Quick Question: Would you guys want me to keep leaving comments on your revies like I have been going forward or would you like me to reply to them on the review page itself. Lemme know what you think along with your thoughts on the chapter.

PS Update: I apologize for the spacing issue that was ocurring. For some reason the website didn't take the chapter as I thought and had completely screwed up the spacing of lines. It's fixed for the most part and I apologize for those who had trouble or any annoyance with it. Thanks to Haldir for pointing it out.

A/R:

Haldir639: Oh, Simmire is all about herself so long as she can benefit from herself. Even her initial idea of using Yasmine as a confidant of sorts was to help herself. If literally feeding Yasmine meant keeping her power it wasn't really a question. Repanse is definitely starting to feel the heat as far as her moral compass goes. She isn't quite ready to use the 'T' word just yet because, again, nobody in Bretonnia can dispute the word of the Fay Enchantress. Not even King Louen, since she's the one who chooses who can be king. But she's getting there. And you're argument for Lyle occupying Bretonnia isn't too far off the mark, except for the fact that Lyle also doesn't want to spread himself too thin as well as have an opportunity to keep the Duke alive. Even if Lyle doesn't take the territory, there's still an opportunity for him to acquire it here, namely in the form of legitimacy. Appreciate the detailed Review, by the way.

Annoying POW Marine: Yasmine will be fine for the most part, mostly because her magic is fundamentally changing Grom to where her life won't be in immediate danger. You're right that Damsel's magic can't last forever, but in her case, it'll be enough. In fact, her being able to more or less last forever in there is one of the worst fates that could happen to someone. And yeah, Grom is unfortunately not going to get solely benefits from these arrangements. Don't get me wrong, he'll be a force to be reckoned with, but in the complete way that he's hoping.

: Good guess, but it's not the beastmen. A bit late for Repanse since the festival will be wrapping up by the time she would get there. Plus it would look suspicious if she went there.

Zerkil: Repanse is definitely going through it. It'll be a wonder with how she manages things. Also, you underestimate just how big Grom is. I've seen animations where he shoves an entire, large-sized legs of meat down his throat with ease. If he can do that, he can polish a Damsel no problem. And no, I don't see Yasmine picking up that particular kink.

Sunwolf27: As much as I would love to do that idea, I feel like I wouldn't be able to do that justice, given how my time is limited enough as it is. Don't me wrong, I'd love to enjoy a Bloodbowl story myself, but I'm already working on two stories, and a third would probably make me lose my mind, lol.

Deck: Oh God, I didn't even think of that. It makes too much sense, especially with Grom being green. Lmao, that's a great comparison!

Dadg12346: Indeed. Perhaps a bit too seriously.

RandomSovietFarmer: Oh, she would most definitely mind having a goblin knight. She might not protest too loudly if things get too desperate for the country, however. And yes, Lyle will definitely being showing off more innovative modern warfare, albeit in a limited capacity. The two biggest things getting in the way for Lyle are both resources and time. Time, especially since he's constantly being assailed by nobles, zealots or warlords that want to see him dead.

…

A wave of celestial magic washed over Alvin's body, flittering through what appeared to be his very soul as he stood on an elevated platform in front of many knights, nobles, and peasants who had come to witness the show that he was putting on.

To his left the one responsible for the magic that was passing through him was none other than damsel Ninette, weaving her her magic with the grace one expected to of her station, making sure that the magic that she was using was so potent it could be seen by even the most illiterate peasant. Granted, the entire army wasn't here, but they didn't need to be when word of mouth would travel fast at what was being presented.

To the right was King Louen, the Royarch of Bretonnia, overseeing the process with a critical eye, sincerely and desperately hoping that the letter that he received from Lyle Spoletta wasn't true. He didn't want to believe it, and he highly doubted about it's authenticity. Yet, though Spoletta was clearly a foe that had to be bested, his actions had painted him as a liar.

Which was why he let out a sigh of relief when the magic dissipated, and Ninette gave a warm smile, first to the King and then to the rest of the captive audience that was watching the spectacle with bated breath. "There is nary a hint of chaos corruption on the chosen savior of Bretonnia. Not even a whiff of the taint of any of the dark Gods are permeating his divine presence." She then used her magic to amplify her voice to ensure everyone heard her clearly. "To the surprise of not a single soul here. The Lichemaster of the Barrow Legion hath lied as he his predecessor, often did to sew doubt and discontent. We shall not fall to his wretched predilections and plots!"

A raucous cheer broke out amongst the masses present, both noble and peasant alike. Sighs of relief, cheers of jubilation, and fervent claps overtook any noise that tried to be heard. The climax was the King himself raising the arm of Alvin, who smiled and waved, which somehow made everyone serenade the group even more.

Alvin himself seething with annoyance despite his chipper smile and attitude as he played to the crowd. All of this shouldn't have even been necessary. He shouldn't have had to waste his time on appealing to these half-witted lemmings, but of course, Lyle had to add insult to injury by saying the quiet part aloud about what his true allegiance was to…or who he thought his allegiance was to.

Thankfully, Louen didn't believe it. The problem was that Louen wasn't the first one to open the letter, with the carrier pigeon handler claiming he accidentally opened it with the Paige seeing its contents and spreading the word. Needless to say, quite a few people had lost their jobs that day, but the damage was already done. This horribly kept secret of Alvin's had become information, and he knew along with the King that if this information continued to spread with simple denials from the leadership, it could turn into a cancer that could eat itself.

Thankfully, the damage control and the show of Ninette 'checking' for any corruption that a damsel like her could manage to nip this issue in the bud.

That being said, they all knew it shouldn't have come to this as Louen spoke to him privately after the fact. "Once again, Alvin, a thousand apologies for this…this fiasco." The king said with shame and a shake of his head. "Rest assured that Paige has been sent back to his family's holding with a letter expressing my disappointment in his conduct."

If it were up to Alvin, he'd express disappointment with a blade to the throat of that kid, but he was patient. He could wait. "It's quite alright, your highness." Alvin smiled, flashing his white teeth. "He's just a kid. Kids make mistakes. I mean, heck! I made a few mistakes myself when I fought against Lyle! If it wasn't for those mistakes, we wouldn't even have this problem!"

"No, no, no. I cannot possibly blame you, Alvin. Nobody could. You did enough in helping destroy those horrific beastmen and Greenskins. If anything, the fact that Spoletta survived shows just how and why he was able to defeat Dukes Chilfroy and Bohemond. I must admit, I did not think he would stoop so low as to send false information that you're attainted by chaos-" He then stopped himself, giving a bitter laugh. "Mayhaps I should have. Though his morals are more palatable than most necromancers, he is still that. A necromancer."

"It's alright, your highness. Lyle is just showing just how much of a danger he is to your country, both on the battlefield AND in the political room. It's clever, I have to admit."
"It is. And to be perfectly honest with you, Alvin, I must admit, he even managed to sew a seed of doubt within me. It is only with the aid of the Lady that we can see that Lyle's words are false. If it were not for Ninette being here…if she were to have had to come here while men whispered to one another about this falsehood-

"Don't worry about it, your majesty. Really don't. I mean, just think of it as another reason to finally deal with Spoletta after we deal with Mousillon. I mean, if the last few skirmishes we've had with them or anything to go by, it shouldn't take too long."

Louen smiled, glad to see how quickly Alvin was willing to put this whole debacle behind him and even more relieved to see how dedicated he was to smiting Bretonnia's foes and bringing peace back to the realm. It was through selfless men like him that gave the Royarch that bit more belief that they could finally thwart the foes that seemed determined to destroy the land.

That being said, he couldn't just put the horse in front of the cart. "Considering how well the skirmishes HAVE gone, it actually makes me more concerned than relieved, Alvin. Though I can hardly fault you for being so since many men in my own army share your thoughts."

Alvin titled his head in what appeared to be a concern. "Oh? What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

"When we arrived with our forces, I expected the Red Duke to meet us in a pitched battle, especially since he had gone out of his way to put the castle of Lyonese under siege. Yet, the moment we arrived, he retreated back to his own dukedom, leaving behind only black knights to harry and harass us in skirmishes."

"And? That's a good thing, right? I mean, he didn't expect us to arrive, and he had no choice but to hold up in Mousillon."

"Precisely. But he pulled away with such speed that it almost looked as though that was his goal to begin with. As if he had no intention to truly lay siege. In fact, did you not notice the lack of siege engines that were surrounding the castle? The lack of preparation? They merely cut off the supply lines of the castle, which had given them the benefit of not having to waste precious resources as they returned to their hold."

"...so you think…that what? He just wanted to bring us here?"

"Precisely. And if he did, that has a great deal of implications." King Louen's face turned grave as he glanced at Alvin. "Think on it. Who profited greatly from the siege on Lyonese and us having to pull our forces toward it. Who profits from it even now at this moment."When the implication sunk in, Alvin went still. "Do…do the rest of the men know about this-

"No. Nor do I plan to tell them…yet. If they were to find out about a possible alliance between the Red Duke and Lyle Spoletta, it would only serve to demoralize them further and would serve them no purpose to know other than making them worry."

Alvin had to agree with that. After seeing how quickly doubt could seep into the army about whether or not he had succumbed to chaos, the last thing they needed was to learn how the many forces that were running amock in Bretonnia were starting to work together. "Who else knows about this…theory?"

"You. Ninette. Quentin, and only a few other select nobles whom I would trust with my life. They need to know so that we can secretly plan accordingly for what is to come. Or what may come. This is only a theoretical situation, of course. We'll need discretion as well as a great deal of coordination to put down the threat of the Red Duke once and for all."

Alvin frowned, his face going hard. "And give even more time to allow Lyle to gather his strength? Aren't we just playing into his hand by doing that?"

"We are. But, we have no choice but to play along, for we cannot allow Mousillon to gather its strength and support Lyle in the event that we cannot finish the Barrow Legion quickly. No. It's better to completely do away with one threat so that we may fully focus on the other. If it's any consolation, it means that Lyle won't be in any position to attack us either since it was clear that he needs to literally and figuratively lick his wounds."

"And if he does decide to attack from the south?" Alvin pressed on, not liking where this was going. "Lyle's still the biggest threat this kingdom faces, Your Majesty. Every moment his heretical throat draws in, breathe is a moment he's getting a chance to muster his strength. To grow his undead horde. To turn more of your own peasants against you."

"It's not a decision I make lightly. And I know that there will be others much like you who believe in such a thing. But you must trust that this is the best decision that we can make as of now." The king said fairly yet resolutely. "We cannot allow ourselves to be pulled back and forth by these foes so that they may buy themselves even more time than they've already afforded."

"Well then, surely I can at least lead a party of knights down south to harass and slow down how much strength he can recoup! If we can at least slow him down-

"Normally, I would agree, Alvin, but now would be inopportune. Though we showed undeniable proof, thanks to Ninette, that you are not tainted by chaos, to have you disappear from the army so soon would be a poor look. We need you here amongst the men to keep their nerves at bay and show that you haven't truly succumbed. To show that you are just like them. Amongst them. With them and proving through chivalrous acts that their trust was not misplaced."

Alvin wanted to argue the point further. He was craving to do so, and his agitation at seeing Lyle Spoletta live to fight another made him grind his teeth. But, when he felt the shadows of Be'lakor waft around him like a miasma, especially around his mouth, a cooler head prevailed, and Alvin nodded. "Of course, your highness. You know best."

"Do not fret, young Alvin. Spoletta will see justice yet. We must simply await the proper opportunity for the Lady's justice to meet him when it is proper." Putting a hand on Alvin's shoulder, the King smiled. "I know it is frustrating. Believe me. I've experienced frustration from merely wearing this crown that the Lady deemed to place upon my head. But we have endured far worse in my reign. And once the crown has passed to someone else, Bretonnia WILL continue to endure. Spoletta is not unique in that respect. What only makes him stand out is the method through which he seeks to obtain power."

And the fact that you don't realize just how dangerous it is, you over-privileged, ignorant, old bastard. Alvin took great care not to allow the disgust he felt in those words to show on his face and instead slowly smiled. "You're not wrong, your majesty…If you need me to lead the charge against the Red Duke, you know where to find me."

"Whenever the Red Duke decides to show himself, that is." The king admitted with mild frustration. "The title of the man behind the armor has always been an enigma. Some, such as myself, begin to wonder if it was the same man who started the original rebellion within Mousillon. Some theorize that others simply come in and take the title for themselves. Others think it's both." Huffing through his nose, he glared in the direction of Mousillon itself. "Sometimes I wonder…I wonder if it would have been for the best for that castle to have been raised to the ground with all its inhabitants…but I fear even the dead would have refused to be put down permanently…and to condemn the people even if that cursed land has twisted them…" He let the statement hang in the air as if asking himself the question both men knew would hopefully be answered. Or at least King Louen thought that was the case. Alvin couldn't care less because it would be irrelevant once his goals had been reached.

But of course, it wouldn't hurt to suck up to the high highness even more. "If you need someone to turn the corner on Mousillon after we've dealt with the Red Duke and Lyle, I'm up for the challenge, Your Majesty."

The statement surprised King Louen, considering that few if anyone, would have dared to partake in such a daunting task since no one had succeeded since the beginning of Mousillon's corruption. "Are…are you sure, young Alvin-

"If it's for the Lady. For this country? For you? Anything?" Alvin wanted to vomit after saying those words, but it seemed they did the king, who smiled fondly at the apparent bastion of selfless chivalry before him.

"Young Alvin…I admire your courage, but it will not be easy."

"Few things are your highness. But that's what I was brought here for, right?"

For a moment, the king seemed to look at him in what could only be described as admiration before his face turned stern. "Ser Alvin. Once the realm has been put back to peace and all the major threats have been dealt with, the Lady's land will be restored. I did promise you a castle and land to rule as your own for your chivalry and selflessness. If you truly can find a way to purge the evil that permeates within Mousillon as it has for centuries…then I can find no greater Duke to manage the land than you."

…

"When I get my hands on Lyle." Alvin sighed as he lay next to a sweaty and worn-out Ninette, her nearly naked form within her tent. "I'd be lying if I said I'd give him the pleasure of a quick death." He glanced over at Ninette as she breathed softly into his pectoral. "How creative are you, Bretonnians, when it comes to torture? I don't mind if they're as archaic and old-fashioned as your country. Just if they can get the job done."

Ninette's eyes fluttered open, staring into the eyes of the otherworlder she'd found herself with. "Mm…It depends, my dear. How gravely do you intend to harm the heretic?"
Alvin looked back, his eyes flecked by shadowy whisps. "Slow and painful."

"Hm. Would a Gibbet suffice?"

"Too slow."

"Pliers? Heated pliers?"

"Mmm…starting to get warmer." Alvin hummed, his hand pulling back the blanket covering Ninnette's form. "Go on."

"Drawing and Quartering?"

"Ohhh, now that would be a sight." The earth native giggled. "I'd prefer to just let him continue to be drawn. Let him scream a bit before we have the horses pull."

"We could also set him aflame, which would be fitting for all heretics."

"Mmm…no. It would hurt, but it would be far too quick. Pliers or Drawing and Quartering would be the tiebreaker." He then smiled like a fox toward the damsel. "Also, you mentioning what would be fitting for heretics is deliciously ironic, wouldn't you agree?"

Ninette smirked devilishly, crawling forward to fully put naked form atop Alvin's body, her eyes betraying a hazy dark shadow in her eyes. "Where is fun to be found if there is little irony in it?" Now chest to chest and on top of Alvin's very pleased body, she glided her fingers across the muscles that had been blessed for him, tracing his shoulders and biceps. "A shame that we can't get to Spoletta faster, hmm?"

"You're here to please me. Not to tease me." Alvin growled out huskily, not appreciating the reminder. "The sooner the Red Duke dies, the better."

"If he's even alive." Ninette shrugged. "He could be another vampire, for all you know."

"If he weren't a vampire, that would be the surprising part." He then stared into the lustful and shadow-filled eyes of the damsel. "Any magics of yours that could help us reach him faster?"

"Mousillon is permeated with dhar. The very inhabitants have been corrupted by it." She sighed into his pectorals, resting her cheeks on them before pouting. "I could try. But it would not be long before we are discovered through either magic or the people who swear loyalty to whoever bears the title 'Red Duke.'"

Alvin was tempted to throw the useless whore off him but once again restrained himself. What could be a corrupted damsel he personally managed to bring low if they couldn't even be useful in times such as these?

He could ask Be'lakor, but his pride was ruffled at the mere thought of it, even if the shadow demon could hear such thoughts within his mind. He didn't at all care for having to rely on the miserable creature than he already had. No. There was only so far he was willing to in terms of relying on the first Everchosen. This was a time when he would need to get creative himself.

Getting frustrated at the thought, he heard Ninette gasp as he grasped her backside, flipping her over and working some frustration he had accumulated from a stupid King and the demon he owed a great deal to.

At least this stupid damsel was worth something right now.

…

"You really gotta go?" Lyle sighed, holding onto the hand of the dwarven woman he'd come to desire more of a presence of. "I mean, I could always use more help train-

"You have a few standouts who can do the training for me at this point. I NEED to go back. My people need me to go back." Nalga retorted sharply yet with a hint of remorse. "At least for now."

"I'd give you hell over this if I didn't know what you meant. If I could go with you, I could but." Turning back to the gathering army behind him, the necromancer shook his head. "They're screwed without me."

Nalga bit her lip. "...ever thought about a successor?"

It wouldn't have been the first time Lyle had considered it. The problem was that he wasn't too confident in any of the options he had available to him. He liked Wendel he really did. But, he just didn't have the respect, the boldness, or the gumption to take control of the Legion. Schmitz was way too aggressive crotchety and couldn't care less about the people the same way he did. Tobias would probably be quite uninterested since he was more interested in research and scholarly pursuits, and having to run the whole legion would interfere in that goal. Sybille probably had more than enough experience, but whether or not she could play nice long enough was another matter entirely.

As far as Fredericka went…he wasn't entirely sure he could trust the young woman who summoned him to follow through on his ideals and if she truly believed that she could pull it off. Rolling his eyes, he thinned his lips at the mere thought. "Don't scare me now, Hon. If you wanna convince me not to wanna die, you're giving me some good motivation."

"Ya better not up and die! Not after all the work ya put in!" She nearly shouts, smacking his leg. "Ah, mean if ye have someone handling things while you're away! That way, ye CAN come visit!"

Now, that was an entirely different level of motivation. "Well, when you put it like that." Lyle trailed off, having certain uncouth ideas popping into his mind. "...maybe after I'm done bailing out the Parraonians with those damned tree-huggers."

Nalga's face turned sour at the mere mention of them. "Aye. About dem' tree-huggers, ye mentioned. Do me a favor n' disembowl a few of em' for me if ye could. I'd do it myself if I had the time."

"You hate the hippies too?" Lyle asked with surprise before breaking out in a smile. "Woman, where have you been all my life?"

"Never cared for em'. No right in the head Dawi ever would. I remember when my father had fits over a few of our caravans getting harassed by some waywatchers before they went on a trade route through an underpass." She spat at the mere memory. "Rarely ever agreed with anything about my stubborn as a stone father. That was one of em'."

"You sure you don't wanna come?" Lyle asked, almost pleading with a smile. "C'moooon! Me and the boys have started cooking some concoctions to let them and their trees burn something fierce~!"

It was tempting. Especially with the way Lyle described it. It was getting the female dwarf all worked up in a way she didn't want to just let loose by just cutting some knife ears down to size. She bit her lip as she stared at the now burgeoning goatee and curly mustache combo that was starting to form on Lyle's face. It still paled in comparison to a proper Dawi but with a bit more time…

…maybe…maybe if she could those long limbs of his around he-

-no! She had to focus! She had a duty! And a Dawi was only as good as their word! "Ya better make sure to tell me about it when you get back, Spoletta." She growled out, gabbing his officer coat, and yanked him down. "And if ya don't! I'll have a grudgin' with your relatives!"

Unphased, Lyle smirked cockily. "They're in another world. You're out of luck there."

To his unsurprise, she pulled him in for a forceful kiss, capturing his lips before pulling herself back. "Ye still don't know how stubborn we Dawi can be then." Shoving him back, she winked at him before heading to her gyrocopter. "Don't ye even think about dyin' umgi." The final look that they gave each other was enough to make the weights in both of their chests that much heavier, even if Nalga did a better job at hiding as her copter carried her away into the distance.

Suppressing a long-suffering sigh and adjusting his pants with how tight his newest flame had left them, Lyle marched back to the gathering army. He didn't want to have to cut the festival short, but with how dire things sounded from Jacquette's own lips, it sounded like her son, the Duke of Parravon, was on borrowed time. And if there was anything the earth-native learned from his uncle, it was that you never borrowed anything from anyone, especially time. Time was precious, and in a situation like this, that was doubly true.

And not just because this was a great opportunity to get some good PR and some benefits from the saving Parravon, but also on top of the fact that Lyle would be damned before he let up an opportunity to open a can o' whoop ass on the wood elves for trying to off him AND for fooling him to fight the Bretonnians for a reason he didn't foresee in the first place. Oh sure, he probably would have fought them one way or another, but it was the principle of the matter!

That being said, he would have preferred to wait a bit longer to get all of the musketeers he and Nalga had trained. With so many of them having gone and personally spread the word of his festival to spread the good news of the laws he was changing. Hell, he still hadn't heard from Ham and Jorie, but that wasn't surprising given how far south they had to go to spread the word of the festival.

But that was fine. Because even though he right now only had two hundred of his three hundred musketeers in his army and ready to fight, he now had three hundred more raw recruits to add to the army. Well, the truth was that he had thousands of peasants trying to sign up for the musketeers, but a few problems were bottlenecking the process of taking them all on. One, they didn't have nearly enough muskets or ammunition for everyone, even if Nalga had done a fine job of making sure they had a couple of thousand muskets at this point. And even if they did, they had to get SOME training on how to use the black powder weapons. The last thing Lyle needed on his mind was a peasant being ignorant enough to look down the barrel of a gun and blow his head off like he was Daffy Duck.

They had waited a few days for Lyle and a few other of his more experienced musketeers to put three hundred extra recruits through the paces with their fancy new muskets. A few days wasn't a lot, but it would have to do, which was why Lyle was going to make sure they weren't going to be directly on the front lines when battle DID break out, both to protect them AND to make sure to protect anyone else with how green they were in handling gunpowder.

But, if their feelings were hurt about not quite having the chance to see immediate action, it was buoyed by the fancy uniforms that Deli and Ruknik, the goblin shaman, had worked together to start mass producing. With the goblins creating the bulk of the workforce and the vampiric group forming the backbone of the design, Lyle was impressed with how many uniforms they had managed to pump out, with more on the way. Though the shaman and the high-end Lahmian vampire could hardly stand one another, they worked together quite well with the production of the uniforms, and the peasants turned musketeers seemed to agree, showing off to one another with wide eyes of wonder and amazement, especially when it came to their boots.

Lyle could especially understand that last part. Having to go on the march without any shoes on was a war crime, in his opinion, and he would die with that idea, no matter how much Sybille protested about it.

As he approached the older woman in question, who seemed to stare at her boots with a surly expression, she huffed at his approach. "Master." she greeted shortly, folding her arms before tugging on her officer coat. "You'll be pleased to know that Wendel is successfully getting the unwashed masses into some form of marching formation. Loathed as I'm to admit it, his noble background might actually be good for something."

"Oh, c'mon now, Sybille, take it easy on him." The Lichemaster lightly chastised. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Only if his head starts to swell higher than it did previously. His usual meek and mild-mannered demeanor is preferable, is all." A smirk on her lips then turned devilish. "If he needs it, I can help leak out whatever causes it to swell. We witches have the most unorthodox remedi-

"Sybille…"

"Forgive me. It's these boots." She frowns. "They bring out the worst in me."

"Good. Maybe you can bring out that 'worst' on the hippies we start whippin'."

The woman cackled loudly, which drew some worried stares from the new musketeers. Sybille had cackled so hard that she had to wipe a stray tear away. "I wonder, Master. Is it possible that you loathe the children of Athel Loren more than the Bretonnian nobles? The venom in your voice, at the mere mention of them could put arachnarok spiders to shame! I have to admit it's deliciously ironic."

"There's nothing ironic about this." Lyle replied evenly, pointing to the two scars on both of his cheeks. "Way I see it, if those hippies are so desperate to fuck around, I'm gonna help em' find out. Believe that."

The pair headed toward the army, with Sybille continuously amused by the ranchor that was practically wafting from the Lichemaster the moment the subject of his ire was brought up. It was amusing, as it was curious, to the witch as they approached the mixture of undead, necromancers, and musketeers that were in the center of the army. Smack dab at the very center of it was a well-made and hardy carriage that was surrounded by a new addition to the Barrow Legion army. Black knights, freshly summoned and put together with undead steeds courtesy of the past few battles Lyle had conducted with the Bretonnians. The mounted undead but heavily armored skeletons cut a striking figure, with a pair of them being the ones to pull the carriage forward when the time called for it.

When Lyle and Sybille made it to the left side of the carriage, the earth-native wrapped his knuckles one a sealed and wooden window slot until it opened up, revealing Jacquette's unamused face. "Are we to finally move, or do you require us to tarry for a moment longer?"

"Look, lady, I know you're worried about your kid, but trust me when I say. It's better to be ready than to rush things. I know that from experience."

"You saying that as if you're own child's life wasn't hanging is a cold comfort to me Ne-...Lord Spoletta."

"Please, just call me Lyle. I can tell that you're on the verge of shittin' bricks at just calling me by any title."

"It would perhaps be more tolerable if you weren't using such crass language around a proper lady."

"Oh!" Lyle then side-eyed Sybille. "Would you consider her a proper lady then? Can I talk crass around her, you think?"

"Don't be smart around me, boy." The noblewoman sniped. "I have a son who was nearly as quick as his words with you, and I could endure him all the same."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Lady, give me strength!" The woman sighed, looking up at the ceiling of her carriage, looking older as much as she did, exasperated. "You're starting to make me wonder if some despotic, heretical, white-bearded, balding, pale-skinned, and horrific necromancer would be preferable to you."

"Awwww, c'mon now, Miss Jacquette. You can't say that the kind of guy you would just describe would be going out of their way to save your son."

"No, they would simply put me out of my misery and save me the trouble." The annoyance laced within her voice was clear, but Lyle swore that he could hear some mirth in it as well. Maybe her son was around his age? Maybe she felt comfortable talking with him like this because it reminded her of said son? Who knew? But he wasn't about to bite back on her for it. "Are we to leave to save my dear son from the trouble he's put himself in, or are you determined to talk noble lady to her deathbed."

"I can talk ya to death later if ya want. For now, I'm gonna make sure ya don't make a liar out of me and get things going. You just enjoy the ride, Madam." Lyle smiled with an overdramatic bow.

"As if I can do much else." She bluntly surmised. Before she shut the window seal, she looked hesitant about saying her next words. "Lord Lyle. I…I greatly appreciate the help that you're offering and-" A moment was taken to find her words as Jacquette cleared her throat. "I'm simply surprised by the modicum of chivalry that you're showing of someone your station. Forgive me for being blunt, many of the harridans in the courts-

"Hey now! Last thing I'm gonna do is have someone apologize for bein' blunt! I appreciate it. Now, just relax and enjoy the ride. Your kids are gonna be fine…and if he isn't." A flicker of blue crossed Lyle's eyes. "You can be damn sure that we'll avenge him."

She was positive that had more to do with his apparent hatred for wood elves, but she wouldn't complain if it did come to that. Hell hath no fury than a woman's scorn. Giving a short but terse nod, Jacquette closed the window, giving Lyle the freedom to order the army forward. It would take maybe a few days or up to a week, but Parravon was their next stop.

Even now, his cheek scars itched, begging for a form of retribution that Lyle found himself starving for. His eyes glowed blue briefly before he continued on with his new and improved army.

All while a crowd of peasants that numbered in the thousands cheered him on with raucous roars and waving handkerchiefs from women giving blessings and well wishes to the Barrow Legion army, fresh off of celebrating the festival.

…

Lilaeth sipped the Bordelaux wine. Though even someone as proud as her had to admit that while the flavor was most definitely adequate, it was greatly inadequate compared to the finest brews that came from Naggarond. The screams of the lowly humans that pierced the skies from within the castle helped lighten her mood, but there was only so much one could do when surrounded by inadequacies.

This castle, for example? Not enough dark and purple. Not enough sharp sleep angles. Not enough refinery and sophistication. Not enough well-bread chattel to do her bidding. And most DEFINITELY not enough good help that would have prevented her from wasting her time from coming here to begin with. Alas, good help was so hard to find these days.

Even now, as she rested her feet upon the back of a human noble she never bothered to get the name of and sat on the throne that reeked of discomfort, she slammed her heel on the small of the man's back, making him wince and bend slightly at the force. Was this indeed the best Bretonnia could do? On top of not being able to send her the proper amount of slaves that was agreed on, now they can't even act as proper footrests? She wondered if it would have been better to strike a deal with an Estalian or Imperial. She did hear they at least diversified their chattel.

Sipping her wine again, and finding her mood souring she rolled her eyes and poured the rest of the liquid down on the stone ground. Again, adequate in a vacuum. Inadequate given the situation.

"Vacus." Her quiet yet zealous voice thrummed through the great hall, Blackguards of Naggarond lined the hall. Their forms still as a heavily armored dark elf noble came out from the hallway as if waiting to be called upon. "Has the reason for these creatures' incompetence been discovered yet? Or shall we continue to pillage the countryside as we have for the past few weeks?"

Vacus was tall, even for a dark elf, with an unmarred yet stern face. His dark eyes stared back into the eyes of the sorceress before him. "Chaos has gripped Bretonnia in ways we could have never foreseen. Greenskins, Beastmen an-

"Vacus." Her voice was as cold and sharp as a knife, and the dark elf noble could feel his throat seize, his back sensing her dark winds of magic making the room that more frigid. "If I cared for what gripped this backwater I would ask it. I asked why the nobles here have stopped sending us our chattel."
This time, Vacus kept his eyes low, staring at the poor soul that was trying to prevent himself from shaking under the Dark Elf Sorceress's feet, though it seemed to be a battle in of itself. "A group of necromancers called the Barrow Legion. They uncovered the slave trade plot we hashed out with many of the nobles. Some of our conspirators were caught and killed. Others escaped…either way, the result was the same. Our slave trade was undone by necromancers."

"Necromancers."

"...necromancers, my lady, yes."

"...the fools who play with Dhar because they cannot hope to master the wonders of elven High Magic. The irony would be delectable if it did not harm our funding for our great vengeance."

"Of course, my lady."

Lilaeth bounced her heel upon the back of the noble that was forced to be her footrest, the thumping her bare heel was making only dwarfed by the sounds of horrified screaming echoing from outside and in the dungeons. Every bounce of her heel made the noble's back bend ever so slightly, his face wincing and contorting as he bit his lip.

Finally, he yelped in pain as she lifted one of her feet and extended her big toe, which had a long, dark, and sharp nail at the end as if she had a claw and lightly jabbed it into the neck of the dirtied-looking man. "Tell me, worm. Why was it that we had to learn of this after we went through the trouble of invading this coastline?" The dark nail on her toe started poking into his neck so hard a dribble of crimson started to leak out. "Do you enjoy inconveniencing me so?"

"I-I was in the dungeon, m'lady!" The noble sputtered in sheer terror, trying to keep himself from soiling his pants. "Y-you know this, you found me the-

"So you're truly that incompetent."

The man whimpered, afraid that saying something else would get him killed, and opted for silence in that moment, his lungs paralyzed by fear. His eyes flickered to the dark elf sorceress, and found himself lost in her terrifying appearance. She was deathly pale, even for a dark elf. Her eyes struck a terrifying visage with the wild yet cascading and thick dark hair that concealed bits of the marble-white skin she had. She wore very little besides sleek and ritualistic revealing robes. Her long and sleek legs were loose as they were relaxed, as her bare but clawed-looking feet continued to rest upon him when the nobleman suddenly cried out, her clawed-toe moving and scratching his neck. He dared not to move and give her a reason to kill him. Or even worse. Make her wish she did. The screams that he heard even now were ample motivation.

"Tell me, human. Do you know why I am angered so?" She received no reply, her foot moved again, and another scratch drew out a whimper. "I asked you a question, chattel."

"B-becuase I failed you!"

"Failure is tolerable if the situation calls for it. This is NOT that situation I fear. For THIS is a situation where the accord we struck profited both of us. You gained your filled coffers while I gained the labor necessary to fund a campaign. A campaign that holds great importance personally and theologically to me. Vengeance against my lesser-kin." She leaned back on the throne, clasping her fingers. "It's of great importance to me. A wrong that must be righted since I failed once before to bring justice to my lesser kin. To bring justice to the rightful king of the Phoenix crown. And your incompetence has jeopardized this in such a manner that I consider it." Her eyes grew wide and terrifying, flashing a horrific light in them. "...Sacrilegious." she then spat on the man, spittle landing on the back of his neck, before she went back to resting both of her feet on the small of his back. "Worry not. The difference will be made up for your failure as we pillage and take the number of chattle I need up and down your nation's coastline. If this chaos and incompetence your country as allowed itself to fester in, it's that I won't need to wait for years at a time to have the bodies I need."

"...there is one other matter m'lady." Vacus coughed, looking down on the ground. "I mentioned that goblins had been one of the hostile forces contributing to these lesser creatures' kingdom unraveling, and our scouts may have stumbled upon Greenskin camp that is sequestered away in the woods north of Castle Bordelaux."

"...and?"

"Well…I am inquiring as to what you would like to be done about-

"Vacus. Is our Black ark so full of slaves that we cannot afford any and all bodies to be thrown upon it to complete the labor quota we need to complete our sacred rituals and to ensure our future campaign is a success?"

"...no my lady."

Vacus trembled when her eyes bore right through him. "Then why waste my time and the precious time of the expedition speaking of such drivel? Do not ask? Simply act." He felt the winds of magic again, this time around his neck. "Now."

"Yes, m'lady." Vacus nodded, all too eager to make himself scarce in the face of the furious sorceress.

As Lilaeth continued to sit there, she put a long fingernail to her lip before she hummed to herself. "Perhaps I should thank these necromancers for granting me the excuse to leave Naggarond and sample the more…exotic pleasures in life. Perhaps your incompetence has born fruit for me to stimulate myself with, worm. Also, straighten your back before I feed you to Hydra. It is a ravenous beast you see, and footrests like you are cheap."

The noble did as he was asked and tried to ignore the pain in his neck, face, shoulders, back, and knees. After all, pain was temporary, and death was eternal, and he wasn't quite ready to greet it yet. What truly frightened him, however, was that in the dark elves case, the opposite of what he thought might truly be the case, making him wonder if that was ample punishment for participating in this slave trade scheme from the Lady.

If that truly was the case, even a man who quite literally sold peasants to such cruel creatures wondered why his Goddess had to forsake all these people, including him.

…

A/N:
Decided to make a back to back chapter this time because my motivation called for it. Will write the next chapter of Eight Peaks Royale next, but I just wanted to belt this one out while I had the motivation to do so and give some more progress to the story. Next chapter will primarily be about Lyle and the Barrow Legion fully committing to their campaign in Parravon and seeing how it will go, as well as a revisiting with what in the hell is going on with Grom and Yasmine and the situation they're now forced to be in.

Also I forgot to mention, but my story has reached the milestone of over 90,000 views all thanks to you guys! We've come a long way since 2021 and I appreciate all the love and motivation you've all given me over the years! And I can promise you that I'll see this story until its conclusion! I owe you all that much!

On another note, some interesting news, I'm finishing up some voice acting classes that I've been taking for this past year and a half and I'm hoping that once I get the money together I can start a demo and do some freelance voice acting to help get more money in the bank. It'll go a long way in helping get my book published. Just some insight on my life that I wanted to give you guys.

Other than that, please keep reviewing and telling me your thoughts. Lemme know what you think about this chapter and everything going forward!