Responses:

100 Fires: Hey now! We don't wanna spoil things too quickly now do we? ;)

UselessKhan69: Yeah I hear ya. I would sooner take an Empire 2 at this point before I took this game they have now. It just feels so uninspired you know? Especially since we've been spoiled rotten by all the fantasy elements that they've brought in with their most recent titles.

Zerkil: If we're talking about the Tomb Kings Lyle probably wouldn't care for the Tomb Kings especially given how arrogant most of said Tomb Kings tend to be. Considering the nature of how their faction works and how Lyle thumbs his nose at traditions it would be like oil and water especially if he were to run into Settra the Imperishable. The fact that Lyle is also a necromancer also wouldn't improve relations between the two.

But if we're talking vampire counts that's a bit different. Though it depends on which Pirate Lord he runs into.

Laxard: It definitely works passively, but it's most effective when it is used in spurts. Though I can't blame you for thinking it was Heaven Lore given the nature of what Lyle was doing.

RandomSovietFarmer: It's amazing how quickly fortunes can turn for people isn't it? Also thanks for the fav and the follow!

"Well, now. Isn't this quite the reunion?" Sybille cackled as she observed the reactions of the three necromancers before her. She and Lyle's motley crew had reunited with the Barrow legion down the road at the halfway point between Bastonne and Artois. When she had seen them, she was genuinely shocked that the individuals she had spotted weren't tearing at each others' throats.

Regardless, it was amusing seeing their reactions in their war camp upon noticing her existence. It had already made her decision to return worth it.

"If it isn't the sour lemon, the skulking mouse, and the passive bookworm. I'd say this is a lovely get-together, but even I wouldn't play with your emotions to such an extent. I'm not our former master after all!"

The reticent expressions from Fredericka, Schmitz, and Tobias were indeed beyond amusing. Schmitz, especially as he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. It made her wonder just how against this expedition he was to look so grumpy. Knowing him, he was probably one of the loudest to voice their opposition.

Unsurprisingly to Sybille, it was Schmitz who made his grumbling known first. "I thought you swore never to return, woman."

Sybille shrugged. "I swore to never return so long as Kemmler drew breath. Now that he's no longer among the living, I believe I've fulfilled my end of the agreement."

"That hardly means your welcome." He protested weakly.

She grinned, flashing her teeth. "Our new Lych Master would disagree."

Tobias glared at her now. "And I suppose we have to thank you for the idea that we can somehow succeed where many have failed? At conquering Bastonne?"

"Oh? The page-jerker is feeling bold?" When Tobias flapped his mouth as if to say something from the crass nickname, Sybille cackled and waved him off. "Come now, Tobias, you make it sound as though the boy dragged you lot here, kicking and screaming…speaking of which I must ask. What did he say to convince you lot?"

"Don't play dumb, you aged sow!" Schmitz spat. "You know full well he used magic of…some sort! Some mind-altering magic that convinced these sorry lot, including myself, that this is a good idea!"

"Perhaps it is a good idea?" Sybille asked sarcastically.

The bald necromancer narrowed his eyes. "You know something."

"I suspect something, but I need more time to discern what."

"That being what?"

"Have you gone deaf in one ear, you old brown-noser? I believe I said I need time."

Schmitz sighed explosively, gritting his teeth and looking to the sky, wondering if Naggash was punishing him. Tobias huffed but said little else, not wanting to draw any more of the older necromancer's ire or sharp retorts.

Seeing that they had been temporarily cowed, Sybille then turned to Fredericka, who was looking at her with a pensive brow. "Well? Have you anything to say, Mouse?"

"M-me?"

"Are there any other mice amongst us?"

The girl's face went from gob-smacked to heated very quickly. "If it were not for me, you may not even be alive right now. I heard about the role Lyle had in your escape."

"And you claim credit for this?" Sybille smirked. "Oh, very well, I'll let you have that much. Much like how I'll allow you to claim credit for stunting his growth, girl."

"W-we were short on time-we had to act before our enemies destroyed us!"

Sybille crooked an eyebrow, but her smile didn't drop. "Oh, don't worry, your young little head. I'm not here to press any issues with you. Or any of you, for that matter…that can wait. After all, it's like you just said…oh what is it that Lyle is calling you…Freddy? We must act before our enemies destroy us."

Tobias closed his eyes, trying to keep his temper cool as he always did. "If you wanted us to survive against the beast slayer…why did you not caution him to hunker down our forces in Blackstone Post? It's never fallen in a siege."

"Because our new Lychemaster isn't Kemmler. He's not one to skulk away in his studies whenever things don't go his way. I know that, and I've barely talked to him for a week."

She meant it, too. Lyle was far more hot-blooded and full-forced aggressive than Kemmler. Oh sure, the old and deceased white beard was hardly scared of raiding crypts, chapels, or locations that held powerful artifacts, but less so when it came to conducting full-forced invasions. He was aggressive yet cautious, making sure he had strength to spare. Brilliant for ensuring that you would never be wholly decimated, but fruitless if you were trying to conquer a nation.

In a way, it was a good and bad thing that Lyle was opposite in that matter. They could succeed this day, but she wasn't so crass as to be misunderstanding the other necromancers' concerns of being obliterated.

"Regardless, as I've said. I'm not here to pull open new wounds. That can wait. For now, we have a battle to plan, and our vaunted Lychemaster would love all of our expertise."

Schmitz looked ready to gripe before swallowing it down. "Very well. I suppose we should see if we can salvage anything from this venture." The other two necromancers looked at how quickly Schmitz was to acquiesce, but they didn't know him as Sybille did. Schmitz may clearly not be Lyle's most ardent supporter, but he was a Warhawk all the way. And since they now had no choice but to give battle, he would do so with all his energy and dhar.

With the most vocal opponent bending the knee, so to speak, Tobias and Fredericka knew they had no choice but to follow suit. But Sybille wasn't fooled. The rest of the necromancers, though apprehensive, still showed a level of confidence that one usually shouldn't show so fresh from a defeat. There was little doubt that the magic Lyle had used earlier had buoyed their spirits in a fashion, lifting their morale to the point where they were willing to give the young man one last go at a last-ditch battle. They'd tasted success and risked eating defeat to taste it again. The three' leading voices' of the Barrow Legion were no different. They were just more cautious and cagey, which allowed them to have a voice within their organization. That and their power was more respectable compared to the rank-and-file necromancer.

They didn't take long to see the circular table Lyle had set up not far from them. It was a haphazard thing with a circular platform on a series of barrels and boxes, with several metal figurines on top. The young Lychemaster's gaze focused as he arranged the figures with precision. None of it was fancy. Some were tankards, some were small metal rings, most likely from ringmail, while other miscellaneous items filled out the rest of the table.

"I've herded the rabble, Master." Sybille snarked, feeling the glares from the back of her head and not caring a whit. "Shall we commence?"

Seeing that she had indeed lived up to her promise, he nodded. "Yeah, I'm just about set up over anyways." He then looked to Schmitz, Fredericka, and Tobias, who couldn't help but stare at what he'd created. "Well, don't just stand their cocks in hand, gather around this thing! I went through the trouble of setting it up!"

They rapidly did as he bid, if only to sate their curiosity, even if they did feel slightly accosted at his crude words. It all now felt so familiar to them, however, with Lyle's way of speaking.

Lyle then inhaled and exhaled, looking at what could be considered his 'inner circle' within the Barrow Legion. He then turned to Fredericka "So! Freddy…What are the full capabilities of a Grail Knight? Spare no details this time."

Realizing what Lyle was inferring, Fredericka audibly gulped and recalled almost everything she had ever seen or been taught directly about the champions of The Lady. "As you know, Master Lyle Grail Knights are the carefully handpicked champions of The Lady. They've drunk from her holy grail and are imbued with some of the strongest magical power that even made the late Master Kemmler jealous. They can fight at a level that mortal men can only dream of. Have the strength of several men over. Can fight for durations without so much as breaking a sweat. What makes it even more frustrating is that they do not die…easily. It's much harder to wound them than a normal man, and their healing abilities can help them shrug off even the surest of mortal blows if given the chance."

Lyle suppressed a wince, realizing just how outclassed he was in terms of preparation for when he ran into Bohemond. But, it only made him realize how much he HADN'T been told before he went off facing the duke. That was for another time, however. "How many grail knights are there?"

"That…is a bit hard to deduce. One can't keep track of a Grail knight like how we could keep track of how many skeletons are in our army in relation, to how many zombies we have. They rarely stay in one place for one thing, and when they do, they're hard to miss."

"Okay look, just give me an educated guess then, how many does Bohemond have?"

"...perhaps a few dozen. Maybe less? As I said, it's hard to say for sure."

"Okay. If we were going against a few hundred, we'd have a problem, but a few dozen is manageable."

"If we were going against hundreds." Schmitz interrupted. "Then our undead army would be better used to slow them down while we flee for our lives back to Sylvania."

"Not to Blackstone Post?"

Schmitz trembled. "It would be too close to Bretonnia for comfort."

If Schmitz was that frightened by that many grail knights, it told Lyle everything he needed to know. "But, they can die, correct? Do you need anything magical to kill them, or will they die just like anyone else if you push the issue?"

"Anything can kill them." Tobias began articulately, pushing up his glasses. "Whether it be piercing the brain or the heart or any other vital areas, a grail knight can be felled. It's just much more difficult given how sturdy their bodies are."

Lyle then pulled out a round metal ball, placed it on the table, and watched it roll for a bit. "So a bullet to the brain could do the job then?"

Tobias blinked owlishly before nodding slowly. "Why yes. It would work quite well, I imagine. The bullet would HAVE to hit a vital area, though. If not, it would wound them greatly but only slow them down in the heat of battle…most likely. I'm not sure. I've never seen a Grail knight get shot."

"First time for everything." Schmitz admitted. "Still…to resort to guns. It almost feels like we're copying our lesser copycats in the sea."

"I don't care if we're copying goblins, we're doin' what we need to, to win." Lyle growled out, catching the table off guard by how aggressive he was. "I don't wanna hear any bitchin' or moanin' about usin' guns. I'm here to win, which is why we're even havin' this conversation to begin with. Capiche?" When Schmitz nodded wearily, if not a little grumpily Lyle nodded back. "Good. Now, if there's anything I've learned about fighting Bretonnians, it's two things. One: their infantry are the shits compared to ours. But, Two: Their cavalry is their bread and butter, especially if they got grail knights to boot. If we wanna win? The cavalry's gotta go."

"That much is obvious." Schmitz replied. "It's dealing with them that's the issue. Unless you can isolate the cavalry or destroy them from afar, they'll be what destroys our army in their entirety…and if you truly intend to fight this battle where we once fought last time, I don't believe that Duke Bohemond will allow us to escape a second time. The only reason why our army wasn't destroyed is because his knights were distracted trying to catch you."

"Huh…no kidding." Lyle then smiled as if thinking of something before it turned it a grin. "That gives me an idea."

Fredericka was curious…and worried. "How so?"

"I'll…get to it later. First, lemme ask you this. What do you think Bohemond is gonna do? He's gonna attack us first when he sees us right?"

"You have his nephew." Sybille grouched, albeit with a smirk. "He doesn't strike me as one to sit idly by when he has you in his sights."

"And when he attacks, do you think he'll charge first?"

"He might. But, his lords might advise against it." Sybille shrugged. "His knights and lords would be all too willing to allow his peasant archers to skirmish with our forces first. Wear out our infantry before closing the distance." She stared pointedly at his bullet. "Something that won't last for very long when they meet your new guns."

Lyle stared at the bullet too. And Sybille was right. They could perforate the peasants who were unfortunate to get archer duty that day, and it wouldn't be much of a fair fight. The skeletons would stand up better against arrows, but the same couldn't be said against malnourished, poorly trained peasants with questionable morale if things didn't go their way, especially since it would be bullets the peasants would be getting struck by, not arrows.

They would get slaughtered, and it made Lyle silent for a moment.

"You're not wrong." Lyle shrugged. "So what do you think the knights will do if we take the archers out of the equation? Charge at us from the front or try and flank us while their infantry get stuck in?"

"If they're smart, they'll lead with their infantry first." Schmitz replied, moving some figurines after figuring out it was set up for the battle, moving the ringmail forward to their side of the table to represent the Bretonnian infantry. "Their infantry won't last long, but they'll last long enough to try and get a flank on us."

"Which means we need to ensure the infantry don't get that close." Sybille smirked. "We could use your canons and guns for that. The peasants would flee in terror."

Fredericka nodded. "And once the peasants are slaughtered, we can deal with the knights if they haven't already closed the distance… it's not a perfect plan, but our gunpowder weapons make it possible."

"Victory via process of elimination." Tobias agreed, a rare smile gracing his lips. "It could work. If we make sure our infantry hold firm with our restoration spells, we could outlast them."

"Or." Lyle began loudly, interrupting them. "We just straight up get rid of the cavalry from the get-go."

Everyone looked curiously at the Earth native as he rearranged the pieces on the board, pointing directly at two mini carts. "These are our great canons. And I'm gonna be firing this thing at them and their grail knights all battle long, for however long it takes."

"That's…not a terrible strategy." Tobias admitted. "but wouldn't that force them to come to us?"

"Bingo."

"Master Lyle." Sybille said with a grunt. "I know you have an ax to grind with the Beastslayer, but it's as the others are saying. He'll have the most competent nobles and knights advising him not to bite on your bait. He's a seasoned warrior, and he won't fall for your canons that easily. Even still, if you really did force his hand, his nobles might send the infantry force before they charged. He's not as daft as a goblin on shrooms for-

The protests died when Lyle slammed a grail onto the table. It was no ordinary grail but a clear holy relic that either came from a place of worship in a Brettish castle or a grail chapel. The Lady's icon that was decorated on both sides of the chalice made it more obvious. The grail was also decorated with a physical visage of The Lady carved onto it.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about him not sending in his precious knights first." Lyle smirked. "You guys leave that to me."

Fredricka stared at him wearily, more than used to his antics at this point. "Master Lyle…what are you planning."

She became even more worried when he grinned. "Oh, you'll see."

…

As Gerome and the rest of the Bastonnian forces neared the soon-to-be battlefield, he couldn't help but feel more anxious than he ever had been in his entire life. Usually, before a fight, he felt a calm over him, even when the odds were hopelessly against him, he didn't feel this antsy.

Now, however, it was different. There were other stakes that only he knew about and that only he would care to act upon. Should they attain victory here, they could very well save his family after obliterating the host of the Barrow Legion. He could see his wife and daughter's face again and rest easy in his town.

…but Gerome knew that if they DID win, then the fate of those from Riffen would weigh on his mind like an anchor. He could not look at his family's face without seeing those whom he had condemned. How he had forsaken his vow as a knight to be with his family again. Every time he saw the grail icon, he would be reminded how he had strayed and how the Lady knew.

…did she know? Surely, the damsel Yasmine would know if she were close to the Lady. Yet Damsels didn't know everything…the unknown of it all only made the muscles in the landless lord tighter as he tried to stamp down on such thoughts, only for them to return with a brutal vengeance.

"-ord Gerome."

"Y-yes?" Gerome stammered, looking at the damsel in question who had ridden alongside the army, all too eager to assist with victory that day. By the Lady, he didn't even realize she had her unicorn trot beside him. "You look and feel as though a Bastonnian bat has crawled where it shouldn't…are you that concerned for victory?"

The landless lord was all too eager to latch onto that half-truth. "Y-yes. I've been on the losing side against Lyle Spoletta, and I'm not eager for it to be a third."

To his relief, she seemed to buy that with a nod. "Understandable…the boy truly is…an anomaly even for a necromancer. Even his magic was odd for one."

"...I don't follow?"

"When I had my thorn collar around him, I was able to suppress and sense his magic. There was dhar in it, as all necromancers have, but at the same time, there was…something else. It followed a wind that I wasn't entirely familiar with, and to be quite honest, it seemed…otherworldy. Much like him."

"Well…" Gerome began trying to follow up on that. "The boy is anything besides ordinary."

Yasmine laughed boisterously, her laugh almost from out of this world with melody, while shaking her head. "Like calling the orcs brutes. Still, you're not wrong. He's a paradox within himself. A necromancer that commands the dead yet goes out of his way to lie to protect the weak…though perhaps it's not so strange."

"How do you mean?"

"The land of The Lady has had many different knights. Many good…with enough that did not live up to expectations, inflicting great evil and strife on the land…Merovech comes to mind."

Gerome sighed in agreement. "Arguably the worst example of what a knight could become."

"Indeed. It's knights like him that can make a mockery of everything the Lady tries to instill in his followers. To act as though one is following her vows, teachings, and creed only to hide treachery and villainy within her land can oftentimes be a more surefire killer than outward brutality."

Gerome made sure to martial his reaction. That was far too close to home for his liking. Clearly (and hopefully) ignorant of his inner turmoil, the damsel continued unabated.

"In a way, it's almost a shame that Lyle is not a knight of the Lady. Oh yes, he's crass, and he's beyond ignorant, but his attitude and disposition to defend the weak are admirable if nothing else. Perhaps if he'd been born in different circumstances." She smiled as she sighed, thinking wistfully before chuckling. "Can you imagine that man? Dressed up in armor and fighting for her Ladyship. He'd be a force."

"Or the bane of our existence." Gerome protested weakly.

"True. Nobody is perfect."

"He's the picture-perfect definition of imperfection. Clearly, even you think so, given how much his face was introduced to your foot."

"He CAN be a bit mouthy." Yasmine chuckled. "That and my heel needed to remind him of that when he was under my care."

Gerome grumbled, albeit good-naturedly. "The problem is his mouth never knows when to stop."

"Mm. Perhaps. A shame that it must end like this. Perhaps a few more swift kicks to the head from me could have given him some sense." Her expression then became serious as she looked ahead. "After all. It seems he has no intention of wasting time, like the Duke of Bastonne."

Gerome whipped his head forward and widened his eyes, seeing far ahead was an army of undead skeletons, zombies, and other undead horrors. They were hard to see from up close, but there was no mistaking the smell of the dead and the blue eyes that peered from their sockets that could be seen even from this distance.

But what was curious was that they were just in front of the bridge that had been the location of the last battle. Gerome hadn't been there for it, but he'd heard enough boasts and stories to know that it was Duke Bastonne who had parked his army in front of the battle, ensuring that his men would not retreat and only go forward.

Realizing how close they were to battle, Gerome trotted his horse towards the head of the army, with Yasmine having similar thoughts and moving her horned steed not behind him. Though his input would be limited at best and ignored at worst, the landless lord felt driven to, at the very least, know what they would do.

Since news had reached the Duke of Bastonne of the prisoner escape and the kidnapping of his son, the man had been nothing short of dour. The longer this march went, and the man's mood had hardly improved.

There, he was flanked by Bastien and a few other senior knights of Artois as they observed the enemy force before them. One knight whom Bastien had remembered as Ser Franco snorted. "It seems he's imitating your previous strategy, my lord. He has the formation but none of it's spirit." The man harrumphed pompously at the sight. "And none of our vaunted cavalry either, for that matter."

Another knightly lord who seemed much older, named Louis with a bushy mustache, glared. "Perhaps. But, in a way, this prevents our cavalry from slamming into him from behind."

"Which forces us to meet him up upfront or on his flanks." Bohemond said, stared. "But, this still leaves him with no escape. One way or another, I will find my son." The reigns on his steed tightened noticeably. "And should he be found dead… Spoletta's death will prove to be a long one."

Nobody doubted for a moment just how much of a promise those words were. When his eyes began to faintly glow, there was a noticeable distancing that people put between themselves and the duke. The duke then turned to Gerome. "Gerome. You will oversee the infantry."

Gerome suppressed a wince. An under-the-seems punishment if there ever was one. To be put in charge of the unwashed masses was something rarely any lord looked forward to. Though truth be told, Gerome didn't mind the more he thought about it. He definitely didn't want to be anywhere near Bastien, considering the hand he had in what he'd been forced to do, and the less prominent figures he was around in the army, the less of a chance there was in embarrassing himself or saying something he shouldn't.

So it was with a nod that the landless turned his horse, gaining only a sympathetic look from Damsel Yasmine.

As he trotted away from the vaunted knights of the realm and the dozen or so grail knights that flanked their duke, Gerome eventually made his way to the peasants, looking toward the lead warden peasants who were in charge of bringing some form of discipline or order to this rabble.

Frustrated at how hard that was proving to be, Gerome shook his head and sucked in air.

"Wardens! Present yourselves now! I will be overseeing you lot!" His voice was like a whip as he settled into something comfortable back before Lyle made a mess of his life…and he himself added fuel to the fire. Eventually, two peasants who were in noticeably better quality uniforms than their counterparts. They both took off their kettle helms and kneeled before him as they should. Gerome was about to speak when he stopped himself, recognition flashing in his eyes.

It was a bald peasant and physically misshapen, ugly peasant. Gerome narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "You two…since when were you two given the post of wardens among these levies?...and raise your heads! I wish to see the faces of those in charge of this rabble!"

The bald one did so first. "W-we were rewarded it, m'lord! For service to lord Bastien and, in turn, service to Duke Bohemond for routing out the treachery of Lyle Spoletta!"

Gerome's eyes went wide significantly when the ugly peasant also raised his face. Now, it all connected together. These were the peasants that had sold out Lyle Spoletta. The same peasants who had sold out their fellow peasants. Oh, and he was sure it wasn't out of service to The Lady or their liege lords. No. He could see the greed in their eyes and how they reveled in their new posts. It was a look that he saw in lord Bastien and Steward Richaud.

He resisted the urge to spit. It seemed that the longer he spent in Duke Bohemond's court, the more he saw the treachery and rot from within it. A rot that he himself was now a part of…for now.

He scowled at the peasants, wanting nothing more than to lop their heads off, even if it did lead to lead to outing treachery…but he knew he couldn't. They had the duke's favor, and that was something he couldn't risk losing if he were to save his family. "Peasants…I see that you have indeed been rewarded heavily for your…service."

The ugly one nodded dumbly. "He did, he did, that he did! Gave us new shiny posts n' everything!" he then licked his lips disgustingly as if he were a repugnant frog. "Even gave us a bitch for the night. Screamed a lot she did, but we had our fun!" He giggled lustily, which only lowered the landless lord's opinion of the two as the claims sunk in.

"He…gave you a lady?" He said slowly.

The bald one clearly had more sense as he elbowed his partner in crime. "A-a traitor, who was in need of punishing. Nothing more. Th-think of it as a duty that our lord tasked us with!"

"...Bastien or Bohemond?"

"W-well, it was Bastien who said that Bohemond would approve, so we acted on it as any good peasant would."

I've made my bed with a monster. A monster who allows the selling of his people in bondage and the rape of ladies, even if they are peasants or traitors. It flew in the face of everything he had been taught by creed of The Lady. To protect the maidenhood and purity of all women to ensure that they remained utterly clean and pure. It was why even Damsel Yasmine rode her unicorn with both her legs on one side of her unicorn, as it was proper…yet here he was, ready to allow these two beasts in soldiers' clothing to get away with such barbarity. He snarled as he turned his horse away. "That'll be all peasants. See to it that my orders are maintained and followed to the letter, or your new promotion will be a short one."

The two peasants nodded eagerly, with the ugly one taking out a truncheon and bashing one peasant who had been too far out of formation for his liking, making Gerome even more repulsed at these creatures having any form of authority.

Should they fall in battle, I'll pray to the Lady in thanks for her sense of justice…should it ever fall on this den of villainy in Knights' armor.

…

Bohemond continued to glare at the undead army, observing critically as they marched in a typical undead formation. Zombies to the front, unarmed skeletons behind them, and more heavily armored skeletons behind THAT line. Something he had seen time and time again. It didn't save them then, and it wouldn't save them now.

Lord Franco turned to him, radiating confidence. "Shall I order a charge and mow these sorry louts back to their resting place?"

"If you wish to waste our charge." the seasoned lord Louis grumbled. "Best to have the archers go forward first. Probe their defenses."

"It would be unseemly to allow the peasants to draw first blood."

"Unchivalrous, perhaps. But, it has the most sense."

"We face a boy who clearly seeks to taste defeat again. What is there to fear?"

"A boy who has learned from his mistakes." Louis replied wearily. "He won three battles before that defeat for a reason."

"He never faced knights of Bastonne before!" Franco replied confidently.

"And he lived to tell the tale… that's enough reason for pause…send the peasants out first, let them see what he's learned."

Bastien nodded along with Louis. "On one hand, I agree with Franco that letting peasants get the first moments of glory is unchivalrous…but on the other, we are simply allowing them to pay us back for our protection of them." He grinned knowingly. "Let us strike the boy on his flanks, my lord. He'll fold faster than beastmen when meeting discipline on a battlefield."

Bohemond inhaled and exhaled, trying to martial the righteous rage within him. He wanted nothing more than to charge out and draw first blood, and oh, how he sincerely hoped that Lyle himself would be the first to meet his blessed dragon tooth. But Bastien and Louis both spoke sense. His vengeance could wait. His desire to see justice brought upon his son's kidnapper could be delayed for the moment. For now, they could wait to see the battle finished with order. With-

His thoughts came to a grinding halt when a lone rider in a billowing black cloak road on a skeletal steed in front of the undead army. Even from here, Bohmond could see that it was none other than Lyle Spoletta. The cocky grin on his face was unmistakable as he looked directly at his army.

"The gall of this foreign boy." Franco spat. "Has he come to parlay?"

Louis narrowed his gaze. "I see no white flag. Perhaps he means to goad us?"

"If he has no white flag, then we have no incentive to meet him." Bastien sniped. "Now that I think about it, now would be an excellent time to charge. Let his hubris be his undoing."

Louis glared. "Do not be swayed so easily, lord Bastien. As I said, this could be a ploy."

Though he was severely tempted. Oh how tempted he was now that his quarry was in front of him, Bohemond had to agree. Louis once again spoke sense. "Let the boy strut in front of his

army like a peacock. Yes…we shall send out the archers an…is that a grail?"

The lords narrowed their eyes as Lyle indeed held up a holy grail as if making sure that everyone could see. They then became confused as Lyle placed the grail on the ground, ensuring it stood upright.

Bastien looked pensive. "What is he plotting? Did he get that grail from a chapel?"

"Of course he did!" Franco growled. "Where else could his heretical hands have gotten it?"

Before anyone could say anything else, Lyle then put his hands on his pants…and unzipped his fly.

Disbelief reigned over the lords, knights, and grail knights who saw what they couldn't believe, yet what was right before them.

"HE WOULDN'T FUCKING DARE!"

Lyle did more than dare. He acted as yellow liquid started entering the grail. All the while, the earth native had a dopey grin on his face, flashing his teeth with a winning smile.

It was too much. Far too much for Duke Bohemond, especially in that moment. Far too much for the many knights who were worth their oaths, whether they be knightly or of the grail variety. Even those with years of experience in their field were filled with outrage at the sight before them.

In response, there was only one recourse. Bohemond hefted the Beast Mace of Bastonne, forged from the thigh bone of a dragon, and glared passionately as his eyes glowed a furious gold.

Though he, too was outraged, Louis desperately tried to talk sense into his liege lord. "My duke! This is all part of Lyle Spoletta's plan! He's trying to-

"Even if he is, he has dug his own grave!" The Beastslayer bellowed as he turned to face his knights and vassals. "NAY! I won't allow him the pleasure of being buried! He spits…he pisses…!" Bohemond was so furious at that moment, that words were coming to him slowly. He stared a hole right into Lyle, who was still grinning openly as the last few yellow droplets entered the grail before him. His face was so cartoonishly dumb and dopey at that moment that, in the Duke's opinion, he resembled more of a cave troll in that moment.

No. This would not stand. This could not stand. Never before had he seen such blatant disrespect to their goddess on such a low level. Never before did he think he would witness it firsthand.

He could never allow it to stand. And he could feel the outrage run through his knights to know that they felt the same! "Knights of Brettonia! Ready for a charge!"

Knights of all backgrounds put on their helmets and, in some cases, slammed down their visors, filled with righteous fury. They tightened their reigns and lances, even those who were weary of a trap couldn't find it in themselves to protest. The wave of outrage was sweeping through the army like a tide. And so, too, would the undead be swept up by it. This time, for sure. Though Louis sighed and looked grim, he didn't raise any protests himself, for he knew at this point it would be a wasted effort.

"CHARGE! FOR MY SON! FOR BASTONNE! FOR THE LADY!" It was short and succinct because, for the knights, it was all they needed. The time the knights had to prepare for the charge was quick and, in some ways, hasty, but nobody cared at that moment. Nobody wanted even to bother to think about such a thing. Had Bohemond been sound of mind, then he would have at least taken the time to at least make his knights charge in the diamond formation. But, the fury he felt at Lyle's escape, to the horror of his son being taken under his nose to this, had all finally come to ahead. And now the knights of Bastonne charged en masse toward the undead forces that were just ahead.

Of course, Lyle, being the coward that he was in the Duke's eyes, was quick to zip up his pants and scramble back on his steed. Let him run like he seemed to be adept at. He backed himself up into a proverbial and literal corner. With his forces now having their back against the cliff they had fought at earlier, there was nowhere to flee.

The thundering sound of hooves beat louder as his steed started getting overtaken by other knights, driving their horses forward with a zealousness that he approved of. Errant knights, questing knights, knights of the realm, and even a few grail knights were in his vision as they surged forward, dipping their lances as the enemy drew closer.

Then, two loud booming sounds erupted across from them.

Suddenly, a sharp whistling sound sped by the duke, who felt his spine jolt at the sensation of it all. He looked to his right and saw that a grail knight that had just been to the right of him was no longer there and that his steed had collapsed in a heap, causing several other horses to fall down with it due to the ensuing traffic jam. A whistling sound went by his left, and the grail knight turned his head in time to see one of his knights get yanked off his saddle, smashing into a few other knights that were unfortunate enough to get in his way.

A few knights began to peel away, not because of a lack of courage but because their horses were not used to such sound and to such a sight, even if they were bread for war. Bohemond couldn't blame them because as soon as he wracked his brain, he realized what they were.

Canons. Great canons, as a matter of fact, used by none other than dwarves that he had skirmished against in the past. Confusion and shock reigned in his mind as conclusions began jumping to the duke's mind. Had the dwarves of Karak Ziflin decided to work with the necromancer? Or what was even worse, in his opinion…had Lyle decimated the dwarves there, and he had figured out how to use those canons.

Necromancers never, in his experience, used artillery that the dwarves and the Empire were famous for…but Lyle wasn't a normal necromancer.

Regardless, he knew they couldn't stop now. He may have artillery, but that didn't guarantee him victory. "Spread out! Spread out and continue the charge!" His men did their best to follow his order, but it was trying in their disorganized gallop. If they had been in diamond formation before, it would have been easier, but as they were now? It was highly trying at best.

But Bohemond wasn't deterred. They'd faced worse obstacles at a distance, and he was sure those cannons would only be able to fire two more times before his knights closed the space, and that wouldn't be nearly enough to stop them!

Another set of canon fire went off. One of the shots thankfully sailed wide overhead, missing all of his knights by a large margin, sparing his brethren. The shot that came after that however, was much more devastating, taking out nearly a dozen knights after yet another sharp whistling sound sped by his ear. Bohemond grit his teeth hard as he realized another grail knight was hit in the chaos. Even if they weren't killed, they would be out of the fight for a good while if not indefinitely, due to the speed the cavalry was going.

He's trying to whittle down the number of knights. Lord Louis was right. But this won't be nearly enough to stop us. If he had more than two canons, perhaps, but this will not halt the inevitable! The Lady will have her justice on this day!

The Undead army was getting closer now. So close that Bhomond could feel the excitement in his belly as he tightened his grip on his massive weapon. So close that he could see the zombies aiming their handguns at them.

Bohmond blinked as realization washed over him like a cold sweat. Handguns? Zombies?

Before the duke could cry out what he saw, a large, unified, and deafening cough belched out before them, followed by black smoke obscuring the immediate enemy before them. The men around and behind Bohemond cried out, some in shock while others in pain. The cries of the horses around them even joined in such cries, halting their charge or outright collapsing in a bodily heap, taking other riders down with them.

The Beastslayer of Bastonne only grit his teeth harder as he felt a stinging acute pain in his left arm and chest, but he did not halt, and neither did his warhorse.

Bohemond did not stop to see how many of his men had fallen from that salvo that had just been unleashed. He did not wait to see if there were any who were fleeing to avoid sharing such a fate. He knew now that if they stopped now, the initiative and the battle would truly be lost. They could not regroup and try again later, for their numbers would be fewer, and their nerve would be lessened. It was now or never, and they had to charge into those gunners now to silence them forever!

If only he'd known beforehand! He would have treated this battle like his skirmishes with the dwarves! He'd underestimated how crafty Lyle could be and how unorthodox he was to other necromancers, and his countrymen were paying the ultimate price.

He kicked his horses' sides more, urging further speed. They were so close now. So close he could see the whites of some of the necromancers who were moving the strings of their undead puppets.

The duke, as he got closer, gave a sigh of relief as he felt warmth settle over his body, realizing that Damsel Yasmine had used her nature magic to heal him and, most definitely other knights. Hopefully, she could use some of that magic further to save the lives of his men, most in danger from his folly.

The cannons fired once more, tearing further into his ranks. It was too late for them to do further damage beyond that, though! In fact, he was sure they'd reach the hand gunner zombies now before they got another volley off!

It was then that Duke Bohemond realized that Lyle Spoletta knew that, too, raising his magic staff while glaring. Other necromancers followed his example, and Bohemond curses as he sees more undead bursting out from underneath the earth.

"I WILL NOT BE DENIED BY THIS UNHOLY RAMSHACKLE!" He swung his Beast Mace with the strength only a grail knight could muster and swat away the newly raised undead like flies against a swatter while his warhorse surged past them unimpeded. He knew other knights would not fair so easily, but it mattered not. So long as HE hit their frontlines, it would be enough in his mind. It would be enough to, at the very least, disrupt the incoming gunfire.

The ground, however, exploded before the grail knight a little bit ahead, and he knew when he saw what came out of the dirt, his plan would be too late to act upon.

Standing there holding a blue battleax was none other than a familiar opponent. An opponent he couldn't afford to waste time on.

Krell.

The battle for Bastonne had begun.

…

A/N: That's right you M'effers! I got this chapter finished in record time! It's amazing how much you can get done when your grinding away at your local coffee shop!

So now we have finally reached the turning point in the Bastonne arc. To be honest I feel relieved that I've finally gotten to this point, because now the hefty content starts to really come in. It feels like getting to this epic battle was a journey in and of itself and I feel a lightness on finally getting to it. To be honest writing battles is easy and fluid to me. It's everything between that takes careful time and consideration.

Anyways thanks for viewing and reviewing and please continue to leave your reviews! It's the extra caffeine I get to the caffeine I already consume on a daily basis.

Also on a side note has anyone noticed how challenging it's becoming to just get on this website with the site connection stop gaps? Also is there anyone that's not getting any traffic for their stories, because I haven't seen any views come into my most recent chapters, even though I know for a fact you guys have seen them thanks to your reviews and follows/favorites.

Lot of problems on this site recently.