A/N:

Zerkil: Yeah. Saw the Book now. And you were right. Not impressed. At that point it's like I said before, it may as well not even be Bretonnia with how many glaring changes from lore it made. At that point, their just using the Warhammer IP to break the lore while telling a story that doesn't at all fit the setting. It's something that we see a lot from these new writers coming in and mucking up other IPs. It makes me question how we got to this point, but alas, here we are. It's just hard to treat this like a Bretonnia-based story when they can't even follow their own damn rules about the Lady, Chivalry, and how stringent the country is on Hierarchy and Patriarchy.

That's why I enjoy inserting my OC into the story. Because his views are such a sharp contrast to Bretonnia itself which is why so many within Bretonnia are repulsed by the change he brings. In this book, the change is just…there…it's not really satisfying or interesting while being more irritating with these changes.

Dadg12346: Hey, no problem, man, thanks! Feel free to tell me more about what you think about the story!

: Ahhh, a fellow old-world geographic enjoyer, I see! And yes, Freddy did stop by Stirland for a bit before being found by Kemmler. The gods only know what other dietary horrors that poor girl experienced there.

Annoying POW marine: Dammit, I gotta look out for those. Don't know why I'm leaning towards the name Michael so much lately. Other than that, yes, you can bet Repanse is gonna be a pain in Lyle's side, and not just because of her overabundance of questing knights. Repanse is as fervent as they come, and if she truly sees Lyle as a threat to the Lady, she'll do anything she can to obliterate him. And as we have seen so far and in this coming chapter Lyle doesn't care much for the Lady.

As far as undead intelligence goes, Lyle's strange form of magic is something you'll learn more about, but I will say this much. It specifically effects the souls of those he interracts with which is why Soren and Ave could gain a higher level of cognitive function. You'll see just how much in the future.

Image: On one hand, you're right that Repanse would empathize with how Lyle treats her fellow peasants. But, the real sticking point would be their disagreement on the worship of the Lady.

Godofear: Damn, has it really been 2 years? Lol, I'm feeling old. I feel honored to talk with someone whose stuck with my tale for this long and I apologize for the chapter length. Part of me wants to make them longer, but I fear that if I do, it'll take longer for me to ship them out, so I hope you understand.

Nagash44: You're dead right on Repanse being still hostile to Lyle, even due to his lowborn sympathies. As far as Arkhan the Black it's funny you mention him because I'll definitely include him later on if given the chance. Arkhan, however would only look positively towards Lyle if he could use the new Lichemaster to further his own gains, just like with Kemmler. And given Lyle's morals he could see Jersey native as an obstacle unless he felt Lyle could be manipulated.

Guest: Heh, it seems like you and Nagash44 had similar thoughts. Two great minds think alike in our circles.

…

"Please, M'lo-erh, your um…Your grace-

"Mr. Spoletta will do."

The soup-bowl haircut man gulped, sniveling through his nose as his wife and sons huddled not far behind him. "You must understand that…that if I refused the olive branch by Lord Bastien, he would have done everything in his power to ruin me and my family. S-surely, even you realize the influence and reach that he and his ilk had to have contacts as far west as the western coast. P-please, I beg you to understand my position."

"Oh, you don't have to beg, my man. I can see things perfectly fine from where I'm standing, and I don't have to get on my hands and knees to get a clue." Lyle needled as he sat cross-legged on a throne in front of a dwindling line of nobles, looking nervously ahead of them, wringing their hands together as if they'd committed top-tier felonies.

And by decree of the new ruler of Bretonnian Lands from Artois to Bastonne, they may as well have. And Lord Astor was quick to catch on, much to the pale-faced man's chagrin. "I…y-you see My lo-Err…Monsieur Spoletta, if I didn't lend my peasants to this unfortunate trade business-

"Slave trade." Lyle interrupted. "Don't dance around it now; it's out in the open, my man."

Astor's eyes flickered back to his family, who stared at the ground, not daring to look at him, whether out of fear or shame, no one could tell, but it made the older Lord wince all the same. "...if…if I didn't go along with this deal, Lord Bastien would have released sensitive and compromising information about my father. It would have besmirched my family name's honor and-

"And so you felt that selling a few hundred peasants and lining your pockets was a sacrifice you were willing to make. And in the process, you made a helluva killin' off it in the sum total of…what was it?"

Degare didn't even bother to double-check his ledger; his face was as flat as ever. "Sixty pieces of gold."

"And that's what people were worth to you, huh? Sixty pieces? Well, I hope it was damn well worth it? You buy your kids some fine-ass toys with that kind of money? Maybe your wife a new dress?"

Lyle's voice reverberated within the great hall of Castle Bastonne with enough sarcasm to fill a basin but with authority akin to the former Lord who once ruled it. At this point, Lord Astor opted to say nothing, realizing it would do him no good, especially as he nervously eyed all of the skeleton guards that were lined up beside the other nobles waiting their 'turns' and the heavily armored 'grave guard' that were standing like sentinels by Lyle as he sat in Bohemond's throne.

Realizing that the man wouldn't say anything else, Lyle rolled his eyes. "Here's what's going to happen, my man. You made sixty gold pieces off those peasants, and you're going to pay triple. If you fail to pay that money, you can kiss your life goodbye, like the others I've told. You'll be as much a living, breathing man as I'm the second coming of your precious Lady of the Lake."

Astor'sAstor gaped openly, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. "I…I spent the money I needed to muster my troops for Lord Bohemond m L-Mr. Spoletta!"

"And I should feel sorry for you cause…?"

This time, his wife stepped in, hiding her two sons behind her skirt as she could. "I-it wasn't all used for fighting you, Monsieur!" She said, trying to plead her husband's case. "Much of it was donated to our local grail chapel! It was sent in the name of the Lady so that we could have her blessing! I beg of you to show some compassion!"

The Lichemaster blinked slowly as if making a show of considering her words. "Oh! Oh…so the money you made off the lives of others went to a charity! Except it's not really charity if it's just sitting in a damned chapel collecting dust, now is it." Lyle leaned forward ever so slightly on his throne. "If you expect me to feel sorry for you, you're not doing what I consider a banged-up job, Madam."

The whole family went silent now, and while Lyle could see more than a few rankled expressions from the line of nobles, he didn't give a damn. He knew they were getting chippy with his comments about his Goddess, but he could spit on her idol if she were in saliva range.

Then Lyle suddenly had an idea. After all, this procession of his was for two reasons. Firstly, to assert his control over the nobility. To show the remaining nobles, who had no direct involvement with the slave trade fiasco, that the Barrow Legion was in charge and that there was little they could do about it. Secondly, it was to continue to help with the money issues that the Barrow Legion had. Again, they got a rainy day fund from their march to the western sea, but again, it was just a bandaid. And until they got a more substantial economic lifeline, Lyle was determined to get as many bandaids as possible to keep the undead war machine afloat.

This was why a sudden burst of inspiration struck him as he raised his voice. "Show of hands, everyone in line. Who here has made any recent donations to a grail chapel as of late?" The nobility looked around one another. Some made jerking motions with their arms as if they were raising their hands only to get whispered down by their family members or compatriots, in some cases subtly holding the aforementioned hands down.

Seeing signs of all this, Lyle rolled his eyes and made to speak, only for Degare to beat him to the punch, his bland and plain voice noticeably audible for all to hear. "In case you all have delusions of hiding this, do keep in mind that I have scrupulous records from hermit knights of which families made donations."

Grinning at this info drop, Lyle grinned savagely, showing off his teeth. "Show of hands? If I don't see the ones that match up to his documents, losing your lives will be the least of your problems."

And just like that, hands went rocketing upward, panic-stricken faces and looks of defeat accompanying them in the process. Satisfied with the results, Lyle called over a balding acolyte who scurried over to Lyle, lending his ear. "Bring Schmitz. I have an assignment for him That he's gonna love." With a craven nod, the acolyte hurried out of the great hall, finding one of the necromancers within the inner circle as Lyle readdressed the nobles. "So here's what's gonna happen. If none of you can pay the fee that I'm gonna Lord on ya, you're gonna tell us which grail chapel you donated your gold…and you're gonna tell us how much. If what you say doesn't match up with what Degare here has on his record, well…you know what comes next."

This time, chatter broke out amongst the nobles. Many panicked, while others were outraged. The skeletons closed in, baring their weapons and convincing many of the rowdy nobles to think twice about their life choices. Astor, in particular, was very vocal, his eyes bulging and panicked. "M-monsieur! P-please, reconsider! To take what was given from the grail chapels is sacrilege! It would be a travesty!"

"Well, that sounds like a you problem, Astor. It's either that, or you're gonna wind up like Baron Phillipe."

A flicker of confusion crossed the noble's face. "Baron…Philippe?"

"Uh-huh. And he should be here in just aboouuuut…ah here is now! Baron Phillipe, everyone! Former Liege lord of Rhionne!"

The nobles all turned and gawked at the new arrival that was literally being dragged into the castle. And dragging them in was none other than Jori, Ham, and a few other notable peasants who originated from the village of Riffen. The bald and fat noble who had been pried off his coastal city tried crying out and screaming only to be muffled by the gag that was in his mouth. His eyes darted wildly around him, and Phillipe's silenced screams only increased further when he saw fellow nobles like him as if they could do anything to change his situation.

Eventually, the peasants dragged the noble in front of Lyle and forced him to his knees as he cried and pleaded through his gag to avoid what would come next.

Astor looked at the noble that was now before the conqueror of central Bretonnia and gulped. "M-monsiuer…what are you plan-

"Shh. I need to concentrate here." Lyle then raised his hand, only for him to look at the nobles holding the nobleman. "Oh, and uh…you guys might wanna back off. Don't want you to get caught up in what comes next."

The peasants, realizing what he meant as soon as they saw the winds of magic gather in Lyle's right hand, immediately backed away a healthy distance as Ham saluted while doing so. "E's all yours, Lord Lyle!"

Of course, the second they let go, Phillipe tried getting off his knees despite his hands being bound, making the challenge a difficult one. But Lyle was strong enough to grab the fearful Lord with the scruff of his dirty and worn noble tunic to keep him in place with his left hand. Then with the right hand he used to gather the winds of magic, Lyle then extended his index finger. "Phillipe De Rhionne. For the crime of running a slave trade that was funneled through your city, with which you personally profited, I sentence you to the only judgment that would be fitting for someone like you…death…and, sadly for you, not a painless one."

The sobbing reached a crescendo as the noble frantically tried to beg or flee with one final gasp when Lyle's glowing index finger touched the back of his bald head.

Nobles screamed and shrieked. Children coward behind their mothers, and said mothers tried to shield their eyes from them. But the result was the same. Phillipe's screams grew hoarse and weathered in a matter of seconds as his skin turned leathery and wrinkly in moments. His eyes dried up, and his flesh turned loose and worn. All the while, the body-turned-corpse twitched erratically.

Lyle then cursed, but even after he retracted his finger, the body continued to age, with the corpse's teeth falling out of its mouth like tic-tacs, the skin practically disintegrating along with the bones. Even the clothes were not spared, turning to a rotted black heap on top of the pile of dust that used to be the Lord of Rhionne.

The screams in the throne room eventually died down, and a mute silence followed as they stared at what was once a person.

Lyle shook his head, staring frustrated at his index finger. "Was tryin' to just make him bones… didn't even want to affect his damn clothes, yet here we are." He still hadn't perfected control over the spell, even with Freddy overseeing his progress. Suddenly remembering he had a captive audience, Lyle turned back to the nobles who had, for the most part, as white as sheets. "So…Lord Astor."

Realizing he was being spoken to, the Lord could only tentatively nod, again not trusting his words.

"...We payin' via your donation or…" When Lyle glanced not so subtly at the pile of dust and rotted clothes next to him, the nobles were shouting, saying things like, 'We'll tell you where the money is!' or 'We'll pay! We'll pay!' Music to the necromancer's ears.

Degare grunted, wincing at the sudden rush of voices as even Astor kneeled. He claimed he suddenly recalled where he had made his donation. "As always, fear is nothing else but an effective motivator."

"In this case, I don't mind it. Couldn't happen to a bunch of nicer people." Lyle sniggered before gathering more dhar into his hand, shocking the screaming nobles into silence. "I'm so so glad that you're all suddenly gaining your healthy dose of common sense, but please, let's try and keep this orderly, people. You are nobles, after all, so you should at least act the part." Lyle then stood up, stretching his back with a satisfied grin off the throne before turning back to Degare. "Remind Degare, is it about noon?"

"12:57 to be exact."

"Well, son of a bitch, I'm late for my date!" Lyle exclaimed, not sounding bothered in the slightest, before turning to his right and looking at one of the two occupants of the long table that had been set aside. Sitting there was none other than Ave, who had been keeping a close eye on her charge for the day. Emmerich De Bastonne. The young lordling who had elected to stay behind for the sake of his people, if nothing else at this point. "Emmerich, my boy. Need to tag you in real quick, my man."

Though the young heir was visibly nervous, he did as he was bid, making his way over to Lyle as Ave got up to shadow him. The undead zombie couldn't help but look nervously as she eyed Ham and Jori as the pair walked past the peasants. Yet, to her relief, they and the other peasants gave her small smiles and nods, putting Ave's mind at ease.

So they did get around to talkin' good. Just gotta make sure to get her and Freddy some alone time to fix the real problem, now. That was something Lyle could worry about later; however, for now, he stood aside and allowed Emmerich to sit on his throne, not at all looking comfortable. "Thanks, Em. Think you can take over for me and grill the rest o' these guys for the details on the coin they owe us? To the people? I'd really appreciate it?"

"...yes, of course."

"Oh, and don't worry. Degare here will help you out every step of the way. He's your man with the plan."

"In a manner of speaking." The bored man intoned.

"Glad to hear it! Oh, and Jori, Ham, Ave. I'm sure you can help out when the nobles here get rowdy?"

Jori pulled out a cudgel along with many of his other peasants. The skeletons guarding the nobles would keep order, but the living would have their due if need be. The peasants grinned at the nervous nobles, not at all missing how the tables had turned, especially as Jori grinned with his fellow peasants. "Oh, we're more than willin' to rise to the occasion, Lord Lyle."

"Great to hear! Keep up the good work, boys and girls! Holler if you need me; I'll be a few levels down!" Eventually, Lyle whistled a tune as he walked past the nobles who didn't dare meet his eyes, all breathing a small sigh of relief for when the Lichemaster finally made himself scarce.

Before Emmerich could begin to get a formal declaration from the simpering Lord Astor for how he'd like his new debt to be paid, the heir of Bastonne eyed the dust of Phillipe warily. "Should…should we not at least clean this up-

"We can wait until after our work with their debts is done." Ave said coldly, glaring out into the lines of nobles.

Emmerich sighed, deciding not to fight this particular battle and get down to business. "Yes, of course. Lord Astor, now that we are calm, could you please tell me how you'll pay your debt to the new Lord of Bastonne?"

…

"Parmesan Chicken, you say?" Yasmine commented as she got done dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin. She didn't much care for the dark and dank beast pit that Lyle himself had once been stowed away in, but she couldn't complain much. She wasn't being treated overly cruelly, and he, the man holding her captive, had at least the common courtesy to treat the damsel to a well-cooked meal. "Can't quite say I've had anything like it. It's remarkably crunchy."

"My ma taught me well." Lyle replied, sitting a few feet before her cross-legged as he feasted on his parmesan chicken dish. It wasn't too hard, even if he dealt with more primitive ingredients. All he really needed was chicken, breading, cheese, and other ingredients. Sure, it took longer than he would normally, but beggars couldn't be choosers in a medieval setting.

"I can't dispute that. The flavors are certainly bolder than what I usually find myself eating." She admitted as she swallowed down another slice of her chicken. She had been free to walk around the beast pit as much as she liked, but there was little she could do to escape, given the bone collar that limited her magical capacity and nearly snuffed her connection to the Lady. Yasmine considered herself fortunate that Lyle was in charge of the Barrow Legion, not Heinrich Kemmler. She had no illusions that the former leader of the Barrow Legion would have granted her little mercy to kill her quickly. Even then, she knew that her fate would not be so kind once he knew how much magical potential he could gain from her in different ways.

The late Lichemaster certainly wouldn't bother with dinner and a pleasant talk. "So you truly aren't from Estalia, Tiles, or any of the Border Princes?"

"I barely even know what those countries are, and I couldn't put them on a map if I tried." Lyle chuckled ruefully. "My people, we're pretty geographically challenged, even at the best of times."

"And this land of America, you call it. Do you truly elect your leaders? I know the Empire does something similar, but your leaders don't require any noble blood?"

"If they did, we'd probably tar and feather em' just on principle. But then again, that's just me. We still have people who simp big time for the Queen and the royal throne we rebelled against centuries ago, but I see it as more of a fad than any legitimate dedication."

The damsel tittered, smiling and shaking her head as she continued to polish the chicken she had been given. "Hm. I guess it's little wonder you detest our form of government so highly. It must be alien for you to be within a Royarchy given all you've known and grown up with in this America you hail from."

"Eh. I wouldn't mind the kings n' queens and women living in lakes if there weren't the peasant abuses and selling them into slavery bit."

Yasmine swallowed hard, not bothering to hide her frown. "If I knew, I promise I would have stopped it."

"And you know what? I believe you." Lyle said, surprising the blonde as she arched an eyebrow. "Problem is you didn't and it continued. For quite a damn while, I might add." Lyle shrugged, aggressively stabbing his chicken and shifting his plate around. "Look before you go about trying to say, 'Oh, Lyle, you shouldn't be upsetting the natural order of things; there are bigger threats for Bretonnia to tackle' or 'Oh, Lyle, please don't hold the nobility accountable for their actions. We need stability for all who want to destroy our beautiful country.' I've heard it before. Plenty of times and from your precious Lady no less…or at least the woman who claims to speak for her."

THAT bit of information certainly surprised the woman, urging her to set her plate on the ground, giving the necromancer before her, every bit of attention she could spare. "You spoke with the Fay Enchantress?...and you lived?"

"Oh, she tried to turn me into a T-shirt when she visited my dreams the first time around. Now she knows better."

"So she's visited you multiple times?"

"Uh-huh. All in my dreams." Lyle then smirked. "You'd think she's tryin' to tell me somethin' with her visits."

For a moment, Yasmine stared, perturbed at her captor, before chuckling and devolving into a series of full belly laughs, pressing a palm on the floor to keep herself from falling over. "You-you are outrageous, Lyle Spoletta." She had to keep herself from getting tears in her eyes. "Absolutely outrageous. With an attitude like that, I can only wonder how your subordinates deal with you.

"Oh, they barely can! In fact, one of 'em' tried to off me 'cause they felt like they couldn't trust me."

"That's hardly surprising given the nature of necromancers." Yasmine commented. "Yet you must have seen it coming if you're still speaking with me."

"Oh, please. I've survived worse, even before I came to Bretonnia."

"I believe you. Your success can no longer be solely attributed to Ranald favoring you."

"Luck can go a long way. And trust me, where I come from, being luckier is better than be good. But hey, when I got the best of both worlds goin' for me? I feel pretty damn good."

Yasmine rolled her eyes but smirked nonetheless. "Perhaps you should make a prayer and offering to Ranald in that case as thanks for your good fortune."

"Heard about em'. Might just do that if I can make the time. I'm a pretty busy guy these days."

"Not so busy that you were unable to make time for a striking damsel such as myself."

"Well, I wanted to be straight with ya face to face. It's just how I roll, even with people who get in the way of what I want. So, since you were so kind to bring that up, Yasmine, let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?" Lyle then leaned forward, his lips thinning along with his eyes, putting the life damsel on edge. "You've been talking with your precious Lady, haven't ya?"

For the first time since talking to Lyle, the damsel's face felt tight. "I have a collar on."

"And you just avoided my question. Clever, but c'mon now. Gotta try harder than that."

Yasmine stared across at the man who had brought the army of Bastonne low and was quickly turning into the biggest threat Bretonnia had faced in years. She knew that while Lyle was amenable to her, he was still a threat to the nation, and the choice of words now mattered more than ever, especially without most of her magic on call.

"You claim I've been talking with her. What proo-

"After we fought last time, you really want me to go over what you did know and shouldn't have been able to find out?"

She was hoping he'd forget that. She'd always been told by her fellow 'sisters' that she was bolder than someone of her standing should be, but in this case, she felt that being blunt was the answer. Lyle was a necromancer, but he had some semblance of honor and straightforwardness that wasn't unlike a knight. It was why she felt he would have made an excellent knight should circumstances be different, but alas…

"...very well, Lyle. You're right I do still speak to the Lady."

"With that collar still on? What's your secret?"

Yasmine's smile turned smug. "The Lady's connection with her damsels is not so easily severed, young man. I may not be able to perform magic, but our words with each other go beyond such things."

"Uh-huh. So it's a two-way street, then?"

"...it is."

"So you know what else is happening out in the country right now?"

Yasmine suddenly realized she might have once again ignored her sister's genuine warnings not to be so bold with her choice of actions. "I hear snippets every now and then."

"So you know what King Louis is up these days."

Yasmine stared flatly. "King Louen?"

"Sure."

"...I might."

"Well, don't keep me on the edge of my seat now," Lyle remarked, resting a hand on his fist. Spill the tea, what's the news?"

"Lyle, I truly appreciate that you have yet to mistreat me in any egregious way besides depriving me of sunlight, but you can't possibly believe I'll be so quick to betray that kind of information."

"Hey, if you wanna say that King Louis is too scared to face me straight up, you can just say it. Ain't gonna hurt my feelings."

Yasmine barked a laugh. "Trying to goad me now, Lyle? That's a hilarious thought, but please, be realistic."

"Can't blame a guy for trying." Lyle shrugged, not denying it. "I'd still like to know what's up." Lyle did not seem put off by her resistance, which only made the damsel wary. "Come on, Yasmine. Just want a little bit of gossip, that's all. What's my boy doin' up in the north? If ya tell me, I can solve that sunlight issue you mentioned. Maybe even do more than that. Give you better clothes that those stuffy nobles had hoarded in this castle…actually give you some shoes."

"The sunlight is tempting, I must admit"," Yasmine amended. "But I've no need for such petty possessions." she said with pride and a smirk, only slightly miffed at how her green flowing dress had become dirty since her stay here.

"Okay, but seriously, do you not want shoes at least? I mean, this pit is pretty dusty, is it not?"

"I don't mind. I can handle a little dust. My school of magic has always emphasized being close to the nature that the Lady holds dear. Even if it is stone and dust, the earth beneath my feet makes me feel at home." The damsel said, showing off her sole, which had indeed accumulated quite a bit of dust. "If you're hoping to tempt through that, I'll do you the favor of letting you know you're wasting your time. I'd sooner die than betray the Lady."

Lyle sighed, standing up and dusting off his pants. "So you wouldn't even be tempted with some fresh air?"

"~ Can't break me that easily~!" She said in a sing-song voice. "Lady chose me for a reason besides my magical aptitude. She knew I could be a dams-where are you going?"

Yasmine's concern level began to skyrocket when Lyle went to the wall of the beast pit, which wasn't far from her. Mounted on the beast pit wall was a box. A box that Yasmine knew all too well held.

Yasmine didn't allow her voice to waver, but she could feel her heart race. She knew what happened to those condemned to these pits when Steward Richaud ran things for Bohemond. "Lyle, what are you doing?"

Lyle opened the cabinet and took out a tan brown bag, which he then. Placed on a table near the box. When Lyle dipped into a bag, he began to take out tools. Pliers, pokers, small knives, and big knives. In some cases, there were even screws and bolts.

Yasmine felt her breathing quicken. She tried to calm herself, but was only finding a modicum of success. The blonde-haired damsel suddenly realized with every clatter or movement of the tools that Lyle was perusing and organizing. Had she pegged Lyle wrong? Had she simply convinced herself that the necromancer who caught her was nothing more than a beast in noble clothing? Had she convinced herself of this to try and put her heart at ease for what the inevitable would be?

As Lyle started putting on gloves, the damsel realized that very much was the case. Everything Lyle had done up until this point was a ploy. A facade that he had worn with convincing effect to get to where he is now. After all, he blatantly admitted that someone had tried to betray him before. Did that necromantic traitor make the same mistake that she had just made? Assuming that the boy was a bumbling, naive, yet noble man who was a beastman in human skin? Is that how he had so much success so far? Convincing friend and foe alike that he was someone who could be manipulated or trounced at your convenience, only to sting when you let your card down?

The woman was firmly convinced of such terrifying thoughts when Lyle pulled something from the bag. She couldn't quite make out what it was, but it was long and pointed on end, which only made Yasmine grit her teeth. She knew something like this could happen. And she meant what she said earlier about not betraying the Lady. Other damsels had endured worse, and she would be no different.

So, as Lyle approached her with a sadistic grin, Yasmine glared at the man she once had a modicum of respect for, turning up her chin. "I hope that you'll feel proud of yourself, Spoletta. You'll have a tortured damsel before your feet, but not one that'll break before her Goddess." She felt she did a great job at masking her fear, feeling like the collar around her was like a voice that would slowly choke Yasmine out before Lyle was finished with her. "I'm only slightly surprised that you're not relying on your magic to torture me like many of your kind would."

"Oh, but therein lies the issue, Yasmine, that people like you Bretonnians always make in the end. I'm not like my dear ol' followers." Lyle then whipped out the torture instrument from behind his back, and Yasmine, to her shame, turned away for a moment, heart seizing at what part of her body he'd begin with first.

Utter confusion poured over her mind when she turned back and saw Lyle not holding pliers, pokers, or even a knife.

Instead, in between his fingers was a long black feather, which Yasmine was certain came from a hippogryph.

Lyle was now grinning so hard his pearly white teeth flashed before her. "You're really gonna regret not taking me up on my offer to give ya shoes."

Yasmine suddenly found herself confused and terrified for an entirely different reason.

…

Just outside the prison doors, the two guards leaned near the reinforced door frame, feeling bored, but stood at attention. The two guards who would usually be guarding this Beast pit would generally be skeletons, but for some reason, Lyle had seen fit to replace them with human guards—specifically peasants who hailed from Riffen. One of them was tall and sporting a razor-thin stache, while the other was shorter but had a full-fledged, raggedy-looking beard. The peasants were quick to volunteer once Lord Lyle had asked for some to stand guard while he interrogated the damsel. They wanted to get in his good graces, as Jori, Ham, and Ave had, even if she was undead.

Eventually, it didn't stop them from asking questions, albeit at a whispering level. The taller and younger peasant, in particular, was concerned. "What you think, Philbert? Why do you think Lord Lyle be botherin' to have us do what a skeleton can do? I mean… Tis' a bit weird, innit?"

Philbert grumbled, resisting the urge to cuff the lankier peasant in the back of the head. "Why you think you daft youngin? He's testin' us."

"Testin' us?"

"Aye, he's testin' us, Es!" Philbert winced, realizing his voice had grown too loud, and returned to a manageable level. "Think about it. He keeps the likes of Jori n' others around cause he knows they can be trusted. If we do our job right, we could get in that circle. This could be our ticket to gettin' some land of our own."

Es widened his eyes, suddenly looking very ravenous. "Land ye say? All Lord like? Lord Lyle's gonna make us lords!?"

"Not so loud!" This time, Philbert did cuff Es in the back of the head, making the taller youth wince. "Only a rumor I heard from the women from our old village. Heard some of em' were braggin' that Lord Lyle would treat us right. Think about it! Not all of them lords who sold us out are gonna last after our hero is done with 'em.' He's gonna need someone to replace them…or at least he's gonna need someone like Lords to be replaced."

"Won't he just get his necromancer buddies to do it?"

"Mmm. Maybe. But, still, after I hea-

"NNYEAAAAAAAAAHAAHAHAHA! STOOOOOOP!"

The peasants nearly jumped out of their boots with their fancy new men-at-arms gear, hearing a shrill scream inside the Beast Pit.

They both knew that Lyle was going to interrogate damsel Yasmine; he'd confirmed this to their faces by explicitly asking them not to let anyone in and out without his permission.

Though both peasants hardly cared for anyone who had a hand in oppressing and selling their people, they knew that mistreating a damsel was tantamount to soiling the Lady herself since it was their Goddess who chased and made their damsels, or so the rumors were made.

That didn't make it any easier for poor ol' Es. The young man sweated up a storm, trying to look through the bars at the top of the prison door only to realize that he didn't have a good angle on what was happening. All that the young peasant could see was that Lyle was hunched over, and the scream of the damsel was unmistakable.

"H-he's…Oh by the Lady."

"What!? What's he doing?"

"I-I can't see, but it must be…Oh Lady." Es started wiping his brow, feeling no small amount of conflict. "Sh-should we say somethin' or-

"Are yo-no! You remember what our Lord said, not interruptin' until he said so!"

"H-he could be doing all kinds of…I never thought that Lord Lyle would do something like this! I-I know he's been punishin' lords, and I'm all for it, but a lady, it's… It's-

"Es." Philbert muttered, trying to get the youth to look away from the bars. "Es!" This time, with a louder cadence, he managed to urge the stricken young man to look at him instead of what horrors he was witnessing. "Lord Lyle is doin' this for us!"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better-

"Yes! What other Lord would go out of their way to do this for us? Before we, we're no better than the shit we farmed! He's doin' this to help change that! Doin' this to get the information we need to keep bringin' that change, so just look away, boy!"

"NOOOHOHOHOHO! STOOOOP!" The desperate feminine screech grated on the peasants' ears like nails on a chalkboard.

Es looked stricken, feeling himself get squeezed in by two sides. His mother, bless her soul, before she died she, always raised him to respect women, no matter their standing in life, yet at the same time, she had been lost to one of the bandit raids that Bastien, Curse HIS soul, had allowed to happen.

The lanky peasant could only pray for forgiveness from his mother, The Lady, and Shalia herself for forgiveness for his inaction. One could only imagine what horrors his peoples' savior was inflicting on this woman.

…

Tears were running down Yasmine's face as she thrashed in her bindings. Before Lyle committed his assault, he had her arms bound as she sat on the ground, raising them up and attaching her wrists to chains that hung above the damsel's head. This left the blonde critically vulnerable and without escape for what happened next.

A feather brushed up against the sole of her right foot.

"DAAAHAHAAHM you Spoletta! DAHAAM YOU!" She tried pulling her right foot away, but Lyle hooked his left arm around it as he used the feather with his right, grinning maniacally.

"Don't hate the player, ma'am. Hate the game."

"I'll Kill you! Ohhhohohohohoho Goddess!"

"Like I said, it's your fault for not wearing shoes. I mean, seriously, I know peasants who would literally kill for a pair of good boots, and you pass up on the opportunity multiple times to be one with nature? Shame on you."

Yasmine tried to come up with a cogent response but could only have laughs erupt in her lungs as Lyle ruthlessly committed his heinous tickling assault. It was getting hard for her to breathe, much less keep herself from growing mad. Nobody had been foolish enough even to dare something like this, much less hurt a damsel like herself. But, once again, Lyle was not most men, and the burning in her lungs made her wish he was.

"Just tell me what his heinous is up to, and this can stop in a hurry, Miss."

"NEHEHEHEVER! I'LL NEVER BETRAY THE LADY! I-HEHEHEEEEHEH-OH DAMN YOU!"

"Damn me all ya want, but you're not gettin' outta this till' you get me what I want." Lyle grinned as his feather began to focus on her heel. "I can do this all day. Seriously, I got people in place to do what I would normally need to do.

"AAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAA!" Again the woman thrashed, but again Lyle was physically her better, leaving her no avenue of escape. Lyle had to hand it to her. Despite his best efforts, she held out better than the necromancer thought. He could say a lot about Yasmine, but in the past, Lyle's sisters would have caved under this form of attack. He tried moving the feather faster, going to her other foot, and many other tricks or tactics, but though her laughter and tears increased, Yasmine still refused to break.

Heaving a sigh and rolling his eyes, Lyle let go of the Woman's left foot, which he had been working on, and stood up, putting a hand on his hips as he observed the hippogryph feather-like one that would be an object of curiosity. Giving a cursory glance to the damsel, who was now trying to get control of her breathing. A fit of giggles was now only passing through her lips as Yasmine tried her best to wipe away the tears that had been streaming down her cheeks with her restrained arms.

"Gotta hand to ya, Yasmine. I underestimated ya. You damsels are made of sterner stuff than I thought even without your magic n' whatnot. Or maybe it's just you."

Eventually, after a few greedy gasps for air, Yasmine heaved a sigh, trying to keep her senses in order after Lyle's unorthodox form of torture. "Y-you should have known better, you cad." the damsel barked out with a prideful grin. "If you thought that would be enough, you haven't an idea of what we damsels go through to gain the power the Lady bestows upon us. Heh. Though I must admit, I didn't think you would use such tactics." Feeling bold and more than a little playful because of what Lyle had just done, Yasmine, against her better judgment, cocked her head and smirked. "What's the matter, however, Lyle? Can't stomach an actual torturing instrument? Did your arms get tired? Or perhaps you're afraid of garnering the wrath of the Lady after all." Her smile was incredibly coy. "Perhaps you want me to put in a good word for you when King Louen comes and takes back what is Bretonnia's. If so, I'll consider it."

Lyle chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, Yas. Yas, Yas, Yasmine, I don't think you get me all too well. See, if you ain't breakin', that means I ain't tryin' hard enough. And all you doin' is darin' me to up my game." Yasmine then squinted as she saw movement in Lyle's robes, which she found odd, given how his arms were not moving at his side. A chill of fear, however, then froze over her body as she saw four skeletal arms move out of said robes while attached to Lyle's torso through a pair of ribs and spine wrapped around the necromancer's back.

But it wasn't the bony arms coming out of Lyle's robes that terrified the damsel. Rather, it was the feathers that each hand was holding.

"Feet, ribs, pits n' belly. When you rough house with your siblings, you tend to pick up on weaknesses they may or may not have. Some were vulnerable above the waste and others below it." The damsel paled when Lyle then loomed over her like a cackling specter. "The really unlucky ones are all of the above."

"King Louen is currently in the north mustering his force to eventually strike south against you after fending off the Norscan raids."

Lyle blinked out how quickly the words poured out the damsel's mouth. "Huh…that was easier than I thought."

"The information won't help you." Yasmine sighed, telling herself more than Lyle. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before she broke under such interrogation. The sensory overload would overwhelm her senses, and it was better that she pick and choose her information rather than have Lyle draw it out of her magically. No, on second thought, Lyle wouldn't do that to her. Instead, one of his underlings would do it for him. "King Louen will take care of your Legion in short order, Lyle. I'm being quite serious, however. If you throw yourself at the King's mercy now, he just may spare your life. If you do so, I would go as far as to speak on your behalf."

Lyle smirked. "Appreciate the honesty and the rep your givin' me, but honestly it's not needed. Your actin' like your on a sinkin' ship right now, but the way I see it, we're the ones on the rise right now." The necromancer then crouched before the woman. "The fact that you're tryin' to save my skin and weren't directly involved in the slave trade is why I respect ya enough to hear you out."

"I've seen that you genuinely care about the common peasant more than the average Lord, which is why I'm telling you again. This isn't a fight you can't win, especially now."

Lyle's face twitched as he absorbed the information, his eyes narrowing into slits. "What do you mean…' especially?'"

For a moment, Yasmine waffled between keeping her silence or spilling the truth. But she then realized there might be an advantage to telling the truth here. Even then, she wouldn't have to tell the whole truth. A kernel of it could often get the job done in ways few could foresee. There was no reason she had to betray the surprise the War Maiden would bring to this necromancer. "King Louen has a secret weapon. A grail knight that he's been using to cleave a bloody swathe against all those who pervert the Lady's lands." Her stare was haunting. "If you change it, you'll be in his path all too soon. And I fear not even you could stand against him."

Lyle rolled his eyes and snorted. "People said the same damn thing about Bohemond. Sure, I had to swing at em' twice, but he was brought down just the same."

"He is not Bohemond." Yasmine said forcefully, surprising Lyle as she glared at him. "He does not fight like the Beast Slayer, and to assume he will and shall lead you to the grave from which you raise your army."

"Aight. Sure." Lyle chuckled. At this point, he was beyond over how people told him what he could or couldn't do. It was a beyond-old trope to him at this point. "Appreciate the concern, but whatev-

"He's like you, Lyle."

That brought him up short. "He's a necromancer? Thought you said he's a grail knight."

"No." She shook her head, staring meaningfully at the young man. "It's different from what the Lady has shown me in her dreams, but there's no mistaking it. You both have very similar accents."

For a beat, the earth native scrunched his face in confusion, not following where she was going with this.

It was then in a moment, Lyle's eyes widened, clarity washing over his mind like a rising tide. "... what's the guy's name?"

…

"Alvin?" Sybille queried, glaring nonchalantly at the quivering forest goblin before her. Soren and Rudy stood on either side of her, with a large squad of undead just behind them in case anything went wrong. "That's the name of the Grail knight that's been easily slaughtering your kin? Just one knight?"

"It's a zoggin' grail knight!" The forest goblin cried out, nearly yanking its ears out in stress, as its beady red eyes quivered. "An' he's krumpin' ruthless! Goin' around n' killin' us like he's a boss who ain't been gettin' enough teef from his boyz!"

When Sybille and her merry group arrived in Artois in record time, the witch thought she would have to wrangle and finesse her way into getting a meeting with the forest goblins within this Dukedom that Lyle had conquered. After all, the forests of Artois were some of the densest that the Old World had to offer, not only providing much of the timber that Bretonnia needed but also allowing a great hiding spot for goblins, beastmen, and more.

Or at least it was until now. Once the goblins discovered their presence in the forests of Artois and that they were with the Barrow Legion, they were quick to send a group of goblins not to harry or bargain…but to beg.

"He's been huntin' us down for weeks! We've even had boyz from Grom the Paunches' horde o' goblins that've been scurryin' over here to Artois to get away from that monster! Zoggin' bastards led him right to us!" Even now, the goblin was twisting his long-nosed head around, eyes wild as if he felt the grail knight would tear through the trees to unmake him right where he stood. "L-look, we'll give ya whatever ya want, but ya gotta help us! Tell your Lichemaster, whoever he is, we'll work with 'em'; just send some crumpin' help!"

"How do we know this isn't a trap?" Rudy glared, not taking the goblin's words at face value. After all, his village had more than its fair share of run-ins with forest goblins, and none of them had gone positively, especially when their villager's hunters needed to venture out for game to feed the community. "I've heard stories from the elders of my village on how tricky you goblins can be."

"Can't believe I'm agreeing with the ignorant peasant boy, but here we are." Sybille muttered, wondering where she went wrong in life to get to this point. "I appreciate the groveling, goblin, but you'll need-

"Oh, for Mork's sake!" the goblin said. "Zog it! Follow er' not; I'll show you what this big plated humie's been doin' to us! He's been butchering us and leaving the carcasses to rot! I'ven't seen no knight fightin' like this!"

Sybille and Rudy both looked at one another, not needing to say words to convey skepticism about this, only for Soren to step forward. "Fret not, M'lady. The goblin speaks the truth."

"Oh? And what makes you so sure, my dear Soren?"

"The fear in its voice is real. Something besides you has truly put the fear of the gods in it and its kin."

The witch smirked. "Hm. I have competition then. Very well, let's humor the little green thing. I'd hate to go back to our dear Lichemaster empty-handed after all."

Rudy would most certainly hate that, as well. He didn't care for goblins, but in a roundabout way, he cared for the nobility even less. So, if he could stomach their presence for years, he could sacrifice this much for Lyle.

The trio and their group of undead followed after the goblin, who thankfully didn't go very far. Once the group had caught up to it, they reached a clearing within the dense forest containing even more goblins. However, to Sybille's relief, it wasn't in preparation for an ambush or deception. No. The movement all seemed far too panicked and frantic. The tribalistically dressed goblins were strangely mismatched with more 'modernly' dressed goblins who wore leather and mismatched clothing, displaying to the witch that the goblin spoke the truth about refugees that fled from Graum and this Grail knight. What was even more disconcerting, however, was what was left at the far left end of the clearing.

It could only be called a patchwork of macabre gore-fille display. What was there was what used to be a large group of goblins that were seemingly hacked, torn apart, and evidently tortured before death if some of the pain and terror-stricken expressions on their disembodied heads were anything to go by. Some goblin heads were mounted on wooden steaks, with some of their eyes sliced or crudely gouged out. Others had their tongues removed and to the disgust of even Rudy was inserted into the empty sockets of the goblins. The bodies of the goblins were oftentimes ripped open, displaying the crude and dashed-up innards with other disembodied limbs hanging from the trees and their branches.

Sybille was about to ask if the goblin was sure that a grail knight was doing this and not a horde of beastmen known to partake in such activities. After all, even if knights were known to take the code of chivalry as more of the 'suggestions of chivalry,' this went a bit beyond what they would do.

"I…Knights can be cruel, but this…" Rudy started staring in horrified fascination at the edge of the clearing. "Is this truly what knights are like? I don't…I don't think even what Lord Lyle would say about them covers this."

"It does seem a tad much." Soren commented, tapping his bony, rotted finger against his chin. "Perhaps a group of knights that hold a grudge against goblins?"

"Oh, they'll be holdin' somethin' alright. Maybe theys be holding our beatin' hearts after everything is done." An older raspier, sounding goblin drew the attention of the group, where among the goblins stood a slightly taller but well-weathered goblin that seemed to be perpetually glaring with his red eyes narrowed into slits. He wore a long, elaborate robe with a pointed point at the end that seemed to be covered in rib bones. On his back was a staff curved at its top point with spider webbing, giving it the appearance of a net while he hunched over. The goblin grumbled, hocked, and spit toward the bodies, shifting his mouth as he approached Sybille, Rudy, and Soren. "Trok be tellin' me that you be with those undead humans near the black castle in the mountains."

"The Barrow Legion, yes." Sybille corrected, even after knowing it would be a futile effort with low IQ creatures like this. "And given how you're ugliest looking of this lot of goblins, I'll assume that you're in charge of this…or rather these greenskins."

"Pah! Give it a few more days, and I'll be gettin' back to you with that." The goblin snorted derisively. "Things were goin' good after you lot stomped through the dukedom and killed that humie Chilfroy in his big shiny castle. Less shiny humies goin' through the forests tryin' to kill us fer' sport and more time to take more of the forests for our own. Heh. More time for gettin' the smelly humies for food, our spiders."

Rudy frowned ever so slightly at the goblin's crass remark but held his tongue, especially after Sybille's flickering warning glare.

Regardless, the goblin continued, its wrinkled features deepening even further somehow. "Den, a few weeks ago, we got other goblins from dat, fat oaf Graum Da Paunch. Damned greedy git got into a beef with one of the big shiny humies of dis land. At first, we started capturin' and beatin' the other gobos in for sport, like any good greenskin aught to. After all, they ain't of the forest like us." Then the goblin shaman bared his teeth, his wrinkled lips pulling back into a snarl. "Den even more gobos start comin' here. And the dumb gits bring dat big bad shiny humie with other shiny humies to us!"

Sybille closed her eyes to resist the urge to roll them, feeling a bout of annoyance at the prospect of not getting the spider webbing as easily as she thought…or perhaps this was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. "So then this 'home' didn't just roll over and die once he came into your forests."

"We tried ambushin' the gits!" The goblins suddenly bellowed in frustration, the days of clear inconveniences finally boiling over as his narrowed eyes became as wide and furious as a pair of flaming pits of lava. "We tried settin' snare traps! Spider poison traps! Ambusin' raids! None of it worked! He saw em' all comin' and his boyz ready every time!" He then stomped over as if throwing a miniature tantrum, glaring right up at Sybile and punctuating his words. "Every! Zoggin! Krumpin! Time! Shiny homies are never this clever! Never THIS brutally cunning! That's our gig n' e's takin' it from us!"

"Truly?" This time, Rudy couldn't hide his surprise and skepticism. As much as he didn't care for the creatures and how they openly admitted to feeding his people to their spiders, it didn't change the stories that he was told about how goblin traps were often more dangerous than their beastmen counterparts. Beastmen could ambush you, to be sure. But goblins could get frighteningly creative with contraptions they built to get what they wanted; even primitive forest goblins like these were no exception. "None of them worked? You…surely you managed to wound one of them."

"That's the bloody Krumpin' thing!" The goblin grumbled exasperated. "Whenever the big shiny humie leadin' this army come's near our traps he stops and realizes there IS a bloody trap! He tells everyone and ruin's the damned thing by goin' around it! He knows! He knows n' the boys think that Mork is turnin' their backs on em'!" The shaman rubbed a hand down his long nose, rolling his red eyes. "I be thinkin' it's that Lady they go on worshipin'. Damned bitch has it out for us goblins n'-

"Boss! Boss!" Another goblin stammered, riding a spider to cover the distance quickly. "E's here! E's here with his boys!"

As the messenger rode over to the shaman on his spider, the other goblins stood open-mouthed, red eyes filled with terror before the chaos ensued. The goblins began grabbing anything and everything they could get their mitts on, from loot, teef, weapons, personal mementos, and straight-up junk. Once they did, they started rushing over to the other side of the clearing while the shaman cursed.

"Thought We'd have two days at least. We thought he came e're n' started huntin' for stragglers on the other side of the forest. Damned humie must've gotten bored!"

Sybille smirked and raised an eyebrow. "And your plan is to-

"Run! Flee! Head deeper into the forests and-

"Hope that he doesn't come for you? He's been hunting your lot down for weeks now. Clearly his King gave him a direct order to scour your goblins before dealing with the Barrow Legion, otherwise he wouldn't give you stunted greenskins the time of day." Sybille jerked her head to Rudy. "This knight sounds like an attack dog. And if I've learned anything about dogs, it's that they'll do anything to please their master. This peasant boy is a magnificent example, especially after you throw them a bone."

While Rudy looked especially affronted, the goblin once again gnashed his teeth, rubbing a gnarled hand through its nose as sweat began to form on its brow. "You wouldn't be sayin' this or even stayin' around less you dead humies be wantin' somethin'."

"You should rejoice then. Our young but vaunted Lichemaster needs you forest goblins…and more specifically, your spiders." Sybille grinned toothily. "If you were to follow us, we could bring you shelter. However sharp this dog's fangs are, they can only get through so many corpses."

"And submit myself to is' rule? I been keepin' me title as gobbo boss for years, witchy! I ain't-

The goblins heard them before they saw them. A thunderous chorus of hooves struck the earth that was lightly muffled through the dense foliage of trees that obscured their arrival. The small horde of goblins who did hear them with their pointed and sharp ears were now torn between an instinct that all living creatures had. Fight or flight. Half of the goblins wanted to get on their spider riders and flee, while others wanted to stay and fight, driven mad by vengeance and a lack of sleep. Goblins were cowardly creatures by nature, but after running for so long and for such great lengths, they had finally grown some spines.

Not that Sybille thought it would help them. Especially after the first few knights broke through the tree line, stopping just short of the macabre body parts they had supposedly strewn about.

The shaman visibly stiffened once he and everyone else saw him. The grail knight who had led this expedition was originally against Grom the Paunch and eventually against them. The knight hadn't bothered wearing a helmet. His chestnut brown hair was a sharp contrast from the golden-like glow from his eyes and around his head. Slowly, he drew out his sword, holding it lazily at his side while he sat on his horse, with more hooves following just behind him and his compatriots.

Despite the incoming noise, Sybille, Rudy, and Soren could hear him clearly as his amplified voice rang from the edge of the clearing. "Couldn't stay away, could you, you green little shit? Won't hear any complaints from me. Blood's blood, after all." The grin that he gave was very un-knightly like, even in Rudy's biased opinion. "And the King has demanded his pound of it and then some."

As the chorus of hooves got louder, Sybille felt herself stiffen, stepping back slowly as her face twitched. As the sound became deafening, she couldn't help but realize how faintly similar this knights accent was to their new Lichemaster.

…

So I have to admit. I feel a little bit bad for those who were excited for the goblin excursion, especially if they thought it was gonna go for longer or in a different direction. This way however for the path that I'm going down makes more sense in the context of not only what Louen would do to try and save Bretonnia but also with how the story is going. I think you'll find it very interesting since, on top of Repanse, Lyle's other antagonist finally enters his domain.

Also, another side note, I hope you guys are ready for a major confrontation that's brewing in this story because I'm actually excited to write the next bunch chapters, which is going to result in the biggest battle this tale has seen yet. And the best part about it, is that it's going to have multiple players on the board involved. Feels kinda weird to be dropping a huge hint like this in a story I'm writing, but with a fanfic, I feel like I can have that flexibility.

Also, thank you as usual, your reviews have been excellent as always, and as usual, please keep em' coming for the fuel that I shall consume to press ever onward for this story.