A/R:

Kolek Blood Drinker: Thanks for pointing that out. Really appreciate it.

Annoying POW Marine: I appreciate that the B plots have been satisfactory. It's been a bit tough fitting in all of that with the main plot, but I'm getting the hang of it. It's a lot to keep track of, but I think it'll be worth it in the end. And boy oh boy, you have no idea how on point you are with that prince daniel comparison is.

dadg12346: Oh he would take the empire in a heartbeat. They're not even his favorite faction and he would take them if he could. The problem is that he's stuck working with Be'lakor and the Bretonnians…for now.

zerkil: Otherworlders aren't exclusively aligned or brought through chaos. The chaos gods can bring them in for sure, but they aren't the only ones. Chaos just finds it easier to bring otherworlders, since they can access other dimensions quite frequently. And it is possible, to bring in otherworlders that aren't human, it's just that Earth is something akin to a 'new frontier' for the chaos gods to draw from, especially since most people on earth wouldn't know the Chas Gods exist besides the niche audience that follows Warhammer.

As for Morghur, no. He is not the one leading this brayherd but it's a familiar beastman that is nonetheless still dangerous. And yes I did watch the video and that dude basically summed up what I thought about much of the story. I stand by my point that they should have just went with a completely different setting if they were going to butcher the lore of Bretonnia by THAT much. PS: I left a review for your story.

Nagash44: You would think he would have to meet up with Archaon and go north but, not for what Belakor and Alvin himself have planned. Also I love the guesses on on the God that's watching over Lyle. I don't wanna admit whether you're right or wrong to spoil anything crucial, but you're not far off.

…

"Goblins to the west, Beastmen to the east, and Bretonnians to the north." Despite the horrific and daunting circumstances presented to the Lhamian Vampire, Deni showed little reaction otherwise, a faint curiosity as if there was a sudden weather change. "Goodness, gracious Monsieur Spoletta. If I didn't know any better, it would be that every warlord or bestial champion within Bretonnia is taking great offense to your sudden rise within this ancient land. You should wear such an honor with pride!"

"Thank you, Deni. I'll be sure to let the Goblins, Bretonnians n' Beastmen when they get here." Lyle bantered back seamlessly, sitting amongst the rest of the inner circle. With him in what was once Duke Bohemond's Solar sat Fredericka, Wendel, Tobias, and Schmitz, who comprised the Legion's inner circle. Also, there was, of course, Deni, who sat conspicuously close to Wendel, who looked like he didn't know whether to flee or swoon in her much taller frame, as well As Ave, who stood just behind Lyle, her eyes flickering around the necromancers intermittently. "But not before kneecapping them before they get to us."

"So you wish to strike them before they strike us. A bold move." Schmitz grumbled. "Though I don't disapprove. Best to do away with those unwashed filthy goblins and beastmen before they can ruin the lands we've butchered land to take."

"It's also a risk." Tobias countered, drawing an unsubtle glare from his bald counterpart. "If we strike out at them now, we risk overextending ourselves or taking on losses that we'll need desperately to defend what we have. We only have so many corpses to hurl at our foes before we begin to deplete ourselves."

"And if we do nothing, we risk losing it all regardless." Schmitz all but growled. "I know that showing any hint of aggression is a concept lost on your fellow grimoire thumpers, Tobias, but in battle-

"In battle, there is no surety in anything. We're lucky to have gone as far as we…" Tobias then stopped himself, looking fidgeted at Lyle before giving an even more wary gaze to a smiling Deni, her fangs slightly showing. "F-forgive me, Lichemaster, I spoke out of turn."

"Nah, nah, it's cool, T-man." Lyle chuckled, assuaging the spectacled necromancer's nerves. "That's what we're all meetin' here for, after all. To hear all your thoughts to find out how to solve this lil' problem of ours. That's all. I mean, it's not like you insulted my motha or anythin' like that, right?"

"N-no, of course not."

"Well, then, talk away! If you got a better idea, we're all ears!"

Suddenly feeling put on the spot with everyone's gaze now locked onto him, The learned necromancer tugged at the collar of his dark robe, coughing slightly before doing as he was bid. "Well. If I may declare, my lord, if you wish to at the very least not abandon castle Bastonne, we can employ all manner of spells, wards, traps, and other stopgaps to create the land around us into killing filling for our many, many foes."

"Normally, I would be all for that." Fredericka interrupted. "But, the problem is that we have less than a week. Maybe even only four days at this point to try and deal with the coming threat. We may not have time to create as many extensive traps around here, especially since it cost us a great deal of magic in the meantime. Magic that we may need for the final conflict."

Tobias swallowed hard, thinning his lips. "That is…unfortunate. I still don't like this aggressive front. It still carries its risks."

"But, it might be all we have on the table." Fredericka countered. "If we can strike out and possibly destroy one of the armies before they get here-

"We could be out of position for the other army if it catches wind of what we're doing." Tobias retorted. "I'm not against being aggressive, but-

"Then we'll be fast. Move swiftly before they can react." Schmitz retorted, growing frustrated by Tobias's protests.

"Unless we're just taking our wolves, bats, and cavalry, speed won't favor us long-term." Wendel countered this time. "I mean, we all know our zombies and skeletons aren't the fastest, and if speed is what we need…" The eye-patch-wearing blonde sounded unsure as he spoke, but Schmitz ultimately had to concede the point, even as he grit his teeth in frustration. "I'm not against striking first, it's just the logistics of it aren't going to make much sense, especially if we have to hurry back to Castle Bastonne."

"So we're in a classic damned if you do, damned if you don't dilemma." Lyle concluded with a shrug of his shoulders. "Well, if-

A peel of gunfire echoed outside of the Solar, making the necromancers jump slightly until they remembered why there was gunfire in the first place. It made the Lichemaster smirk wistfully in satisfaction as he heard Nalga's voice filled with outrage and consternation as she barked corrections and orders to the peasants she was training. A welcome audible if he ever heard one.

"I still don't understand why you bother training the peasants." Schmitz sighed. "You've proven that our zombies can fire in a straight line, can they not? Why waste time and resources on these mud-hut fools?"

Lyle could practically feel the contempt from Ave as he side-eyed his bald counterpart with a smile. "Gives us flexibility. We don't gotta waste any magical material to keep them together. Think of it as a way of cutting costs."

"It will mean nothing if they turn those guns against you, Lichemaster."

"You let me worry about where they point those guns…and Nalga since she's the one actually showing them how not to blow off their own limbs."

Tobias pushed up his glasses, his brows furrowing. "And you can trust the dwarf to not sew treachery of her own, Master Spoletta? It was not long ago when you forced to swear her hold into a vassalage to you at sword point."

At that comment, Lyle's smile only widened. "I can trust her to teach those peasants more than I trust certain people teaching me."

That got a great many people at the table to halt any other objections related to Nalga and die out expeditiously.

Satisfied with the sudden criticisms toward his growing and living musketeer corps, Lyle was about to continue when he heard the tittering laugh of Deni, who daintily put a hand to her lips in amusement. "Good heavens, you're all so much more interesting to watch than the double-speak that often fills my sisters' rooms. If you're all so desperate to attack while defending, then why not do what my sisters and I do? Have your foes do the work for you!"

The suggestion rankled many of the necromancers present while also gaining their curiosity, with Wendel picking up on her words almost immediately. "You mean…turn them against each other, Lady Deni?"

"Ohohohoh, yes, my dear Wendel, such a good boy you are!" The vampiress grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and petting him on the head affectionately, making the young man freeze up as stiff as a board. "It's a truly easy and immediate solution, I'm surprised that more people do not use it often, given how it allows lovely Mademoiselle like myself to keep all that dreadful blood and viscera off my hands. It could tarnish our beloved gloves and fingernails if it came to such dire straights!"

Schmitz, however, was not impressed. "Leave it to the Lahmian to resort to seducing the enemy as a way to solve the issue."

"You're the one who jumped to such a scandalous conclusion, Monsieur. Not me." The vampire retorted, barely giving the bald necromancer a second thought. "There is a reason why my sisters and I, as well as our various clans throughout the Old World, have endured for as long as we have. We have more than a few ears within the Bretonnian nobility for this express purpose. A whisper here, a thrall moving over there, sweet nothing mentioned there, and perhaps this army built by King Louen can solve your problem without lifting a finger."

"That is if the Bretonnians get here in time. They're still mustering the last of their forces, aren't they?" Fredericka mentioned with narrowed eyes, not all too keen on accepting help from the Lahmians in the first place. The only reason she and the rest of those allowed her in this meeting, to begin with, was that it would be far more dangerous for her to be out of sight while learning what they discussed rather than a spy or mole who would inevitably tell her.

At least they could observe how she took all of this information. Yet it was a frustrating game when the woman had an immovable facade of class and high nobility on display, even now as she spoke. "Oh, I'm sure the King can be convinced to let loose a scouting force to confront one of these hordes. Perhaps he could be convinced to even bleed off a section of his army to do the job. At the very least, you would only need to play a deadly dance with one army instead of two, yes?"

Fredericka turned up her nose. "You seem awfully sure of yourself."

"Should I not be? Ah! Unless you are not quite accustomed to such a level of success and manipulation. It is understandable to be sure. After all, you could not quite pull the wool over your own Li-

"Ladies, ladies! Come on now, let's keep the claws retracted until we can kill something that's not each other, shall we?" Lyle interrupted with some noticeable base in his voice. "I mean, I get that there's some-

The interruptions continued when a sudden knock on the door caught everyone's attention. When Lyle stared perturbed at the sudden interruption, he sighed, "Yeah, come in."

A small and mousy female necromancer came in, her stature short and hunched as she peered into the room, scared that someone would rend her flesh to the bone for daring to interrupt the emergency meeting. "I…I hate to intrude on my most dreaded Lichemaster, but an urgent matter has arisen."

Lyle snorted. "Even more urgent than a bunch of armies getting on our asses?"

"...S-sybille has returned. And she has news."

The surprise couldn't have been hidden even if everyone tried. Wendel spoke for everyone when he expressed as much. "Already? Sh-shouldn't she have needed at least a week to sort out the goblins?"

"This must be a lady that works fast. Hm! Perhaps I thought too harshly of the…how do I say?...the most experienced woman of your Barrow Legion! Regardless, bravo to her, truly bravo!" Deni exclaimed with a clap of her hands. "To think that she would get her hands on arachnorok silk so quickly shows how-

"I-it's an emergency!" The mousy necromancer exclaimed as if Sybille had put the fear of the Gods in her to carry this message. "Lichemaster Spoletta, she says she needs to speak with you as soon as possible. Sh-she says that peasant boy you're fond of, Rudy, was gravely wounded an-

"Where?" Lyle suddenly asked, standing up.

"C-courtyard! Near where the peasants were firing an-

Lyle heard no more as he moved with no small amount of speed, casting an Invocation of Nehek upon himself and speeding through the extensive and sturdy halls of Castle Bastonne, making Schmitz sigh in his seat.

"Of course, he'll care for the bloody unwashed living compared to the safety of our own borders. Why even be surprised at this point?"

After what seemed a few minutes too long for Lyle, he rushed past other necromancers, servants, and undead guards alike, which parted like the red sea before him, not wanting to dare to move out of his way.

All the running did was make Lyle curse two specific peasants in mind who had knicked his sneakers, making it more than a little awkward for the Earth native to keep a brisk pace with the boots he was wearing instead. The unknown fate of the young boy he'd taken under his wing further diminished the facade of good cheer to a worn-out nub, along with everything else propping.

The state of their funding, the suspected treachery, the armies, the vampires, the peasants—it seemed that everything was just one thing after another.

It seemed especially true when he finally reached the firing line, which had all but stopped at this point, with the musketeer peasants in training stopping to gawk at the carriage that seemed to have arrived hastily out in the field. This was especially true given how Nalga was standing right in front of it, soot on her clothes, hands on her broad hips, glaring up at Sybille, who was currently returning the favor.

"-are what it is! You're in the bloody way of my firin' line, witch! Bugger off, or get buggered!"

"If this carriage goes any further, the boy inside will not! And if he perishes, your latest flame will string me by my lovely; at least he doesn't keep me waiting like Kemmler would."

"Nalga! Sybille! QUIET!" Both women widened their eyes and shut their traps accordingly when they heard the base tone of Lyle's voice as he ran toward them with little hesitation. The peasants, who had been gawking at the argument between the two women, fell deathly silent as their savior seemed more than a little agitated as he closed the distance. "Sybille…is he alive?"

"...The boy, you mean?"

Sybille immediately regretted her choice of words as Lyle's wide-eyed, almost manic look became inches apart from her face, his jaw tight. "Is he alive?"

"He is."

"Show me."

"... he's been wounded. He suffered a mutation th-

Lyle didn't wait to hear anything else she had to say. Instead, he brushed past the elder witch, opened the door, and nearly coughed when a wretched smoky scent assaulted his senses, nearly making his eyes water. Once he had cleared his eyes from the slight watering that had gathered in them, the earth native's expression became slack-jawed and horrified as he saw what appeared to be Rudy in the back of the carriage, lying on the floor of it.

For the most part, the boy looked normal if you only looked at him from his chest up and waist down. Once you looked at the hideous mass that was his center, you risked losing your lunch. It seemed as though Rudy's stomach had been overtaken by a dark, ashy mass of tentacles, teeth, and even a few stray eyes that were amethyst in color looking about the cabin, suddenly now staring at Lyle the moment he opened the door. The row of teeth shifted, and the small tentacles that were making up Rudy's stomach twitched and spasmed, writhing menacingly as the boy they were attached to panted and groaned, his face glazed over and eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head, a sheen of sweat on his face.

Staggering backward, Lyle gaped at the horrific sight before him, unable to formulate words as Rudy couldn't even speak; he was in so much pain. Lyle was sure the young boy didn't even notice he was there. Absentmindedly, he heard Nalga gasp just behind him, her hands reaching her face, as Sybille stared on with thin lips. Slowly, the Jersey-born young man turned and looked at the witch.

Sybille in question coughed awkwardly as her eyes shifted from the Licehmaster to the sorry state that Rudy was in. "Obviously, this is…less than optimal, but he's alive…as you request-

Sybille coughed as Lyle grabbed her by the scruff of her cloak and slammed her against the side of the wagon, drawing gasps from the peasants who weren't sure whether or not to intervene, as Lyle glared wide-eyed at the surprised witch.

"Do you think I'm in the mood for your goddamned jokes?" Lyle growled like a man possessed. "What did-?" He stopped himself, eyes bulging and words failing to form properly in his throat. "What the hell did you do!? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO HIM!?"

"H-he was afflicted with chaos!" Sybille all but shrieked, not used to one of Lyle's rageful fits, especially not when they turned physical. "We were attacked by Bretonnian knights when we were recruiting the goblins! One of them was a chaos worshipper or at least had a chaos-tainted weapon-would you stop holding on so tightly!?"

"I will the moment you explain to me wh-" Lyle halted himself when he felt the cold sensation of steel, pricking the back of his neck. He was about to look around and see who it was when he heard a very dour yet english accent.

"Master Lyle, I wholeheartedly understand that you're upset with what has befallen young Rudy. It is the same feeling I would experience if something ill were to befall Sybille since I've known her when she was a little girl…bouncing her on my knee when her parents were too preoccupied with managing the family affairs. So I implore you. Do not make me experience the emotions you are right going through right now. I would loathe to unleash them on someone who doesn't entirely deserve them."

After Soren's polite warning, all that was heard was Lyle's breathing, making the young man realize just how much air he had been sucking in once his temper had been wakened. His eyes twitched around as if finally coming to his senses, seeing the still yet clearly shaken expression on Sybille's face. The Lichemaster's gaze then went to Nalga, whose hand had drifted to the dwarven pistol strapped to her thigh, her eyes looking at him pleadingly as if begging him to calm down.

And so he did. His breaths came in slower increments, and his vision went from a tunnel to a familiar view. Carefully, he let go of Sybille's robe, which prompted the silver-haired woman to back up a few steps, suddenly wishing she had a hand on her staff, which was still inside the carriage.

When Lyle had finally calmed himself to a manageable level, he readdressed Sybille. "Can you fix him?"

Choosing her words carefully, the witch shifted her mouth. "I've been trying. What you see is how successful I've been."

Daring to look back at Rudy's sorry form, he gritted his teeth, furrowing his brow in horror as that tumor-like mutated growth shifted on his stomach before he turned back to Sybille. "For the love of God, please don't tell me this is permanent?" When Sybille went eerily silent, panic began to creep back into the Lichemaster. "You're kidding. Please tell me you're kidding!"

"Lyle." Nalga grabbed his wrist, forcing him to look down at the shorter dwarf with remorse in her eyes. "I've read stories about my own kind when they turn to chaos. Maybe if this were caught and stopped earlier, we could help this boy, but when the mutation has gone this far… you're better off just putting him out of his mis-

"No. Nuh-uh. Not happening." Lyle denied outright. "He's…for God's sake, he's not even eighteen yet! He's just a kid, I-

"Master Spoletta." Now it was Soren speaking again, his raspy yet prim and proper tone sounding slightly melancholy as he stared vacantly at the Lichemaster. "I grew up in the chaos wastes within the Skaeling tribe. Life was as harsh as it was cruel. A land that is unforgiving and unlivable unless one turns to the ruinous powers. To the powers of the Chaos Gods. Once you have the corruption and it starts mutating you to the point where it has young Rudy…there is no going back."

"Okay, so it's like an infection! A disease! We can work with that!" Lyle spouts out hurriedly. "So is there a cure for this, a treatment or-

"Not in the way you are thinking." Soren countered with a shake of his head. "Chaos is no simple disease that infects a body part like rot or a cold. Chaos corrupts the mind, body, and soul, and once it has taken hold of all three, I've yet to see anyone come back from it, willingly or otherwise. Once the Dark Gods get their grip on you, they seldom like to let go."

"That isn't even the biggest problem." Sybille huffed, running a hand through her silver hair. "There would have been a chance if this was any other form of chaos corruption. Whether this is Khorne, Tzeentch, Slaneesh, or Nurgle, I would have been able to kill this growth in its infancy, but this…this is new." She gazed back inside the carriage, glaring at the growth on Rudy as its eyes shifted toward her, writhing around in agitation at her mere presence. "This chaos corruption…I haven't quite seen its type. I've dealt with all the different shades of chaos in my time, especially since Kemmler had his own interests in the ruinous powers, but it seems that none of my remedies or enchanted artifacts could purge him of the rot now overtaking him. I'm not really sure what to make of it. It almost makes me wonder if this is even chaos I'm dealing with."

Lyle gripped his hair, his lips thinning as his options began to run out, not daring to want to entertain putting Rudy down like a rabid animal. "What happens if the growth overtakes him? What happens then?"

"Then he most likely becomes a chaos spawn. A writhing mass of chaotic flesh that seeks and destroys anything in sight that isn't one of its own kind. He won't even be aware of it, it's like the mass of chaos will have overtaken his body and mind."

Soren shook his head in disgust. "I've seen it happen too often to count back in Norsca. Too many times did I see norscans like myself pledging their allegiance to the Gods and hoping to gain a boon in a powerful mutation. Those who can handle such blessings get what they ask for. Others who are not so fortunate get turned into chaos spawn. Sometimes I wonder if the Gods intentionally do it just to entertain themselves."

Nalga looked inside the carriage and shook her head. "Maybe if I could get him in front of the temples of my people, perhaps my ancestors could take pity on the boy and lend him a boon to purge the corruption…but it might be too late by the time I get there…but I may have an idea."

Lyle turned wildly to the dwarf. "Well, please hurry and get to the point because if time is as important as you say, I'd like to help Rudy without putting him out of his misery posthumously!"

"My family deals heavily in trade thanks to our position in the Gray Mountains. We get all types through our hold, whether it be Umgi Burgermeisters from the Empire, fellow Dawi, Bretonnian nobles, or even Umgi that live lives of the cloth. There was one God, or I suppose…Goddess, that has the best chance of helping this boy, especially since she's apparently popular in the Empire."

"Oh, Son of a-" Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, cringing and wanting to curse up a storm. "Are you telling me I seriously have to ask the damned Bathwater Bog Witch for help!?"

"Bathwater Bog Witch?" The dwarf asked in confusion before annoyed recognition passed her eyes. "Ah. You mean The Lady. Ah, no, not her. There is another Goddess. Shallya, I believe her name is. She's a goddess of healing, or so I've heard."

"Shallya? Oh Gods, the merciful one." Sybille groaned, rolling her eyes. "I care little for such a passive Goddess, but it infuriates me even more to admit that the dwarf may be onto something there." At this point, Sybille would have instead set Rudy's body aflame and scattered the ashes to the winds, but she knew better than that, considering her 'Master' just put their hands on her for failing to keep him safe. "If anyone can cure, purge, or heal, it's Shallya."

"S-so what? Do I just gotta get down on my knees and pray to her or somethin'?" Lyle asked frantically, trying to urgently move this along as quickly as he could. "Make a blood sacrifice or-

"I can take you."

"Jesus Ave!" Lyle nearly jumped as the undead peasant woman said behind him, surprising even Sybille and Nalga as they stared wide-eyed at the pale-skinned functioning corpse. "H-how long were you there?"

"Long enough to know you need the sisters of the cloth." She eyed the inside of the carriage warily, her dull eyes lingering. "Dunno if they can help your boy, Rudy. But I know where you can find them to try it out. Used to visit a nearby temple with Bertrand's Brigands if we earned any wounds from a skirmish we got in. They never turn down those who are in need, so I doubt they'll turn you down either, especially since I'm sure they've heard how kind you've been to peasants like me…or what I used to be."

"And you can get us there!? How fast?"

"A few hours or so if we get there by this carriage, you got here."

"Then that's what we're doing." Lyle said with grim determination, moving with purpose toward the front of the carriage and climbing on quickly. "Ave, get on the passenger seat and show me where you're going, and I'll make our undead steeds get there in no time."

Looking concerned, Nalga nearly ran to the Lichemaster's side. "Do you want me to come with, or-

"No! No." Lyle said, suddenly realizing how so many things were happening at once and trying to stay on top of it. "Keep doing what you're doing! Keep training the boys and girls we got so they're ready for the armies heading toward us! We need every bit of help we can get!"

"Armies?" Sybille suddenly questioned with raised eyebrows. "What in the Gods' name do you mean by armies?"

"Can't talk! Ask Nalga to hear what's going on! I only got so much daylight to burn, and Rudy only has so much flesh before he starts looking like a science experiment!" Taking control of the undead steeds pulling the carriage, Lyle urged them forward out of the firing field as Ave clambered into the passenger seat, giving directions as requested as they drove off quickly, like a bat out of hell.

Sybille just wanted to lie down and shut out the world after all was said and done but only settled for sighing deeply, not wanting to look weak in front of the dwarf. "And I didn't even get the chance to warn him about the damned man who did this to that peasant boy, to begin with." Warily, she turned to the dwarf, who looked back at Sybille warily. "Now then…what's this 'armies' business he touched on?"

"...There's three armies headed our way. Grobi, Beastly Umgi, and Bretonnians all with an apparent az to grind against your dear Lichemaster."

"Oh, of course. Yes, yes, why not?" Sybille huffed, not sounding surprised in the slightest, rolling her eyes. "I was better off hiding away in my hutt."

"Ah, but then you would not run into me again, my lady." Soren countered, not at all sounding offended.

"Yes, of course, Soren, my dear. Forgive me for my hasty words." Her mood soured further as she remembered the other reason she came here. "You may want to have Spoletta's dear peasants practice firing elsewhere, dwarf. After all, I have a tribe or…what's left of a tribe of goblins coming to join the Barrow Legion, albeit desperately."

Nalga frowned stubbornly, feeling another argument brewing between herself and the witch, as the peasants who had watched this all in the background groaned perceptively yet welcomed the interruption. Nalga worked them as hard as a herd of mules, and any break from her rigorous training was welcome.

…

King Louen Leoncur's camp was abuzz with activity. They were only resting for the night so that the King's army could have a respite to continue their march the next day, but even the King could tell that his forces were restless. Many were still unsure of success even after the recent string of successes they'd had against the norscans, thanks to the brave and dauntless Ser Alvin.

And truthfully, Louen could hardly fault them for doubting. They were only men at the end of the day, and seeing Duke Bohemond, one of the finest grail knights in the land, if not the Old World, get brought low in such a sorry state in front of them was sobering, to say the least. Hearing from his niece how he was brought low was even more alarming, mainly as he learned more and more about the new Lichemaster of the Barrow Legion and the momentum he had been building.

It was even more jarring when he had been told directly by Bohemond's niece about the character of Lyle Spoletta and how shockingly he had allowed them to bring Bohemond to him. The grail knight had yet to fully recover from his wounds, even after getting that bone collar off of him, but with a few more weeks of rest and hopefully some prayers to The Lady, that could change for the battles ahead.

Still, it was odd that this new Lichemaster was portraying mercy, especially in the case of removing threats like The Lady's Grail knights. Even after hearing her words, he still could hardly believe it.

But, the girl did not strike him as a liar, considering all that this Lichemaster had done up until now. It was why he had brought her with him, to tell him all she could as he prosecuted his campaign against the Barrow Legion once and for all. After all, knowing his enemy was crucial to avoiding Duke Bohemond's fate.

"So he despises the nobility and is an advocate for the peasantry…and truly believes in this cause?" The King questioned with curiosity. Inside his personal tent were two of his most trusted confidants. His grizzled marshall Quentin stared critically at the young girl before him and damsel Ninette, the two for once unified in their skepticism of some of her words. "Are you certain this is not a front to deceive the peasants and use them for his own gain?"

Louise's eyes flickered to the marshall and damsel, who eyed her critically but didn't wilt under the scrutiny or the presence of the King of Bretonnia. She had endured worse, and her uncle was currently recovering from worse. "The passion he had was far too great to be a falsehood. Remember, this is the same man who lied to keep a village from being punished for associating itself with him, Your Majesty."

The King nodded. "That much is true." Bohemond had confirmed as such when he had finally regained consciousness, telling him all that he knew, much to the duke's shame for his failure. "Perhaps it is due to his foreign upbringing."

"I wish I could tell you more about him. My cousin, Emmerich, has spent more time in his clutches than anyone at this point, but…" Then, Louise's eyes showed weakness for one of the few times since he'd met the girl. "Forgive me; there's no point in dwelling."

"We will save him, young Lady. You can believe in my word as surely as you can believe in The Lady's justice. I will not allow Bohemond's only son to be felled so easily."

"If the boy hasn't already been used for some wretched experiment." Quentin sighed grimly, drawing a slight glare from Louen. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I can't help but think that this is all a front from Kemmler's Successor. A man cannot rule a group of necromancers with grand ideals of 'peasant liberation' or 'down with the nobility' alone. Cruelty and power have always been the wielders of Dhar's game, and I have no reason to think that this…boy is any different."

"Perhaps. Yet, his actions point to the contrary." King Louen countered. "We can assume that his sparing our dear Bohemond shows that he is not entirely without mercy or care, along with letting go of most of the duke's household. If this is all an act, I've yet to see someone go this far to falsely portray mercy or some elements of chivalry that wasn't a fellow Bretonnian, especially since he's had ample opportunity and reason to act on the contrary." The Royarch of Bretonnia then scowled, his temper stirred. "I'm more inclined to believe all of this, especially when Lord Richaud disappeared into the night when his role in a slave trade of Bastonne was called into question."

Louise's brow furrowed at the mere thought of that. She remembered how Lyle had let the man go to face justice from her uncle, but Richaud must have realized the same thing he did and got out while the getting was good. To where she knew not, but it stung all the same given the role that Richaud had not only in the slave trade happening beneath her family's nose but also the role he had in its demise…and her cousin's dangerous predicament.

"The Lady will have her justice for this crime, one way or another." Damsel Ninette intoned with surety and sternness. "But, that is justice that will be meted out another day. For now, whether or not this Lyle Spoletta's intentions are genuine or not, the damage he will do to Bretonnia and its social fabric will be absolute should he succeed."

"He will not." The King replied firmly. "While Lyle Spoletta's ideals may seem admirable, he underestimates how much damage he will create with his actions."

"But, he will not be an easy foe." Marshall Quentin interjected, his weathered face as grave as ever. "The mere fact that he was willing to use gunpowder and…desecrate a holy relic to goad Duke Bohemond shows not only how cunning he is, but how much he's willing to break tradition with necromancers. Kemmler was many things, but fond of gunpowder, he was not."

"When we strike down this man, we must destroy any sign and piece of gunpowder that he has in his possession." Ninette said with heated zeal. "If he continues to use it with impunity, or even worse, teach the peasantry about how effectively they could kill someone with armor..."

Ninette needed not remind the King of that. Louen had seen that firsthand with his erstwhile allies, the Empire. It was a significant bone of contention that all his nobles within Bretonnia turned their noses up at, claiming guns to be a 'coward's weapon', but Louen knew the truth. He knew that the reality was that the fear of their poorly treated peasants getting their hands on guns, which could so easily perforate a knight's armor, was a terror that hung over their minds like a dark cloud, especially since the Empire was right next to their nation.

The idea that Lyle Spoletta had no qualms about using them and sympathies toward the common men was a warning sign that was far too large to ignore. Again, it was clear that Lyle Spoletta thought he was doing a good thing for the peasantry, but it could hardly be suitable for Bretonnia.

All of which was a shame because, given what young Louise had told him up to this point, The new Lichemaster's heart did seem to be in the right place. Even then, Louen had always had misgivings about how most peasants were treated by his fellow nobles. This slave trade to the dark elves, of all things, was just another notch in the list of grievances that the common folk had against their 'betters.' It wasn't as if Louen didn't want reform to possibly fix such issues; it was just that the chaos and resistance that followed, more often than not, just wasn't worth it. Especially since the current social ladder of Bretonnia was usually necessary to quell rebellions in the face of so many outward threats. Threats that they were dealing with at this very moment.

Perhaps it was something he could hopefully help Lyle Spoletta understand…before he had to inevitably kill him. "If we're to persecute a fight with Lyle Spoletta, we cannot allow him to fight on a battlefield of his choosing. If we give him time to set up, he will have cannons and muskets ready to greet our knights and commence a slaughter. It-

Before the Royarch of Bretonnia was about to continue, someone stepped into the tent after a brief commotion. Ninette looked as if she was about to yell at the intrusion of such a sensitive meeting until she saw just who it was.

Bretonnia's current and most unexpected hero. The foreigner, Ser Alvin.

Ninnette's demeanor changed almost on a dime, her stern and matronly countenance becoming warm and motherly. "Why if it isn't The Lady's newest champion. We didn't know you'd be back so soon, Ser Alvin!"

Alvin's nod was terse, but he did deign to smile warmly at the damsel. "It wasn't exactly planned." The grail knight grinned before kneeling before King Louen. "Forgive me, King Louen, I cut my mission short for dire news I've come to deliver to you."

The King nodded, smiling gracefully despite the severity of the previous conversation. "Please. Rise, my friend. If you, of all people, were willing to report to me directly, something must have gone amiss. Were there more goblins than we previously thought along the path toward Bastonne?"

"Oh, even if there were more of them, it wouldn't have been a problem. After all that we went through with the norscans, killing goblins is like killing the geriatric lesser version of orcs. It's not even a fair fight."

A few chuckles came from Quentin, who shook his head from the comparison; even King Louen had to smile wider as his marshall took to the grail knight quickly. "Only a man who slew as many of those chieftains as you did could make a boast like that! If only those Dark God Worshippers all fell as easily; you made sure they did!"

"Well, hey. Considering what I saw, you may have the chance for an even bigger fight and, in turn, a bigger chance to prove yourself in the face of The Lady, bless her name." Alvin's face then turned grim as he looked back to the King. "I managed to corner a sizeable goblin tribe with some of Graum The Paunche's own goblins mixed in. I'd been hunting them down for a while, but I ran into a surprise…a necromancer that obviously had ties to the Barrow Legion."

The words he'd uttered evaporated the momentary uplifted tone almost immediately, and everyone went deathly silent at the implications.

Finally, Louen muttered the question they had all been thinking. "The Barrow Legion?...has forged an alliance with the goblins?"

"They were talking, I could see that much." Ser Alvin admitted. "The necromancer even threw enough skeletons and zombies in my way to help some goblins retreat."

"And…wait, are you saying that Lyle Spoletta and Graum the Paunch are-

"Working together? That's exactly what I thought. I mean, think about it, why else would a necromancer go out of their way to help goblins of all things escape the wrath of the Lady I was about to unleash on them? Maybe Graum the Paunch has been getting desperate with the raids I've unleashed on him and his stragglers to the point where Lyle's been desperate enough to have an open ear to the big tub of lard."

"This…this changes everything!" Quentin growled out, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "Spoletta was strong enough to defeat the Beastslayer, but with a horde of goblins at his side, it-" He stopped himself, unwilling to make it sound like defeat was inevitable but unable to ignore the genuine danger in front of them."

"I'm…not so sure that Lyle would work with the goblins." Louise countered, still unsure of herself, even after the words left her mouth. "But, then again, if he feels as though his goal of saving the peasantry from what he sees as abuses from the nobility, he might be desperate enough. He has to know how dangerous of an opponent you are, your majesty, and I doubt he'll take you lightly after surviving a defeat against my uncle."

"No…he will not. He's proven that he's someone who will learn. Unfortunately for him, he's not the only one." He then turned to Quentin. "Marshall. We'd heard cursory reports that Grom the Paunch had been going South West with the raids I ordered Ser Alvin to commit to. How far is he from our army?"

"Hmmm…a little over a day's distance."

"Then as soon as first light, we strike camp and hurtle our army toward Grom the Paunch. Whether the gluttonous goblin is making common cause with the Barrow Legion or not, the goblin warlord is too dangerous to let live. At best, he and Lyle may have conflict once he enters Bastonne. At worst, they could form an unholy alliance that even my army would struggle against. The word from Ser Alvin has only confirmed what we must do to save this land that Guilles fought so hard to create for all of us."

Marshall Quentin stood up abruptly and bowed to his King. "I'll tell all of the lords your grace. They'll grumble, but once they understand, I'll make sure you hear none of it." He left the tent briskly, followed shortly thereafter by Damsel Ninette, who turned back.

"I'll be meditating in my own tent. I'll see if I can divine anything the Lady can tell me about the battles ahead…oh and Ser Alvin?" She remarked, a coy smile coming to her lips, which was rare for King Louen to see at the time he had known her. "Do come and visit in case you are wounded or require counsel. Even a dedicated champion like yourself deserves as much with how much of the tide you have turned in our favor."

Alvin nodded gracefully, giving a deep bow. "I'll take you up on that offer, Lady Ninette. Have a pleasant evening."

Louen and Louise could have sworn they saw color on the older woman's face as she left the tent, a pep in her step. Louen didn't dare to comment on the matter since it was an open secret how certain unmarried grail knights had… dalliances with Damsels in the past and even today. It wasn't something that was officially allowed, neither was it disallowed. Plus, it would be hypocritical to the extreme if Louen were to say something about such a matter, considering how young he once was with a certain holy being.

Nonetheless, that was one of the last things he needed to discuss with his hero of the hour. "Ser, Alvin, I've yet to introduce you to the niece of Duke Bohemond. Louise De Bastonne is a brave young lady who has appraised us of the foe we will soon confront."

Louise stood and gave a curtsey. "It's a pleasure to meet you, oh brave champion of the Lady. I've heard of many of your exploits since me and my uncle arrived and I must say, it's rare to hear of a grail knight accomplish so much in so little time."

Alvin smirked, nodding toward her. "It's no big deal. I'm just making sure I'm doing my part toward the Lady. I mean, for all I know, I could have had relatives from Bretonnia for me to be brought here."

"And…how is it that you were brought, you, good sire? I've heard many rumors that you fell from the sky or came in a beam of light. Many of the handmaidens at Courroune couldn't help but gossip so…"

"It was more of a beam of light, to be honest. But, for all I knew, I might as well have been falling. To be brought from one place to another and see a smelly, horrid champion of chaos in front of me was jarring, to say the least." Alvin chuckled. "Even more so when I was met with King Louen Leoncur of all people. THE King Louen of Leoncur!"

"Even to this day, to hear that I am the stuff of legends in a land far, far away is…it is a most curious thing." The King admitted with a wry smile on his face. "To hear that me and my country is held in such high regard…I would have thought the Empire would have stood out given their more…modern tendencies."

"Oh, but how can anyone pass up on the way your nation sticks to tradition!" The earth-native exclaimed. "The way your knights embody chivalry. The way you embody courtly traditions! The beauty of your land! What more could you ask for when you're managing to hold onto such ways when fighting off Orcs, Goblins, Norscans, Dark Elf pirates, and a rampaging band of undead?"

Louise had to admit, she was surprised at the praise. "I'm glad to see you have such a…high opinion of our nation, in spite of its flaws, especially since you're a foreigner." Now that Louise thought about it, the accent of this grail knight sounded more familiar the more she listened to it. She hadn't had the chance since she was busy the moment she and her bedridden uncle arrived in Courroune, and Alvin himself was already committing raids against Grom the Paunch.

Alvin shook his head. "Ah, that's because most people don't appreciate a country that's managed to last as long as it has. I mean, take the peasants that I've heard are siding with the Barrow Legion all of a sudden. I'd bet you that this new head honcho over there is over-promising and is planning to under-deliver, just at least until he's confident that he doesn't have to worry about you breathing down his neck."

"That…is generally possible." King Louen muttered. "Though given everything else I've heard about this Spoletta, I'll need to meet him face to face to truly get a read on him. I can have the chance to have the hostage exchange with the knights he captured before we fight. I was questioning whether or not it would be worth it until now." The King said gravely as he put a hand to his chin. "Some of my fellow noblemen said we could simply relieve our men in the field, but no. No, I will meet this Spoletta face-to-face when we make the hostage exchange. Then, when I have a measure of him, will we meet in the field of battle."

"Whatever your decision, I will dutifully follow." The grail knight bowed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, your highness. Unless there's anything else…"

"Yes, of course. I'd hate for you to keep Damsel Ninette waiting for your…meditation."

Alvin chuckled. "I appreciate your kindness, your majesty." When he gave another deep, respectful bow, Alvin sauntered out of the tent, looking and acting every bit picture of chivalry.

When he had fully left, King Louen gave a satisfied grin, sagging his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair. "The Lady is truly looking out for our nation to have chivalrous men like him quite literally plop at my feet. And in such troubling times, no less."

"It's almost hard to believe he's a foreigner, like Lyle Spoletta." Louise admitted aloud, thinking on the man that was just before her critically. "And yet they're both so different. Lyle would quite literally spit on the culture and traditions of Bretonnia. I'd heard he'd pissed in a grail to goad my uncle into making a mistake yet, Ser Alvin…"

King Louen nodded. "He is every example that a knight should be. A man of great courage, chivalry, duty, and loyalty to a nation not even of his own…mayhaps he was onto something about his relatives being of Bretonnian blood. It would explain his affinity to become a grail knight."

Even with all that being said, Louise couldn't shake off something lingering on her mind…a seed of doubt, if she could call it that. No, it wasn't particularly doubt that flittered around her mind as she listened to Ser Alvin. Everything he said and did seemed genuine.

Maybe too genuine. Was a man who possibly hailed from the same land as Lyle Spoletta truly all right with how Bretonnia was run? The way it treated its peasants? Mayhaps, Ser Alvin came from a more well-bred background, yet Lyle didn't seem stupid, even if he admitted that he was from common stock. A bit emotionally unhinged and unpredictable, yes, but you don't last as long as he had in the position that he was in by being an utter blithering simpleton. She'd heard of many from the Empire who loathed how her country treated peasants in spite of both nations being allies more often than not.

It only made Louise have more questions, which must have shown on her face. "Something ails you, young lady?"

"I…whatever do you mean, your grace?"

"Young Louise, please." The Royarch replied with a warm yet knowing smile. "I am the King. And in court, people talk, whether at my face or with a whisper; they talk all the same."

"I…I'm sorry, Your Grace, I'm just worried about my cousin. I don't doubt Spoletta is keeping him unharmed, but still…"

Clearly, the King wasn't entirely convinced, but he mercifully didn't push the matter. "Would you like to be escorted back to Couronne? I'm sure your uncle wouldn't mind the company while he's on the mend."

"Thank you but…no, I must see Emmerich again. The more I know about what's happening…I'm sorry if a woman like myself is troubling your camp-

"It is of no issue. My camp has endured worse trials and tribulations." The King smiled. "You're a brave young lady to come this far with us. Why not retire for the night. We will be moving at a brisk pace to put Grom the Paunch to the sword tomorrow."

Louise nodded, grateful for the exit. "Of course, your majesty. I'll pray to the Lady for good fortune." With another curtsey and an amenable nod from the King of Bretonnia, Louise returned to her own tent, unease plaguing her steps as she went to rest her head.

Even when she reached her tent and got into her evening wear, thoughts on the rise of the latest grail knight continued to dominate the young girl's thoughts. It all just seemed too good to be true. For someone who possibly hailed from the same world as Lyle to be so loyal to Bretonnia. Was it as simple as that? Was she just overthinking along the lines like many of the older and more traditional Bretonnian lords who held suspicion of Alvin for simply not being a native to the land?

Maybe he didn't hail from the same land as Lyle? Perhaps it was a different country entirely…would it hurt to ask him directly?

Yet, for some reason, a chill ran down Louise's spine at the thought. She wasn't sure what to make of such a sensation and decided to sleep her worries off. Louise had bigger concerns after all. The fate of her cousin could hang in the balance in just a matter of days…if not the fate of all Bretonnia.

…

A/N:

And so we inch ever closer to revelations and conflicts abound, with the stakes getting higher and higher with every passage. Not much to say about this chapter besides the fact that I can hardly wait for the fights to break out and for the twists and turns that it'll take.

Keep up those reviews, let me know your thoughts to fuel the void in my chest and I'll see you guys for the next chapter!

Also good grief it took me a moment to realize I'm 37 chapters into the son of a bitch and we're getting to what I consider the halfway point of this story. I'm honestly amazed that this fanfic has managed to last this long and I'm gonna be disappointed when I'm finally done. Heck for when I finally finish I'm already thinking of other fanfics in other fandoms after I've finished writing my actual book. I'm way over halfway done with that and it'll be the first book I've ever finished since Highschool.

Speaking of that, any experienced authors in my viewing audience? Any tips on getting your book published? Just wanted to lend an open ear. Otherwise, thanks for continuing to stick with me on this long and crazy journey.