A/R:

Deadzepplin: Glad somebody caught that.

Annoying POW marine: Yeah, sorry about the whole Michael thing. I corrected that expeditiously thanks to your help. And yes the goblins are now coming into play with a result that will most definitely surprise those involved. And you can bet I'm dedicating a bit of time for how that deal is coming about. Rest assured, the spiders will become a larger factor in the story. I mean lets face it, if you're a spooky, undead faction, I feel like it's a crime to not use spiders to fit the gimmick. Also, love the Bugman Brew recipe, that actually sounds like a legit concoction in Warhammer.

Zerkil: Lol, the're is definitely something messed about about an aged vampire getting it on with someone substantially younger than her. But, considering this is warhammer that's one of the tamer, crimes against humanity that you'll ironically find out there. Also I'm starting to actually read the book and I'm starting to see what you mean. It might as well not even be Bretonnia at this point. I'll have more to say in the next chapter after I actually finish the book.

Nagash44: Ahh, I see, so it's a whose who of outcasts misfits coming together to form a society where they belong. That sounds like a great idea actually. And yeah it does sound different, especially since you're focusing more on the vampire aspect rather than just necromancers. Oh and believe me the Lahmians will wind up becoming a major factor down the line, especially given their predispositions toward espionage and diplomatic manipulations.

Dadg12346: Well, thank you very much, I appreciate that.

DedicatedReader2020: Thanks, I certainly hope I can deliver!

…

Repanse De Lyonesse dabbed her brow once more, just as she had every other moment when the sun seemed to shine down on the Araby sands the hardest. This had been one of those days, as she observed the training yard with a critical but proud eye. If she was slightly sweating, her own men were perspiring buckets of water from their pores as they worked diligently in the training yard, honing their bodies for the many battles ahead and ensuring that the mistakes of past battles were not repeated.

She'd heard before coming to Araby's land how hostile the lands were. But even the tales she'd heard couldn't do the lands here any justice. Sure, they'd run into the hostile Arabic lord through which she led this errantry war. But, the threat of them paled in comparison to the tomb kings, vampire counts, greenskins and skaven that her army had been forced to confront on more than one occasion. Even after she had managed to carve out a sizable duchy among all the chaos and madness that her errant followers helped her make, the weariness of war was even starting to reach her blessed bones.

But Repanse refused to allow such weariness to show. Not when the men who were practicing sword swings, spear thrusts, and melees were doing everything they could to help her serve the Lady. Not when she appreciated just how much of a symbol and sign of inspiration she meant to these men.

It was something that her erstwhile companion, Henri le Massif, knew all too well as he walked next to her with a smile on his lips. "We found another oasis, M'lady. It'll help a great deal with the water shortage we'd been having previously."

Repanse nodded grimly, remembering all too well how a lethal foe such as dehydration had managed to claim more lives in her army than the other horrors of the desert. It was a mistake she refused to make a second time if she could help it. "Excellent Henri. Most excellent." She then allowed a small sigh to escape from her lips as she turned away from the men, a frown on her face. "Thank goodness the Lady grants us small mercies such as this."

"She's gotten us this far. But, you've played your part as well."

Repanse smiled. "Logistics have never been my strong suit. It was always simpler when chaos invaded our lands all those years ago." The War Maiden then pointed out in the distance, grinning. "It was always, 'Charge!' or something to the effect of 'Get them!' and the men followed my lead."

Henri shook his head. "Simpler times…though they were hardly what I call easier times."

"Mm. True. But our faith has gotten us this far, and I will not see it dimmed because of some water."

"If only faith could quench one's thirst."

This time, Repanse barked out a laugh. "She offers us so much as it is! But, mayhaps I could ask her for a respite!"

"Aye, it would be nice." Henri agreed, looking up at the sky only to wince when the harsh sun's rays beat down on it, forcing him to look down.

"...you miss it, don't you, Henri?"

"Miss what, m'lady? Serving by your side and, in turn, the Lady so that we can bring more into her light is more than enough for me."

"Henri." Repanse started. "They can't hear us."

When the paladin chanced a look behind him, he turned back and gave a deep sigh. "I miss the clouds the most, M'lady. I took for granted how they shielded me in the training yard when sparring with my fellow knights." The tall and imposing man shook his head. "I'd never complain about the cold and mud again if it meant feeling such sensations on my skin."

Repanse then looked again at the men who were training for her. Fighting for her. Dying for her. For the Lady. For Bretonnia so that more could have the pleasure to worship her as she herself did.

Yet Repanse had to hold back a sigh. They'd been in this land for a few years now. Sure, they had their duchy-sized realm, but any and all progress had slowed to a crawl. Repanse, had faith, oh she would never run out of it. But she understood all too well that faith could only get you so far when you were in the face of such violent, heretical, and vicious creatures of varying shapes and sizes that wanted nothing more than to see you undone. Henri believed that the only reason they hadn't been overrun with all of these competing factions was because they were too busy fighting each other as they were her errantry army. Repanse would have hardly believed it if she hadn't seen it herself time and time again. The sight of vampire counts fighting tomb kings with both of their respective undead thralls was a bizarre if welcome sight if nothing else.

It had resulted in a deadlock in Araby, with all the competing powers limiting one another in some fashion or another to the point where a stalemate had been the state of affairs for over a year now. It was frustrating, if not humbling, to show just how far Repanse would have to push herself and her men to eventually conquer this unforgiving desert in the Lady's n-

"My Lord! My Lady!" A knight rushed forward, his eyes wide as he pointed back at the training camp. "A-an oasis of water! It's suddenly appearing in the center of the training yard! The men are panicking, unsure if it's a blessing or witchcraft!"

Repanse and Henri stared wide-eyed at the statement and shared a brief look before following the messenger, only having to run a short distance before seeing what he was talking about. To their and everyone else's shock, there was a growing oasis of water appearing in the sand, causing peasants and knights alike to stare and gesticulate at it. Nobody dared to go as far as to drink it, however. Even the thirstiest peasant who felt his mouth go dry at the sight was reined in by superstitions of this happening and didn't chance anything.

At least until their fair Lady gave them the go-ahead as she approached this small body of water starting to grow to the size of a swimming pool.

As she got within a few feet of the sudden growing pool of water, Henri turned sharply to the knight who brought them here. "When did this come about?"

"A-a moment ago, I swear on the Lady! I-It just started growing out of nowhere! It was so sudden that one of the peasants nearly fell i-

Whatever was on his lips took a back seat as the water suddenly shifted. In fact, it started to look as though it were taking shape as a stream of water grew from the pool's center. Suddenly, a splash of water erupted from the oasis, forcing everyone to look away, wince, or shield their eyes from the sudden torrent that got some of the men wet.

Not that they were going to complain, given the constant heat they had to deal with.

But, when everyone managed to get a clear line of sight on the water, gasps and the sounds of people getting on their knees in the sand became the sudden norm. In front of them, hovering just above the small oasis, was none other than the messenger for the Goddess they all fought and died for. A woman wearing white lace that hugged her body perfectly. Long blonde hair cascaded down her back like a river, with a wreath around the crown of her head. Her bare, pale feet hovered just above the waterline of the oasis as a faint but unmistakable white glow emanated around her.

"The Fay Enchantress." Henri le Massif muttered in amazement as he joined many others on his knees, prostrating before the closest physical representation of the Lady herself that one could dare to see.

Repanse herself had seen the Fay Enchantress many a time in person and in her visions, often granting her the many missions, errantry expeditions, or some other fiend that needed to be slain for the greater good of Bretonnia, but that didn't mean that the War Maiden had gained had forgotten herself in this instance. Much like everyone else, she breathlessly kneeled before the Fay enchantress while everyone stood star-struck, feeling blessed at even being able to gaze upon her holy visage.

"My Lady…" Repanse dared to speak, looking at the sand. "I…we weren't expecting you…I…forgive me, the lands of Araby have been harder than we thought to tame bu-

"Peace, Repanse De Lyonesse." Her voice was as powerful as it was soothing. It was little wonder so many found themselves short on words in her presence. "The Lady fully understands your challenges and is proud of you all for the work you have done. Already, you have accomplished more than many other errantries dreamed of accomplishing."

Though this filled Repanse with a great deal of pride, she made a great effort not to show it. She only wished that she could spare the same effort for the looks of pride on all the other peasants' and knights' faces who felt blessed to get praised heaped upon them with the voice of the Lady herself. In a way, she couldn't blame them, especially since they weren't blessed with a longer lifespan such as hers to be experienced enough to bury such pride, but it rankled the War Maiden all the same. "You're too kind, Fay Enchantress."

"No, I'm afraid I'm not." Repanse couldn't miss the hint of sadness in the holy figure's voice. "For despite all the great trials and tribulations you hath embarked upon with the Lady's request…she requires more from you still."

"Then I will give her evermore." Repanse intoned dutifully without hesitation. "What does the Lady require?"

"...Bretonnia bleeds Repanse. It bleeds even as we speak, and if something is not done, it will bleed evermore."

"Then I will slay the man who wounds her and let the Lady sort him out." Repanse then dared to look at Morgiana with bold reverence. "Who must I slay?"

"A man. A foreign man named Lyle Spoletta." To everyone's surprise except for Repanse, Morgiana hovered a bit higher above the small oasis and pointed delicately at the pool of water. Everyone who could see it looked confused, only to see their eyes widen when they saw a face. The face of a young man with lightly tanned skin and black hair with a lightning-blue highlight streaking through it. A cocky smile was on his lips, betraying a cocksure arrogance that the peasant-born woman had seen on many men, both friend and foe. "As we speak, he is causing chaos in your homeland, undoing the social fabric that ties our nation together."

For the first time since Morgianna Le Fay arrived, Repanse showed hesitation, even as she tried to hide it. "Am I…to leave immediately?"

The sad smile made Repanse's stomach clench. "I'm afraid so."

Exchanged glances began to go around the congregation. Regardless of their social standing, nobody dared say a word, but the sentiment was there. For half the face, she could see there was outrage. Outrage and disbelief over all the struggles they had made here in Araby were undone so quickly at the whim of the Fay Enchantress. Their blood, sweat, and tears were poured into the unforgiving sands only to be quickly called away.

Yet, for just as many people who were filled with rancor, there were those who sagged their shoulders. Those who shared Henri's sentiment of cloudier and cooler days back in familiar soil. Regardless of anyone's sentiments on the matter, she couldn't fault such feelings.

Especially since she was torn between them herself. "If we are to leave Lady Morgianna, then…I fear all of our gains will be for naught."

To the War Maiden's surprise, Morgiana shook her head. "Fret not. For though you and many of your forces will be leaving, the Knights Origo will be filling in to garrison the lands you have faithfully conquered. They are but a mere day away from their sails docking in your nearest port."

While it was better than simply abandoning the lands they bled for outright, it still didn't sit completely well with Repanse. "I am glad to hear that M'lady. I can only hope they are suitably ready for the forces that will eye them hungrily when the brave Knights Origo arrive."

"I understand your concern, oh faithful War Maiden of the Lady. But, the forces of evil that they face will pale for what you must confront. A force of nature so potent that it's managed to conquer, Artois, Bastonne, and parts of Bordeloux."

A stunned silence ensued, quickly followed by audible gasps and horrified expressions. Men opened and closed their mouths, wanting to refute such a thing outright, not wanting to believe it possible.

Yet none dared. None could. To refute the Fay Enchantress's words was tantamount to sacrilege which only terrified the men even more. It had to be true.

Repanse herself couldn't hide her own shock. She knew that Morgianna didn't mince words on the importance on the quests that she had to embark upon, but this truly took the wind out of her lungs. She looked down back at the man in the oasis, trying to comprehend how a relatively normal looking young man could accomplish such a thing, only to be left with more questions.

"Who…what did-

"Lyle Spoletta has led the Barrow Legion after the death of Heinrich Kemmler with frightening effect. Unlike Kemmler, he isn't simply content in skulking away in Blackstone Post while raiding holy chapels or pilfering magical artifacts. No. He aims to be more aggressive, conquering vast swaths of central Brettonia. Lord Chilfroy perished, defending his castle against this man. Bohemond Beastslayer was gravely wounded, barely surviving his encounter with the Legion. Even now, they plot to solidify their gains while also breaking another tradition that Kemmler previously had…cavorting with vampires to strengthen themselves."

Fear struck Repanse's heart, her breath coming up short as a sudden realization struck her like a thunderbolt. "M-my Lady! Have they found a common cause with Mousillon!? Has Mousillon stirred with the Red Duke!?"

"They have been raiding outside their borders, yes. But they have not officially made any overtures with the Barrow Legion yet. Nor have they managed to overrun the dukedom of Lyonesse."

Yet. They hadn't overrun her homeland yet.

Fear pulsed through Repanse's veins as she realized the very real danger her home and country were being put under. Even now, the men were no longer keeping their silence, muttering in fear, anger, and disbelief toward one another as the reality of the situation began to set in. Chatter began to break out as men looked wildly at each other while Henri stared pointedly at Repanse, worry seeping into his bones.

"And the King?" Repanse asked suddenly.

"The King is preoccupied with matters in the north. Norscan raiders have been coming incessantly from their cursed lands. Not just in Bretonnia but in the Empire as well. Granted they've managed to thwart the invasion and gained a respite, but it will take time before King Loen can muster a full assault on the undead. Even worse still because there has been a rise in Beastmen incursions near where he's at.

"...the Lords and Dukes in the south?"

"Occupied with more beastmen as well, including skaven and goblins attacks. Bretonnia's threats have grown ever numerous as of late. Too numerous."

Suddenly, a bright light shone around Repanse's head. Many flinched at the sudden brightness emanating from their leader, while others were drawn to it like moths to flame. A bright, near-golden halo settled around the crown of the War Maiden, and a look of righteous indignation overtook her.

"Then if the Lady bids it." Repanse then stood up, her brow furrowed and glare leveled across the sea. "Then I will relieve our homeland of at least one threat." She then drew her sword and pointed it across the sea. "Lyle Spoletta…I will remember that name. I will hold it in my mind and on my tongue until he's no longer of this world!" Her voice was raw and griddled. Her fury and fervor genuine as she stirred the hearts and minds of the men around her who suddenly were no longer feared with fear, doubt and uncertainty. "I will purge him and his undead abominations and scour them from the land, and in the Lady's name, I will burn his precious Blackstone Post so that no other monster like him, Kemmler, or anyone else dares to crawl out of that wretched castle!"

A sudden cheer broke out. Urged on by her confidant Henri, raised an arm along with the army, spurred on by their Lady's words. Morgianna smiled, assurance on her lips, as she turned back to the oasis with confidence. Before she could completely turn away, Repanse called out to her.

"My Lady! Before you go, can you assure me that the Knights Origo ships have enough to carry my forces? Our own ships are not numerous enough to ferry all of my army to smite the heath-

Before Repanse could continue, a great deal of fog began to break out from within the Oasis, rising and taking shape to such an effect that it began to spook the men surrounding it, urging them to back away. To everyone's shock and amazement, the shape of the fog began to go upward until it was oval-shaped. The fog took the form of a gate, and Morgiana hovered next to it with a knowing smile. "Time is of the essence, my Lady. Though it requires a great deal of magic, you need only walk through while you and your men will have an easy path to the homeland. You will arrive near my tower in Carcassonne, which will give you time to resupply and right your army…and bring the Lady's Justice to this foreign interloper."

Everyone had heard rumors about the true extent of the Lady's power, but to see it as plain as day and even partake in it both scared and excited many men. But, for others like Repanse and Henri, it only made them worried. Not because they were scared of the magic itself, it was an extension of their Goddess after all. It was because the urgency of using this kind of magic only showed just how grave this situation was.

Giving a firm nod, Repanse looked directly at Morgianna. "My Lady. How long can you keep this portal open?"

"Three hours. No longer."

"You heard her men! Get everything you can and everything that you need!" She then folded her arms and focused on the misty gate. "The Lady can only wait for so long." As her men immediately bolted into action, with Henri spearheading the logistics and organization of this rush, Repanse only glared at the gate, the halo around her head growing ever so brighter.

"Prepare yourself, Lyle Spoletta. The Lady has her mercy, but for the likes of you, I will have none."

…

"AAAATCHUUA!" The sneeze that erupted from Lyle's mouth was violent and sudden, and he shook the fuzziness out of his eyes.

"You ain't sick with somethin' are you Lord Lyle?" Ham asked gingerly as he observed the leader of the Barrow Legion with concern as they sat beside Lyle's personal carriage, with the army's convoy undergoing a brief pause.

Lyle shrugged and sniffled his nose. "Eh, the sneezes come, and they go, but I ain't any worse off."

"You sure?" Jori glanced sideways at the man who had let the pair ride in his personal carriage with him for the duration of this travel. "Seen sturdy men go down after a little bit o' there snot started hangin' out. Last thing ya want is a cold."

"Relax, guys, Where I come from, we got cures that ensure I ain't gonna go down from that kind of thing." Lyle knew he was grossly oversimplifying things, but he knew that his peasant counterparts wouldn't understand the concept of vaccines all too well, not because they were inherently stupid. Just ignorant. Hell, Lyle was sure that the nobles wouldn't be all that better in that case. "I'm sure it's just somethin' in the wind. Y'know, allergies, that kinda thing."

Ham furrowed his brows and pursed his lips before eventually shoving his hand into his right pocket. "Well, at the very least, get a remedy in your gut. Don't hurt to be safe." He then smirked as he pulled out a small brown ball with small bits of matter that Lyle couldn't quite make out.

"The hell is that?"

"We call it the Med ball at our village before…well, y'know." The villager wilted slightly. Lyle winced before glancing past the village youth and seeing the long line of Riffen Villagers he had rescued. To Lyle's relief, their spirits had only gone up since they had tagged along, which had surprised the foreigner, given he expected them to want to stay at the port city they had just conquered. But, their nearly unified decision to tag along with him to Castle Bastonne made more sense now that he thought about it. They got to return to their home Duchy and stay under the shadow of the man who had gone out of his way to save them twice. It only made Lyle all the more determined to make sure they managed to scrape some semblance of life out of the shitshow that had become their lives.

And speaking of shit, Lyle suddenly wrinkled his nose as a wafty scent came from the ball. "Ham, please tell me that isn't what I think it is."

Ham couldn't help but look confused. "I'unno. What do you think it is?"

"No offense, my man, but it smells like shit."

"Cause it is!"

"Course it is." Michael sighed, trying to hold back his revulsion. "I know you guys had quite literally to work with shit everyday, but come on man…"

"Ey now! This ain't no ordinary shit!" the young peasant beemed with pride. "This right here is a cow pie mixed with parts of the ground of our former village of Riffen, with bits o'-

"Man, look I don't wanna know what other 'bits' as you call it are in there, if you think I'm doing what I think you want me do with it, I'm gonna have to disappoint you."

Before Jori could offer a counter, he sqwaked when Ham slapped the Remedy Ball out of his hand with a scowl. "Would you shove off Ham!? Leavin' no damned imagination for what your brain be made out of with that shit! Everyone in the damned village knows that Remedy Ball of yours is."

Lyle sighed and smirked, shaking his head. He could at least be comforted that not everyone engaged in such foolish mental gymnastics.

"Everyone in the damned village has told ya time and time again that you to spit on the Remedy Ball and let it sit in the sun for a few hours before you wash it down! It's only after it has that pungent scent that it's ready!"

And just like that, Lyle's faith in humanity dipped ever so slightly.

"Oh, sod off, Jori; I bet that's what all the elders said while their skulls baked in the sun for too long! If you have it cold th-

"Then it won't set properly and-

"Piss off!"

And the two began to bicker and winge in a way that told Lyle that this happened far more frequently than they would care to admit. And while it was in a way endearing, despite all the chaos and falderal that their village had gone through, that still meant one thing.

The Earth native had one more social norm that he had to correct. "Well, actually, gentlemen, that remedy ball of yours isn't going to be helping anyone because, put it simply, I ain't allowin' you guys to swallow that literal shit no more."

The two temporarily halted their squabbling, gazing at Lyle utterly perturbed. Jori looked especially confused. "But…Lord Lyle you don't gotta worry, I ain't gonna let Ham go around givin' out those faulty Medicine ball-

"Whether it's his, yours, or someone else's, I don't really give a shit. Nobody is making those medicine balls or even calling it that in the first place. Not on my watch. What you're eating is a literal cow pie that you've somehow convinced is medicine."

Ham folded his arms and frowned. "But, they've been a village remedy for over two hundred years!"

"Not anymore, they aren't. Look, boys I can excuse you not knowin' that eat cow dung ain't healthy for you but, don't fight me on this. There are more common sense ways to fight off the common cold and this ain't it, chief."

Ham, however, grumbled. "Well, it's saved lives before!"

"Oh yeah? How many?"

The young peasant smiled as he puffed out his chest. "Saved about twelve I reckon! I seen it with my own two eye-

"Out of how many?"

"Wha?"

"Out of the people who were sick and fed that cow dung, how many of them actually survived?"

"Oh…errr…" the peasant seemed momentarily taken aback, nearly crossing his eyes as Ham held his fingers in front of himself, seemingly counting out of order to try and come up with an answer. "Erm…Jori, how many were taken by the fever that ran through the village"?

Jori looked as though he just bit a lemon as he flickered between Lyle and his fellow peasant. "...stopped counting after fifty."

"And how many people got sick, Jori?"

"...Sixty."

"I rest my case." Lyle said with a sigh. Again, he could only blame the peasants for so much. It wasn't as though they had a premium healthcare system that could enlighten or assist them with such issues, but this was disheartening all the same. Thankfully, he was now in a position to do something about it. "From now on, no more medicine balls. When we get back to Castle Bastonne, it'll be high time you people figure out how to actually fix up your insides."

"But, Lord Lyle." Ham whined. "It's been a tradition for over a hundred years in our village!"

"Oh, like you actually care about that!" Jori at Ham. You showed you thought tradition was rubbish the moment you came up with your even more rubbish-filled Remedy ball!"

"Only because the other one wasn't doin' a damned thing!"

Lyle felt his frustration go as he felt the conversation getaway. He was about to say something as the two peasants shouted at each other again when a sudden headache overtook him. The earth native's eye twitched as a spike of irritation rippled through his spine and head. His eyes flashed a hue of electric blue until his voice was heard.

"Nobody is having that REmeDY aNYmore." It wasn't a shout. Lyle didn't even raise his voice, yet the sudden change could be felt in the bones of the two men before him, suddenly standing straighter with any thoughts of their previous argument falling into nothingness.

Both the peasants looked at one another but the statement felt less like a request…and more like an order. A command. There was none of the snottiness, haughtiness or cruel superiority that their previous liege lord had. Only the tone of a man who demanded change and could bend it to do such a thing with but his words.

Which is why neither of them put up much of a fight against the man whose eyes still had a faint blue hue to them. "A-alright Lord Lyle." Jori muttered, raising his hands in a placating manner. "W-we'll spread the word. No more Remedy Balls."

"Y-yeah, w-we're sure that you know best anyways." Ham nodded emphatically, a nervous smile breaking out. "S-sides'. You might be able to make a better medicine ball than anyone. I-if you could beat the nobles, you could beat the cold n' the fever in no time!"

Eventually, the headache faded, and Lyle felt his eyes twitch again, blinking away the hue in his eyes as he felt a deep well of satisfaction. "...good. That's good." Michael admitted to scratching his head and feeling the sensation fade away in the wind. "Real good. Good shit, guys; glad you can see your common sense."

"W-well, you've gotten us this far, Lord Lyle! So why not?"

"Y-yeah." Jori admitted. "I-w-wait. Ave?"

"Ave?" Lyle repeated before he followed the older peasant's gaze and saw a shock of reddish hair duck behind another carriage farther up ahead. Jori's eyes widened, having gotten a glimpse of the crimson, as he looked back at his 'Lord' with no small amount of concern.

The awkward silence was so suffocating that Lyle had to clear his throat on principle.

Nothing was uttered for a moment before Jori eventually gathered the courage to do so. "So erghh…is she…" He trailed off, not quite finding the words.

Not caring for the subject, Lyle scratched the back of his head. "Is she what?"

"Is she...is she actually Ave in their my Lord or… Y'know, like the others?"

"Like the others, how?"

Jori pursed his lips, his patience waning. "He wants to know if he's like the other rotters. All…all empty with just the blue glowin' eyes fillin' in their skulls."

"...no."

"So it's actually Ave in there?"

"Yeah."

"So…well she ain't…" Jori began trying to navigate a minefield and barely getting by. "She's been starin' at us, M'lord."

"Staring?"

"Yes, staring. A lot of the others have noticed it, too."

Ham nodded along, looking around himself as if trying to find the girl in question. "She…just kind of watches. It's…we've tried talking to her, but she's like a ghost, my lord. She comes in, comes out, and we just feel like she's spyin' on us."

"Well, I'm not having her do that." Lyle interjected immediately. "I'm definitely not TELLING her to do that, she's doing that on her own."

"She can do stuff on her own?"

"Yeah, she's special in that way. Or at least I brought her back that way."

"...can you do the same with Eudon?"

Lyle bit his lip before nodding. "I could."

When the peasants looked at each other, Ham looked as though he wanted to shout, but then he remembered who he was talking to and, more specifically, how Lyle's voice had Changed. "Well, why haven't you, M'lord?"

"...well I guess I was gonna come around to this, but since you're bringing it up…do you think he'd want to get brought back?"

"Well, of course, he'd want to! Who wants to be dead?"

"No, I don't think you're gettin' it. Do you think he'd want to come back as a corpse? Cause, make no bones about it, that's what Ave is right now. A corpse. An undead. You guys know him better than anyone. Do you both honestly think he'd be okay with something like that?"

Ham halted himself from saying anything more, not expecting to be confronted by such a dilemma. He looked to Jori, hoping for more senior guidance in this scenario, but was only be met with an equally befuddled expression.

Seeing hesitation, Lyle pressed on. "Lemme ask you this. Did Eudon have any family that he could consult on this? Any next of kin?"

Jori's lips thinned. "They were by a bandit raid…well, what we now know was our former liege Lord's men, may the Lady curse him."

"Well, I'd think long and hard about whether you want Eudon back, then, boys…or I guess whether or not you think he'd want to be back." Lyle turned his back toward them before looking over his shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a certain Redhead to hunt down. Can't have her scaring the children now, can we?"

As the leader of the Barrow Legion stalked off, the peasants' eyes flickered toward one another, neither wanting to initiate what would undoubtedly be the beginning of a very uncomfortable conversation.

…

"How long do you really wanna do this Ave? I mean really, you and I both know it's gettin' redundant at this point."

It didn't take long for Lyle to corner Ave. He could have willed her to come to him, but he didn't feel that would be the right approach for this situation, especially since this was far from the first time the two had conversed since her revival. The only problem was that the conversation that Lyle had with Ave was about as long as it took for him to take a piss.

"As long as it takes for you, Lyle." It made Lyle sincerely hope that Jori and Ham were genuinely thinking about whether Eudon should be brought back because the undead girl in front of him was inspiring much enthusiasm for this idea.

"Ave…for Christ's sake, I know you can string together more than one sentence, so can you at least spare the effort?" The necromancer then put his hands on his hips. Also, please stop creepin' on your people. You're going to traumatize the kids…more than they probably are at this point."

"Understood. I'll keep to myself from now on."

"You know damn well that's not what I mean."

She was sitting on a rock a little ways away from the main convoy. Her pale fingers fiddled with an arrow, manipulating the fletching before setting into a growing pile at her feet. Her dull green eyes focused intently on her task as the undead continued to occupy herself. However, there was a slight twitch in her fingers after Lyle's recent statement. Her eyelids narrowed ever so slightly. "It's for the best."

"Best for who? Everyone else would beg to differ."

"Everyone else fears me."

"Well, ya haven't done a whole lot to get rid of that stupid idea in their heads now, have ya?" Lyle huffed before shaking his head. "Listen Ave…I understand what you're goin' thr-

"No. You don't." It was the coldest she ever sounded.

"Alright, I don't, but dammit, I brought you back for a reason."

"Yup. Cause' I'm useful-

"Cause I wanted you to get the opportunity to set things right…it wasn't fair for yo-

"Fair?" The coldness in her voice was quickly giving way to anger. Ave's dull eyes twitched toward him as her pale lips trembled. "Fair would be me not having to…live all of this again-no. Can you even call this living?" She stood up now, her yellow teeth gritting together as she stared at the one who raised and could reign her in even as they spoke. "I can't eat, can't sleep, can't…I can barely feel my fingers!" She all but whispered, dropping her knife and fletching haphazardly onto the ground, staring at them balefully. "Why…why did you…you saw what happened to me, how they dirtied me, how they-" She couldn't continue. Her lips quivered, and her dull eyes squinted. Had she still been living, Lyle could imagine tears building up in the corner of her eyes before spilling out into her cheeks.

But as it was now, there was no hope for that. All she could do was stare. Stare and ask why.

Lyle wouldn't have an answer if this was a few weeks ago. But now? He was prepared. "I brought you back because I need you." He then looked in the direction where the peasants were located within the convoy. "They need you."

"You have an army of undead. You don't need me." She spat back with vile intent. "You came here-

"And got my ass kicked by Bohemond the first time around. If it wasn't for you, I'd be past tense right now, and all your people would either be short a village or all short of their lives with a side of slavery attached."

"You don't know th-" She then sighed, knowing just how weak that argument was before she fully said it. "Lyle, I can't I…I-

"Ave, look at me." When she instead opted to look at her boots, he spoke again. "Ave…please." When the zombie finally looked up at him with an unsure expression, he spoke softly. "Why did you join Bertrand's Brigands?"

"I…wh-

"Why did you join his group? What was the point of it?"

"Wh-to help my fellow villagers, of course! Why do you think!?"

"Even though it was dangerous for you and put yourself at mortal risk?"

"Of course!"

"So do you regret it?...even after what happened to you?"

She made to speak before she halted her tongue, biting her lip before eventually shaking her head, looking back down at the ground. "No…no, I couldn't I…even after that."

"That's why I brought you back. Because these people still need your help. I still need your help. It's that simple."

"And I want to keep helping them, but…I can't approach them, I can-

"Who says you can't? I never said that."

"I'm an abomination in the eyes of the Lady, Lyle. What else could I be in their eyes?"

"Someone who went above and beyond to help her own people. 'Sides. It wasn't long ago when these guys would have chased me with pitchforks and torches. Now they go and call me 'Lord' this and 'M'lord' that even though I sometimes tell em' I don't care for that." The earth native smirked. "I think they'll give you the time of day if you return the gesture."

She still looked unsure, her eyes flittering around as if trying to reach a consensus. Wanting to comfort her, Lyle leaned forward, trying to hug and pat the zombified girl on the back, when Ave's eyes widened to the size of golf balls at the movement.

It was slightly shocking to the necromancer when he felt himself fall on his ass from the force of Ave's push, her arms locked in place after extending into a shove, her jaw set tightly, and her brows knitted in fear.

Neither of them spoke a word until the nearly unified movement of the undead caravan further ahead signaled to everyone else. It was time to start moving again.

"Lyle, I'm so sorry I…" Ave muttered, suddenly hugging herself tightly as if frightened she would come undone. "I…I can't do that. I-

"No, I'm sorry. I should have known better."

A strangled laugh left her pale lips, and the pale peasant girl shook her head. "Out of all the necromancers I wound up saving, it was the one whose heart isn't as black as dirt." Ave then clenched her hands, her eyes darting around as if someone would come from her side or behind her.

Lyle knew what was happening, but he felt out of his depth. Helpless to do anything to help the girl in front of him who was going through some of the worst mental trials and tribulations that one of her history could go through. She was right about one thing. He didn't truly understand what she experienced and hopefully would never have to. But that only made truly helping her, even in an undead state, that much more difficult. Sure, he could resurrect her, but removing the trauma that she had experienced just before she died was another matter entirely.

She needed someone to talk to. Preferably someone with a feminine touch, but the necromancer knew that was a short list, especially since someone with a more delicate touch was in short supply. After all, Sybille was cantankerous at best and didn't strike him as someone who had an expert bedside manner for 'girl-talk.' besides, she was heading toward Artois as they spoke with his shadow tailing her.

Deni certainly acted and seemed feminine enough, but he hadn't known her long enough to trust her with the mental health of someone he was trying to help.

Then that left none other than Fredericka, the very girl whom he had lightly threatened before they hit the road. Now threatening her life aside, and the fact that she had intentionally left him for dead when they first fought Bohemond, Fredericka might actually be a good choice in this case.

After all, like Ave, she had been a peasant of Bretonnia. And if there was anything they could commiserate with one another about, it was the trials and tribulations of being a lower-class woman in a strict, hierarchical, patriarchal society.

He'd make sure to add that to Fredericka's list of duties the next time he cornered her. For now, though… "Listen, Freddy. I think it'd go a long way for yourself and everyone else if you were to talk to your own people. You may be dead, but you're still human. And we're social animals. I would know since I'm Italian! That's especially the case for me!"

The girl momentarily snapped out of her funk to stare at Lyle inquisitively before uncertainty gripped her dull eyes. "I…I dunno Lyle I ju-

"Look, start with Jori and Ham. I'm not sayin' you gotta go makin' grand ol' speeches like me, but…talk to em'. They wanna know if it's good ol' Ave rattling around in there."

"I dun' even know if I'm still Ave." The red-head countered, shaking her head.

"Yeah, you are."

Her glare returned. "An' how would ye know that?"

Lyle grinned. "Cause you still care about em'. The fact that you're still stickin' around and not going insane is all the proof I need. I mean, it's not like I'm giving you a command to stick around."

The statement seemed to truly weigh on the undead's mind as the convoy began to shuffle forward. Undead horses and undead corpses were moving and pulling wagons and carriages forward while the living villagers followed with it, not wanting to be left behind. "I'll…I don't know… I'll think about it-

"Ave."

"Yes?"

Lyle raised an eyebrow. "I'm seriously starting to wonder if you're scared of Ham and Jori or somethin'. You gotta crush on one of em' o-

"Oh fine, you damned copse-bugger, I'm going!" The red-head huffed, blowing air threw her bucked teeth, throwing her hands in the air as she stomped towards the aforementioned pair's direction, leaving a smiling Lyle as he admired his successful attempt to goad her.

A Lichemaster's work was never done. Much like how it was never done with him being the team captain of his football team back in high school. The mantle of leadership was heavy, but he could handle it.

As the convoy began to move again, Lyle got back into his carriage and flipped open Kemmler's Grimoire, going over the intricacies of the spell that Fredericka had been helping him use.

Well, he could use spells just fine, he'd learned. Using the spell was no difficulty so long as he made a mental or verbal incantation to use it. But the intent of the spell was crucial, as Fredericka made sure to intone upon him whenever her eyes weren't flickering over in Lyle's direction to make sure he wasn't going to push her out the open window of the Solar again.

As Lyle's fingers traced over the incantations of the 'Curse of Years' spell, he pulled out a small pouch. A pouch of dirt with grass poking out of it. He'd already gone through this exercise more than a few times, yet none of them had been successful.

It was an exercise of control. An exercise to try and funnel and control his magic in a meaningful way without going overboard. Again, he could cast spells, but he often struggled to limit the potency or power behind him. For example, whenever he'd use the Gaze of Nagash, it would often obliterate his target when he was just trying to limit the damage. When he cast Vanhel's Dance Macabre, he could cast the spell. Still, instead of using the spell for just one person, he could only cast it with the potential of speeding up an entire army of undead, making his heart rate go up too fast for his liking and his legs pumping too fast for his body to handle.

Lyle knew that if he wanted to stand a chance against some of the better damsels in Bretonnia who were renowned for having incredible magical control, having overwhelming might would only get him so far. It was like a QB. Having a canon for an arm, but with the accuracy of a stormtrooper. Sure, you're chucking the ball deep, but it doesn't mean much if the ball is landing in the open arms of a defensive back.

This was why, as the Lichemaster muttered his incantations to better focus, he focused on the bundle of grass in the pouch within his hand. His goal was to cause a singular blade of grass to wilt and die. Just one. All his previous attempts led to the entire bundle to wither and die, frustrating his attempts to narrow the control of the Dhar that flowed into his body, but Lyle's mother didn't raise a quitter. And while this was his sixth attempt so far, he'd be damned before it became his last.

The spell was cast as Lyle focused his gaze on a single blade of grass. The tallest of the bunch. His brows furrowed as he felt a rush of dhar flow into him, and it was trying for the necromancer to funnel the magic into a small stream to be pumped into that singular blade. For a moment, Lyle grinned as the blade began to turn yellow before wilting entirely. Only for him to curse as several other blades of grass began to follow suit.

The earth native groaned as he observed the small bundle of grass that had been affected by his spell. The good news was that not all of the grass had turned yellow and in some cases gray, from the effects of his spell. The bad news was that Lyle had still failed in his own eyes. More than one blade of grass had been affected by the smell, so while he was close, close wasn't good enough.

Close wouldn't always get the ball to his receivers, forcing them to overextend and put them in, compromising to miss the ball or to catch the ball and not be able to run with it afterwards. Close would be him looking up at the sky dead if someone else caught him lacking.

That was unacceptable. Sending a mental command for one of his skeletons to gather another pouch of dirt and grass, Lyle tossed the bag he had outside his carriage window.

He had a bit of time before they got back to Bastonne. And with so much riding on him every moment would count.

A/N:

And so a new foe arrives in the game. For every great obstacle Lyle overcomes, a new one will rise up to take its place. If you know anything about Repanse, you know she doesn't suffer fools who disgrace who Lady's name, land or people, and in her eyes, Lyle's not only doing all of the above but in such a manner that anything short of his death is unsatisfactory in her eyes. One can only hope that his training can help him prepare for the trials that are to come.

On a serious note, this chapter took longer to write than I would have liked cause' I'm putting more time toward my book which is over halfway done at this point and I've been looking for a new job to help sustain myself and my writing ambitions. The search for said job is treading water, but I digress.

Other than that what do you think about Repanse being added to the fray? Did you see it coming and/or do you think she'll humble Lyle the same way Bohemond did? Find out next time on Kemmler's Successor Z!

Also: RIP Toriyama.