lords of the realm are lacking in the way they conduct themselves, but it's through you that many of them will now take their duties seriously. Many will seek to take up a quest for the grail. Many w-

*Caw*

For a moment, Morgiana le Fay was befuddled. She was sure that it was nothing more than yet another strangled gasp that came from Lyle's throat and yet...something about the noise gave her pause. It was a noise she swore she heard before outside of this situation, yet the more she thought about it. 'No. It cannot possibly-

*Ca...www…*

The noise was even more forced out this time, but it was present all the same. This Morgiana couldn't ignore the sound. It was too noticeable. Far too distinctive. Even as Lyle's eyes began to roll in the back of his eyes, his mouth widened in a vain attempt to bring in oxygen, she couldn't help but peer down his open maw, feeling drawn to the sound.

In the darkness of that maw, she was somehow able to see two beady black eyes...black eyes and white feathers.

*Caw*

Momentarily shocked at what she was seeing, Morgiana could only stare dumbly at the sight before her as without warning, the white-feathered crow in Lyle's throat suddenly burst forth out of his maw, wings flapping and beak lunging, obscuring the vision of Bretonnia's Fay Enchantress.

The grip on Lyle's throat was loosened, emphasized by his body hitting the grassy ground with a dull thud, his vision blinking away the dark spots that were overtaking his vision.

His body was still. Not by any curse, magic, or malady, but by his choosing. Morgiana's screams as the crow pecked away, were nothing to the memory of her delicate, soft yet powerful hands wrapping around Lyle's throat. The memory of which reminded him all too much of the dirty and crass hands that had found themselves there not too long ago...the knife...the knife and the blood.

A knife against a throat. A knife in his hand.

More pale crows suddenly flew past his vision while the black spots suddenly returned. He could have sworn he saw the strange shape of another crow, larger yet more deformed before everything went dark.

The crows' caws were the last thing he heard even after his vision went to the wayside. Lyle could have sworn they resembled laughs mingled in with Morgiana's screams.

…

He was then awake. His body was soaked in sweat, and far too warm for his tastes. He was in a bed he realized. One that was far more luxurious than the one back home, with far more comforters and colorful layers, yet strangely uncomfortable.

Shakily he pressed a hand to his forehead, and much like the rest of his body it was covered in his bodily fluids. Suddenly he began coughing to himself, regaining control when he realized he was hyperventilating, his chest heaving and burning, urging him to throw the covers off of his body allowing him to see the state of his stomach.

It wasn't bloody nor bandaged, but it was most definitely scared. A criss-cross of multiple scars decorated his stomach, with some red, angry-looking ones with others as pale as tan as the skin of his flesh. He couldn't help but swipe his hands over the ridges of maligned and clearly recently healed flesh, stitched back together hastily by magic.

Tearing his sight away from the wounds that were still fresh in his mind, Lyle swept his eyes over the room, observing the ornate and truly medieval furnishings of the room, along with the notable and hard-to-miss heads that were mounted on the wall.

Lyle had to blink to and pinch himself on the arm to make sure he wasn't dreaming or...undergoing whatever it was he was experiencing before because it was here that he saw what appeared to be the product of an unholy fusion between goats and men, mounted on the walls. The horned heads of which could be found on all four corners of the large and ornate walls supplied with red coats of arms.

The goat heads were a dirty brown color with jutted jaws and furious-looking horizontally shaped eyes staring ahead as if furious in their current predicament. Lyle could count at least ten of these heads which were surprising, considering he could have sworn he had seen more earlier, back when they were feasting in the great hall. He just hadn't paid them much mind since he was more preoccupied at the time with the food, impressing the unfortunately unwashed peasants and...surviving.

Letting out another shuddering breath, Lyle laid back down on his far too ornate bed, leaving the covers off his body as he flexed his stomach muscles, noting a dull soreness, but no over pain.

He was just about to contemplate whether he was ready to get out of his bed when the double doors to the room suddenly opened, causing yet another cold sweat to break out in his body. He reached under his pillow for a knife or gun that wasn't there and immediately felt relieved he could suck in air with ease again when he saw the usual tired and haggard look of Fredericka entering the room.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Freddy." Lyle sighed, a ghost of a smile coming to his lips. Fredericka didn't return the smile but instead nodded woodenly at him before approaching his bed, pulling a wooden and gauche-looking chair from a small table nearby to sit by him, a blank expression on her face. "Alright I'll bite, how long was I out? A few days? A week? Hope it-

"Around half a day." Was her terse response.

"Just half a day?"

"Indeed."

"...and I'm gonna assume you did the patch job on my guts after those peasants went to town on them?"

"Invocation of Nehek never fails those who bathe themselves in Dharr."

Lyle let out a chuckle, folding his hands behind his head and smiling. "I hope they didn't dice up my guts too much for your tastes. Can't just rely on my winning personality to get the ladies y'know...somethin' I'm sure you appreciated."

At that moment, Lyle was sure that Fredericka would either blush, get annoyed, or give an exasperated response at his quip. To his confusion, however, the tired-looking necromancer seemed to only blink placidly before shrugging, reaching into her robe, and taking out some rolled-up parchment. Wordlessly she reached for the table that was near her and tested its weight after placing said parchment on top of it. Seemingly satisfied she shifted the table with only a few grunts of effort until it was between her and Lyle.

Finally, she unrolled the parchment on said table and revealed that it was a map. A map of the old world in particular which reached from Norsca, all the way to the badlands to the world's edge mountains.

"Huh." Lyle said more to himself as he blinked in surprise. "I think this is the first time I've seen a map since you brought me here...this a map of the world?"

"A portion of it." Fredericka replied, smoothing out the map as much as she could without damaging it. "A map of the Old World to be exact."

The new necromancer snorted. "What, is the New World on the other side of the planet or somethin'?"

"Far west of where we are, but yes."

"...shit, the more things change the more they stay the same."

"If I could have your attention Master, I would like to show you our surroundings, as well as our neighbors."

"Sounds great n' all, but I'd just like to say first and foremost that your bedside manner could use some work, especially seeing as to how I nearly got stabbed to death about...oh I dunno, a twelve hours ago."

"You recovered. People have suffered worse." Fredericka replied with a shrug, still looking at the map.

Lyle looked perplexed. "And you're not upset?"

"Over what?"

"...over the fact that I...may more may not be responsible for that whole mess to begin with-not that I'm saying I am!...but I did decide to walk around the table without my staff...bring in more skeleton guards than you recommended...oh and had the feast with those poor muddied humps in the first place, against your advice-not that I'm sayin' this is on me but even so...I had good intentions, Freddy and-

"You need not justify your actions to me Master."

"...Really?"

"Really. You're our leader. Kemmler's successor. What is there to doubt?"

That gave Lyle pause. He couldn't help but notice just how off-puttingly blaze Fredericka was about what had just happened. Was she over it all so quickly? Where was her shouting at him that he was acting like a fool? Suggestions for him to do better?...it was behavior so similar to his mother, that he almost half expected it...and welcomed it. To see her do the opposite was throwing him off balance.

Wonder if she's mad. It wouldn't surprise him if she was. He had great skill in angering women as much as he did in wooing them he learned.

"If you'll pay close attention to the point here Master, you'll notice that this is where we are and what we control through the flags I have planted." Indeed she had. He noticed that she had indeed placed what appeared to be wooden carved flags on three different points of the map. One on a section of mountains, the other two on land that was to the northwest of them. "Here in a section of the Grey mountains is where Blackstone Post is located. These flags here are the lands of Artois which we now indisputably hold. There will be other more minor and smaller castles and grail chapels that will hold out, but they will fall in time. Especially with the growth of additional forces that we will soon have."

"Grail chapels?" Lyle couldn't help but question.

"Chapels dedicated directly to the lady. Guarded by grail and hermit knights. They will be quite helpful for us to secure considering they are filled with treasures dedicated to their goddess."

Lyle smiled with a hint of mischief tugging at the corner of his lips. "Which we can sell to get money for our fledgling kingdom...I like the way you think, Freddy."

"I aim to please. However, we'll need to make sure that the necromancers we send to secure these areas do so quickly, for it will not take long for the lords of Bretonnia to respond...for the life of me I can't begin to understand why there were so few knights when we stormed castle Artois, but I'll be damned if we don't use this opportunity to our advantage. The other dukes and even the king himself will act against us, master, it's only a matter of when and not if."

"Any of these dukes, in particular, to be worried about'?" Lyle asked, looking at what the map described as, 'The Kingdom of Bretonnia'.

"The most immediate dukes to be wary of are of Bastonne to our south, Lyonesse to the North West, Bordeaux to our West...and to our North the King of Brettonia himself at Couronne...King Louen Leoncur."

"Mmm...King Louis...yeah of course he would be called." Lyle smirked to himself. "So...what you're actually thinking we should take over the whole damn country?"

"It's either attack or be destroyed master." Fredericka declared as if glaring a hole in the map. "We must attack and expand our borders as much as we must expand our undead forces. If we wait for them to come to us, we will share the fate of every other undead kingdom in the old world. Be destroyed by a united front."

"Ahhh I get it. You wanna pick each of the dukes off one by one, so they don't gather up in one big army right?"

"You catch on quick master." Fredericka nodded approvingly.

"...so...how about a ballsy and immediate attack on Louis up north?"

"...You mean King Louen? If we did that, we might as well slit our necks open."

"Weren't you just talkin' of takin' over the country just a second ago? Can't really do that so long as we got a king with a crown acting like he owns the place...that isn't me of course."

"We were lucky with Artois master...exceptionally lucky...so lucky in fact that I'm wondering if perhaps Ranald is looking over your shoulder as we speak."

"Ranald?"

"God of luck and fortune Master."

Lyle looked exasperated. "Dare I ask how many of these Gods there are and if they're all real?"

"Oh they're real, master. Make no mistake about that."

The Jersey Native looked pointedly at his stomach. "Well, he must have blinked when I was giving that speech last night."

"His favor is known to be fickle...just as your existence will be if you decide to attack King Louen head-on. You personally would be doing him a favor if you were to force a direct confrontation with him. You are far from a match with the martial talent he has at his disposal."

"Makin' it sound like I'm a gnat compared to him Freddy."

"He's been blessed by the grail and has vanquished foes more deadly than you without so much as being winded despite his age...or so my former master has claimed."

"Ey! I thought you said I was special!"

"Special, and untrained. Need I remind you of what happened just half a day ago?"

"I'm reminding myself enough." Lyle grumbled as he folded his arms and looked away in indignation. "So no offing King Louis?"

"...His name is King Louen Leoncur?"

"If you wanna stick to that mouthful, then yeah, sure."

"No."

"Even though we could end this easy by offing him?...and by preferably not killing too many peasants along the way?"

"Well you could...but, if you die, those peasants I'm afraid will just continue along as they have before...suffering under the love of the Lady that they have been taught cares for them from cradle to grave...a matter as you know I'm all too familiar with."

That certainly mollified Lyle enough to give him a moment to truly digest Fredericka's words...he'd already pushed ahead without listening to her advice many times before...maybe it would be best to listen to her just this once. His mind continued to dwell on such thoughts as his left hand glided over his healed stomach.

"Okay...so then what were you thinkin'?"

"Two different targets, and I admit, I'm a bit...divided on which we should strike first...It's either the dwarfs to our East or the Dukedom of Bastonne to the South...either would be a suitable target, especially with them both recently shedding each others blood-

"Okay, hold up a moment." Lyle cut in, swinging his body around until he was sitting off the edge of the bed, his face scrunched in confusion as he looked at the map. "...I'm gonna need you to clarify something...when you say dwarfs are you referring to the kind of dwarfs that struck out on the gene pool and are just half the size of a person because they lost Russian roulette with genetic material pool or the kind of long-bearded dwarfs that are short but stout, like in the fairytales."

"...dwarfs are far from fairytales master, but I must admit even you have me confused." Fredericka admitted with a perplexed look on her face. "Are you perhaps confusing dwarfs with halflings?"

"That sounds kinda derogatory...hell both those names sound derogatory...I feel kinda dirty just saying those kinds of names...can't we just call em' little people?"

Fredericka stared at Lyle for a good solid moment before replying. "I...feel I understand even less now master...why would calling a person by their race's name be derogatory?"

"You mean other than the fact those kinds of names sound like you're just kicking someone while they're down?"

Fredericka resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Call dwarfs 'little people' as you call it, and they will do more than kicking, I assure you that."

"Well now I'm the one who feels like he's not understanding a damn thing...ah fine, dwarfs it is...anyways, you mentioned they were fightin' each other right?"

"Indeed. Though quarrels between men and dwarfs are rare, it would be foolish not to take advantage of it for our personal gain, especially since we can acquire more diverse corpses for our forces."

Lyle lightly blanched. "You don't gotta make it sound so damn grim Freddy."

"I'm simply stating a fact. Anyone who dies is a resource for us to use. The sooner you accept that as a necromancer the better. Take the feast for example. Out of the one hundred peasants that we were able to fit into the keep to dine, only around 23 or so survived. That's 80 corpses that we ca-

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up! Time out!...only...23?" Lyle asked tentatively, unable to keep the shock and horror out of his voice. He felt his entire body grow light at the number, as if he couldn't quite comprehend what he had just heard. Already his head was doing the grim math of subtracting 23 from 100, and the answer was making his stomach curl far more than he would like.

"...How...how did so many-

Fredericka's face became sympathetic, her voice becoming low and soft. "Nearly half of the peasants were spurred on by those who attacked you, and joined in on the unnecessary bloodshed that occurred afterward. Those that didn't outright attack us or our corpses, flew into a state of panick, either trying to flee unsuccessfully or panicking uselessly. It was chaos master...utter chaos. In short, the only ones that survived were the ones wise enough to cower on the ground and do nothing but hope they didn't join their fellow peasants in the afterlife to their wonderful and merciful Lady of the Lake."

It amazed him how just a couple of peasants getting the better of him out of nowhere could lead to so many deaths in such a short amount of time. It stupefied him how a compilation of small mistakes leading up to that feast could cause such a clusterfuck in a feast that would leave so many dead.

And yet it happened regardless. And it was doing a damn good job at making Lyle feel like an empty void was carving out a place in his chest.

Suddenly Morgiana's words about him and the number of people he's caused the death of were no longer something to scoff at.

He was no innocent soul. He was used to seeing people get hurt and even himself hurting people before he was brought to the fantastical yet twisted world...that didn't mean he enjoyed it or enjoyed being the cause of said suffering however…

Suddenly Fredericka stood up, leaving the map laid out for him, and patting down her robe, before sliding her seat in.

"It is a shame master. I know how much you wanted to help those peasants, even if many within our ranks believe that they don't deserve it...it truly is a shame and a waste that so many died needlessly, but it's as you said. You can't possibly blame yourself for this tragedy. After all, you're an outsider here, and as I've come to learn you had little idea how zealous even the lowliest of peasants could be when it comes to their...precious Lady."

Lyle just stared at Fredericka, wanting to say something, but finding himself short of words. Any of his quips and witty words were turning to ash in his lungs.

Fredericka then smiled. "But, fret not Master Lyle. It's through these lives lost that you'll get better. Now you know better. Now you know what to expect from these peasants who don't know any better...I would know, I used to toil in the soil they live off of, but I'm sure in time...you can show them all the light of life outside the lady...just as Master Kemmler did me."

Before she moved to the door, she reached into her robe and brought out a tome. It was a darkly colored tome with a leathery-looking cover with dark blue hues. It looked well worn, ancient, and thick with the number of pages that were within.

"To achieve this. You need power in this world. The knights of Bretonnia can enforce their rule and their way of life on the peasants because of the power they have...the power that their lady gives them. I don't quite know how it functions in your world master, but here you need the power to match power...and your ability to learn spells and use them so rapidly is something that cannot be replicated as far as I know…" She then placed the book on the table in front of Lyle who eyed it curiously, still not feeling up to saying anything just yet, somewhat content to just listen to whatever else she wanted to say.

"This is Kemmler's personal grimoire...it contains all the information you need to further your skills...might I suggest a more combat-oriented spell that you can use for personal defense? Especially after what happened earlier? Turn to page thirty-six if that's what you desire."

Lyle tentatively reached towards the tome...it felt just as it looked. Well-worn and leathery...it also had a musky-yet dry smell to it. It wasn't a flattering scent in the new necromancer's opinion.

"As mentioned before, I'll be organizing a muster of our new undead forces to begin our next campaign south. You don't have to decide on which target we'll strike immediately, but the sooner the better...while you think about that, I hope that this grimoire will satisfy you in the meantime. I would have given it to you earlier, but as you recall...we had our hands full."

"...I hear ya." Came Lyle's subdued response, staring at the grimoire with an almost listless expression.

The two fell into silence. Lyle continued to stare at this leathery and worn grimoire while Fredericka in turn stared at him. She then leaned forward and seemingly stunned out of his funk slightly when she put one of her rather dirty and filth-covered hands upon his right hand which was resting upon the grimoire.

"You can't change what happened back there Lyle...but you can still change what happens to the rest of these peasants...Understanding of the people here and the power you can literally command at your fingertips can go a long way."

Without giving him a chance to respond, she moved away from him and headed towards the door. "Take the day off master, treat it as a chance to learn. We can afford to wait to gather our forces. I'-

"Fredericka."

The haggard-looking necromancer paused, mildly surprised at how he had called her by her actual name. "Yes, Master Lyle?"

"...Sorry...sorry for not listening to you earlier." He said quietly. His eyes remained glued downwards.

"It's of no consequence Master Lyle. You'll get better." And then she left the room, Leaving Lyle to stare at the grimoire.

…

"I'm impressed by your level of theatrics Fredericka," Schmitz remarked as he walked down one of the long halls of the Castle Artois with Fredericka, an impressed smirk on his pale face. "From his silence, you must have left the boy stupefied."

Fredericka nodded. "It's interesting. Lyle seems to find great humor and derision in Bretish honor, but for some reason, he has some form of honor himself...he seemed...hurt at the idea of the fact that he caused needless deaths...strange since that can only benefit him."

"He is an emotional and idealistic boy...and a foolish one at that." Schmitz derided, but with a smile. "Still. He holds a great deal of trust or high opinion of you Fredericka. He must if he's comfortable showing such...weakness."

"He has his own form of honor. It's an honor that differs greatly from Bretonnians, but its honor all the same...we can use that until we find out what makes him tick."

"Indeed...to use spells like the Invocation of Nehek on such a grand scale and in such a short amount of time with little training. That goes beyond what a prodigy could accomplish, even those pompous elves would balk at seeing his progress!...if we all could have access to such power…"

Fredericka gave a cold smile. "We wouldn't have to stop with the Nagash damned Bretonnians. Those Elves could wind up finding themselves losing more than their pride."

"Or the Empire…" Schmitz' smile began to curl upwards to the point where it reached his eyes. "Or better yet...Sylvania...the look on those wretched Von Carsteins' faces at how far they've been outpaced."

"Indeed...though it does make me wonder." Fredericka pondered out loud. "If Master Kemmler was capable of summoning someone with such power, why didn't he grant such an ability to himself or others?"

"To horde the knowledge to himself perhaps? Sadly it would seem to be one of the many mysteries that died with him."

"Along with how he died...I refuse to believe, even now it was simply from old age, not after he spent so many resources to extend his own life."

"Much like the mystery that 'Master' Lyle has yet to solve regarding who truly fired those arrows at young Wendel?"

The haggard female necromancer's smile dampened a bit at that moment, her eyes growing cold. "Interested in gaining his favor, Schmitz?"

"Hardly. Especially since his ire toward those backward knights is especially useful to us. Wise of you to omit such a fact that you found out later on I must admit...though it is strange that those elves didn't try to hide their attempt at killing him with more discretion. Did they truly believe their enchantments at hiding the origin of the wood on those arrows would work?"

"It's as you said." Fredericka snorted with a smirk as they neared the exit of the hallway, coming into the great hall still covered in blood and gore, being cleaned up with various undead levy zombies, slowly and sloppily washing the mess left behind. "Elves are arrogant...and in a way, so is Lyle. And that arrogance breeds foolishness." Something that tired-looking necromancer was all too willing to take advantage of.

After all, she had been powerless once before, and she swore to herself, the day she left her family and in turn Bretonnia, she would never allow herself to be powerless again.

And while she was comfortable being a number two in the Barrow Legion, that didn't mean that she shouldn't come up with contingency plans to supplant her newest master, should matter become...unfavorable with his leadership.

While she was thinking this, a skeletal hand suddenly walked past the two necromancers entering the great hall after hiding under the table which they had just passed the front of. This skeletal hand which walked on its bony tips paused for a moment and turned itself, as if somehow 'looking' at the necromancers that just passed it, before turning itself around heading back through the way it came, with no living soul noticing it in the slightest.