A/R:
Deadzepplin: I have to admit I didn't think she'd wind up so popular. Then again, considering how popular Alcina Dimtrescu was, maybe I should have seen that coming. I'll make sure not to disappoint you guys!
OwleVogele314: That idea does sound pretty enticing. Plus let's face it, chaos can use all the help it can get against the unstoppable Order Tide.
Annoying POW marine: Well thank you very much, I will pat myself on the back for that. And yeah, I figured that the last thing Lyle would want was to make Bastien's death special for someone with that big of a sense of importance. Instead he died as unremarkably as one could at the hand of someone he had brutally murdered.
Jajo Camello: God dang, once again, she's proving to be a bigger hit than I thought.
Guts and Toes: I'm with you on those race packs. It'd be nice to have a new faction on the board to spice things up. And not everyone curses like that, but I've known people who do. Though it's actually pretty funny that you're bringing this up, because the new character I introduced last chapter will make her displeasure about his choice of language quite apparent.
Zerkil: The nature of what Ave is will be revealed later, since I'd hate to spoil it now. Also I have to admit, that description of that book you mentioned sounds quite heretical. It doesn't even sound Bretonnian, at the point it might as well be an entirely different faction if what you say is true. I'm hesitant to read it, if what you said checks out, but now I have morbid curiosity to see it through.
Godofear: One would certainly hope that to be the case.
Uselesskhan69: Lmao, you bastards are damn horndogs!
Cyan Sung-Sun: Damn. Those are all pretty creative ideas and I even had a few of those with similarities cross my mind. But, ultimately you are correct. Sometimes it's best not to overwrite crucial scenes like that to the point where they lose their meaning. Thanks for the input.
cod4envy: Well, I'm sorry to hear your disappointment. Though to be fair, Lyle's hardly an edgelord and part of the story's tensions is how his ideals often clash with that of a regular necromancer. He has a tendency to be violent, especially if the situation calls for it, but he's hardly going to go out of his way to wantonly kill people or commit acts of villainy and mayhem without good reason.
Nagash44: Well I greatly appreciate the compliment, it's great fuel for the fire within! Nippon would definitely be interesting, as well seeing what their relationship with Cathay would be, since historically China and Japan haven't had the best relationships in the world. Also I love that idea of yours. If I were in your shoes I would go with the Blood Dragon, since it would fit with the knightly theme perfectly, since even Blood Dragons have their own ideals of nobility, even if they are flawed. But ultimately, it's up to you, I'd be willing to give it a read if you put the idea to paper.
…
"Go, Go, Go, Go, Go!"
The Sloshed Mermaid was abuzz with activity that night, with far more people than the bar owner was used to. Indeed, Modeste De Rhione, much like any sane person in his home city, was nearly pissing himself in fear when he heard that the undead were invading their city, and he was shamelessly one of the few nobles (granted of low nobility) That had urged the peasantry to turn on their liege lord in quick fashion. He was shocked and relieved that Lyle Spoletta was kinder than his predecessor and didn't go through sacking the city.
Sadly, that relief turned to skyrocketing anxiety and terror when that very same man burst into his tavern doors, threw down a bag of gold, and told the masses he had rescued along with other locals that all the drinks were on him.
Modeste didn't know if the gold would cover all that, but on this occasion, as Lyle was guzzling down his third tankard with the masses crammed into his tavern like sardines cheering him on, the low noble wasn't going to complain about being able to live another day. Not when events in this city could have gone so much worse.
Even now, a raucous cheer broke once more as the leader of the Barrow Legion let out a triumphant roar, having finished his third tankard without so much sway in his posture. And as he roared, so did the many peasants around him, joining in a chorus of cheers, hooting and hollering, drinking and feasting more in a day than they probably would in a week if they were lucky.
Secretly, the Brettish noble could only hope that King Louen's forces came here to throw off the yoke of this undead legion. For now, he'd be grateful that he hadn't turned into a corpse or that his tavern hadn't been destroyed…yet.
"What'd I tell ya, Jori!? I told ya I could hold it in and yoouuuu, doubted meeeeee!" The man grinned with a slight tilt in his head and slur in his voice. "Youuuuu, doubted meeeee."
"I could still top it!" Jori boasted as the crowd around them egged them on. There were even a few necromancers like Wendel were nursing their drinks and laughing at the entertainment, finding themselves getting swept up in Lyle's loose environment. In contrast, others like Sybille observed the contained chaos with a smirk, amused by the candor of her new Lichemaster. It was all the witch could muster to not cackle at the thought of Kemmler doing any of this. She couldn't even dream of it before going into fits.
Nonetheless, Lyle puffed out his chest, with a slight buzz going through his mind, feeling any of the wear and tear he'd accumulated mentally evaporate through the night. "Bet, motherfucker! Give it a sho-ey! Bartender! Get us three more mugs! We got us a brave one here!"
Modeste sighed and looked to find any of his barmaids to see if he couldn't persuade them to do this for him, but alas, they had their hands full as it was. Sure, he could wait until one of them was free, but he didn't fancy the idea of making this city's new de facto warlord impatient, especially with a beer in his gut. As he made his way over, he made sure not to spill any of the golden liquid while holding all three tankards. He nearly jerked bodily as Jori started downing the first tankard, and the other peasants chanted their fellow villagers on. In the blink of an eye, people began roaring in approval as quick in a flash, the tankard was done, and Jori had already moved to his second.
Modeste nearly jumped in place when he felt a tap on his shoulder, seeing the bright-eyed and grinning expression on Lyle's face. "Hey, bar-dude, keep up the good work! Gimme four more tankards. If this mudda-fukka is going this hard, I GOTTA outdo im'." the tavern owner couldn't help but note how thick the Lichemaster's accent had become. Being a tavern in a port, he'd gotten a lot of clientele, but this accent sounded particularly obnoxious. Not that he would say that out loud. He could only hope that with this much of his beer and wine flowing around, that-
Modeste winced at the all-too-familiar sound of someone wretching on his floor while tipping over a table. The suddenness caused the Lichemaster and several peasants to laugh while letting out 'ooos' and 'aahhhs.'
"Clean up on aisle three!" Lyle sounded off, making the bartender wonder what in the devil that could mean. As if that wasn't enough, Jori fell backward off of his stool and onto the ground, spilling his beer all over himself with a sharp hiccup and giggles.
"Ohhhhhhh, we may need to close up shop at this rate! They're all falling like flies!" Lyle cackled, like a goblin high off shrooms, with many joining in. Even Sybille chuckled under her breath while Modeste sighed deeply, realizing he was going to be here a while with his employees, long beyond his 'customers' left.
Ham had knelt next to his fellow peasant, lightly slapping Jori on the cheek. "Oi, come on now, Jori! You really going to go out like this? I bet even a buggering nobleman could have held his dring more than you just did!"
"Nah, he's out, Ham, He. Is. Out, for the count!" Lyle chuckled, raising up his arms triumphantly. "3-0 against all comers, and I'm still undefeated! Still your undisputed heavyweight champion of the wor-I mean, Brettonia! Lyle Spoletta!"
More deafening cheers, threatening to burst Modeste's ear drums, erupted in the air, urging the Tavern owner to retreat behind his bar, trying to find some respite from this madness.
Just as he, the beleaguered noble, was attempting to do that, he ran into what felt like a fluffy brick wall and nearly fell on his ass. Looking up, the noble felt the blood drain from his face when he saw a crimson-eyed woman smiling openly, not bothering to hide the fangs protruding from her lips.
The noble was about to stammer a reply that even he himself wasn't sure would be until a delicate and black-gloved finger was pressed against his lips. "Shhhh. Excusez-moi. I've heard that the leader of the Barrow Legion is here, is he not?"
Modeste took a moment to form a coherent response, especially since his brain needed a momentary restart. Once it did, and words still failed him, the noble just moved aside for the vampire and pointed at the foreign necromancer who was standing atop his bar, thumping his chest like a madman.
For a beat, Modeste was sure the woman would be displeased. Even though she was a vampire, he could tell from how she carried herself that she had a noble upbringing, much like himself. The main difference, of course, was that she was more used to rubbing elbows with the upper crust of nobility rather than he, who served patrons of all classes to help fill his family's coffers.
Yet, to his confusion, the woman's grin became even more toothy, pronounced, and emphatic, making the man more unnerved as she walked past the crowd with the dignity and gate that only someone with a high-end upbringing could muster.
Meanwhile, Lyle was blissfully unaware that any of this was happening, asking for another tankard while the mood was infectious. For him, this was for himself as much as it was for the villagers. It was to help take their minds off of the days of captivity and destruction of their village as much as it was to help Lyle forget about his actions that led up to it.
The rigors of all the trials he'd endured demanded a way to blow off steam, and there was nothing quite like drowning in some liquid courage to create a short-term remedy to that issue. He practically welcomed the hazy fog settling over his mind due to all the potent beer he'd taken, and now he was starting down some wine that he'd managed to scrounge from a barmaid. While his uncles had introduced him to the finest wine that someone of their professions could get their hands on, even the Jersey native had to admit the coastal wine found in Western Bretonnia was a different beast altogether.
It was sweet, but not too sweet. It had a pleasant, heavy taste that made Lyle all too happy to drink and forget, so to speak, especially as the unwashed masses cheered him on, glad to see their hero consume copious amounts of alcohol like the champ that he was.
Then, in the budding, stupefied drunken haze that Lyle had put himself in, he realized that fewer and fewer people were cheering him on, resulting in the bar getting eerily quiet. Now that just wouldn't do in his mind! A true bar had one of three things going for it besides being able to inebriate your brain: constant chatter around you, music, or chattering with others around you.
"Hey, now. What's with the quiet? I sure as shit didn't come here for quiet. And I'm pretty damn ssssssure none of ya'll did either." Lyle slurred, wrinkling his nose as he blearily looked around him, wondering why everyone in front of him was suddenly looking past him. "Dafuck? Did I spill some on me?" Lyle checked on his shirt and scrunched his nose in confusion, wondering why it suddenly became as quiet as a church.
When there was a sudden tap on his shoulder, Lyle nearly fell over on himself after he turned around on his heel. Confused when he came face to face with a fancy and fluffy blouse, he looked up and stared up at a pale-faced woman with a fanged smile and red eyes. "Bonne Soiree, Lichemaster." The woman smiled.
Feeling his face flush, which wasn't helped by his impaired state, Lyle blinked slowly and tried to form a coherent tangent. "Hi." He tried his best. As he looked up at this imposing yet striking woman, Lyle had to rest his hand against the bar. The alcohol in his system made balance and coordination limb movement a challenging prospect.
"Oh dear, oh dear." The vampire tutted daintily, putting a finger to his lips. "We're Having a tad too much fun, are we?"
Before Lyle could answer, Sybille was suddenly in front of him, her lined face staring holes into the vampire while her lips were thinned dangerously. "Careful blood-sucker. It's not proper for your ilk to take advantage of those not right in the mind."
"Oh, you couldn't be wrong." The vampire smiled cheerily. "That's when my ilk, as you put it, have the most fun! It can be fun for the other party as well!"
"What's this about fun?" Lyle swayed, leaning by Sybille to get a better look at the pale and tall beauty. "I'm all for i-
"If you need to say anything to him, you'll have to deal with an old bat like me." Sybille smiled, flashing her own teeth. "He's on a break as you can see, and I'd hate for you to interrupt the time he has for himself."
"My, how kind of you! Yet wholly unnecessary!" The vampire tittered. "I come not of ill-will. Even if I did, it certainly wouldn't be in a place filled with…" She looked around, her nose visibly twitching. "With such unwashed masses. I demand a higher set of standards and setting when indulging myself."
Sybille sighed, shaking her head. "Lhamia?"
"Why yes, whatever gave it away?"
Sybille audibly 'tsked'. "I had a hunch. You should know we in the Barrow Legion don't take kindly to blood-suckers like yourself." The moment the word blood-sucker left her lips, the bar began to slowly create a birth around the two women, with Ham even going so far as to drag Jori away, who was still lying on the floor from his blackout. The majority of the peasants in the bar may have lived nearly their entire lives inside the village, but they had most certainly heard of vampires. Many had heard of the horrible tales of Mousillon.
Even a few of the other peasants and necromancers in the bar grabbed Lyle by his shirt, slowly yet gently pulling him away from the encounter, not wanting their recent hero to get caught in the crossfire.
"Kemmler didn't." The vampire corrected, pulling out a fan from her blouse and fanning her face, trying to get the stench of the bar out of her face. "I've heard that your new vaunted leader may have a different opinion…even if he lacks a bit of class." She then sniffed in Lyle's direction, a smirk growing on her face. "He definitely smells better than the old Liche, however. That scent is…by Naggash; it is out of this world."
"Oh you have no idea." Lyle chortled stupidly, eating the compliment up in his state.
"Come by when he's pissed the beer out." Sybille sniped. "He might think differently."
"Why, so can poison his mind with silly little notions that grimoire-thumping cave-dwellers like to conjure up?"
Sybille rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. "They can't all be conjured if so many sing a similar song."
"But, I believe it is a wondrous song all the same." She then gestured toward Lyle. "All I require is a moment of his time to see if he believes the same."
"Not without us, he's not." Suddenly, Fredericka appeared behind her, looking as pleased to see the vampire here as Sybille. "If you wish to speak with the Lichemaster of the Barrow Legion, other high-ranking necromancers must be present, out of the question."
"Oh and here I thought you'd be a good little fille and wait outside like little Wendel di-oh come now Wendel, are you so willing to go back on your word to a lady?"
Seeing Wendel sidle up next to Fredericka, the blonde-haired, one-eyed necromancer scratched his head. "S-sorry m-
Fredericka glared at her male counterpart. "If you apologize to her, I will smack you, Wendel. The least you could have done was not lead her here so quickly!"
"So quick to resort to violence!" The vampire noted amusedly. "At least kiss the man before you dare to strike him. Makes it all the more exciting while the blood is pumping."
Fredericka flapped her mouth, and Wendel's face reddened at the insinuation. This was made worse when Lyle, having heard all of this, wolf-whistled loudly. "Yeaaaah! You go, Freddy!"
As Freddy and Wendel stood there, mortified as their drunken Lichemaster chimed in, the vampire chortled behind a dainty and long-nailed hand. "Oh, by Naggash, this is already far more entertaining than the daily gossip with the rest of my sisters." She then turned to the man of the hour, a wicked smirk on her pale face. "It's nice to see he's not as big of a bore as Kemmler."
"You got that damned right!" Lyle smirked, shaking off the peasants and necromancers holding him back, raising a tankard of wine. "I mean sssshhhiiiiit, if I was as boring as him, what'd be the point of bringing someone as awesome as me in to replace him."
The vampire's smile strained for a moment but remained plastered to her face nonetheless as she approached Lyle, brushing past a weary Sybille who kept a hand in her robe, side-eyeing the newcomer. "Considering all the lovely gossip my sisters have chattered about you, 'boring' isn't a word I'd used to describe you, Monsieur Spoletta."
"Goddamn, I hope not. I have reputation to uphold." Lyle said getting closer to the woman with an easy smile. "And who da fuck do I have the honor of speaking to-Gurk!"
Lyle suddenly found it hard to pronounce syllables; his cheeks squished together by the woman in question. Her pale, strong right-gloved hand gripped his mouth like a disobedient child. "You may call me Deni, Monsieur. Though if there is one word my sisters would use to describe you, it is certainly foul-mouthed."
To Deni's lack of surprise, Sibylle drew A dagger to her throat. In contrast, Fredericka drew out her staff and a few other necromancers, who hitched their breaths at the sudden burst of activity. Peasants widened their eyes and froze, some holding onto their tankards tightly while others were eyeing the door, waiting for the first bout of violence to break out.
Meanwhile, poor Modeste despaired behind his counter with his barmaids, hoping the damage to his bar was minimal.
Sybille was still smiling despite holding a dagger to Deni's neck, but her smile was as sharp as the dagger. "I don't think it's ladylike to hold a… what's the word you used? Monsure like that."
"It's pronounced Monsiure. I do know it is so hard to learn new things for someone
as…experienced as you, but I have faith!" Deni said, grinning.
"Whatever you call him, you will release him." Fredericka all but growled, holding her staff tightly, secretly hoping this wouldn't go south. She had no idea how powerful this particular vampire was, but even if they were necromancers, fighting them without plenty of undead or thralls between you and them was a poor strategy. "Refuse to do so an-
"Oh, come now, I'm not going to hurt him. Just correcting him." She then turned back to Lyle, who was still in her grip and was impressing himself with how he had managed to stay calm despite the situation. "Now, Monsieur Lyle. It is quite uncomely for you to use swear words so loosely around a woman like myself. It is uncouth. Depraved. And a crime against good manners and courtly behavior. Do ensure you remember this when in my presence or I fear I may be unable to control myself." She then gasped put a finger to her lips. "Dare I say, I may be tempted to act unwomanly myself. I'm sure you understand my predicament."
Though her grip was tight, Lyle managed to squeeze a single word: "Crystal." He then dropped to the ground and flexed his jaw, feeling a bit sore from the vice grip. "You got a strong hand there," he said.
Deni beamed at the praise. "Such a flatterer. I'm glad your first impression of me hasn't soured!"
Lyle wanted to shoot his mouth off but held his tongue, looking at Sybille and Fredericka, who both gave him warning looks. It was one of the rare times he listened to them, especially as the pain in his jaw started clearing the inebriated fog that had settled over his head. Speaking of looks, it didn't go unnoticed by the Lichemaster how tense everyone in the room had gotten. "Awright, everyone, get back to your drinks. Nothin' to see here; all is well and right with the world." Turning back to the tall vampire, Lyle tried to navigate the fog in his brain to mind his vocabulary. "So then…you mentioned, this place was not up to your standards. Would a castle be the right place to talk this out?"
Deni, licked her lips and then her teeth, making Lyle shiver when he saw her fangs. "Why that would be most lovely."
…
"The sisters of Lhamia, here to help?" Sybille groused, sitting on a chest within the former lord of Rhione's Solar. In there was Deni, who had opted to stand, resting her hands in front of her with Wendel, Fredericka, and Lyle also inside, with the Lichemaster sitting at the main desk, gulping down some water to taper off the buzz in his mind. "Excuse me if I don't prance about like a whore at a tavern."
Visibly, the vampire was unfazed. "You are excused. It would be a shame for someone your age to resort to such methods for a living."
"Ladies, ladies. Please, let's not get physical now." Lyle said with a smile, after taking another sip of his water skin. "On the way here you mentioned you could help with our fiscal issue, and I am more than willing to hear you out."
"Quite." Fredericka interrupted. "We will hear you out, but it is no guarantee that we'll accept you-
"Freddy. Easy now, let's not let things get hostile. We already got through that part, so there's no need to overdo it." Lyle said with placating hands. "Now, before we go through anything else, Deni, I do gotta ask. What brings you here to my humble ol' Barrow Legion now of all times? I mean, I'm not accusin' you guys of nothin' like foul play…but I'm curious all the same, especially since a beautiful vixen like yourself was chosen to represent your sisters of all people."
The compliment was well-received, if not unexpected, the vampire putting a dainty hand on her pale face. "Ohh, Monsieur Spoletta, that is bordering on inappropriate…but it is very well received nonetheless, even if I know you are embellishing."
"Oh? Am I?"
"Oh you must be!" The vampire looked a bit humbled. "After all, it is as was said before. I am young compared to my sisters, which is part of the reason I was sent because of that youth. I am more…open with cavorting with the living."
"Or the food, as you lot call us." Sybille.
Lyle side-eyed the witch "Sybille…"
"Yes, yes, continue."
Turning back to Deni, the necromancer smiled amiably. "Well if you're one of the youngest, then all the better. After all, that means you still got room to learn. Never any shame to be part of the younger generation."
Deni sighed, her smile turning whimsical. "If only that were true with my kind. However it is said that the oldest of us are often the most powerful."
"Again, all the better for you."
Now, the vampire looked perturbed. "I don't follow."
Lyle smirked. "If they all think that, nobody will see you coming."
For a moment, Deni considered such words before a giggle bubbled from her lips. Eventually, the giggle turned to a laugh that fluttered the room. It was a great deal more beautiful and melodious than anyone initially thought it would be. Lyle couldn't help but note that the pale and red-eyed woman had a wondrous voice and wondered if it was always like this or became this way after she embraced the red kiss.
"I suppose it's much like how nobody in or around Bretonnia saw you coming." She grinned so hard her fangs were fully bared. "You should have seen my sisters when you uprooted the status quo so ruthlessly. They act like old harridans at times, I swear. They loathe change."
"How bout you, Miss Deni?" Lyle nodded to her. "You afraid of change?"
"For a time…but now?" She leaned forward. "I hunger for it."
"Great minds think alike."
As the conversation continued, Fredericka couldn't help but watch the pair talk with mixed feelings. She wasn't sure if Lyle was being strung along by the Lhamian or if he was genuinely getting into her good graces. The mystery and the unknown were gnawing at her mind, leaving her only with the idea of giving a silent prayer to Naggash, even if he probably wouldn't care about the foreign necromancer's fate either way.
For Sybille she was learning that despite acting the part of a drunken fool not too long ago, Lyle had a certain level of cunning to him, whether intentional or not. She'd interacted with her fair share of vampires in the past and could more often than not tell when they were lying through their fangs. The fact that Deni was still a young vampire made sense because she could see the inexperience with the pale and foppish woman…but that didn't make her any less dangerous in her mind. Whether she was young or not the witch scooted ever so slightly to Lyle's desk just in case the creature's intrusive thoughts won out.
All the while, Wendel stood there, slightly hot and bothered around the vampire, but not at all worried about Lyle's life.
After all, in his mind, if Lyle could survive the Beastslayer, he could certainly handle this woman.
"So gettin' down to business, Miss Deni. You said you could help fill the bank so-to-speak here in the Barrow Legion." The Jersey native then rested his chin on his folded hands. "I'm open to suggestions."
"Merveilleuse!" the woman exclaimed with a clap of her hands. Now, before I send you an economic lifeline for your precious undead army to survive off of, I must present the question to you. You have conquered two entire duchies and have a wealth of resources that can be traded from them both, not the least of which being the many exotic furs of beasts only found in those duchies. So then I must ask you, Monsieur Lyle. Whatever could be your problem?"
Deciding to play along with her, Lyle put a finger to his lips, feigning a look of thought. "Beats me. I'm just an upstanding citizen, doing what he can to break the bonds of oppression on his fellow man…but, then again, I guess it might have something to do with the fact nobody seems to want to do business with a guy leading a horde of undead and pissed off peasants. Imagine that."
"One need not imagine it when it is plain to see. Plus, Your predecessor, Kemmler did little to help your reputation."
"No arguments there. So where does that leave us?"
"For someone in your position Monsieur Lyle, you must do two things that my clan does in turn. Offer the masses something far too unique and elegant that they cannot hope to turn you down!" She remarked with a theatrical flair as she stood up from her seat. "And…offer your goods through the proper channels."
Nodding along with words, Lyle squinted his eyes. "I'm listening."
"You need to offer your goods and services through the proper people who will sell you goods. For example! Whenever there are certain individuals who need others to be disappeared to greener pastures, many come to us!" Deni then holds up a finger. "But, they do not come to us directly, for they do not know the true nature of my sisters and our talent. They come to those whose blood flows naturally just like theirs."
"And they go to you for the job. Intermediaries. My uncle would do the same thing."
"Et mes sœurs t'appelaient lent." The woman tittered, her eyes looking at Lyle appraisingly. "So your uncle also partook in…skullduggery."
"Somethin' like that."
"Then we can help with that part, at least. We have many contacts who are…agreeable to our ilk and we can make them agreeable with you with the right words. But, that is only half the battle I'm afraid."
"The other half being the product."
"Oh yes. And while I have no doubt the furs and timber within Artois are of high quality, having seen them firsthand, and the iron and other precious metals within Bastonne will be invaluable, you must make a great pitch to our intermediaries, for they must have something truly unique to offer your…future clientele."
"In short, they want what we're offering and then some. Lovely." Lyle sighed, knowing it was never going to be that easy. "What are they askin' for? Extra gold? Favorable exchange rates or shi-...or something like that? A pat on the back that their dad's never gave em'?"
A bubble of laughter escaped the vampire's lips. "Such a jester. No, I am afraid it is not that straightforward. They want something that only you can offer, to make the risk they are taking more, how should I say?...palatable. A product or service that only you can offer."
Fredericka scowled. "If they are asking for necromantic grimoires or resources, the closest they'll ever have to that is through becoming one of our undead."
"Oh, calm yourself, my dear; at least hear my entire pitch before making threats. It's entirely too unladylike." Deni brushed off, like water off a duck's back. "Even then, my clientele have no use for such things. It is not their priority. They desire something…more superficial but no less elegant. A comfort that many of them do not have access to but desire nonetheless. Many not just in Bretonnia, but in the Empire and Kislev as well." She then leaned forward. "And fortunately for you, Monsieur Lyle, you have access to what they desire, which can be commonly found in the dense forests of Artois, where, coincidentally enough, many forest goblins have been making their haunts."
Now, it was Sybille's turn to be puzzled. Forest goblins? What the devil would you want with those shroom-snorting little bastards?" Sybille narrowed her eyes in thought and then realized, "Unless it's not the goblins themselves but rather what they have? Please don't tell me it's their mushrooms, or my view of your clients may go the way of Kemmler."
"Oh, come now. My sisters' clients have the utmost standards; they could not hope to stoop that low. Non. What we desire are their forest spiders, specifically their silk."
"Spider silk? Oddly specific." Lyle queried, only for his eyes to widen. "Wait, hold up! Please don't tell me there are giant spiders here!"
"Well, I could tell you that, Monsieur Lyle, but I fear it wouldn't do you much good in the long run. That and I would be loath to call myself a liar."
Lyle suddenly wished he was drunk again. "First giant rats…now this." Trying to get his mind off the mental implications of what he just heard, the Lichemaster stayed on topic. "So, what do you want this silk for?"
"It is not so much what my sisters and I want…it is what we are trying to make with it."
"Oh?"
"Yes. You see, we have…well, I suppose we couldn't call them cousins since we have almost no blood relations with them, but there is a group of undead. A group of tragically uncoordinated and uncourtly counterparts in a land to the east of Cathay that have access to silk and the secrets that come with its development. We sent some of our sisters to negotiate the secrets of this silk, and they-" The vampire stopped herself, closing her eyes where Lyle inexplicably saw a vein throb in her temple. "Those…no, I cannot deign to call them sisters. Those vile harridans!" she knocked over her chair, startling the necromancers in the room. "They deign to hold themselves as the peak of undead kind, and yet they are no better than the savages that they look down upon! To insult my sisters and me so carelessly." The woman's fangs were bared, her red eyes bulging, and her nails starting to poke out of her clothes. "Je préférerais donner leurs entrailles à leurs dragons avant de prendre la peine de!..." She then bit her lip, which should have been hard enough to draw blood, only for her to have a martial expression and pat down her dress.
"Forgive me." She began acting as if her sudden outburst hadn't happened. "That was entirely too uncourtly."
"Nah, it's fine, it's fine." Lyle said, leaning back in his seat as far as he could. "We all have our moments. Look, you mentioned spider silk. Goin' on the same thought of that story you were talkin' about, are you thinkin' that the spider silk can be a substitute or somethin' in comparison to the regular silk that these Cathay people got."
"Correcte," Deni replied, feeling her hackles decline. My sisters and I have come to the conclusion that if our lesser and pettier counterparts to the east are not willing to share in the commodity that they have…" She then offered a savage grin that could unnerve even the sternest knight. Then we might as well undermine it and rob them of their market."
So that's what this is all about…good old-fashioned revenge. It made sense the more that Lyle thought about it. Deni was all prim and proper before she started talking about the crux of the issue, but the moment the origins of said issue arose, her reaction was quite similar to his uncle whenever someone tried to jip him on a deal. This was usually followed by someone having a few bones broken, their friends suffering a similar fate, or sending a more terse message.
And if his uncle couldn't get any form of revenge, he'd be a great deal more surly at Sunday's dinner, killing the mood in its entirety.
That and Lyle had an idea of why these ladies wanted silk. Since this was a medieval-esque world, silk was something that was a rare commodity, and if this Cathay place was in the east, it was easy to see that it was this world's China, meaning they had a monopoly on the silk market, driving up the price at a premium.
And these high-class, blood-sucking ladies wanted to blow up the market. "So we get you these spiders, and we're all in business?"
"Indeed! Though those… harridans wouldn't share with us how they acquired the silk, we know how to refine it to create the clothing that we desire." She then took out her fan and flapped it in front of her face haughtily. "We can handle the clothing if you get us the main ingredient for it."
"All this for some clothes?" Fredericka said gormlessly. "Is this truly a priority for the court of Lahmia in Lyonese?"
"Hey, now." Lyle interrupted, shaking his head. "What point is there doing something nefarious or cool if you don't have the style to match it?"
"Les grands esprits se rencontrent." The vampire nodded, side-eying Fredericka. "You have a great deal to learn from your superior."
Fredericka bristled. "I ha-
"Ladies, ladies. Play nice; we're all friends here." Lyle cautioned. "I'll see about getting you those spiders if you can help us rake in the profits of what we have to offer."
"I can help with that." Sybille noted. "May not care for those stunted, long-nosed shits, but I do know their spiders. Know how to make their many, many legs dance to my whims. Raised a few myself."
"Then our job just got a whole lot easier. Sybille, you don't mind taking the trip to Artois?"
The woman snorted. "I may be old, and my knees aren't what they used to be. But that's what undead servants are for. To carry my load."
"Love the attitude. Also make sure to take Rudy with you. The kid can be a big help for ya."
Now, the witch was no longer amused. "Dare I say how or why?"
"He grew up in Artois. If anyone can help you in those forests, it's him."
"I highly doubt that a boy who has known his village all his life can be as big of a boon as you're claiming him to be." She then rolled his eyes. "Unless it's to feed him to the goblins I'll be dealing with."
The witch then twitched when she felt a slight shift in the winds of magic, her eyes shifting to the Lichemaster who was staring at her, as still as still as a statue. "Oh, yeah?" He started. "Izzat a fact?"
Nobody in the room could miss how cold it had suddenly become. Even someone as cold-blooded as Deni felt the drop in temperature when her limbs became stiffer than usual. It had gotten so chilly all of a sudden that Fredericka was now wondering if a fight would break out in the room for an entirely new reason, while Wendel, who had been mostly silent, was now edging stealthily toward the door, just in case.
The witch in question showed no visible reaction to what Lyle was doing, intentional or not, only to smile. She was glad in a sense. Though the boy was willing to work with vampires, he showed no weakness in front of them.
Though the peasant boy was insufferable, she supposed it was tolerable compared to what Kemmler would have her day regularly to the point she would quit. "Hmph. Oh, very well, if you insist. I suppose I can ensure that he lives a tad longer than a boy of his breed normally would." Sybille grumbled, feigning as though this was a significant undertaking.
"If he doesn't, you can find somewhere else to work." Lyle's cold tone was so Kemmler-esque that it almost made the witch roil with disgust. She had to shake her head to get the likeness out of her head.
"It will be like he never left." She conceded, rolling her eyes. "Though a bath wouldn't hurt him."
"Hm." Lyle conceded, turning back to Deni with a smile. "So once we get you the silk, we're in business?"
Deni was jarred slightly by the sudden change in mood and personality with the leader of the Barrow Legion, feeling slightly off-kilter. Was he doing this intentionally to throw her and his subordinates off, or was he doing this as he went? It was something to take note of in future negotiations. "That we are. And I'll be glad to ensure that during my stay, any negotiations for the silk is done with ease!"
Fredericka blinked, her teeth gritting. "Your stay? There was no discussion before of your stay!"
"We are discussing it now, petite fille."
Fredericka folded her arms, jutting her chin. "Vous n'êtes pas le seul à parler brettish, de sang-froid."
Deni widened her, a big smile breaking out on her face. "A fellow Bretonnian? And here I thought most of you necromancers came from The Empire, like Kemmler."
Fredericka's stare was even. "Not all."
"Which means you guys have plenty of time to talk about it," Lyle declared, standing up from his table and walking in front of it. I'd love to have you aboard, Miss Deni. You being here can only benefit all of us."
"I'm glad somebody believes that to be the case!" Deni grinned, extending her gloved hand. Lyle reciprocated the gesture, and once again, he was surprised by how cold she felt even with the glove on. It was like she'd been kept in a refrigerator before this meeting.
When they finished confirming the deal, Lyle gestured to the door. "You need me to get somebody to bring your belongings or…
"Oh, non, non, non! That will not be necessary in the slightest. I have plenty of…how do you say, servants in my own retinue to see to those matters! You offering me space is all I need! Just as she moved to leave, her gaze turned toward Wendel, who stiffened at the sudden attention. "And I'll be seeing you as well, young man. Mayhaps in the future I'll need a man to escort me in low and illicit locations like tonight?"
"Y-yes, ma'am."
"Bon garçon," The Lhamian all but whispered, gliding out of the room.
Lyle turned his gaze to Sybille. "Head out as soon as tomorrow morning, Sybille. The sooner we get this deal done, the faster we can get outta the financial red."
"I'll have Soren start prepping a carriage." Sybille sniffed. "How fortunate we are that the dead can work into the wee hours of the night."
"Master Lyle, I understand that we are in desperate need of a gold-flow, but I must warn that vampires are deceitful in nature, especially those who share the Lahmian bloodline!" Fredericka started looking far more tired than she had previously, which was a feat all on it's own. "She will be working to subvert you to her and her sisters ends no matter what and the timing of it, reeks of opportunism."
"Of course, it's all opportunistic." Lyle agreed as if it was obvious as 1+1=2. "They see that we're whipping ass, and they want a piece of the spoils. Which is why you're gonna be helpin' me directly, Freddy."
"Oh?"
"We got land now. The Bretonnians are so far back on their heels that they just might fall ass-backward. We got some cash, even if it won't last forever, but most importantly, we got time. Time to ensure we don't lose what we gain and make up for the experience we all know I lack." When Fredericka was about to ask Lyle what he meant, she raised her eyebrows the moment he reached into his robe and pulled out Kemmler's Grimoire. "Been having trouble about this one spell. This spell, apparently makes you as old as the grave or somethin' like that."
"Curse of Years." Fredericka said aloud, immediately knowing what he was talking about. "I can help with that."
"That and more, I hope. And Wendel?"
"Yes, Master?"
"That lady was sendin' you some waves, my man. See if you can't get close to her."
"Sir? I-I don't-
"She seems to like ya. Get in her good graces and try and make out what she n' her sisters might be aiming to do with us in the future."
Wendel looked unsure. "Are you…sure, I can do th-
"Sure, I'm sure! Wendel, my man, if you could survive an arrow through the eye, then I'm pretty damn sure you could rizz up a vampire." Lyle grinned, patting the blonde on the shoulder as if he were an old friend. "She already has the hots for you, so don't shy away from it. Embrace it if ya have to."
Lyle couldn't help but note that Wendel looked as lost as a boy before and during prom night, and he wasn't sure if he was scared of the pale and tall woman that was their new visitor, or excited about the prospect that she did show interest. Probably both, from what Lyle could draw from experience. "Hey, look, don't worry about it. If she tries anything on you, I got your back…and if you need advice on how to woo Miss Prim and Proper, I'll be the best wingman you could ask for!"
"I-I don't think vampires are capable of that, Master Lyle…or at least I don't think they are. Nobody knows for sure, certainly not me."
Lyle leaned, raising an eyebrow. "That means you can be one of the first dudes to find out. Now go and make sure she makes herself at home." After giving his male counterpart a few swift claps on the back, Wendel reluctantly made his way to where he could only wonder where the vampire was, his legs feeling like lead. Sybille chuckled at the blonde's misfortune or fortune, depending on how one would look at it, and followed not far after him, already sending mental commands to Soren and the other undead under her control.
Fredericka glanced between the door and Lyle and was about to ask whether they should start with the grimoire now or later, only for the decision to be taken out of her grasp as Lyle closed the door, guiding the woman to the table. "So Freddy…can I trust you to help me with this?"
"I…well, of course, Master Lyle, I would-
Fredericka suddenly found herself dragged over the desk when Lyle grabbed her by the scruff of her cowl. Her eyes went wide, and another mouth opened in shock as the cold look in the Lichemaster's eyes bore into her face.
"I want honesty right here and now. Were you planning on offing me before?"
Fredericka stammered, feeling naked without her staff, which had clattered to the ground the moment Lyle roughly dragged her over the table. "I-I, wh-
"I told you we were gonna talk about this before, so we are now. Did you leave me to die back at the battle we lost?"
Fredericka felt panic in her mind, never truly feeling the cold wrath that her new leader often exhibited. Not like this! "I-I, no!" Her mind was in a state of fight or flight. Terror riveted through her heart at how quickly Lyle's mood changed on a dime and how his face bore down on hers.
"M-master Lyle, please, I swear I do not know what you're talking about!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes!"
"Bet!" Lyle, while holding onto Fredericka, lifted his leg up and kicked open the window that was set up behind the Solar's desks, allowing a cool evening breeze to seep into the room. Fredericka then screeched as Lyle leaned her near the window opening, leaving her heart racting a mile a minute faster than she would have liked. "You brought me into this world, and I have an inklin' that you tried to take me out of it!"
"I didn't!" Fredericka tried using a spell. Gaze of Naggash, Curse of Years, anything to get Lyle to make Lyle let her go, yet to her shock and confusion, she found the winds of magic barely flittering around. It was as if they had abandoned the location where Lyle and she were around for the most part to the point where there were hardly whisps that could be used. Add in the fact that her mental state was panicked, unfocused, and doing everything that it could to keep Fredericka from panicking, and suddenly she was just a thin, pale-skinned girl at the mercy of a man she summoned from another world.
And said man was relentless in his interrogation. "Freddy… you've been good to me for the most part and a big help in keepin' things runnin'. But it ain't just the battle, but I've been learnin' you've been holding out on me. Holding out on spells, the basic shit that I should know about this place, all of that! And don't you use that goddamn excuse that you didn't have enough time! You make time for that kinda stuff, end of story!"
And just like that, all of Fredericka's underlying fears were coming true. Either someone had gotten into Lyle's ear, or he had come to this conclusion himself. Both possibilities meant nothing good to Fredericka because if it was the former, then she had to worry about someone like Sybille turning Lyle against her…or Schmitz betraying and playing her along all this time. If it was the latter, then that meant that Lyle had a level of cunning that she didn't give him credit for, which had all manner of terrifying implications.
Her musings were quite literally shaken from her when Lyle started getting impatient. "I'm not askin' you twenty questions here, Freddy! Did you play me a long or what!?"
"No, I swear! I swear to Naggash-
"SWEAR TO ME!"
Fredericka screamed when Lyle let go of her cloak, letting gravity do the rest. Just when Fredericka thought that she would plummet to her death, a series of interlocking bony hand joints unfurled from Lyle's own cloak and grabbed hers, keeping the woman from her death a moment longer.
Sweat was pouring down her face, and panicked tears threatened to spill out in Fredericka's eyes. It was a struggle to martial her breathing before she finally broke.
If this had been Kemmler, Fredericka would have denied such allegations to her dying breath, even if they had been true. But, even in a moment like this, the female necromancer had to remind herself that Lyle wasn't Kemmler. He genuinely valued the loyalty and camaraderie of his subordinates and even those he called friends. If there was any way out of this, it would be doing something that few in her profession would ever consider doing.
Tell the truth. "YOU'RE RIGHT!" Fredericka all but wailed, feeling as though the bony hands weren't holding her were nearly tight enough as she fessed up. "I didn't want you getting too strong too fast! I-I-I-
"You what!? Use words!
"I intentionally kept you ignorant! Pliable! I was frightened of you becoming so powerful that you'd kill me!" In truth she had been more scared of Lyle of getting too powerful and making a foolish decision to doom the Legion. That and, at the time, she wanted to gain Lyle's power for herself, just like Schmitz. But, telling a half-truth here was the only route she felt that could spare her life. "I didn't want you to feel you didn't need me anymore! I was frightened, I was…I was-
And just like that, she screamed once more as she was yanked upwards with a sudden jerk and brought back to the stone floor of the Solar. The moment her feet touched the floor, she fell to her knees, panting and seeing her own sweat dribble on the floor in slow yet concentrated amounts. Suddenly feeling a chill, Fredericka didn't look up. She kept her eyes pointed at the floor as a feeling of panic suddenly overwhelmed her.
He's going to kill me. Right here and now. Regardless of the reason, he now knows from my own lips that I tried to kill him. He wouldn't even need magic. He could beat any male necromancer in the Barrow Legion to death if he desired with his physique, why wouldn't he do the same to me? He'll use me as an example, to any would be traitors like Schmitz and keep the rest in line. It's ingenious. Ruthless. Something that Kemmler would do. Something I would do. Even now I can imagine that's what Sybille told him to do, that wretched opportunistic witch. She's taking my place. She'll do it by the month's end, and all my hard work-
"You were scared of me?" Lyle queried, the cold aggression in his tone gone. "Seriously? You were scared of me leavin' you to dry?"
Fredericka dared to look up, and spied a more confused look on Lyle's face. She couldn't fathom the right or wrong answer in this situation, so the necromancer opted for silence to see what else he would say.
Lyle's look of confusion went to one of mild disappointment and then offense in short order. He put his hands on his hips and then raised an equally offended eyebrow. "You seriously thought I'd do that to you?"
Fredericka swallowed. "You…you wouldn't have been the first necromancer to do something along those lines."
Lyle sighed, looking away before suddenly yanking Fredericka to her feet. The woman in question hitched her breath before to her confusion, Lyle started patting down her robe, knocking off the dust and tightening it up for her again. Once they were roughly eye to eye, Lyle stared into her soul. "Freddy. Do I look like Kemmler?"
"N-no."
"Do I act like Kemmler?"
"...No."
"Do I act like any other necromancer that you've EVER met before?"
"No."
"So why would you-" Lyle looked like he was about to go on a tangent before he suddenly stopped himself and put a hand on Fredericka's shoulder once again causing her to tense. "Freddy…listen. I know you guys have done things a certain way for a long time, but those times are gone. This whole skullduggery crap and stabbin' each other in the back, it's done. It's over with. I ain't Kemmler, and I ain't ever going to be. If you're straight with me, I'll be straight with you. If you have my back I'll have your back, it's just that simple. Okay, look. Hearing it from you and how everyone acts around here, I can understand why you had trouble trustin' me in the beginning, but after goin' above and beyond to help bring you guys from the dirt, don't I deserve the benefit of the doubt here? Do you honestly think I'd leave you in the dust just cause I got a little power to throw around?"
"... it's as I said Master, Lyle… it's happened before."
"Well, it ain't happenin' now. Look I forgive ya for holdin' out on me this time, just don't do it again." Lyle said with a side-eye. "Short-sighted."
Fredericka stood there stunned. That was it? He was forgiving and forgetting that quickly? Surely not, even Lyle wouldn't be so foolish, not after all the trouble he went through to threaten her with certain death. There had to be a catch. Something that she just wasn't seeing initially.
When she didn't say anything, Lyle huffed and rolled his eyes. "Look, we wasted enough time with this, don't ya think? Let's get down to business like we're doin' before. We'll go over Curse o' years or whatever it's called while throwing a lesson on the blood-suckers while we're at it." He then chuckled, glancing at Fredericka. "Doesn't hurt to be prepared don't it?"
Fredericka stood dumbfounded as Lyle joked around and flipped Kemmler's grimoire to the aforementioned spell in question. Her emotional whiplash was so jarring that she had to question if she wasn't dreaming or under some form of illusion. That had just happened. He'd threatened her, nearly killed her, and was suddenly resuming the lesson they had intended to start at the very beginning.
Perhaps Lyle was more necromancer-like than Fredericka ever gave him credit.
Just as she was about to go with the flow and go over the Curse of Years spell and it's finer points with her Lichemaster, Lyle spoke once more. "Oh and Freddy?"
She swallowed, her eyes flitting toward him tentatively. "Yes, Master Lyle." When she saw her 'Master's' face Fredericka went still. His eyes had gone electric blue, and his teeth turned razer sharp. Blue feathers were poking out of his arms, his nose becoming angular, and his hair standing higher and higher, with more blue highlights joining the one he already had.
"I'm serious. Don't do it again." The smile on Lyle's face was shaper than the glare he had given her in the beginning.
The moment the female necromancer blinked her eyes, it was as if his appearance had never changed, his head and body returning to the normal that they had been previously. So, with shaky fingers, Fredericka pointed towards a specific incantation to properly use Curse of Years.
A/N:
Hot damn, this was one was a doozy to write. There was a lot I wanted to fit into this chapter and it damn near wound up being as long as some of the battle chapters I've written. All the same I'm satisfied with the results, and now it's just a matter of where we go next.
I know what happens in the story, it's just a matter of either going to visit the point of view of someone else or continuing with the main plot. Either way it'll be a lot of ruling, gepolitics, and intricate plotting with stakes high and low. I'm sure I'll come to a decision on where to take this after I write a few more chapters of my own book that I'm hoping to publish by either the end of this year or the beginning of next year.
I'm glad to see I have so many viewers who are big Total War Warhammer fans, even with popularity tapering off a little bit as of late.
Also I love the new feedback and engagement coming this stories way, good and bad, so please by all means keep it up.
PS: Also damn! I had no idea Deni would be so popular! With so many of you liking her, I'll make sure to give her plenty of screentime going forward.