A/R:

: Lol, see this is why otherworlders would be bad for the people of Warhammer. The fact that we get entertainment from the chaos they could cause would only please the Dark Gods.

Image: …y'know it's actually concerning how close to the truth you are there.

dadg12346: Well thanks for the love of the story, and while there won't be skeletons riding spiders THIS chapter you'll get something very close instead. And the meeting between these otherworlders might night be as amicable as you might think.

XXxxxadixxxXX: Sorry about the name mixup. I'd been meaning to getting around to fixing that and it's often because the two are so oftenly associated with one another. And as for Lyle himself, your reaction is actually quite understandable. Half the time when Lyle was first starting out in this story he didn't mean what he actually did. He often just did it to make himself feel good as an excuse to gain power, even if there was some level of belief in himself that what he's doing is for the betterment of those around him. It's only after the story progresses that he realizes that there's more at stake and the consequences of his actions. Oftentimes when people gain power and we want to do as we please we make sure that everyone thinks we're a good guy, even with our lowest actions. Both good and bad people are capable of doing this and it's something I wanted people to observe and come to their own conclusion when reading this story. I appreciate what you wrote and I sincerely hope you keep on reading. If not then I appreciate your comments all the same.

Annoying POW marine: Oh Alvin is buffed alright. But, it's not really his perception itself that's finding out his traps, it's the one who is currently buffing him that's sniffing out any potential pitfalls. Also, yes Lyle is upgrading his units albeit at a slow pace, because the Barrow Legion is on a tight budget right now as mentioned before. It'll be telling whether or not it will all be enough in the end since Alvin will most definitely be a problem later on.

Zerkil: Who says he hasn't fallen to chaos? Or at least the usual chaos that you're thinking of? And hey don't worry about motivating yourself my man? We all are motivated by different things, you just need to figure out what fuels you, to put thoughts to paper. Another part of this is so I can take critique from all of you on how to become a better writer and tell a better story. Also the link didn't quite pan out. What's the name of the video?

Jack62111: Lol imagine that. The fate of Bretonnia and possibly all of the Old World hanging in the balance of two otherworlders corrupted by chaos Gods. If your prediction is on the money like you think, then we might as well call in the End Times early.

…

"Thousands?" Nalga muttered in a near-stunned silence. "Not hundreds but thousands more of them' bastards!?"

Batgrig wrung his hands as if they desperately would rather be occupied with a piece of machinery than be the bearer of bad news to his dwarf regent. "There's no denying what our rangers saw. We don't have many of em' but we didn't need many of their eyes. Thousands of Dum-filled creatures are flowing through the forests."

"By the ancestors… they're comin' for us again!?"

"N-not exactly. I mean, our rangers aren't sure, but they don't seem to be heading towards our hold. We don't even think it's the remnants of that last horde of beastmen we survived last time."

"We better hope not." Nalga sighed, pinching her nose as she stepped away from her forge, which she had been working at relentlessly. It was moments like this in which she worked hard to create as much armor and weapons for any future assaults like this one, but it seemed the moments to truly make a difference were few and far between. Even after the special projects she'd managed to get through. "If they aren't headed towards us, then where could they be headin' now?"

"West, apparently. According to our rangers, they're sticking to the forests but don't seem too interested in the Grey Mountains."

"West?" Nalga queried, scrunching her face. "Why in all the old world would they go there? The only thing out there is the Barrow Legion after they had their way with the Beastlslayer." Not that Nalga would shed tears over the duke losing his land. After the role he played in her family's hold being weakened, there was a particular deal of kharma that came with Spoletta's victory.

Then she felt her body go still. A certain necromancer to whom she owed her life and swore an oath was west. Again, hundreds of beastmen would be one thing, but thousands?

Then she shook her head, feeling herself getting worked up over nothing. "Spoletta can handle a few thousand beastmen. If he took down the Beastslayer Umgi, he can handle his Dum cousins just fine."

"...My lady I…I never mentioned Spoletta and whether or not he could handle the beastmen."

Realizing her mistake, Nalga rolled her eyes, easily concealing her tell. "Course ye didn't. It's up to me to realize the convenience of havin' that dull umgi goin' around n' killin' what could be a threat to our hold."

"Ah…yes, of course." Nalga wasn't sure if her chief engineer was buying that excuse, but she wouldn't focus on the issue.

"Yer damn right, of course." She huffed. "If there's anythin' else, you'll-" Nalga stopped herself once more, realizing that Batgrig was still wringing his arms. A bead of sweat dribbled down from his bandana. "Oh, for ancestors' sake, what else is there?"

"Grobi. Tens of thousands of Grobi." the dwarf stammered out. "We didn't see them ourselves, but one of our old trading partners sent a message to a cousin of yours who still holds ties with Brettonians on the West Coast. Something's been sending the Grobi in a flurry, splittin' them in two. A sizeable portion of em' went east to Artois."

"...and the rest?"

"The rest are goin' south. South towards Bastonne."

"Wait, wait, wait, ancestors, dammit, South? But if they're headed in that direction, they have to be led by-

"Grom the Paunch."

"That warty, bloated, gas-spored Grobi is headin' down with his horde to Bastonne!?"

"A-and they'll be there in a little over a week, we think! Maybe even less than that." The engineer looked fidgety, his beard twitching as he eventually brought out a widget from one of his satchels, twisting and turning to cool his nerves. "You're right. Beastmen Lyle Spoletta may be able to handle beastmen, but a horde of goblins at the same time…and if the Bretonnians notice that he's being assailed by all threats…

"Then he's right stuffed." The red-headed dwarf grumbled as many of her kin often did, walking back to her personal forge and sighing mightily. Many dwarves had Grom the Paunch written down in their book of their grudges, but none had been able to claim his head yet. At first glance, many would confuse him as an overweight Urk, given his size and girth. But he was a grobi through and through, which made the voracious creature so dangerous. He was a threat greater than many other Urk Big Bosses because he was a lightning rod. A symbol to all goblins that they could rise above their Ork cousins and follow a boss that could match their might.

The fact that Grom the Paunch made meals from his fallen foes also seemed to be a great selling point for his underlings.

With so many goblins teeming throughout the old world and tens of thousands that rallied to the bloated orc's banner, this just might be too much for the Barrow Legion to chew.

"But…maybe this is a good thing in the end." The dwarf engineer paused briefly when his regent whirled at him with a disbelieving look. "Th-think about it, Nalga. If-if Lyle Spoletta dies, then…then we are free of our oath to him. Our vassalage only hinges on him being alive, and if that changes, then…well…then we can message your father to come back with open arms. We need not even do anything!"

This was all very true. She had been very stringent on the fine print of her oath, just as any good dwarf did. When one gave their oath, engraved on fine print or stone, you made sure the wordage was observed with great scrutiny. It was why so many dwarves carried around their own book of grudges, to ensure that the fine print of the rights that needed to be done was accomplished with efficiency and formality.

Plus, what Batgrig said did have merit. She wouldn't have to make guns for Spoletta anymore and, in turn, strengthen the Barrow Legion more than she already had. She wouldn't even be breaking an oath by not warning Spoletta of the dangers that were hurtling toward him. He was oathbound to protect her and her hold, not vice versa. So long as she supplied him with weapons, this would continue to be the case until his death. It was all so convenient. Greatly convenient.

…so why did her heart wrench at the thought of abandoning that Umgi fool to his fate?

"...Batgrig, are you a fool?"

"I…my lady?"

"I asked ye if you were a spore-brained fool, ye daft cave gherkin!"

"WH-wh-wha-I-I don't understand!?"

"Of course, ye don't! Apparently, I'm the only one with brains in this damned Karak! Ancestors know my father don't have any! Think, Batgrig! If Lyle Spoletta dies and his Barrow Legion falls, what do you think those Grobi and the Dum Umgi will do when they're done feasting on their carcass!"

"Y…you think they'd come here?" The engineer muttered in realization. "B-but what could they-

"Think about it! The Grobi may be more tempted to strike at Bretonnia once they're done with the Legion. After all, you said yourself that they're being driven south, but the beastly man-things? No. They're moving on him with purpose. Purpose that seems too deliberate, especially by thousands." She then looked up and glared at her engineer. "Unless they're aiming to avenge their defeat here at my Karak."

"They…they are known to be vengeful creatures, but…, but even so-

"Even so, if they succeed, where do you think they'll come next!? Here! At our hold! To finish what they started! And if you thought things were mighty dire last time, we might as well open the gates and hope they kill us quickly!"

Nalga knew she had him. Batgrig wasn't what one would call a coward, but he was a worrier to the extreme, and the rapid speed in which he twisted and turned his widget only showed that, as he often did in situations like this.

It genuinely made her feel guilty with how she used her words for the valid shameless reason she was doing this. "W-well then…we warn, Spoletta then? Should I…should I send for a ranger to-

"No." She interrupted sharply. "Speed right now is of the essence. Lyle's one saving grace is that he still has time. And every second spent for one of our rangers hurrying to where the Lichemaster is wasted…prep my father's gyrocopter."

Batgrig looked dismayed.

…

Sybille knew they were in deep trouble. After feeling the magic around the Grail knight leading this small army of knights, she could tell that this was a man who wouldn't die easily, especially since it was clear that the goblin shaman was speaking the truth. More knights were gathering behind the grail knight, clearly getting ready for a charge but not quite attacking yet. It was something that unnerved the witch since this would be the prime opportunity to strike, given the goblins were currently having a debate on whether to fight or flee at the moment, with Sybille cursing herself for not bringing along more necromancers to, in turn, bring more undead to the fight. She didn't think it necessary at the time, but now…

Eventually, one of his knights pointed in her direction, gesticulating wildly. "Lord Alvin! A walking corpse and skeletons are standing with that hag! It seems that the Barrow Legion is trying to-

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Thank you, you're very astute." Alvin replied flippantly, not at all seeming concerned by her presence. It was quite telling how relaxed and at ease the man appeared, even if his knights were still outnumbered by the combined amount of goblins and undead.

Soren shambled ever so subtly to Sybille, his hoarse voice below a whisper. "M'lady. That is a man who has butchered many and will butcher many more. If we flee now, the goblins will prove an ample distraction."

"They would…and we'd return to the Legion empty-handed. I don't much care about returning to the boy without any success-

"He would understand, given the circumstances. Spoletta is not as unforgiving as Kemmler."

Sybille scoffed. "That does not mean I'm willing to accept running with nothing. It's not Spoletta I'm worried about, but the cronies within our inner circle. Schmitz would use it as an opportunity to debase me, the pale, old, shit. And people like Fredericka may be interested in joining him to strengthen and entrench her own position." She then whipped her head toward the trembling shaman. "Goblin. Decision time. Either you go and throw yourself at the mercy of the Barrow Legion, or I leave here with you and your ilk to fend for yourselves." She then glanced at the still-growing number of knights lining up, side and side, on their steeds. "And judging from your track record, that could only go so well."

The goblin was a prideful little thing, but he was far from stupid. Judging from how old he was, he didn't last this long as chieftain of his tribe by making a string of stupid distractions. He could see the way the wind was blowing, and if he left his boyz twisting in the wind for too long, he'd have none left to be chieftain of. "Ow,' much time can you damned humies give us?"

"Only so much." Sybille muttered, using the dhar she had at her call to start raising zombies a bit behind her skeletons, not entirely wanting to tip her hand to the knights. "I can promise you this…not all of you will survive."

"Were Gobbos. We're bloody well used to it." The shaman spat before turning to shout at his panicking kind. "Oi, you damned gits! Quit your panickin' n' get to packin' n' runnin'! Grab the spider's the loot n' everythin' you can and move! We're goin' south, now!"

Now, with a unified directive under their authoritative goblin boss, the crowd mentality goblins scrambled to do as he said, with many clambering onto any arachnarok spiders as they could to beat a hasty retreat. Meanwhile, Sybille continued to raise as many undead as possible, pushing her magical abilities to their limit with how many corpses she could raise and control at a given moment.

She nearly jumped when Alvin's voice boomed across the clearing. "Do I look like an idiot to you? You really think I'm gonna give a necromancer time to pull the undead from the ground like the parasites that you are?" He then lifted his sword. "Get em' boys. Make the King proud."

The knights surged forward with a chorus of roars striking fear into the goblins as they scrambled to get ahead of the other, knowing they had no chance at outrunning the heavy cavalry that was hurtling towards them.

Though many tried, the closest goblins were quite literally trampled under hoof by the knights of the realm. Limbs were mangled, skulls were pulped and turned into green smears on the grassy ground, with some goblins unfortunate to still be alive to suffer through as they cried and gurgled helplessly.

It was barely over a hundred cavalry that charged on through, but it might as well have been five hundred for the goblins. Their size and scattered forces offered no resistance toward the thundering hooves that came their way.

So much was happening all at once that in the chaos, the goblin shaman nabbed an arachnarok spider for himself, getting on its bulbous backside before barking at Sybille. "You're Lichemaster better be good for all this, or hex him meself!"

"Oh, shut up and go south and bring as many of those spiders as you can, or you'll wish that a hex is all I'll put on you!"

The shaman cursed and hurled verbal abuses at his fleeing underlings, hoping to have an organized retreat as he tried to ensnare as many spider riders as he could, realizing that their personal beasts were worth more than gold now. Even if the shaman didn't know why the Lichemaster wanted his spiders, that wasn't his concern. Survival and what came afterward dominated his twisted little mind and had to take precedence, even if a few of his boyz bit the dust in the process.

Confident that he would now join the fold, Sybille sent forward her undead, which consisted of around one hundred zombies and seventy skeletons, and marched forward at a slower pace than she would have liked. She would have used Vanhel's Macabre Dance to move their rigor mortis limbs faster, but she knew that it wouldn't do to use her magic so carelessly. Considering how dangerous the grail knight she was going up against was, the witch knew she would need as many tricks up her long sleeves to survive this.

And speaking of the devil, he came on his lonesome right in her direction while his fellow knights focused solely on the goblins. Well, that most certainly wouldn't do. If they were all focused on the goblins, that'd mean less spider silk for them.

"Soren, be a dear, take the zombies, and try to slow down those knights. You don't need to kill them; just harry them a bit and have them throw a fit."

The sentient undead turned his eye sockets to his lady. "I can do that…just please promise you'll be careful, for your parent's sake, if nothing else."

"I will if you do the same." The witch gave a rare smile. "I'd hate to have to sew you back together if those oafish knights hack you to pieces."

"...they can try." The undead's voice rasped dangerously as he moved forward with purpose, followed by the hundred or so zombies that had just risen. With the zombies at his back, Soren got to work putting the knights' chivalry to the test by isolating and attacking the knights piecemeal. If a knight was too distracted or slowed trying to slaughter a goblin or two, Soren would direct the zombies to swarm and try to drag down the knight. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes, it didn't, but it didn't need to constantly work. All it needed to do was slow the knights down and get any other knights' attention to save their fellow countrymen.

"D-damned flesh-eating bastards! Git!" One knight shouted, trying to hack away at two zombies that had surrounded his horse after he made the foolish mistake of trying to hack away at a goblin that dove to the ground, cowering and covering its head. He swung his sword to and fro, managing to hack off an offending limb of one of the zombies before he howled from a sharp pain erupting in his thigh.

Then, with a shrill shout, the knight was yanked from his saddle as his panicked horse galloped away, wanting nothing more to do with the undead that had arrived at the scene. The knight tried to fumble for his sword, only to find difficulty in doing so, thanks to the heaviness of his armor. He thought for a moment he'd be set up on by the zombies, only for a dagger to be shoved right into the slit of his helmet, ceasing his movements.

Soren sighed, looking around him as he rushed to find other isolated knights. Knowing that every second he bought for the goblins was priceless right now, he gripped his blood-stained dagger as tightly as his pale and rotted fingers would allow.

Meanwhile, Sybille had not been standing idle. She had made a dense wall of her skeleton warriors right before her as they began to move forward in a slow and organized procession towards the lone advancing grail knight, who seemed wholly unconcerned with everything.

Whether it was some of these fellow knights getting felled or skeletons coming before him, he seemed almost bored with this whole affair. Even as he finally barrelled into the skeletons with his horse with bones and weapons flying everywhere, his sword strokes were powerful yet methodical, with no sense of urgency and franticness that one would usually find amid a great battle.

It only made Sybille more concerned as he swiped away a couple more of her skeletons with his blade. Knowing this wouldn't kill him, the witch decided to test his reaction time, firing a bolt of pure Dhar right into his sternum, which was deftly blocked by his shield, absorbing the blow with only a singed patch of black in the center to show for her efforts. Knowing she'd need to get more creative, the witch summoned more undead but made sure that they were made of sterner stuff for this ensuing skirmish.

Alvin had already butchered through half the skeletons that had once surrounded his steed with their spears and shields, doing little to deter him. At this point, they were forming a crescent in front of Sybille to try and ward off the grial knight from hurtling toward her. They, unfortunately, could do little to stop them, as he rushed forward once more, not even emitting a battle cry.

Alvin made three swipes with his sword when a skeleton tried thrusting forward with a spear. One, cutting off the skelton's bony arm and then cleaving it'sits head in two. Another skeleton tried thrusting its spear right into the calf of his horse, only for the horse to lift said hoof up and smash its rib cage with a well-placed kick. Sybille could only watch dumbfounded as two skeletons who tried to attack the knight and horse in their blind spot were thwarted when the horse twirled, allowing Alvin to make a grand sweep of his sword, cutting both skeletons in half at their rib cages, nearly rendering them useless.

They became utterly useless when the horse trotted over and smashed its hooves on what remained of the skeletons, crushing their bones in a twirl while allowing Alvin to continue to whirl death around him with ruthless efficiency.

"Christ alive; even the norscans were putting up a bigger fight than this." The knight complained as he bisected another skeleton. "And here I thought that you necromancers had become a problem in Bretonnia."

"Give me some time, and you'll have no shortage of problems, boy." Sybille spat back as more skeletons surged forward from behind her.

"Mmm. Doubt it." He shrugged, swinging his sword at these new reinforcements, only to blink in mild shock when his sword met resistance.

This skeleton had a sturdier shield that, while it didn't manage to stop his sword, it managed to slow it down to only bite it into its armor, halting his arm from doing any further damage. Alvin took a double take and noticed how ten new skeletons were surging before him, wearing heavier armor and with a fiercer glow that emitted behind their eyes.

"Ah. Grave Guard. Not bad."

"Oh? You actually know the name of them'?"

Then Sybille felt chills down his spine when she saw the chestnut-haired man smile predatorily. "I know how much of a good chunk of magic they cost. You getting nervous?"

The silver-haired woman narrowed her eyes as she took a step back. It was most unusual for a pompous knight to know or even care how much magic it would take to use a spell, even if it was concerning their enemies. Yet the confidence in this man's voice shows such surety he had to know for a fact.

And he was right. She refused to show it, but she got nervous. "Boy, I have stared down far more striking cretin's like yourself. You're hardly anything special."

"The chieftains I butchered up north said something similar. Maybe, unlike you, I'll leave you alive so you can cry to your necromancers and the world about how stupid of a view that is." He then smashed his sword into the helmet of the grave guard he sliced into, pummeling it and reducing it to a mess of bones. "Don't have to leave you in one piece, though. Just gotta leave your mouth in one piece…and your lungs, of course."

"Hmm… that's not very chivalrous for a knight to talk to an old lady like this, boy."

"What are you gonna do?" The knight laughed as the grave guard formed a wall before him. "Cry about it? The Lady isn't going to shed tears for an old bitch like you."

Sybille cackled, more amused at his words than offended. "Oh-hoh! At least I don't need her tears to get on with my life. You're the one who drank from her grail to chain yourself to her will!"

Again, the young man grinned as if he knew something she didn't. "Sure. Tell yourself that." And like that, he surged forward, throwing himself at the grave guard. Just as he tried to cut one of the skeleton's heads off, the knight had to raise his shield, this time halting a 'Gaze of Naggash' spell that went flying right at his head, forcing him to use his sword for defense rather than offense to stop a sword strike headed right for his right leg. Grunting in mild annoyance, the grail knight used his shield to knock that grave guard's head right off its shoulders, only to roll his eyes when its body tried to strike him, forcing his horse to back off as more of its kind closed in to attack.

"Alright, that's enough of that." Alvin huffed in consternation, urging his horse to a sudden gallop. The grave guards weren't prepared for this and were barreled over, not getting up in time to halt the knight's charge as he rode straight toward Sybille. Just as the knight began to close the distance between himself and the witch, he finally gasped when a sudden boom erupted just behind the witch, which coincided with his horse collapsing under him, bringing the grail knight down to the ground with a sudden thud.

Alvin cursed, barely bringing up his shield to stop another black bolt of Dhar from hitting him in the helmet as he lay on the ground with the sound of Sybille cackling. As Alvin got up to his knees, his horse thrashed helplessly on the ground. He cursed as the grave guard began to set up on him viciously, trying to surround him like hyenas now that he was literally on their level.

Gone was the knight who was acting bored and lackadaisical with his movement; in its place was a man who fought like a daemon possessed. His sword flashed like lightning, and the strength of his strikes was enough to rent and warp the armor of the unfortunate grail guard in his way.

Sybille cursed and realized that Rudy had possibly done too good of a job. Summoning more zombies to slow and mob the grail knight further, she began to back up her heading before running past the peasant in question, who stared at the dwarven pistol he had used to shoot one of the horse's legs before following right after Sybille, easily keeping pace with the witch until they reached the carriage.

"Though you pissed the bastard right off that as a great shot, boy." She said as he clambered inside the carriage, willing her undead steeds to move forward as Rudy practically lept in after her.

"It wasn't. I was aiming for his head." He looked downright remorseful as he stared at his pistol in wonder. "Lord Lyle was right. I should have trained, aiming this better when I had the chance."

"Pah. You boys and your big ambitions. If he-

Sybille gaped when a familiar sword pierced through the wooden frame of the carriage, erupting right through Rudy's side as blood spurt out. The boy howled in pain when the sword was pulled back for what would surely be another thrust when the carriage spurred to life the undead steeds, getting the message that they needed to leave an hour ago.

"You're not getting away that easily, bitch!" Alvin's voice roared just behind the carriage as he ran to keep pace, and with his herculean stamina, he was beginning to succeed. Despite all the armor he wore, the young man wouldn't be dissuaded so easily, especially since the heavily forested area forced the undead steeds to make twists and turns, which allowed Alvin to keep pace.

As Rudy continued to cry out in pain, his wound hissing with smoke and bubbling with blood, Sybille leaned out her side of the carriage, staff in hand as she grits her teeth, firing another gaze of Naggash right at her pursuer only for him to bat it away with his shield, not losing a breath over it.

Soon, she settled for just firing bolts of dhar at him. It was clear that the lady had blessed his shield in some fashion and that speed would help her needle past his defenses to try and at least slow him down. Yet Alvin's reaction time was quick and frighteningly on point, his shield blocking, deflecting, or outright batting away Sybille's desperate bolts of magic away, as he continued to get closer, his armored legs pumping up and down and his face a tight expression of fury at being made a fool momentarily. Sybille would have raised more undead, but she knew that would be a waste of magic given how they were moving too fast for them to get up to stop him. The winds of magic were starting to run low, and she knew that if she forced the issue, she could suffer a similar fate that Lyle did…with less of a chance to get out with only a minor mutation.

Yet just as Alvin got close enough to try and strike the carriage's wheel with his bright sword, a web suddenly shot out and attached itself to his shield, which connected with the ground. It was all so sudden and shocking that Alvin nearly fell head over ass, falling to one knee as the webbing forced his shield to the ground. Looking to his right, he saw none other than Soren riding a spider, which was now catching up to the carriage at a brisk pace.

Seeing an opportunity that her most trusted companion afforded, Sybille used the last of the winds available to her to use a spell that she had used to fell grail knights before. It took a few seconds to gather enough of the winds to turn them all into pure dhar, but it was enough time, especially since Alvin had abandoned his shield and was trying to run toward her carriage again. It worked against the chestnut-haired youth as a literal whirlwind of dhar came hurtling toward him with near-blinding speed, making his eyes widen as there was no chance to get out of the way.

The grail knight was quite literally blown away with the 'Wind of Death' spell, sending him flying and even crashing through a few trees yards away from the fleeing necromancers, allowing Sybille to breathe a sigh of relief and fall back into the carriage, feeling her age from the magical wringer she had put her body through. But, she was not so worn out that she was unable to tend to the still moaning Rudy, a foul smell filling the carriage from his wound, with his eyelids now half-lid.

"Oh, quit your whining, boy." She groused as she pulled out strips of cloth. "Tis' only a flesh wound, you'll survive."

"It-it, it burns." The boy cried out. "It burns Sybille, it buuuurrns." His moans were agonized. "T-tell Lord Spoletta-

"Oh, hush up! You're not going to die from a wound like this, and it seems that it missed any of your organs. Tch! Luck of fools."

"I'm…I'm going to-

"Live, yes now do quit your bellyaching. Your 'Lord,' as you call him, will have my head if he finds out I let you die and…wait." The wound continued to fester and bubble even as she wrapped her linen strips lined with a healing paste that could calm even the most grievous of wounds. Sybille would have used magic to heal him, but alas, it could only work on the undead, and Rudy was not one…yet. But even then, the wound hissed like an angry serpent, befuddling the witch momentarily as she stared at the stab wound.

"This…the Lady's magic does not function like this. Certainly not on the living." She then watched with wide eyes as the wound began to warp ever so slightly, turning into a slight hue of colors as Rudy panted, the pain becoming overwhelming.

Reeling back and then looking back at the trail of destruction she had left with her latest spell, the silver-haired woman could only mutter in confusion at what she was seeing.

"...how does the Lady not realize one of her champions is flirting with chaos?"

…

"So you're from Carcassonne?" Ave queried, her dull and near-lifeless green eyes looking her more alive counterpart up and down with mild surprise. You hide your accent well," she added.

Fredericka shrugged, "It's not really something I purposely hid…at least not anymore. I most certainly hid it when I hitched a carriage all the way to Stirland and stayed there for a few years. The last thing I needed was to stand out among other peasant girls."

"...so you've been to the Empire."

"For a spell."

"I never had the chance to go before." Ave paused, briefly glancing at her pale and cold fingers. "Is it any good?"

"Better than Bretonnia…even if I didn't care for the lewd comments I got as a barmaid."

This time, Ave snorted, her bucked teeth shining through. "You were a barmaid."

"Not many other professions for women ourselves less' you're a noble." Fredericka shrugged. "It was better than tending to sheep…and I actually got paid for my work."

"Tending to sheep beats shoveling shit." Ave countered, folding her arms. "Soon, you don't even remember the smell anymore." The woman's expression then dampened ever so slightly. "Well…back when I could smell, of course."

Fredericka nodded slowly, carefully navigating the minefield that was laid about before her, yet with trepidation, not quite sure where to broach the subject matter that Lyle had beseeched her to.

The two of them had been talking for what felt like half an hour now, with terse words being the style of the moment, only for the veritable ice to be broken once the girls realized how similar their humble stomping grounds were.

Both of them had lived the lives of peasant girls, and both were wholly unsatisfied with their respective lots. For Ave, it was how little was done to help her village. For Fredericka, well…it was more so getting control of her own life. But, then again, joining a band of brigands to kill those attempting to harm your village was a way of taking control of your life, just with different steps.

With these thoughts on her mind, Fredericka found herself talking, leaning back against the turret opening they were on, taking in the sight from atop the walls of Castle Bastonne. "My family wanted to get me married. Some families… don't even know their names, never wanted to know their names. They had some special family secret that let them' breed sheep with thicker coats. Coats that could help people get through winter. Wanted to unify our families and so my duty was set before me." The bitterness seeped into the raven-haired necromancer's voice like poison, her face wrinkling with the verbal change. "I never cared about getting married. Not one bit. I had an aunt. She got married, and seven kids followed right after." She slowly turned toward Ave with a flat expression. "Seven. Kids."

Ave winced, her legs clenching together. "And she survived every birth."

Fredericka scoffed. "After the fourth, I think she was hoping she wouldn't. I remember how spritely, outgoing, and chatty she would be back when I was four. She was a fireball, my aunt, wrestling with our family's sheep and getting them in line when my pa was busy with something or another…then she got hitched to her nephew, keepin' the family line pure as our village elder always spouted on about. It was like I watching somethin' wilt n' die every time a new kid came out of her."

Ave looked away from the necromancer, feeling a sickness in her gut as her voice wavered ever so slightly. "And the lad you were matched to? Was he at least good-looking?"

"I've learned the Lady is hardly ever so kind. At least to us peasants." Fredericka then spat off the turret, a glob of spit plummeting downward. "His looks weren't even the problem it was…the boy was touched in the head."

"Oh…" Ave groaned, having a feeling where this was going.

"He wasn't the boy of his father's first marriage. His father had married outside the family, only for the first wife to die in childbirth. He took that as a sign from the Lady that he would have many children only by keeping things…pure. And oh, did he have many children. Five, in fact, with his sister, but the oldest of the bunch would make even a cave troll seem more cunning."

Leaning against the turret walls, Fredericka narrowed her eyes, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "I remember we exchanged our vows in the name of the Lady and Shalia, and all I could feel was queasy about how his tongue hung out of his mouth with his eyes crossed. We were then led to our…hut for our bedding and…By Naggash."

"You don't have to-

"No. To hells with it, I've gotten this far." Fredericka grunted, her knuckles turning white. He…He didn't even get my clothes off before his tongue was slobbering all over my face. He…started licking my nose and my eyes and thrusting while we were still clothed…I just thought about what happened to my aunt and wasn't willing to go through that. Not with someone with such a small mind. To endure that for years-no. I can't, and I couldn't." She glared darkly out in the distance before her voice turned hard. "And so I didn't."

"You killed him?"

"I was going to bash his head in with a rock, but…well, he was all over me, his hands were squishing my face as he licked my face like a gods-damned dog, and I tried pushing his face away from me." The necromancer then smiled, her lips cold. "Then he fell over on his side and died. His skin had turned as cold as ice as his tongue hung out of his mouth in death as it did when he drew breath. I hadn't realized it then, but I thought the Gods had spared me a grave injustice. It was only later that I realized I drained his life out."

"You realized you could use magic."

"And I knew that if my family found out, little good could come from it. So many people were drinking and celebrating the wedding night that I hid inside a wine cart heading east towards the Empire like a goblin in the night. I never looked back."

Ave almost seemed relieved with the story. "So, he never…soiled you."

"Mercifully not." Fredericka admitted. "I admit, it's not quite as visceral as what happened to you."

Nothing was said between the two young women. They just stared out into the distance atop Caste Bastonne with the faint sound of gunfire going off in the distance. Yet despite such a sharp and contrasting sound, neither paid any mind.

Eventually, Fredericka spoke up again. "So you killed the man responsible for what happened."

"Not all of them." Ave had uttered, her voice going as cool as her skin. "Two others. Two men from my village. Lyle never found them, even among the dead from the battle here at Bastonne."

"...I can make them suffer when we find them if you want." A dangerous glint reflected off of Fredericka's eyes. "We necromancers tend to get a bit too creative for our own good when it comes to making the living go through the worst."

Ave broke into a smirk. "I appreciate the offer, but… Lyle offered the same thing. The only reason I wanted to kill Bastien quickly was because I wanted it to be a public death…. I didn't want to kill him in a way that would make my people think I'd…completely be a monster. Those two, though. When I find them, I'll have them all to myself. What happens to them is between me, them, and La-" Ave stopped herself, looking as though she wanted to bite her tongue before glaring again. "I can make em' suffer on my own."

Fredericka nodded tersely. "You were part of Bertrand's Brigands before they died, were you not? Have you spoken with them since your death?"

"...no."

"I've had no dealings with them personally, but Master Kemmler would constantly complain how they'd managed to keep tabs on his movements while in Bretonnai. Maybe if you asked for help-

"I'm not one of them anymore." Ave shook her head. "I'm…I don't know." The undead peasant bit her pale lips, fidgeting. "May-what in the gods' name?"

A constant thrumming sound contrasted with the rifles going off beneath the castle. This sound was clearly above the castle and was getting closer by the moment. The two young women looked to and fro, trying to locate the origin of the sound until Fredericka spied on the offending object, which caused such an auditory disturbance. She slowly reached for her staff when she spied a gyrocopter hurtling right toward the castle briskly.

Ave openly gaped, not quite wondering what to make of this sight. "What in all of the Gods' name am I lookin' at?"

"A gyrocopter."

"Aight. What in the Gods' name is a gyrocopter?"

"Hopefully, something that isn't going to be dropping any bombs on us or piloted by a dwarf with a particular grudge toward our dear leader."

"You… sayin' dwarves made that?"

Fredericka sideyed the undead peasant. "Well, our fellow Bretonnians most certainly didn't."

"Well, I could have told you that!" Ave barked back, watching as the gyrocopter drifted closer. "Should…should we shoot it? Do something about it?"

"You'd need a cannon or a magic bolt to take it down. Arrows won't do the trick." Fredericka then narrowed her eyes critically. "But even then, if they planned to attack, gyrocopters would come in groups. I know that for a fact with my escapades with Kemmler."

"So…what is this a scout then?"

"Maybe…or more specifically a messenger whose coming on short notice."

Ave swallowed as she backed up, feeling intimidated by the foreign contraption. "Looks like it was built by deamonish hands."

Fredericka rolled her eyes. "Look, I was a peasant like you once, so I get it, but please keep up."

"I don't have years of traveling the old world under my belt like you! Piss off!"

Eventually, the gyrocopter hovered over them, and for a mad moment, Fredericka thought that the floating contraption would drop a bomb on them as it had when Kemmler had skirmishes with dwarves in the past. Still, mercifully, it lowered itself to the ground until it eventually hovered no longer.

The cockpit popped open and out came a familiar red-headed braided female dwarf covered in what looked like smudges. Either she had been delving into a cave or working at a forge, and for Fredericka, it was hard to tell which since both activities were not mutually exclusive for dwarves.

Ave whistled as Nalga stomped toward them, her eyes wide. "Never seen a dwarf before when I was alive. She's making a shorty like myself feel tall."

"Well, ye can gawk n' marvel at me later when we're not at risk of bein' butchered, lass." Nalga grunted as she marched up to Fredericka and glared up at her. "Where's Lyle?"

The necromancer narrowed her eyes. "Why? You should be back at your Karak overseeing the construction of firearms as Lyle instructs-

"Would ye get your staff out yer arse n' listen to what I'm sayin'? You're all about to be butchered by Grobi, beasts n' the ancestors know what else if ye don't get out of my way and actually use those long legs for somethin' and help me!"

The word Grobi confused the undead peasant, but Fredericka understood it completely with wide eyes, having studied Khazalid to raise undead dwarves more easily.

"Explain. Quickly."

…

"Fire!"

A disorganized, uncoordinated, and off-kilter series of gunshots rang across the field, making Lyle sigh. He stared pointedly at the one hundred fifty men and women holding their rifles, not looking as confident as musketeers ought to if they were about to march into battle.

"Y'know, when I say fire, that pretty much means pull the trigger right then and there. Not before. Not a little bit after. Right then. And. There." Lyle annunciated slowly, the peasants before looking shamefaced at the disunified fire. "I know we've been doing this to death, but please. Look again. I know it's becoming a bit of a running gag at this point, but watch and learn."

Lyle then turned to his right, where a row of one hundred zombies stared vacantly in front of them, holding muskets much like their still-living counterparts. "Z-Musketeers! Present!" The zombies then stood at attention, as much as their pale corpses could allow. "Ready!" They then put two hands on their rifles instead of the one just holding them up. "Aim!" They then focused said rifles down in near unison. "Fire!" As one, the zombies managed to pull their triggers, unleashing a deadly barrage of musket fire in the firing dummies in front of them with lethal efficiency, consisting of impromptu scarecrows with unsalvageable knight armor. The fact that a line of smoke erupted in front of them with such unity and all at once showed how coordinated the firing was.

Giving a satisfied nod, Lyle looked back at the peasants, now looking even more unsure. Among them were Jori, Ham, and many other peasants from Riffen, with some Bastonnian peasants volunteering to participate in this training program. "Look, guys. Obviously, these guys got a leg up on you. When I give a command, they don't ask questions. They just do. And if I want them to do it all at once, they're gonna do it. Believe me, you've seen it at least a dozen times now."

"So why even bother then?" A woman asked, rubbing her arm from holding her own rifle and dealing with its recoil. "I mean, if you got the undead doing this, then why bother with all this training?" A murmur of sobering grunts of agreement followed her fellow peasants, some staring longingly at their rifles, wondering what Lyle desperately needed them to have.

Even Jori stepped forward, rubbing the back of his head and looking like he wanted to say something before keeping his mouth closed. To his chagrin, Lyle had already noticed him step out of line and put his hands on his hips. "Look, Jori, you got somethin' you wanna say, then say it, my man. I ain't gonna hang you or throw you in gibbet."

The bearded bald peasant eventually sighed, choosing his words carefully. "Listen, m'lord. I…we appreciate you takin' us out to test out these guns, yeah? But, it's like the lady said, you can just have your undead do the job and not have us drag you down, right? I mean, we won't hold it against yo-

"And what are you guys gonna do if there's no undead around to keep your feet out of the fire?" Lyle suddenly asked sharply. "Have you all been so quick to forget what happened when I got yanked out of Riffen after we beat those goblins?" The sobering reminder quickly silenced Jori and any other Riffen natives involved in the firing line. "Yeah, it'd be easier for me if I just had my undead handle all the work, but if you guys get left behind for some reason or another or you're cornered by someone and all you got is a pistol or a rifle on you, what are you gonna do? Live on a prayer and hope that you aim just right? Hope and pray that you fire at the right moment and the right time. What if you miss? What if you gotta reload but don't got time to reload?"

Uncertainty and worry soon became the common denominator on all of these peasants' faces. What was even worse, Lyle wasn't even one hundred percent sure that he could adequately prepare them for such situations. He was barely able to learn how to properly be a necromancer on the fly, and that was only helped because of how easily it came to use spells. For him, it was just a matter of using the spells properly to bring them to their fullest potential.

But, being a musketeer? Oh sure, he'd fired a few guns before with his grandfather and uncle, albeit for very different reasons, but there were levels to this. He could teach them how to fire a musket and how to aim. That was simple enough, but teaching them how to reload these was vastly different from reloading a modern firearm. Plus, there were other factors, like-

"Spoletta!"

"Oh, come on, I'm in the middle of somethin' here!" Lyle groused, feeling miffed at the interruption. Yet he didn't go into a full on rant due to the familiarity of the voice momentarily throwing him off. Sure enough, when he turned around, the earth native couldn't help but grin stupidly when he saw a familiar red-headed dwarf stomping toward him with Fredericka and Ave just behind her. "Well, well, well. Look who couldn't keep herself away."

"Oh, stuff it, ye bow-legged umgi." She grumbled, sadly in no mood for Lyle's usual banter. "Ye should be kissin' my feet with the word I bring to ye. We need to talk…privately."

Lyle, against his better judgment, WAS about to banter with the dwarf some more, not quite able to help himself, but once he saw the grave and stricken expressions on Ave and Fredericka, the gravity of the situation settled firmly on his shoulders, urging him to turn back to the peasants who looked confusedly at the female dwarf, never seeing her kind before. "Boys n' girls, go ahead and take a break. I'll be back in a bit."

The peasants seemed to sag in relief. Some fell on their rumps to catch a breather, having been training in this for over an hour, while others rubbed and massaged their shoulders, trying to manage the recoil they'd been dealing with until now.

Sighing and walking away from them, he urged the group of women who had approached him to walk his pace so that they were some distance from his vaunted peasants. Once they followed his lead and did just that, Lyle turned back to the women, his lips thin. "Alright, lay it on me. What bad news do you get for me?"

"How do you know it's bad?" Ave asked curiously.

"You all look like someone or something died. When you grow up in a family as expressive as mine, you catch onto this kinda stuff. So come on, don't beat around the bush. You went out of your way to interrupt my training, so get on with it."

At his urging, Nalga did just that, folding her arms tightly. "My people don't mince words, Lyle, so I most definitely won't. To the east of your new castle, Bastonne, you have thousands of Beastment headed to your position right now as we speak."

Lyle blinked and then looked toward Freddy and Ave. "The…the goatfuckers, right?" At their tentative nods, Lyle nodded. "Oh…well, okay, I meant that's a bit annoyin', but nothin' I can't handle. Especially with your guns, which are workin' like a charm so far, so thanks, hon'." Lyle chuckled, hoping to butter the dwarf up, only to realize how grave their expressions still were. "... there's more?"

"Aye. Grobi that were to the North of ye are now headin' further West. And we think they could eventually make their way here as well."

"...Grobi?"

"Goblins. Headed by one of the worst em', Grom the Paunch."

"...how many we talkin'?"

"Thousands."

"Mmm." The earth native's eyes narrowed perceptively, his lips thinning as if they sucked on a lemon. A concerned glance flickered back to his relaxing peasants, some drinking from barrels of water and wine he had set up for them not too far away as they grumbled or joked with one another. "...anything else?"

"That's it…far as we know."

"And as far as I know, King Louis up north is preparing an attack on us as we speak. Got the info from a damsel we captured."

"That would match up with what my sources have told us. Whole reason why the Grobi are headed south are because the King is having someone clear them out from their usual holds, so that the Brettish army has a clear path to ye."

Fredericka tried to keep the unease out of her voice, suddenly desiring her bat-winged concoction right now. "That's two, if not three, armies heading right toward us, Master Lyle. One is trouble enough, but…"

"We just got a damned reprieve from fighting Bohemond, and now suddenly everyone and everything wants a piece of us. Lovely." Lyle grunted, chewing his lip as he tried to process what was hurtling toward him. "And how much time do we got?"

"A little over a week. Maybe less."

"Then we have SOME time. We can work with that."

Ave snorted. "Glad you can see SOME upside in this."

"I have to. It's kind of my job at this point. I mean whattya want me to do? Laugh? Cry? Pitch a fit? At this point, we just gotta assume the worst is comin' and deal with it." Lyle then looked back at the peasants when an idea suddenly struck him. Grinning at Nalga, the dwarf looked unnerved at his sudden shift in demenor. "Say…you busy with anything right now, Nalga?"

"...perhaps. Why?"

"Well, it just so happens that I need someone to whip these peas-

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish-

"I already know what ye want to ask. The job was for me to make the guns, not to teach your fellow umgi how to use them."

"Nalga…you can't just feast a crap-ton of bad news like that and not expect me to ask for some help." Lyle then kneeled before the dwarf till' they were at eye level. "Look. These guys…these guys don't have a lot of time to prepare for what's coming, so I need the best to get them to a level to at least have a chance." He then pursed his lips. "Please, Ave. I just got done saving these people from being sold into slavery to some dark elves, I don't wanna have em' pulled into hope only for it to mean nothing."

That gave the dwarf pause. "The…the drucchi?" She suddenly asked. "These people were nearly sold to the ancestor's damned drucchi?"

"If I'd been a bit later, that's what would have happened to them."

The dwarf herself then looked to the peasants before grunting, cursing her bleeding heart. She felt like she was her brother all over again. "Fine. After one week of this, I leave to return to my hold. Ye got your responsibilities; I got mine."

"That's all I ask for." He then surprised the dwarf again with a sudden hug, making the dwarf stammer and sputter, thankful that it didn't last long. "I mean it, Nalga. You're the best. Best dwarf a guy like me can ask for."

"Don't talk to me like I'm yours, bow leg!" The dwarf huffed, with a hint of red dusting her cheeks. Ave and Fredericka stared pointedly at the interaction, there expressions wide-eyed but otherwise unreadable, with both women sharing a brief glance. "Look, just let me get my own rifle from my gyrocopter, and I'l ge-

"Actually…before you go, there's something that you should know." Lyle looked meaningfully at all the women before his voice dipped. "I'm gonna bring this up to the inner circle later, but it's something I found out about from Yasmine earlier. Apparently, one of the people who is clearing a path for King Louis is a powerful new hotshot grail knight, and beating on the goblins like a drum."

Ave shrugged. "Well, you've killed grail knights before. Even beat one of the best on the battlefield."

"Not like this one. Look this guy…if Yasmine is telling the truth, he ain't no average Joe."

"And you say he's new?" Fredericka asked with curiosity? What is it about this grail knight that worries you so, Lyle?"

"... he's from my world. From Earth. Maybe even from my home in the good ol' USA."

The female necromancer paled respectively, her mouth opening and closing. "That's… that's not possible." She muttered, wide-eyed. "Kemmler's scroll, it was only ever intended to summon you. And we now know it was used through chaos to summon you."

That made Lyle blink. "So…wait, are you saying that this guy from my world could have ONLY been summoned from my world through chaos?"

"Well… I'm not sure." Fredericka admitted. "I didn't even know you were brought through chaos until a little over a month ago. The question is, how exactly did this new grail knight get brought into the Old World? Was he brought here by the Lady? Does she have that kind of power?"

"I dunno! I've been shitting on her since I got here, so I wouldn't know! We don't even know anything about this guy other than the fact that he was brought here as a Grail Knight and helped King Louis butcher the norscans that were comin' south!"

Nalga, who had been listening to this conversation with interest, addressed Lyle. "Spoletta…this man who hails from your home. What is his name? Perhaps I can learn more about him through my… family's sources."

…

"Alvin. Your pride has cost you your quarry."

Alvin rolled his eyes, kneeling around a multitude of goblin corpses that had been maimed and mauled in a variety of ways, with the bodies themselves strewn in a circle with him in the center. "The old hag caught me by surprise, is all. It won't happen again."

"My magic can only protect you so much when under so much strain. If given the chance, that Wind of Death spell would have wounded even the sternest of Grail Knights." As the voice spoke to Alvin, a dark gray wall of smoke seeped before him, with two glowing yellow eyes standing out amongst the smoke. "You would do well not to be fooled by the frail appearances of spellcasters, something I thought I would not need to enlighten you since you claim to know so much about this world."

The grail knight snorted. "I was smart enough to see through the bullshit you were trying to spin me as appearing to me as the Lady when I first got here, trying to tell me to go North for reasons that you and I both know weren't going to help me long term."

"Tch! Impudent wretch!"

"Call me what you want, Be'lakor; you and I both know that it ain't gonna help either of us get what we want."

"You would do well to take your own advice. Also, I care for the Brettish about as much as I care for the damned Gods that cursed me, but your mask is slipping. You're performance has become less…chivalrous in recent days. Do you desire to give up the game so soon?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Alvin said with the sincerity of a scheming Skaven. "You try dealing with these backwater boring and generic excuse for a fantasy faction, when you know there's so much more excitement to be had. I could tolerate these stupid foppish knights to an extent, but it's just the constant…and I mean constant self-fellating of their egos like they're actually some kind of special breed of people when you could make the case that they're the lowest common denominator." The young man gagged. "The way their peasants are a crime against humanity. Their way of fighting and their overbloated and cumbersome chivalry is a migraine inducing heap of garbage, and having to live with their backward society where they don't even use advanced farming techniques that the Empire has is beyond infuriating to the point where it's an exercise not to butcher any of these 'knights' on site!"

"Pah! You believe you have it hard while I am the one who hasn't been whole for generations! You bemoan your status to live amongst the backwater humans, but you don't grasp the suffering I have experienced! The patience I have had to exercise!"

Alvin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Look, this little stumbling block aside, I've technically done my job. His highness won't have to worry about goblin ambushes on his supply train for when he eventually marches south… it's just a question of how much longer I have to suck up to Louen to get a face to face meeting with the Fay Enchantress."

A low grumble rumbled from beyond the smoke, the yellow eyes from within. "As of now, she is south. Deep in the south of Bretonnia with Carcassonne, guiding and advising one of the Lady's most loyal slaves, Repanse De Lyonese."

The knight blinked owlishly. "The Joan of Arc ripoff? And she was brought from Araby to Carcassone just like that?"

"Do not underestimate the power of an elven Goddess. It is precisely why you must maintain the facade for a tad longer."

"Right…right." The knight sighed, rubbing his forehead in annoyance for what was to come. He could only suck up so much fake French ass and continue with the counterfeit pleasantries for so long before those migraines would start to come back with a vengeance. The foppishness, the pointless pageantry, the nonsensical chivalric code that hamstrung and made an idiot of so many knights. Alvin had never liked it before he came to the world of Warhammer, and he didn't care for it now, that he was literally immersed in it. "Say…If she's bringing in the big guns in the south, does that mean he's headed right for Lyle?"

"It is the only reason she was brought there, I would imagine."

"And you still don't know whose protecting him?"

"Hm. Every attempt is met with a dense fog. A dense magical fog that I risk finding myself lost in should I delve too closely. It could be a variety of different Gods that would fit the role of his puppeteer. It would not surprise me if one of the chaos Gods watched over him with vigilance. It is a fog that shields who his true master is, much like the shadow magic I use to hide your true loyalties from the Lady."

Alvin shrugged. "Well, it would have been interesting to meet him, especially since the chaos he's creating in Bretonnia is making it criminally easier to pull the wool over Louen's eyes…but hey, luck has to run out event-

"Ser, Alvin? Wh-what is-

The fog immediately dissipated, and Alvin whirled around. One of the young errant knights he had explicitly told not to follow him pointedly disobeyed his orders and saw what he was talking to.

Sighing deeply in annoyance, the earth-native stood up and rolled his shoulders. "Y'know, it's a damned shame. You were one of the promising-looking ones to keep around, but the fact that you clearly can't do what you're told shows me this is a blessing in disguise."

"Y-you. Wh-what were you speaking to!?" The knight stammered, unable to comprehend what he had stumbled across.

"A guy who wants to be a chaos God." Alvin admitted openly, stalking toward the youth. "And a guy who can help me get what I want. A nice change of pace from all of you guys."

"Y-you-traitor! The older nobles were right about you! We were foolish to trust a foreigner like yourself!"

"Psh! Me being foreign is gonna be the last of your concerns, my man." Alvin retorted menacingly as he held his sword lazily at his side. "Come on now. You've caught me. Smite me down in the name of the Lady, like your code demands you to."

The knight hesitated, his eyes going wide as fear seized his insides. He'd seen Alvin fight before up close and personal and what was once reverence and inspiration at his martial skill now turned to terror. Despite chivalry demanding that he fight the man in a duel, he quickly bolted past the trees to try and get back to his horse and warn the others.

Yet just when the knight was about to break into a sprint, he ran into a wall of gray smoke, making him stumble and blink in shock and confusion before he suddenly found himself unable to breathe. The smoke dissipated, and standing before him was the bored look on Alvin's face, his sword shoved into his throat.

The champion of Belakor then twisted and slashed the blade, beheading the errant knight on the spot, causing the body to crumple like a marionette without its strings.

The earth-native then rolled his eyes, staring up at the sky in annoyance at the extra work he'd now have to do. Now, how should he explain the death of one of these knights to the others without garnering suspicion? Should he disappear the body or…

…on second thought, there were plenty of goblins that he himself found on his own. It's not too out of the ordinary for a young, impressionable knight like this boy to fall to his own hubris.

All in the name of the Lady, after all. It wouldn't be a lie to say that he died serving her.

…

A/N: I wasn't one hundred percent sure with the chapter layout this time. We all know that you gotta get scene breaks every now and then, but I wondered if it was a good idea to have this many scene breaks in this chapter alone through the perspectives of so many different people. I dunno, whattya guys think? I mean got done what I wanted to get done, but is it something that even was a problem?

Regardless of my inner thoughts, the big conflict that I'm currently outlining is coming to a head, and it's daunting as much as it is exciting. All of the main players of what is to come haven't even been introduced yet, but I'm confident that it'll live up to expectations for when it all comes to a head.

All in all, thanks for the multitude of comments as usual, some were actually quite helpful for how I'll approach future chapters and how I can view character building as a whole. Anyways thanks for reading as always and keep the comments coming. I greatly appreciate you all sticking with me as usual.

P.S.: Also in the coming days there are gonna be updates this week as I make grammatical corrections. So if you see another update coming up this week, don't think that's another chapter dropping, that's just a correction dropping. Kinda embarrassing that I'm mixing up Kemmler and Krell too much, lol.