"So you and your people…choose who your king is?" Rudy asked Lyle who took a moment to munch on some far too heavily salted beef. The leader of the Legion cringed at how overly dry and salted said beef was, but gulped it down and soldiered on…just one of the many sacrifices one has to make for the greater good he supposed. It was part of the reason why he preferred to take an active hand in cooking ever since the battle for Artois.

"Yup. It's called democracy my boy…well technically we're a republic, but hey it's the idea that counts I guess.

"But, this leader of yours doesn't stay in power permanently?"

"Nope. Can't imagine my country would have lasted all too long if we allowed that." Lyle chuckled as he set aside the beef on an upside-down barrel in front of them, wanting to give his taste buds a break from the high sodium intake he was getting. They were encamped along with the rest of the legion forces that had come with them for this trip to the southeast, creating a makeshift camp with frightening efficiency, thanks in no small part to the undead servants that they had under their control. From pitching tents to setting up tables and carrying supplies, there was little these dhar filled vehicles couldn't do with enough coordination from those that pulled their strings. "I mean we've had some pretty bad presidents in our time, and 8 years is just the limit of what people are willing to risk when it comes to them…not to say that their all that bad mind you, it's just a safety precaution thing, ya know?"

"Only 8 years?" Rudy asked incredulously. "That doesn't sound all too long to be the leader of an entire nation…how are they able to get anything done? To be able to defend your realm from any threats?"

Lyle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Trust me, Rudy. We don't elect presidents because we think they can kick the enemies of America's ass. That's what the military-industrial complex is for."

"Military Industrial Complex?...is that an order of knights, Lord Spolleta?"

"Guess you could say that…except they make your knights look like saints in comparison, and from what I've seen that's saying a lot."

"Truly my lord?"

"Oh yeah."

"...your republic doesn't sound as great as you suggested it was my lord."

"Well, every country has its hang-ups. Sure it ain't perfect, but it's still a paradise to what you were living in, let me tell you."

"I wouldn't know my lord. I've lived in my village nearly all of my life within the Artois's forests…to be honest, being mustered to castle Artois itself was the first time I'd ever been outside of it."

Lyle's smile fell a bit at the claim, looking at Rudy in another light as he side-eyed a skeleton carrying a small chest across the camp. "...how old are you Rudy?"

"15 my lord."

"Christ…way too young to be playing soldier." Lyle was familiar with the concept of underage soldiers, especially since one tended to hear about too often for comforts back in Africa, but once again, he was forced to look at Rudy in a different light with this new info. "And as thanks for putting your ass in the fire, your 'lord' rewards you with a slash across the face."

"And a dead family…half by starvation, the other half by hanging." Rudy said matter of factly. There was heat to his voice and agitation in his posture, but it was almost as if he were stating a fact he was all too accustomed to. Something that Lyle could empathize with on some level. "If it wasn't for my uncle taking me along I wouldn't have been too far behind."

"Heh. Well, when all else fails you can rely on family, even extended family at that to watch your back when you need it most."

"Not without having to marry my cousin, however." Rudy shrugged, not sounding all too impressed by the motto. "She isn't the most comely of maidens but…I could have done worse I suppose-lord Lyle are you quite alright? Is there something wrong with the beef?"

"You…married your cousin?"

"Betrothed. The marriage had to get postponed due to your…well invasion, but when I get back I should-

"No."

"No?"

"You aren't marrying your cousin Rudy." Lyle declared with a tone of finality.

Rudy looked understandably confused. "I'm…not?"

"Do you want to?"

"Well…I mean…she isn't the worst looking-

"Rudy…do you want to marry her?"

"...no?"

"Then it ain't happening…wait, please tell me that you peasants marrying your cousins isn't common. I don't wanna pray to God, but you're starting to push me in that direction…"

"Is there something wrong with it my lord? My mother and father were siblings who wed because they said something about my grandfather wanting to not give up his fa-

"Well, that settles it." Lyle sighed with a sense of disgust and revulsion welling up inside him. "One of the first new laws I'm gonna write down is the banning of making the family tree a family line…y'know what? Screw it, I'll have it written down right now. Thing!"

The bony hand from before which had been hiding within the hood of Lyle's robe suddenly sprung to action hopping on its master's shoulder before turning to 'look' at him with its fingers.

"Go and fetch a piece of paper along with whatever you can find to write with. Call it Brettonia's new and improved Book of Laws. First on the list? Banning familial marriage, we're chucking that shit out of the proverbial window! No sweet home Alabama here, I don't care how much they bitch! It ain't happening!"

Giving a thumbs-up, the hand hopped off its master's shoulder and skittered away, aiming to fulfill its creator's goals with haste as Rudy only looked more confused. "Is there…something wrong with marrying family Lord Spolleta?"

"The fact you gotta ask me that, is only making me more worried about how much more these knights and their ladies have fucked up this country beyond what I could have predicted…I mean Jesus, dude, Starving is one thing, getting sent into a meat grind at the tender age of 15 is another, but doin' with your sister, I mean…shit! At this rate, I don't think even women in the middle east could take as many Ls as you guys are taking!"

"But, my lord, it's quite common from my village. I've even heard other villages in Artois and Brettonia marry their family quite often, moreso because we just live in the same village for most of our lives."

A look of utter disgust fixed its way to Lyle's face at these revelations, his mouth parting open as he attempted and only partly succeeded in digesting this information. It was now beginning to dawn on Lyle that he was looking at the product of multiple generations of incest and breeding if what Rudy said was true. And the young man seemed too earnest to lie. "If you're trying to make it sound better, you're gonna have to work on your gift of the gab, my man."

"I'm just speaking plainly my lord I…did not mean to offend."

"Trust me. You're not the one offending me. My gut's churning at the plated assholes who made things this way."

"I admit I'm lost my lord…what exactly is wrong with marrying your family? In my village it's normal to keep your farm within said family. I…I would have loved the idea of marrying my own sister after all…she was…she was a fair maiden…before the…"

Though the thought of Rudy…doing God-knows-what with his sister sent the wrong kind of shivers down his spine, Lyle couldn't help but have his curiosity piqued by his train of thought. "If it wasn't for wha-

"Master Lyle!"

Lyle's eyes immediately shot up, his ears immediately recognizing the voice that called out to him. Looking to his left he wasn't disappointed, and instead was pleasantly surprised at the sight of a somewhat familiar face.

With dirty blonde hair still plopped messily utop his head and an eye patch now adorning his right eye, Wendel immediately waved towards his leader, a joyous look on his pale and thin face.

Smiling at what he was witnessing, Lyle wasted no time in nearly leaping off his seat, surprising both young men near him as he walked briskly towards Wendel and immediately caught him off-guard giving him a hardy hug with plenty of claps to the back on top of it.

"Wendell! How you doin'!"

"J-just fine master Lyle just fine. They couldn't save my eye as you can see, but thanks to your haste, they managed to save my life. Naggash will have to wait for my soul a bit longer it seems!"

"Damn straight he will! You ain't dyin' cause of my stupidity!"

"It's quite alright Master, you couldn't have foreseen what would happen. It's as I said. Without you, I may have just wound up becoming another corpse for our legion."

"To hell with that, I would have at least given you a decent burial, my man. You dyin' on my watch and then being used as a meatshield would be asinine beyond belief."

"Perhaps, but it would have been pragmatic."

Lyle rolled his eyes, smile still on his lips. "Yeah sure, I ju-what in the fuuUUUCK!" Lyle screamed his eyes catching something in the corner of his eyes.

Turning to see, it Lyle felt his entire body jolt in shock at possibly what was the most horrifically ugly looking face he had seen in his entire life. It was a hideously sick-looking green with stitches all over it, its mouth black and empty like its eye sockets, horribly maligned and bent at angles a face most definitely should not be bent. It was like a parody of a smile and a grimace forced into one like a wretched and half-cooked science experiment gone wrong.

On closer inspection (much to Lyle's discomfort) Lyle realized that there was something off with the face. It didn't seem attached to the head it was on strangely enough. Seeing wiring to the left and right of it, he realized that it was a mask of sorts. A mask attached to the body of a short, thin, and black-robed individual, staring frighteningly close to Lyle.

A pregnant pause filled the air, as Lyle tried not to gag from the unholy site in front of him.

"Ah! Forgive young Bert here master Lyle, his mask can be a bit unnerving, but he's the young apprentice who managed to save my life through a quick yet efficient surgery! He was quite a help as you can see!"

Burt, affirmed the claim, his voice light-showing his youth, but with a hint of gravely undertones to it. "Whether it be living or still, there is no secret that the wonders of a body can hide from me."

"...neat." Lyle said, finding himself unable to say anything else.

"Neat?" The diminutive yet horrific little necromancer growled. "That is all the master of the Barrow Legion has to say in my unholy presence? Neat?"

Lyle looked towards Wendel who had a wry smile on his face and just shrugged, only making his new master more confused as he looked back at that misshapen and sickly green face again. "Should I be sayin' anything else?"

"You need only stand in awe of my malevolence, 'master'! To gaze upon the chosen of Naggash and feel the dhar reeking from my very pores!"

"Oh yeah?" Lyle asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yes indeed! For you do not stand before any rank and file necromancer of the fabled Barrow Legion Master Spolleta! Healing the brain puncture within this weakling Wendel was but child's play to the horrific feats I have accomplished in my still short life, and even they will be eclipsed by what is to come."

. Lyle thought to himself. Funnily enough, he was more amused than annoyed with the way this young and misshapen-looking necromancer was speaking and opted to keep silent, curious about what else he could say without any urging whatsoever, mostly because he reminded Lyle of another braggart he knew from home.

He didn't disappoint. "When Kemmler first laid his eyes upon me, he knew that I was bound to wreck a horrible plague upon the living. To instill upon them the fear of death as I walk and master it through every step and breath in my being. To bind the winds of magic to my very soul and release power that eventually even the elves across the sea will grow jealous of! Morr will grind his teeth in fury as I debase bodies that should have been dedicated to him! Shalya will weep at the misery I shall spread! For they shall remember the name Bertholdt the Bad!" He finished with a wide sweeping of his arms holding them outspread as if the two individuals watching him were meant to prostrate in his magnificence, and if not, but to marvel at his marvelousness horror.

Lyle on the other hand had to bit his lip to keep himself from laughing, struggling to restrain himself at just how much this guy liked to puff himself up like Al back home. He tended to run with the crowd like he did back when they were younger and it did wonders at inflating his ego as if he were a pufferfish.

This Burtholdt seemed much the same, but it did make the Jersey native if he could actually back it up. Something he thought to take note of for the upcoming battle. "So basically, your hot shit."

"I am the furthest thing from you shit…Master Spoletta. You would take care to walk carefully like Kemmler did when he crossed paths with me. If he could destroy me he would have! But, cautioned restraint for himself, lest he perished sooner than he did!"

"Forgive him Master." Wendel said somewhat embarrassed looking a tad reproachful. "Young Burtholdt is still young, but he is growing into quite the prodigy! Give it a few years and h-

"Will have surpassed all of you! Pray that I haven't surpassed the likes of Schmit yet, lest you would all know the true meaning of fear!"

"I'm fearing that there isn't an off button on you at this rate, kid." Lyle chuckled, immediately earning the masked necromancer's ire who suddenly jerked himself towards Barrow Legion's leader.

"You question my talents…master?" He ground out that last part with clear disdain, his light yet gravelly voice becoming evermore hostile while Lyle just stood in front of the kid, putting his hands on his hips after opening the flaps of his robe.

"More like questioning if you can put your money where your mouth is. I'm all for talkin' a big game, but only if you can back it up…kid."

"Hmmm…I sense doubt within your tone. Perhaps a physical demonstration would show you the error of your ways? It could certainly improve your chances of survival if your close brush with those filthy and lowly peasants was anything to go by."

Suddenly Lyle saw Rudy approach from the corner of his right eye, his body going rigid, and his face settling into a frown. The masked necromancer immediately noticed him. "Speaking of filthy peasent, how is this lapdog serving you? I'm curious that you would keep him around when our flesh bags can do what he can without looking like a waste of life."

Lyle's smile devolved into a tight smirk. "...try me kid."

A tense silence suddenly began to fill the air. Wendel was understandably looking nervous as the two jawing necromancers began to stare at one another in a none too friendly manner. "Huh…now that I think about it, there was a reason I came to see you, Master Lyle, you see Fredericka was having a problem with th-

"Wendel?"

"Erm…yes Bertho-

"I didn't give you permission to speak."

Lyle was unimpressed. "And I don't remember you being in charge here. So don't go acting as if you can tell Wendel yo-"

"Funny. I would say the same about you, our oh-so-grand and esteemed leader. I and many of my colleagues cannot recall naming you Kemmler's successor, yet that didn't stop that opportunistic Fredericka from doing so…you, a foreigner who had little idea about the customs of Brettonia and nearly got killed for your arrogance, someone who has barely scratched the surface of what they're capable of, yet will clearly never reach the heights that I will climb!..mostly due to your aforementioned arrogance…master. I admit I've been away at Blackstone Post for many of your so-called feats, but I'm unimpressed by the noise of your exploits all the same."

Lyle thought to himself. He would have said it aloud, but he wanted to hear the rest of what this masked megalomaniac had to say.

He certainly didn't disappoint on that front. "You…a foreigner who yes, has two major battles that furthered our cause was gifted with the greatest necromancers in the old world, gifted with powers that only our previous master was talented enough to grant you somehow, and gifted a chance at life after nearly having your life ended by inbred dirt eaters…it stands to reason ho-

"Like I said kid." Lyle said, his voice even as he stepped a bit closer to Burtholdt. "Try me."

Lyle knew that a lot of what this guy right here was saying wasn't wrong. Some of what he said, especially concerning his fuck ups was something that nearly kept him up at night while he was on the mend from that fateful feast.

And if he was dwelling on such things, it was only natural that those within the ranks would think these thoughts as well, except along the lines of a more vitriol point of view. This guy seemed to be the most prevalent of them…and yet from the sounds of it, he wasn't even here when most of the B.S. that happened to him, which showed just how fast word was traveling around the ranks.

Which was why he knew, right then and there, he needed to nip this in the bud. Asshole his Uncle may have been, but he didn't last as long as he had being a Captain in the Jersey family for decades by being stupid.

So Lyle wasn't disappointed when Bert moved his hand forward, the dhar build-up clear for him to feel as the horrifically masked necromancer chortled nastily. "You wish to test my mastery ov-

Lyle didn't give him the chance to finish. Suddenly, surprising all those around him a bony hand and arm slipped out from within his robes, latching onto Burtholdt's outstretched wrist with a dead-hard grip.

The necromancer was surprised to the point where he almost forgot to pull until it was too late when a second and then a third arm came from within Lyle's robes, all a bony pale white. The second latched onto the masked man's second arm while pointing right at his face, making a gun motion despite not holding anything.

"I'm not here to test anything, kid. I'm just here to do. I already gave this little speel to Rudy over here, so I won't take nearly as long since Wendel here says I gotta be somewhere…correct?"

Wendel was knocked out of his surprised stupor at what had just transpired, flapping his mouth like a fish out of the air before nodding, the tenseness of the situation occupying his mind, while Rudy could only stare wide-eyed, slowly blinking yet feeling quite impressed at the same time.

"Good. Now here's the thing Bert. I'll admit. I made some missteps and mistakes when I first got here, and I'll be the first to admit that I could have handled some of the situations I put myself in better. You're not wrong…with that being said, if you're gonna talk shit, then at the same time, be prepared to get hit, because where I come from…we don't take disrespect all that well. I can stomach it compared to a lot of people I know back home, but there's a limit to the B.S…you understanding what I'm sayin'?"

Instead of giving a nod or an affirmation, Burtholtd was silent for a few beats, looking at Lyle's torso with a look that couldn't be seen thanks in part to the wretched mask he was wearing. Before Lyle could repeat his question, the masked necromancer spoke up. "What is holding these arms up?"

"Oh?"

"You heard me...what are you using to hold up these arms? What are they attached to?" There was curiosity in his voice now, much of the overt romanticism missing.

Lyle just grinned "...you're Burtholdt the Bad right? One of the best necromancers around if your earlier spiels are anything to go by. You can figure it out can't ya?"

More silence ensued as the two stood staring at one another, with both Rudy and Wendel looking as though they were both debating leaving the situation be or intervening if necessary.

Eventually, Lyle spoke once more. "You wanna talk all that good that shit about how great you are. That's just fine. Thing is, you should take care not to disrespect someone too much. Trust me. I know from experience. And if you're not careful, you might learn the same way I did too. Capiche?"

For a beat, Lyle was convinced that this hideous-looking youth would deny him once more, but to his relief and mild surprise, Burtholdt actually gave a firm nod. "You should consider yourself fortunate, Master Spolleta. No. Luck had nothing to do with you thinking of something that I frustratingly did not…Arms within your robes, why did I not think of that!" He seemed more frustrated at himself than at Lyle curiously enough, his body strained at the grip that he was under, though not at an attempt to escape, but at what was clear frustration. "You…you were handed power that our master gifted to you yet you had the foresight to come up with a tactic such as that? Did he grant you the power of wit and foresight upon everything else? If so, where is the justice in that!"

"Meh. I doubt it. I'm just that damned cool kid. Take notes." Lyle bragged, though curiously Bertholdt seemed to take the words seriously.

"Indeed I shall…yes you're very fortunate indeed, Master Spoletta, though not in the way immediately imagined. Yes, I shall spare your life for now, if nothing else, but to learn the inner workings of this tactic that you've just foolishly revealed to me. And if you have hidden anything else in your robes whether it be literal or theoretical, know that I will divine those secrets as well! None of your stratagems will be safe from me!"

There was that dramatic flare again. Indeed, it seemed as though he was now finding a new way to express hostility to his new necromancer, but in a different way. Lyle didn't mind so long as he didn't become TOO much of an insufferable shit. He'd dealt with those types enough back home. "Whatever floats your boat, my man. Now, Wendel, you mentioned us needing to be somewhere?" Lyle asked as the bony limbs released Bertholdt and collapsed back within his robes.

The masked necromancer felt his wrists were a tad sore from the iron grip those bony hands surprisingly had, but he refused to rub or assuage them, out of sheer pride and spite as Wendel blinked at how quickly the situation defused with Lyle's attitude. "Erm…yes Master Lyle, if you would come this way."

As the group of four went to the outskirts of the camp, 'Thing' the skeletal hand skittered to the barrel where Lyle and Rudy were previously. As it walked on its index and thumb with impressive skill in between its other finger joints was a piece of charcoal and a sheet of parchment…made out of human skin.

With skill that one would not expect from a disembodied hand, Thing managed to toss its charcoal atop the barrel and climb to the top of it while still grasping the piece of paper. Once on top, it was about to do as its master bid when it realized he was no longer there. Tapping the barrel with its index finger as if in contemplation, Thing rose its thumb and pinky into the air as if it were shrugging and went writing away.

…

"Jesus Mary, Mother of God!" Lyle exclaimed with wide eyes. "Did you guys start the party without me or somethin'?"

When Lyle had been told Fredericka wanted to see him, he was sure that they were going to get ready for the upcoming battle against either the dwarfs or Bastonnian Brettonians that were both duking it out in the southeast. What he most certainly didn't expect was for the battle to already be over by the time he was there, but after observing the horrific scene before him, he could immediately tell that he and his fellow necromancers had nothing to do with it.

Wendel came up beside him, his one sweeping across the view with him. "It was surprising for us to see as well…to see that someone had to taken care of our foes before we'd even arrived."

What he was referring to was the thousands upon thousands of dwarf and brettish corpses littering a wide plain next to the forest that The barrow legion had been camping in. Banners, weapons, armor, and bodies were found aplenty in the wide field of grass with crimson blood painting the field in a macabre display for all in the area to see plainly.

It was the site of a horrific battle to be sure. But, what Lyle found interesting besides the unsettling feeling that was blossoming within his gut at the sight of so much carnage was something besides the dwarf and brettish corpses.

It was the corpses of the beastly creatures that looked remarkably similar to the heads of the animals back at castle Artois, mounted throughout the great hall and Chillfroy's personal quarters.

"Are those…those furry things with the hooves on them..are they-

"Yes Lord Lyle" Rudy ground out approaching the carnage with a stony look in his eyes "…the filthy beastmen." With great movement and care, Rudy methodically approached the creature, a look of utter distaste. He approached one particular beastman, lying atop a brettonian knight, its right arm severed and an arrow poking through its throat. Crouching next to the deceased creature, Rudy grabbed it by its horns, almost as if feeling its texture-out of curiosity. "I never killed one myself…but, the village elder back home always said, you weren't a son of Artois till you killed your first beastman."

"Common from where you're from?" Lyle asked curiously as he kept a healthy distance from the corpses, not quite trusting that all of them were dead, after his own near-death experience.

"Too common. Too many of us disappear thanks to them…I used to be scared of the stories of em' growing up as a kid, but after my first battle well…I admit they're a bit lacking compared to your undead Lord Lyle."

"I'll take that as a compliment…but, you know what I find interesting about all this? Why the hell are there so few of these beast boys and so many dwarf and brettonian corpses?...it's like those furry bastards came at the last second and got the worst of this massacre."

Wendel sighed, as he approached, Lyle a remorseful look on his face. "That is…why Fredericka wanted to see you master a-along with someone else. A benefactor as-

"Ah!" Berthold suddenly cried out, brandishing a knife and rushing past Lyle. Almost immediately he thought that the masked necromancer was rushing towards him, but to his confusion, he rushed to a particularly large beastman. One's whose horns seemed particularly long and pointy, its muscles beneath its fur practically bulging, and its head looking particularly vicious with its jagged front goat-like teeth. "Bestigor! Can't waste quality meat like this when it comes to you!"

Lyle could only gape in fascinated horror as Burt plunged his knife right where the heart would be. He almost thought he would stab away like the madman he sounded and looked like, but to his surprise, Burt carefully and almost surgically cut into the chest area, almost reminding Lyle of how one would carve into a pumpkin during Halloween.

He couldn't help but ask. "Dude…what in the blue hell are you doing?"

"Not every day you can get a Bestigor's heart. And from the feel of the flesh, it hasn't been long since this beast perished. It would be criminal to not use it post-mortem!" The masked madman cackled as he tore off a part of the left pec of the beast, carefully sticking his dirty filthy hands inside making Lyle gag as he looked away.

Procuring a bag from within his dark cloak, Burt used it to put within it a large, pink purple heart that he procured from the bestigor's chest, cackling further as he pat down the now filled bag.

"Oh, I certainly hope there are more of these beasts here, but it's doubtful. Those creatures don't go down easily."

"Most definitely not." Rudy grunted flippantly as he stared at the now mutilated beastman corpse. "It takes many lives just to take one of theirs."

"So long as you're one who clings onto weak mortal coils then yes. Those that trek amongst Naggash's lesson, less so." Burt bragged as he stood up from the corpse, his masked head swiveling around for more possible prospects. "But, damned if you aren't right. A shame they don't perish as easily as you Brettonians, but their bodies wouldn't be of such quality otherwise."

Lyle grimaced. "Do you get off at talking like a creep, my man? I mean I get we're necromancers and all, but I don't think that's a hard requirement for the job description."

"Keep your soft heart all you want, master. It will eventually make surpassing you all the easier."

"Whatever you say man…though I gotta ask…what the hell are these beastmen anyways?" Lyle asked, curiosity overtaking his sense of disgust. "Please don't tell me that a man or…men had certain carnal urges that could only be satisfied with goats because I'm already on the verge of losing my lunch here."

Thankfully instead of Bertholdt, it was Wendel who offered an answer. "It's nothing like that Master Lyle. The beastmen…well they were actually once men, like you and me. They are those that are unfortunate enough to get exposed to too much chaos corruption and to eventually find themselves part beast and part man. Those truly unfortunate are those who are born this way even between two human parents, oftentimes left to die in the wilderness of exposure or to be…ahem, adopted into a herd of similar-looking cloven ones."

Lyle wasn't one hundred percent sure why, but for some reason, the moment, Wendel said the word chaos he felt a chill ring down his spine and a cold feeling overcome his left arm. It was strange considering the definition of the word, but he couldn't help but dwell on the feeling regardless before he spoke up again. "Chaos eh? You mind telling me what th-

"Salutations young man!" A bombastic and native Italian-sounding voice rung out, getting the attention of the four young men surveying the carnage. "So you are the Beast of Blackstone post that my many friends in Miragliano are speaking of. Dare I say, I did not expect you to seem so young!"

This man was followed by two very annoyed and very unnerved Schmitz and Fredericka who both looked none too pleased to be in the man's presence.

Lyle couldn't help but raise both eyebrows at the man, especially at the almost foppish white, blue and golden elaborate coat he was wearing, along with the floofy feathered hat. He was of average height and extremely average build, showing that he didn't appear to be a warrior or fighter at first glance with his sun-kissed skin and grey empty ey-

The leader of the Barrow Legion felt his stomach perform a flip and his heart seized up for a quick moment, his eyes going wide.

"Ah but, where are my manners! Alberto Lucciano! At your disposal, Crypt Lord." The man bowed dramatically with a wide smile plastered on his face.

It was a smile Lyle had seen worn by Eddie Maranzano when he cut off the fingers of people stupid enough to bet with the wrong bookies, and even dumber to not pay on time.

The similarities in that empty almost soulless look was a jarring and frightening mix with a friendly face that he didn't care for seeing back home, and even at this distance, it was something he didn't enjoy seeing now.

"...can I help you?" Lyle asked with measured carefulness, trying his damndest not to sound on edge.

"Perhaps we can help each other, seeing as you are here now and have an opportunity of a lifetime before you!"

"You know this guy Freddie?"

It was with a sour look that mirrored Schmitz that Fredericka gave an answer. "...An associate of former Master Kemmler."

"Former associate." Schmitz ground out, his crooked teeth grinding against one another, and his pale face going red. "A former associate whose fortunate that we don't flay and use as a corpse cart puller as we speak."

"Ah, but Schmitz! It was you and Kemmler who reneged on the deal first! I merely returned the favor! I know you are getting in your later years, but I hope I need not remind you of this constantly!" There was no anger or heat in Alberto's tone. It was as if he were talking with a close family member or friend as Schmitz became even more irate.

"I'm sensing a story I'm not aware of here." Lyle called out.

"Oh? They did not tell you? It was a most trivial thing truly, or at least it should have been. I gave Heinrich Kemmler information of when a certain holy site within Bastonne would be nice and vulnerable and he naturally pounced with the stipulation that he would give me a most prized artifact that remained within this site."

"Yeah, I've heard this kind of story before. Lemme guess. He didn't give it to you."

"He did not. Even worse. He destroyed the artifact and used its contents for some ritual or another. The specifics of said ritual, I was not made privy to. Regardless, he went back on his word, and thus I returned the favor in kind. A shame since we had a most magnificent working relationship up until that point."

"Many necromancers perished because of your treachery, water worshiping scum!"

Alberto let out a light laugh, shaking his head all the while. "You betrayed me first. Tarnished the agreement we had inked together. Those who do so, deserve nothing less than to end up amongst the carnage you see before you."

Lyle could immediately feel the winds of Dhar whipping around schmitz, his temper reaching a fever point, making a great signal for Lyle to step in. "I ain't Kemmler Al. I'm Lyle Spoletta, but apparently, you already knew that. I doubt you're here to reopen old wounds that were made before I even came here, so let's talk shop. What're you here for? What's this opportunity you were talkin' about."

Alberto looked pleased at the change of subject. "Straight to the point? Magnificent! There's nothing better than starting a new leaf with old partnerships if I say so myself and you represent a fine opportunity to do so! Very well, Master Spolleta let us talk shop as you say. As you see through the carnage before you, there was a great battle that took place here earlier, and as you can plainly notice, the Brettonians and Dwarves got the worst of it. My contacts noticed that both parties were in the midst of slaughtering one another as prideful lords and kings often do when disaster struck both parties in the most wretched of ways! The beastmen smelled blood. And with it they feasted on the carnage before them, turning it into a slaughter."

"I figured that happened, but I gotta know. Do dwarfs and humans hate each other on the norm, or is it just Brettonians that they hate? I mean I completely understand if they do, I have yet to have any good impression of those over armored douchebags, but even so, I'm curious."

"Ah. Normally I would charge someone for that type of information, but I appreciate your manners, unlike your fellow necromancers. A lovely change of pace! If you must know! Marvelous as well!"

Just when Schmitz looked to flap his mouth, he suddenly looked down to see Fredericka grabbing his sleeve, a stony look on her face as she shook her head, looking in interest At Lyle.

Now unimpeded, Alberto spoke. "All this conflict is because King Rorik Granitehand is settling a grudge. Something that dwarfs often like to do when they aren't brooding within their holds and counting whatever gold they have. The grudge in particular is over an otherwise unnoteworthy dagger sitting within the vaults of Castle Bastonne that was reportedly forged by Rorik's own father and supposedly stolen by the current Duke of Bastonne's Great Great Grandfather. That current duke being none other than the legendary Bohemond Beastslayer! A great slayer of beasts I might add and one who killed many of the beastmen here before he and his forces were forced to retreat."

"Lemme guess. Bohemond says the dagger is rightfully his and they both start bitching. And then the bitching leads to fighting."

"As it often does with lords and kings."

"Then they fought here and the beastmen took advantage…so where does this concern you?"

"By trade, I am well…I mean no jest, a trader. I trade favors, gold, information, and a great many things in my profession, and unlike many of my oh so lesser contemporaries I am willing to trade with people such as yourself my lord!"

"...is that a race thing?"

"Not specifically. More like an occupation-thing! A man such as yourself tends not to be looked upon favorably by the average lord or lady in Brettonia, the Empire, or…well…any functioning spot of civilization my lord! It makes bartering, trading, and getting the resources to get your despotic empire off the ground! Thankfully I can cut through much of that damnable red tape and make the lives of people like you a great deal more convenient! I hold no discrimination, truly! Whether you're orc, skaven, necromancer, chaos worshiper or all of the above, if you're capable of doing business, then business we shall have!"

"Well, I guess its a refreshing feeling to not be discriminated for your occupation." Lyle said jokingly cracking a half-smile, wondering at what half of those things Alberto had just mentioned. "So in terms of business, what is it exactly that you wanna work out?"

"Before we can work out a professional relationship Lord Spoletta, I have a task that needs accomplishing and preferably quickly if possible. You see, Granitehand, much like your successor broke an agreement. Or rather he broke an agreement between me and his son. In exchange for getting his son, Brok information as to the whereabouts of a kidnapped loved one of his, he offered me an item of great importance. In spite of me doing my part of the deal, his father was not made privy of the arrangement and instead, refused to hand over what was rightfully mine, and even worse, forced his son to take the slayer oath, for promising something that was not his and invoking a dwarven oath all the while."

"A slayer oath?"

"An oath where a dwarf must go and find himself a worthy death…usually only reserved for those who are dishonored or shamed in some way."

"That…sounds a bit much for his own son don't you think?"

"They're dwarves Lord Lyle. They often deal only in extremes when it comes to oaths. To do otherwise and you may as well not be a dwarf."

"Alright…so you want us to teach this Rorik guy a lesson, right? Pretty big convenience since we were heading towards their direction anyway."

Alberto chuckled in a way that made him more than a little uneasy.

"Part of being in my business is arriving at the right place at the right time. It all comes with trading you see. Something I'm sure you'll learn soon enough."

"Alright…so what, you wanna us to kill him?"

To Lyle's surprise, he emphatically shook his head. "Oh, no Lord Spolleta, oh by the gods no! That would set a terrible precedent! A punishment must be dealt towards Rorik for breaking the agreement between me and his son, but to kill him? No! Unacceptable! If I went by that method for all those who couldn't honor their arrangements, I would have no one to trade with! Otherwise, lord Kemmler would have perished much sooner than he did if that were the case!"

"You boast too easily you puffed up peddler!" Berthold growled as he leered his masked face towards Alberto, who looked none too concerned for his safety. Something that wasn't lost on the leader of the Barrow Legion as he eyed his underling carefully, ready to step in between the two if necessary. "For all we know it took old age to finally do our previous master in! You think because you caused the demise of a paltry few of us that you could succeed where no one else could?"

"Simmer down Bert." Lyle said, slightly extending his hand beside himself. He was half expecting the braggart to throw a fit, but surprisingly he stopped in place, though he was still clearly tense. "No need for us to lose our heads here…Everybody's cool. I'm Cool, Al here is cool, everyone just be cool, no need to fly off the handle."

"He mocks us, master. That is a high crime against the fabled Barrow Legion, even less against the fabled Berthold the Bad!"

Rolling his eyes, Lyle turned to look back at the very much unintimidated Alberto. "Look. If you don't want us to off him, what do you want exactly?"

"Granitehand needs to voluntarily give up the artifact. A message must be sent that he willingly gave up the artifact to honor the agreement as admitted. He will not do so without…some wrangling, however…namely through the threat of something ill befalling his people."

Suddenly understanding came to Lyle, though not in a necessarily feel-good way. He was indeed far too like Maranzano than he cared to realize. "So you want us to go to his home joint then?"

"In a manner of speaking…however in this case I need you to save it."

"Your words are contradicting each other, peddler." Schmitz grumbled. "Enough with the twisting of your words!"

"So impatient Schmitz, there is no harm in the building of the tale is there not? But, if you must know the grizzly and unsightly beastmen that trounced the men and dwarfs here earlier? They are now besieging Granitehands home."

"They're what!?" Fredericka suddenly shrieked, her eyes going wide and her body radiating frantic energy. Lyle hadn't seen her this frayed since the first battle together and that was saying something considering what happened to Wendel. "Are you certain!?"

"Sadly yes." The man said with a wide smile. "What's worse was that the dwarf army attacking the Bastonnians were savaged so badly they were forced to retreat on the wrong side of a river. A river that cuts them off from getting back to their hold. Oh, they're trying to desperately locate an underway that can help them reach the many friends and family defended only by a meager garrison, but the beastmen are known for many things. Being physically slow is not one of them. A shame I can't say the same about the dwarfs. I trust you know what will happen once they breach the gates?"

"They'll kill everyone take over the hold…making our life a lot harder." Lyle said, though the mention of women of possible defenseless people, dwarfs they may be definitely filled him with worry. Lyle up to this point had ensured that any settlement they had taken spared those who didn't bother bringing up a weapon to stop them, and even then he had restraint. From the sounds and even look of these goat-like creatures, they seemed pretty short on the mercy that he had.

To his worry, Fredericka emphatically shook her head at him. "No Master. These are beastmen, they don't…they don't hold onto holds, settlements or cities, like we do as most other people do. No. What they do is far-far worse."

The leader of the Barrow Legion didn't like where this was going. "Dare I ask?"

"They raze any settlements they find defenseless enough to the ground." Rudy said gravely, his voice noticeably somber. "Lord Lyle, the beastmen live in the forests. It's their home as much as a village was mine…I would hear stories from…survivors of other less fortunate villages, one that didn't have…the Lady's protection. They slaughtered half the men, took the women and children, and after they had done that…burned everything that they could find to the ground."

"...by everything, do you mean-

"Everything my lord…every hovel, every home, every fence…they don't kill the animals though they…they take that with them I've heard…it's the story that my mother would tell me to remember before going to bed…before she passed." The scarred young man took a shaky breath, trying to right himself before continuing. "She'd tell me it would happen to villages if boys were naughty in the face of the Lady…I always had my doubts but…"

"...Jesus." That was all Lyle could say in the face of that grizzly description. He chanced a look at the Bestigor that Burt had mutilated. His eyes took in its jutted and angular head. It's gnarled and viscous-looking front teeth. He then looked over how human its torso looked…yet how inhuman it seemed with its cloven hooves. Blood coated its arms and chest, its hands containing a death grip on two chipped yet viscera-covered axes.

He then imagined a breathing creature like that in front of a child.

Lyle's voice became as stony as Rudy's. "So we catch em' with their pants down and hit em' where it hurts." He then turned a wary glance towards Alberto, his smile starting to greatly unnerve him. "So what do you want us to do exactly once we take out these goat-fuckers?"

"The people there must not perish if you can manage it. Without them, I have no leverage, without that leverage, I cannot compel Granitehand to hand over his prized artifact! He is stubborn like all dwarfs, but he cannot call himself a king if he cannot protect his people…you slaughter those oh so vile beastmen and hold his people too close to comfort towards your wretched undead horde and he will capitulate. Oh how quickly he will bend. Dwarfs do not do it often, but when they do, you must be there to see it!"

The Jersey native was none too surprised to hear the man's priorities when it came to over what was more important. Getting a dwarf king to grovel on his knees or saving the vulnerable masses.

Shaking his head. Lyle looked to Fredericka. "It isn't too much trouble if we leave now in this case is it Freddy?"

"Way ahead of you. Wendel! Rally the other acolytes! The dead rest no more for today!"

"Y-yes Fredericka!" With that, the one-eyed necromancer scrambled to do as he was bid, as she then turned to Burtholdt.

"Bertholdt! Get whatever help you need from the other acolytes that Wendel rouses and get them to raise the corpses here! Whatever you can't raise, salvage them for parts!"

"With pleasure and haste!" The masked mad-man cackled as he marched towards Wendel's direction. "You will find every corpse here will find a purpose under the gaze of Bertholdt the Bad!"

"Are we quite honestly about to do what this…For this wretched peddler?" Schmitz ground out, his crooked teeth painting him an ugly visage. "After how you alerted those damnable lake worshiping bumpkins that we were attacking Athel Loren!?"

"I evened the score schmitz. With your new leader, we can now start fresh. Isn't that what's best for business?"

This time it was Fredericka who cut in, putting on a conciliatory face. "Schmitz…Loath as I am to agree with Alberto…Schmitz if the beastmen raze that hold, you know what will follow…the chaos corruption…"

There was that word again. Lyle found himself unsettled for reasons he couldn't identify, and to his further confusion, it seemed Schmitz shared his thoughts, as even he seemed to give those words pause.

After chewing on Fredericka's words, the bald necromancer gave a withering glare to the grin Alberto was still wearing. "This is far from over, peddler."

"But of course! We have future business to discuss once you have finished this little chore for me!"

Schmitz looked like he wanted to spit blood. "That we do." And on that note, he turned his cheek and stormed off, clearly wanting nothing more to do with the situation.

"Rudy bowed before Lyle getting his attention before speaking. "If I may my lord. I could go and get...Thing and pack up your bags?"

"Sure, Rudy, I appreciate."

With another quick Bow, Rudy made his own exit moving with a surprising amount of speed.

Alberto smiled like a cat, sauntering over to Lyle who instinctively put his hand out, surprising the man. "No offense, but…I like to keep my distance with strangers."

The man opened his mouth, nodding. "Understandable. Very understandable considering you got too close to certain peasants."

Lyle felt the phantom cuts on his stomach flare-up, his stomach tightening as his own smile became strained. "Heard about that, did you?"

"But of course! I deal in information as well! And I've heard a great deal of delicious information about you lord Spoletta…with many speaking on how curious your accent is, and I cannot help but agree with those sources now in pers-

"Unless there's anything else Alberto…you can speak to us again, once we've butchered the beastmen."

"...but of course. Do take care Fredericka along with your lovely…pale willowy face and you as well Lord Spolleta! I hope to hear and see much more of you in the coming days, your circumstances are quite curious compared to the usual beastial warlord I deal with." The man gave an elaborate, and without waiting for a reply strutted away and stepped amongst the carnage of bodies that were strewn before him, with ease not a care in the world."

"He's useful, but under no circumstances should you trust him, Master." Fredericka said in a hushed yet harsh whisper. "He-

"Yeah I know." Lyle cut in, surprising Fredericka with the lack of mirth in his voice.

"...you do?"

"...It's kinda scary to admit, but he reminds me a bit too much of someone I knew back home."

"Oh?..."

"Another time Fredericka." Lyle smiled, turning to the one who brought him to the world. "But just to be sure…you don't trust the guy, but you clearly ain't for the idea of not working with him."

"Alberto was an asset Lord Kemmler couldn't simply turn away Master. And in my strong opinion, neither should you."

"I'll take your word for it."

"I greatly appreciate that."

"Well it'd be dumb not to trust you after you've gotten me this far…and while we're talking about this shady guy, why don't we talk more about what he wants me to do, and more specifically…just what else you know about these beastmen."

A/N: This one was a pain to write, but I'm not discouraged, especially since the fun begins the very next chapter. I appreciate all those who've been patient with me and will be paitent still.

Please leave reviews, I appreciate any and all of them, both positive and negative, it's always like fuel in the fire for me to keep on going.

And yes, The bony hand's name is Thing. What can I say? I'm a fan of the Addams Family.

One other thing. For those thinking that Wendel is surprisingly well adjusted for a guy who literally got an arrow to the eye well...you'll see shortly that there were side effects that came with the surgery.

Responses:

Cyan Sung-Sun: Damn right he's gonna make Brettonia great again!

Guest: It was the mollusk. And yes Fredericka can be a bitch, but there's good reason for it. Lyle has been making a decent ass out of himself after all.

Laxard: Thanks for the review! I personally love writing the battles as well, given how tense those kinds of situations can be.

What the hell ma: Yeah I can understand why you're annoyed by him. His upbringing gave him a feeling of invincibility that was shattered the moment he nearly died for said belief. It can be annoying seeing someone be so damned reckless.