AR:

Superfanman217: Why thank you very much.

dutchsoldier: Oh he already knows about that at this point. It just disgusts him to see it so blatantly and open.

Annoying POW Marine: The nobility have birth complications here and there, but it's nowhere near as bad as the peasants, since Bretonnian peasant communities can be more insular than even noble lineages.

DarkWarrior41: You can bet that Mousillon will be into the fray one way or another.

OwlVogele314: Perhaps after he's mopped up the slave traders.

Zerkil: No kidding. To get rid of corruption would be the equivalent of trying to get rid of human nature itself. Even in an organization where most of your servants are undead, you still have to lend keys to the kingdom that control most of those undead.

UselessKhan69: Nobody ever does.

RandomSovietFarmer: Lyle collecting misfits like pokemon at this point…or maybe Pals since that's pretty trendy at this point.

"To Ser Alvin!"

A raucous cheer rang throughout the air, knights raising their goblets and tankards to the sky while Alvin basked in the praise in the middle of the outdoor feast.

"To King Louen!"

The Royarch of Bretonnia, with a tad more humility, dipped his head at the call, raising his own tankard in response.

"To Coroune and all of Bretonnia!"

An even bigger cheer went through the air, and many had already started tearing into the large chunks of food presented before them. Wheels of cheese, Recently slaughtered pigs, beef, barrels of wine, and more were being hauled by the cartload by peasants and other servants for all to enjoy. The fruits of yet another decisive and crushing victory against the last remnants of the norscans who had tried their hand at invading Northern Bretonnia.

Alvin was slightly disappointed that there wouldn't be more of them, at least for now. He'd found a significant bit of sport in butchering them by the dozen, especially since he found that praises and feasts in his name came after such butchery. And if he were being honest with himself, his sword arm was hungry for more of those lethal swings he'd been dealing with for the past few weeks.

"Ser Alvin! They say that you vanquished the manticore that tried to prey on our archers in less than a minute! Did the beast give you so little trouble?" A young knight further down the table asked as wine was poured generously into his tankard.

Alvin smirked and shrugged. "It's only a problem if you let it be a problem. It isn't impressive beyond the fact that it's big, has fangs, and can fly. A sword through the eye can make it pretty mid if you know what you're doing."

"Um…' mid' Ser?"

Alvin wanted to smack the ignorant, inbred noble up the head but restrained himself with a smile. "A phrase back at my world. It can mean found lacking or nothing special."

"For a grail knight like yourself, we should expect nothing less." A more weatherbeaten and experienced knight said. "Still, for you to arrive in our world and wield a sword as easily as you have. Truly, you are blessed by the lady."

Oh, I'm blessed by something, alright. Nonetheless, Alvian sat up straighter, taking a sip from his own wine tankard. "I live to serve the Lady and Bretonnia." Many more praises were sent his way from such cheap words, and the earth-native was all too eager to lap them up. Even if they were all pretty much beneath him.

Seriously? Bretonnia? I ask again, why here, of all places?

"And serve you have!" Alvin shook himself out of his own complaints when King Louen himself patted his shoulder firmly, finding it easy to do so since the earth native was sitting next to the King. "I promise you, Ser Alvin, that once the realm has been put right and allowed to heal, I'll award you a lordship for your valiant services."

As if I'd wanna squat over your backwater of a country over a bunch of even more inbred peasants who probably couldn't tie shoelaces…if they could even comprehend what those were.

Despite himself, Alvin forced a smile. "You're too kind."

"I am just, and I am fair. A lordship is the very least I can do to reward your efforts despite this land not being your mother nation."

And that right there was one of the biggest reasons Alvin didn't toss the idea of becoming a lord out of hand. Even as he surveyed the table, while there were more than a few people who'd become enamored with his feats and how quickly he'd impressed King Louen and his court, more than a few detractors were waiting for the moment. The single moment in which they could put him down.

He may have been a grail knight to them, but it didn't change the fact that he was an outsider to a specific subsection of the nobles. And for Alvin, that was just fine. He personally didn't see the appeal in being these nepo-babies who were born into the privilege of calling the shots only to accomplish little in life.

That was fine with him. Eventually, they wouldn't have to worry about such problems in the future. "Heh. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that you're trying to get me a lordship in your Coroune so that you'll have fewer norscans to worry about."

Laughter peeled through the table at his jest; even the more stern-faced and silent detractors he had couldn't help but crack a few smiles at that if nothing else but to play along.

King Louen smiled and shook his head. "Alas, I fear that would only embolden them. The norscans are nothing if not hungry to make names for themselves, especially after you've slain so many of their prized beasts, champions, and chieftains. Nay. I was wondering if mayhaps you would be open to the forested castles of Artois, given how many nobles have…perished in the line of duty there, I've heard."

"Damned Barrow Legion." The older knight, Rolande Alvin, believes his name said. "They've become more of a nuisance now under this Lyle Spoletta than Kemmler ever was." He then chuckled contemptuously in his tankard. "Or at least he was in Bohemond thrashed and captured the bastard."

"Aye!" The younger knight, Pierre, nodded with a grin. "As if it were ever in doubt. Bohemond's taken down greater foes than some upstart necromancer trying to fill Kemmler's shoes!" He then raised his tankard high. "And considering how he did against the beastslayer, I'd say that Kemmler's shoes were two sizes too large for the lad!"

More laughter broke out from the table as everyone reveled in the good news they'd received more than a week ago from a messenger bird. The victories that they were obtaining from the norscans and against the undead. For Louen, receiving that news was the equivalent of receiving a second wind, and he knew that went doubly for his men. Having Alvin here to help lead the charge against the remaining norscans who were foolish enough to raid his homeland only helped bolster morale to face the remaining threats within Bretonnia, the land he'd sworn to the Lady he'd protect.

For Alvin, however, knowing that Kemmler was dead when he came to this world was more than a little strange, offputting, and inconvenient, to say the least.

He knew Warhammer like the back of his hand, and he knew more than anyone in this backwater country or even this planet what era they were in. The End Times were coming, and he knew just how dangerous they were.

He also knew how much he utterly loathed this lazy abomination of a story that Games Workshop put out, and he'd never forgive them for it, much like everyone else. It only served to rankle him further that he got shoved into these times and how ridiculous they were…and yet all of this was thrown out the window with the death of Heinrich Kemmler.

Kemmler was integral to the end times because he was a massive part of why things turned out the way they did! He had a hand in summoning Naggash, for Christ's sake, and now, all of a sudden, he was dead? He thought that maybe he could use his knowledge of future events to his favor, but with Kemmler dead, that was all out the window. At first, Alvin thought it was because he was here in the first place that his actions may have caused a butterfly effect to cause Kemmler's death, yet that couldn't be true since he was brought here after Kemmler had supposedly died.

Now, there were too many variables up in the air, and Michael didn't care for it. Yet Alvin felt that his 'benefactor' may have pulled a string or two to get this outcome. He was the one who summoned him, after all.

So that begged the question. Where did he go from here?

He was quite literally shaken from such musings when Pierre roughly patted his shoulder and shook him in his seat. "Come now, Ser Alvin? Why so glum? It won't be long before we put the realm to rights, as have many who have taken the vow in the past. Soon, we can be part of the legends after saving Bretonnia from the brink!"

Initially annoyed by the young and dumb kid getting too close for comfort, Alvin plastered a smile. "Oh, don't mind me, man. Just wondering about what else is out there besides the undead and norscans."

"The grail knight speaks sense, young Pierre." King Louen nodded, intensely appreciating the caution in Alvin's words. "After all, there are other threats we must contend with once we've helped Duke Bohemond vanquish the Barrow Legion once and for all…the rumors that Mousillon is stirring once more are starting to seem less like rumors with the birds I've been receiving after all."

A more somber muttering started to go through the table at that news, but nobody looked surprised. Alvin understood that since Mousillon was the Sylvania to Bretonnia. It was an annoying pimple in one's country that you hadn't been able to quite get rid of over generations and had to scramble to fight back against once it got too big and too annoying.

But, King Louen wasn't done. "Besides Mousillon, I've also heard reports of corsairs from Naggarond that have gotten bolder in recent years, along with beastmen becoming more prevalent in the forests of our beautiful nation. We'll need to do quite a bit of internal scouring of these threats if we're to prepare for what else is to come."

"Don't worry, Your Highness." Alvin said with a quiet confidence that wasn't his own. "Bretonnia has taken on worse threats before. Your kingdom has overcome them, and they can overcome this."

Once again, many cheers and tankards are being raised and, in some cases, being slammed on the table in his favor. Some were more reluctant due to his foreign status, while others, like Pierre, were enamored with his mere presence.

King Louen looked like he was going to say something else when a messenger stumbled toward their long table, pale-faced, covered in sweat, and wide-eyed. Almost immediately, Alvin knew, along with others quick on the take, that this wasn't good news.

Louen was one of those people. "Catch your breath lad. Gather yourself and speak."

The messenger looked like he was going to blurt out whatever it was on his mind, but took the time to adhere to the advice of his King. When he did, the boy who didn't look any older than Pierre or Alvin stood straight and spoke with hurried words. "Duke Bohemond of Bastonne! H-he's been defeated by Lyle Spoletta after he escaped captivity!"

A hushed silence descended on the table and other campgoers who either milled about or enjoyed the celebratory feast.

Celebration was the furthest thing on anyone's mind when the words were uttered in earshot, especially once Chaos descended on the table and the surrounding area, spreading like a fast-acting cancer throughout the camp.

"How could this have happened!"

"It must be a lie! A forgery!"

"Duke Bohemond has failed us!"

"We must avenge his death!"

"No! The Lady has forsaken us!"

Frantic shouting and panic descended, and Alvin was one of those muted in silent shock. Bohemond Beastslayer? Being defeated by some no-name Tilean or some schmuck from the Border Princes was absolute lunacy! Heinrich Kemmler, he could buy beating Bohemond, even if it was a close fight but a no-name successor he'd never heard of. Apparently, many of the knights, lords, and nobles around him were also in disbelief but felt they needed to verbally or physically express it.

But, King Louen wasn't having it. "SILENCE!" With his grail-blessed lungs, the King's full voice was booming, successfully putting a pause to the craze that had overtaken his subject. Jerkily, he turned to the messenger, who looked like he wanted to flee on the spot. "There must be more to the message! What else was said!"

"Th-there was a battle! Bohemond was defeated and gravely wounded after Lyle Spoletta escaped his bondage, capturing the Beastslayer."

"Merde." Rolande muttered, looking like he swallowed a rock.

The messenger continued, wiping sweat off his brow as his legs shook. "The good news is that Bohemond's steward and niece managed to negotiate his release in return for Castle Bastonne, with him and his remaining servants currently headed toward us as we speak. However." The young man took a chance to gather his breath, his voice hitching a bit before he found his tongue. "Bohemond's niece, Louise, has written that hundreds of other knights are being held captive by the Barrow Legion. She reports that they tried to ransom the knights themselves, but Spoletta has refused, saying that you, your Highness, must ransom the knights yourself so that they may be delivered to Couronne unharmed."

"Wait a minute!" Alvin found himself saying aloud, drawing attention to him. "You say that Bohemond was captured and gravely wounded? Are you saying he's still wounded? Shouldn't he have healed by now with his grail blessing?"

"Th-the message says that a magically infused bone collar was attached around his neck. It's suppressing his powers! Louise mentioned that they would need the services of a damsel to remove it!"

Many slumped in the chairs and had horror-stricken looks on their faces. It was just now sinking in how thoroughly beaten Bohemond had been defeated. There was a relief that he was alive with a chance to save him. But, his defeat had shaken the once lively atmosphere to form a dark cloud that was not threatening to overtake everyone's spirits.

In times of such harsh uncertainty made by a single message, all eyes turned to the King, whose hands were clasped before his face. The Royarch's brows were furrowed in thought before he turned his gaze back to the messenger. "Is there anything else?"

Tentatively, yet hesitantly, the boy nodded. "There was a second message. Sent by Lyle Spoletta himself to you, your Majesty."

A pregnant pause ensued as Louen spoke slowly. "Have you read it yet?"

"N-no. I haven't had the chance."

"Read it now. For everyone to hear.

"

The boy took out the letter and broke the seal, which had the insignia of the Barrow Legion. "Dear King…erm…Louis?"

Many confused glances were exchanged, with Louen's being one of them. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm…confused as well, your grace; it says King Louis, not King…a-anyways, I'll move forward." He then coughed into his fist. "By now I'm sure you've heard about how the Beastslayer got done in. He had me in the first half, I'm not gonna lie. But it's not how you start; it's how you finish. And I made damn sure to finish the fight. You can ask your former Duke of Bastonne how it happened after you take that collar off his neck."

While others grumbled at the language of the letter, Alvin squinted his eyes, finding a familiar tone that one wouldn't find in the Old World. He focused more now than ever on the letter's contents as the messenger continued to speak.

"So here's the deal…Louis. As you now know, you're gonna have to pay me a fine for more of the knights you'll need in the future. And just so you're on the up and up, You're gonna have to pay for their armor and weapons, gear, etc, separately. Since you are the King around these parts, don't bother complaining about it, 'cause I know you can afford it." The messenger squinted his eyes in disgust. "This necromancer's writing is abhorrent."

Louen narrowed his eyes. "I was told that this man hails from the south…possibly Tilea or the Border Princes… I've read their letters before, spoken to them in fact, and I've never heard them speak in this way."

Alvin agreed, getting a good idea as to where this was coming from.

The messenger then continued. "With all of that being said, Your Highness, just know this. I am right as I am righteous in overthrowing Duke Bohemond because I have personally found that he has been unable to perform his duties as a duke. After all, what kind of Duke trusts his peasant subjects in the hand of a corrupt lord like lord Bastien who allows his people to get extorted by orcs…or to be slaughtered by bandits for daring to defend themselves and seek out better leadership from myself." The messenger jerkily looked up, seeing the surprised, offended, and confused looks on the nobles' faces, with the King's being the most unreadable. He read further. "Though I am a necromancer, I fight for what I call the good fight. A fight of the people, by the, and for the people. If I find you want in my personal standards of this creed, then one of these days, I will pay a personal visit to you instead of sending the broken and beaten bodies of my former foes. For now, however, rest easy since I have bigger fish to fry that aren't you…signed Lyle Spoletta. Lichemaster of the Barrow Legion." The messenger looks to be finished with the message before he blinks and realizes there is something at the bottom. "Ah. It says one more thing. PS: Make Brettonia Great Again."

"He sounds like a raving mad-man." Pierre grumbled, looking more frustrated than anything.

"What on earth was with the way he wrote that letter?"

"I believe he was using phrases that are not Bretonnian…or of other people's that I've heard of. Certainly not Imperial." Roland huffed, folding his arms, looking pensive. "I've heard the man is a foreigner, but I've never heard of such phrases. And I've been on many campaigns outside of Bretonnia with our vaunted King." He then addressed the still and glaring King and question. "Your Highness. What do you make of this?"

All eyes turned to the King, who exhaled and closed his eyes deep in thought. "I know not what to make of it. Perhaps it is an attempt to goad me into doing something rash. Perhaps this Lyle Spoletta is using phrases we've never heard of to throw us off…to keep us guessing as to what his origins are…This man has done what Kemmler has never done himself. He's beaten the Beastslayer and nullified his powers. For all we know, he could be the same man who killed Kemmler himself to take his position, which could mean we're dealing with a monster we're not accustomed to doing battle with."

"So, do we ride to Bastonne to give battle?" Pierre asked eagerly.

To his and many knights' disappointment, he shook his head. "This man managed to defeat one of the finest grail knights in the realm and has taken not one, but two duchies. To rush in rashly could lead us to lose the entire realm if we are not cautious. Nay. We will wait for Bohemond to return to us so that we may find a way to remove the collar around his neck. From him and those within his enterprise, we could learn more about Lyle Spoletta and discern his strengths and weaknesses. Once we've ransomed the knights, this necromancer he has in his possession…should he prove trustworthy enough, then we will act."

Pierre pouted along with many others, but they didn't dare question the King's orders, especially since many of the more grizzled veterans like Rolande understood the wisdom behind such a decision. Sure, there was a time for chivalry, boldness, and bravery, but the eldest nobles knew how quickly that could devolve into foolishness if given the chance.

Pierre, however, still wasn't delighted with all of this and looked to vent such misgivings somewhere not named King Louen Leoncur. So he went to the second most looked-up to individual at the table. "Ser Alvin? What do you make of all of this?"

Not surprised at being put on the spot, Alvin shrugged and smiled at King Louen. "What's there to make of anything? Who am I to question the King's plan? He's done this before, and I just got here. Sure, I'm a grail knight, thanks to the Lady, but I'm still a rookie at this, especially when it comes to organizing battles and putting the realm to right. And the way I see it, we should follow his Highness's example, especially since he's never led us wrong before."

King Louen smiled, feeling slightly buoyed by the confidence this young foreigner blessed by the Lady was showing in him. Even many of the other young and impressionable knights were nodding along since many of them were looking up to him thanks to the similar age range. Though Pierre was slightly disappointed, he wasn't going to go any further than he already had and gave a tentative nod.

Louen then stood up, his grateful look becoming stern. "Gentlemen. Regardless, we seem to have much more work to put our realm to rights. However, do know that while we must wait for our dear Bohemond's arrival, that doesn't mean we must remain idle."

While the King went into a spiel about what preparations could be done to prepare for the coming conflicts, Alvin, on the inside, had gone very cool and still. While he still had a pleasant and hopeful smile, internally, Michael glowered, feeling a special kind of dread and resentment boiling up inside of him as he listened to these stupid, inbred, higher-than-thou, generic fantasy, backwater Bretonnians eat up their King's words.

I'm not alone.

…

Belakhor has some explaining to do.

…

"How long are we going to tolerate this mayfly's actions?" Melil groused, leaning lazily against a tree in a nearby forest.

"As long as our Lady demands it." Vumira sharply replied as she observed Lyle Spoletta directing traffic to his necromancers. "We must hold our arrows."

Melil, however, hardly looked satisfied. "He should have died weeks ago. He should have been slain the day that he defeated the Bretonnians."

Melil turned a critical eye toward her. "If you wish to defy Ariel's will, then by all means."

The blonde-haired elf scoffed but didn't rise to the bait. "All I'm saying is that he's accomplishing a bit too much for my tastes."

"That's not for us to decide."

"...but, if this goes for too long-

"I wasn't aware you cared for mayflies so much, Melil."

"Do you not tire of shadowing these fools, these…these walking abominations to nature and the cycle of life?"

"Do you think I do not?" Vumira sighed. "Orders are orders."

Melil wanted to argue her point further but remained silent. She knew that Vumira was hardly enjoying this anymore than she did. In truth, she was reaching for an argument to break the monotony of what they were doing. That wasn't to say that watching this Lyle Spoletta was boring, given how many twists and turns his time here in the Old World had taken.

The fact that he had lasted this long was nothing short of a miracle, in her opinion. One could argue that perhaps divine intervention had something to do with it, but it didn't make it any less troubling. It was especially troubling with the fact that Melil could see plainly how he was so successful. His unorthodox tactics and charisma.

Necromancers rarely, if ever, unless they were of the pirate variety, used firearms or gunpowder, yet it seemed that whatever world Lyle hailed, it was a culture that had no scruples in using such weapons. All the more pity for Bohemond and his knights. Though she wouldn't admit it aloud, she felt pity for the grail knight, given his role in helping Athel Loren from Kemmler years ago.

The fact that he had lost to the Barrow Legion this time under new leadership was a bitter irony that wasn't lost on her. It only made matters more concerning that Lyle wasn't satisfied with just taking Castle Bastonne and was determined to make a breakneck pace toward the western coast.

"Vumira." She began more calmly now. "All I'm saying is at the pace things are going, this foreigner might just take all of Southern Bretonnia, taking control of half the country. I know that The Lady desires to keep the Bretonnians more honed toward the threats that are coming in the future, but I fear that she's playing with fire that could overtake a forest."

Vumira was conspicuously silent, which told Melil everything she needed to know about her compatriot.

Before she was tempted to go on a rant to at least vent her frustrations, she quickly yanked out a dagger at the sound of someone approaching behind her. She grumbled in frustration and still felt the urge to throw it at the site of Alina's grinning face.

"So quick to knife me, sister?" The brunette grinned toothily. "What would the others say?"

Melil felt her cheeks grow hot and her temper flare. Thankfully, Vumira was quicker with her words. "Speak, sister. What is Spoletta plotting in his infant mind?"

Alina grinned, looking surprisingly chipper than before. "It's quite heroic, believe it or not! He's going to a western Breottonian coastal city to save some of the peasants who were captured in Riffen. Apparently, this city is a front for slave trade with…" Alina's bright grin dampened noticeably. "...with the druchii."

"And we knew nothing of this?" Meliil said in shocked anger. "Our lesser and paler cousins have profited in this, and we were unaware."

"The Bretonnians…even the more illicit of their kind showed subterfuge of a high order to keep this under wraps." Vumira said with a heavy frown. "What else did you learn?"

"Well, I learned that Lyle truly means what he says. He truly has a heart for his fellow men and is looking to free those captured from that skirmish we saw at Riffen. He's…almost like a hero that you'd here from the stories we'd hear from spirits and elders."

"A necromantic hero." Melil rolled her eyes. "The world has truly gone mad if that's the case."

"You still doubt him? Even after he risked his own life to save those villagers?"

"Please. All that Mayfly has proven is that he's a fool. I'll give you this: perhaps he's not as wicked or morally depraved as the average necromancer, but that only proves that he's a bigger lackwit than I thought. Anyone in his station would never use dhar. We all know that humans are too weak willed and weakminded to resist the influence of that type of magic."

Alina huffed and pouted. "He hasn't succumbed yet."

"Yet." Melil shot back. "Tis' only a matter of time."

"Well, it's certainly taking its time. He did spare the grail knight after all!"

"Only further proving he's nothing more than a small-minded mayfly who didn't take an opportunity that was clearly in front of him."

"You wanted him to kill Duke Bohemond?"

"Of course not! But, he had an opportunity to eliminate a threat and failed to capitalize." The blonde haired elf's eyes narrowed predatorily. "It's a weakness. A weakness we can use when the time comes."

"If it comes."

"Unlike the mayflies, Lady Ariel is no fool. His time will come soon enough."

Alina grinned impishly. "Maybe she sees some use in him?"

"The boy is nothing more than a disruptor! A tool to forge the Bretonnians into a more potent weapon to be used against the ruinous ones! Once that use runs dry we-

"Hush." Vumira commanded, bringing both her sisters to silence. "Alina. Write out your report and then give it to me to read over. We still have work to do for our Queen yet.

After a brief moment of silence, Alina nodded, rushing off to a private tree to write up her report while Melill moved to take over, watching the undead forces that were getting ready to get back on the move.

Vumira was glad for the reprieve from her bickering sisters but soon found a new headache forming from the aftereffects of their conversation.

She was never one to doubt the words or orders of her Queen, but in turn, she was wondering where Ariel was going with this. What did she hope to gain from having Lyle Spoletta continue to live longer than he already had?

Was the fact that he was rooting out the corruption of the nobility part of it? He already had yanked out the corruption that Lord Bastien had fostered. Now, he was going after a noble selling his own peasants into slavery. It was an unorthodox way of eliminating corruption, but it seemed that Lyle's sense of justice was an effective method nonetheless.

Yet it all seemed far too elaborate to scour the corruption in Bretonnia. There had to be something that she and her sisters weren't seeing, something that Lady Ariel couldn't risk being known to even her greatest agents.

She decided to look at the facts, starting with what she knew about Lyle Spletta. He was a man from another world while being unnaturally gifted with necromantic prowess that would make even the most adept Spellsinger jealous. Unlike his new subordinates, he was brash, emotive, yet empathetic towards those who were down on their luck, even assisting dwarves when possible. Sure, he was getting guns out of it, but any other necromancer would have slain the beastmen and the dwarves without a second thought.

He saved peasants, spared his enemies, and routed out injustice and corruption whenever he could find it. Sure, he was ignorant, impulsive, arrogant, and sometimes childish, but one could not say he wasn't effective despite his missteps.

And at the end of the day, even by human standards…he was just a kid. Granted, he was a kid who could be considered an adult, but to an aged and weathered elf such as yourself, he was a kid all the same.

Yet Vumira had no misgivings about the idea that eventually, when Lyle would inevitably no longer be needed, that it would possibly be her arrows that would be sticking out of his eye socket, lying on the ground with his vacant remaining eye staring up into the sky.

Vumira banished the image out of her head, suddenly feeling queasy with her chest tightening momentarily. Why was she feeling hesitation now when so many other assignments had gone without a second thought?

She decided not to think about the boy any longer and instead occupied her mind by checking her blades and equipment. One could never be too prepared in service to the Queen, after all.

…

"Oh, dammit, it's you again."

Lyle could last remember nodding off inside his carriage during the forced march to the west. One could only stay awake after so much activity and campaigning after all. Plus, it wasn't just a physical exhaustion that Lyle had overgone. The mental toll after having to focus on so many things, organize a campaign, deal with petty bickering, and the weight of it all didn't do much to invigorate Lyle's spirits, especially since a lot of this was riding on his shoulders.

Now, this wasn't to say he was close to a mental breakdown or anything. Lyle prided himself on not being what his family would call a 'mental midget', so he figured it wouldn't hurt to nod off for a few hours while his army marched toward the slavers prancing around as noble Bretonnian lords.

And now he was staring into the stern, pouting, beautiful face of Morgiana Le Fay with her hovering just above the grassy ground in her immaculate lace white dress. Going off of the trend from where they last met, they were near a pond surrounded by a lush green grassy plain that was, in turn, surrounded by a dense and heavy fog or mist. He wasn't entirely too sure, given how thick and dense the cloudy visage was around them.

When she didn't immediately respond, Lyle folded his hands. "Look, say your piece or beat it, Lady. I ain't fallin' for your little trick like last time. A pretty face you may be, but a ha-

"Who do you serve?" She suddenly asked.

"The hell you mean?"

"What God do you serve? The power you command could not have come from just Kemmler." She put a finger to her chin. "Which one of the ruinous powers hath latched their chains to your soul?"

"Ruinous powers? Oh, you talkin' about the reality tumors that are the Chaos Gods? Can't say I've had business with any of them, thank you very much. You bring me here just to ask me that?"

"I know you have the taint of chaos on you." She said with narrowed eyes. "The fact that you survived my attempt to scour your soul only proves that."

"Well, gee, so glad that you attempting to kill me is such a blaze affair for you." Lyle said, perceptively taking a step back from the beautiful yet deadly woman. "But, I'll have you know, besides that time I kinda overtaxed myself, which gave me this sick looking blue highlight." Lyle acknowledged, pointing to the blue streak in his hair. "I have not fapped around any of the evil dark Gods that you speak of…at least not intentionally."

"Yet you have the taint all the same."

"Yeah, you're not exactly telling me anything I don't already know. One of my gophers, Schmitz, told me as much."

The Fey Enchantress looked affronted and more frustrated at such arrogant words. "You've known you're tainted, and yet you knowingly continue on with your decrepit goals of conquest?"

"You call it conquest. I call it liberation, especially considering everything I've been through recently."

Morgiana turned up her nose. "You dare call the slaughter of knights a form of liberation."

"It certainly is, considering what Bastien and Bohemond's steward were up to." When Morgiana's face went still, her haughtiness became less prevalent. "...you knew?"

"I did not know." Morgiana glared. "I…suspected and then subsequently found out."

"You suspected and did nothing."

"It is not as simple as rampaging in a duchy like yourself." She shot back. "Even a fey enchantress like myself can only intervene so much when there is so much…injustice and misdeeds throughout the realm."

"Oh, I bet. It can be hard to deal with someone neglecting and butchering their peasants when you have to deal with a slave trade to…oh wait, by you, I mean me."

Morgiana looked away, shame plain on her face. "I…I was not made aware of this until recently."

Then, it was Lyle's turn to be confused. "Wait…made aware? Hold the fuck up; how did you know about what I was doing in the first place? How did you suddenly only become aware of the slave trade when I found out about it?"

Morgiana went conspicuously silent, leaving Lyle to come to an unfortunate conclusion. Either she used magic to find this out, or there were loose lips. He personally didn't buy the former since she could have used said magic to not only find out about these misdeeds from her own people in the first place but also to figure out where he was and maybe send an army or hit squad his way. No. Someone was feeding her all of this information, which only served to make Lyle more wary.

The Earth native folded his arms, knowing the floating woman would hardly fess up either way. "Fine. Keep your secrets. All this shows is that I'm the one cleaning up your mess while you and your King are having a circle jerk of getting fuck all done."

"King Louen has done more for Bretonnia than you could ever dream of, boy!" The woman's voice was harsh in its rebuke. "Do not be so quick to slander the one chosen by the Lady herself to lead her nation!"

"Or what? You'll try to smite me like last time, or whatever it was you were gonna do? You don't scare me, lady! You may be hot, but you ain-

Morgiana loudly tsked. "Oh, spare me of your quips and insults. They ring hollow when you're a mere pawn for one of the ruinous Gods."

"This again." Lyle rolled his eyes. "Y'know what. Whatever. If you wanna fire off your accusations, go right ahead. It don't make a difference to me and it never will. You ain't gonna stop me from doin' what I think is right and makin' a difference where you and your King refuse to. And if I have to keep cracking a few thousand steel helmets to do so, then to hell with it! I'll do it, and if need be, I'll fuckin' do it again!"

Morgiana felt her face turn red and seemed ready to let loose a rant before she let out a loose of hot air, softly grabbing a fistful of one of her luscious blonde locks. "Merde…you are an aggravating boy."

"And damn proud of it!"

Giving a glaring side-eye, the woman shook her head, lowering herself to the ground until her bare feet were on the grass. "Lyle Spoletta. In spite of your many…many faults, I have seen through your actions and the words that you throw at me, even in anger, that you are a youth with good intentions, even if you are the concept of chivalry and honor is skewed."

The necromancer was momentarily taken aback by the somewhat decent compliment and furrowed his brows, wondering where she was going with this.

"Despite the powers you wield, you clearly have good intentions. You care for the people and are willing to risk your body and soul to save them if given the chance… it's not too late to turn from this path, you know. To turn away from the Barrow Legion, to end this." She then walked toward him, immediately putting him on edge, thinking she was gonna try something. "You and I both know that much like without Kemmler, without a leader like yourself, the Barrow Legion will crumble…you need only walk away from this dark path you believe is a road you are building to righteousness."

Lyle scoffed, not letting down his guard against the woman. "Yeah, and let you and all your noble friends and precious Lady keep keepin' on with the status quo, making everything so convenient for you."

"Given the approaching times, that may not be a bad thing."

"You have the gall to say that shit, even after the things I've uncovered?"

Instead of responding verbally, Morgiana gestured her arm behind her, making Lyle momentarily confused. He then reared back when a foggy cloud began to form just behind Morgiana, and in that cloud was an image. A red and purple colored image that took the Earth native aback.

It was almost as if he was looking at a projector shooting a film on a subpar screen, but that was the best way he could describe it. He was seeing a film of sorts on a cloud that was getting into a better shape before his eyes.

And what his eyes were seeing sent chills down his spine.

He saw misshapen, pink skin abominations with tongues poking out where they were never meant to poke out of, with limbs on the wrong parts of the bodies. Men, or what he could only assume were men, with horns jutting out of the sides of their heads. However, they looked less like men and more like crimes against the eyes with the mutations, teeth, and other ungodly parts that were coming out of their bodies.

Some creatures had beaks, others had lobster-like claws, while some had cloven hooves, which they used to close the distance quickly, fighting with something that made Lyle even more confused.

No. Confused was a poor choice of words to describe the torrent of emotions that rumbled like a hurricane in his mind, body, and soul. It was as if he was gazing on an ever-shifting eldritch mismatch of body horror that threatened to overwhelm the mind if you gazed too profoundly. Considering how much terrifying variety there was in the terrifying monstrosities being portrayed in this cloud, it almost seemed like a genuine possibility.

To make matters even more incomprehensible, the monsters were fighting lizards. Honest to God, blue-skinned or instead scaled lizards that were bipedal and wielding spears, Aztec-looking swords and shields, and doing everything in their power to combat the abominations that were hell-bent on killing anything that wasn't as ugly as them.

"The mosnters that you see before you are the demons of Chaos. Demons are mere parts or shards of the Gods that they serve that seek to pervert and ultimately destroy any form of civilization. These are the creatures who ultimately seek to twist all mortal life until the world is in the image of their masters."

"...and the…lizards they're fighting?"

"For men such as yourself, they would be considered the lizardmen, one of the oldest civilizations in the world, that were among the first to fight against and defeat the forces of Chaos. Though many like myself call them the children of the Old ones, for they are descendants of old god-like beings that created them, partly to repel the forces of Chaos on this world."

Lyle gulped when he saw an especially large lizardman clamp its jaws around a pink chaos demon, tearing it in half with its powerful jaws and jutting teeth. "Well… I'd say these 'Old Ones' did a bang up job of doing that."

"They did…but they only delayed the forces of chaos from trying once more." The image changed, and instead of the demons of Chaos fighting the old ones, they were now fighting what Lyle could plainly see were elves. Fair-skinned, tall, and elegant but determined elves were punching above their weight class, fighting hulking and horrific monsters that even Lyle was getting queasy from staring at.

"The demons could not be pressed back by only lizardmen, after all. "The image then turned to the heavily armored and stout dwarves, punching even further up their weight class against the demons, using runes, battle axes, and hammers to fell the chaos-born invaders. "It was thanks to the lizardmen, the elves, and the dwarves that we even exist today to speak of these past invasions, for it was through their efforts that the twisted Gods' were beaten back once more."

The cloud then dissipated, and Morgiana looked somberly backed to the struck, silent by the magnitude of what he was watching. For a moment, he wondered if Morgiana was blowing this out of proportion, but considering the strict warnings he'd received from everyone he met who knew about Chaos, he found that less likely.

Taking his silence as acceptance of her word, Morgiana stepped closer until they were only a few feet apart. "Lyle…another invasion is coming. The Lady can feel it, and in turn, I can feel it. And I fear it may be the worst invasion that the world has seen yet. Even worse, the world itself is unprepared for what is to come. The Elves are divided and a shell of what they used to be. The dwarves are much the same and are fighting to keep the holds that they have now while struggling to reclaim the ones that they've lost. The Lizardmen have fallen on hard times, with many foreign invaders now clawing for pieces of their home in Lustria. This war that you're waging with Bretonnia itself…it will only serve to make the realms of Order falter against the tide of Chaos that is to come." She then looked into his eyes, her own pleading. "I ask you…please do not continue this crusade of yours. By looking back at your actions, I know now that you mean well…but in the long term, the consequences won't be worth it in the end…if we all perish because of those good intentions."

Lyle grunted and looked away from Morgiana, putting his hands on his waist and looking into the fog that surrounded the small pond and grassy field that they were standing in.

He wanted to brush her off, to blow her off and just press on like he normally would. But the images she showed him were pretty darn convincing, along with how people like those within his own inner circle constantly talked about the dangers of Chaos.

"Also consider this, Lyle." Morgianna pressed onward. "You now know that you were summoned to our world through the power of Chaos. Power that Kemmler himself secretly practiced. Tell me. Kemmler had to have had those sympathetic towards his leanings of the forces of Chaos. Do you believe that all of those who shared his beliefs left after he died?" She then placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you not consider that there are those who seek to supplant or use you as a puppet of chaos if you take most if not all of Bretonnia or, at the very least, throw the nation into chaos?"

"You don't know that." Lyle countered weakly.

"Perhaps not. But I believe you do. Tell me, do you believe that even those who don't sympathize with the ruinous powers have the best intentions of Bretonnia and the peasants in mind."

As much as Lyle wanted to counter with a hard yes, Lyle hesitated. The fact of the matter was that at the end of the day, he knew that at best, a lot of the necromancers, including people like Fredericka, Schmitz, and Sybille, were in a morally grey area…and at worst…well, he didn't really want to think about what worst was since he was quite literally working over these people.

Suddenly, doubts that lurked in the back of his head were becoming more prevalent in the forefront, with the doubt starting to leak onto his face like a wet water painting.

And Mogiana could see it. "Lyle. You know that I am correct; I can see it in your eyes."

Getting frustrated at being pushed into a corner, Lyle turned at her with a glare. "Lady…did you see what I saw at Riffen? Did you see what I saw in the Red Room at Castle Bastonne?"

"I…did not see, but I heard."

"Well, let me ask you this? Is saving the world worth it if you continue to allow shit like this to happen? If so, then what is that so-called chivalric oath worth if you do!?"

"Nothing is perfect, young man. Men…the nature of men will seep through, and in time, with the right strings pulled, it can be corrected-

"Not fast enough, in my opinion! Way I see it I'm gonna do the work that you guys can't be bothered to. These people that I'm saving right now? That I'm trying to save from FUCKING slavery, don't have the benefit of waiting for you to pull a string or whatever to save their hides!"

"So that's it then?... you'll continue on this path in spite of the coming threat of chaos?"

Lyle smirked, his earlier confidence returning. "Lady, all you've really done is convince me to speed up my timetable. You're saying I can't fix this country and save it from these chaos assholes, I call bullshit. I'm gonna give it what we call back home a good ol' college try." He then gave her a wink. "You might be surprised by the results."

Morgiana closed her eyes, giving a deep sigh. She seemed disappointed but not overtly surprised. "It is a shame, Lyle. In another life, you would have made a fantastic grail knight. A true shame that fate decided to have different plans." She started hovering again, her bare feet leaving the grassy ground as the Fey Enchantress stared down at the necromancer. "I fear this may be the last time we meet, considering what comes next. For what it is worth, I'm sorry that it has come to this."

Lyle was confused and alarmed by her statement, wondering if she was going to try and off him like last time. Yet that all proved to be for naught as he suddenly woke up inside the carriage, looking up blearily at his surroundings and slightly startling Rudy.

"L-lord Lyle? Y-you awoke just in time!"

Lyle looked around, making sure there still wasn't a lace-dressed, blonde beauty around to try and smite him. "Awoke in time for what?"

"Why for Rione, my Lord!" The boy said excitedly, nearly jumping up and down in his seat. "We've managed to get a view of the city!"

AN:

As you can see, this was just another one of those chapters that was necessary to give the perspective of other players on the board. I went out of my mind this week, churning out two chapters for my book and this chapter for the fic in the span of three weeks. I don't think I've ever written that much in such a little amount of time.

Then again, I probably didn't spend nearly as much time at coffee shops as I have now. Gives me the environment to slave away at my keyboard. Though to be honest I can't wait for the the next few chapters to be done, because it will be Lyle finally learning to rule and lead as a head of state. For a while it's been either constant battles, forced marches, frantic fights to survive and all of the above; an endless rush for the Barrow Legion to finally get some breathing room.

After this bit with Rionne we'll finally be getting more of the ruling portion of this story and I personally can't wait.

Thank you all for sticking with my story this long and please continue to give me those incredible reviews. As usual they are the fuel that burns away within the void where my heart should be.