Chapter 53: The Oathkeeper

Armon

Deep within Asley Manor Armon’s consciousness stirred. The wraith had been in a form of hibernation in order to preserve the Undeath Resonance in the area. A powerful and fully sentient monster Armon had elected to enter such a state once he had realized Lady Asley could animate almost a hundred zombies for almost ninety years at the cost of keeping him awake for a measly two days.

The fact that he could feel the tiny spark of his awareness blooming back to full strength and his wraith form flowing into the full body suit of plate armor he had worn in life could only mean one thing. It was the same thing it had meant when he had last awoken three decades before, or the time fifteen years before that, or the time before that, or before that. Someone skilled or clever enough to make it to the manor house itself was trespassing on his lady’s grounds.

His fusion with the armor was now complete Armon stretched, but it didn’t help. Maybe it was the centuries of being dead, or perhaps it was this his physical form was now made of metal. Either way, Armon had a stiffness to him that no amount of work could loosen.

If he could frown at himself he would have. There was no point in thinking about irrelevancies like his own personal discomfort. Armon had a job to do and an oath to keep. As was always the case when he awoke Armon found himself in a dark stone tomb that acted as the honorbound crypt for Armon and his brother knights in the service of Lady Asley.

It lacked the grandiose nature and sprawling carved walls of the Honor’s Rest sepulchure; One of the few places from his life that he could remember clearly. Yet the crypt was a fine shrine to Armon, his brother knights, and the oath they shared to defend this place and its lady.

A small bust of how each of the three men had appeared in life stood before a standing sarcophagus and each knight’s sword and suit of plate mail hung suspended on a rack in the approximation of a human being. Except of course for Armon’s suit which he was presently inhabiting.

Approximating a deep breath Armon extended his recently awoken perception along the twisting lines of Undeath Resonance that permeated the ground, the water, and even the air around the manor.

There was a sizable gap missing from the web of actively woven Resonance that powered the various defensive monsters of Asley Manor. Armon concentrated harder bringing the web into greater focus within the swirling energies that acted as his mind. Someone had destroyed the groundskeeper. Not defeated and then bypassed as had happened on occasion before. If that were the case the web would already be pouring Resonance into the massive bone golem’s body to resurrect the creature.

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No, the monster had been destroyed. If the wraith had to guess that meant someone had turned the groundskeeper into a Card. That was unusual, yes more often than not the people who trespassed within his lady’s domain were Deck wielders. None before had been able to turn an Undead monster into a Card.

‘Their Dealer was designed for Undeath Resonance? How odd.’ It was the only explanation that made sense to the wraith, but he was still surprised by the conclusion. In both his entire life and the centuries since Armon had only ever encountered one Deck with Undeath Resonance, and that was the Lady Asley’s.

If he could have sighed he would have. Armon knew he should have expected this eventually, it was the impossible and escalating nature of his oath. He was sworn to defend the lady for as long as she lived and despite everything she was most assuredly alive. Honestly, that was the problem; Reality abhorred when a living being interacted with Undeath Resonance, even more so when that being had the Resonance flowing through their Life Essence.

The unnatural nature of the Resonance of the dead being handled by its very antithesis inevitably built up Doom. The invisible and barely interactable Resonance was considered by many to be the opposite of Luck. The reading Armon had done in life suggested it was more like a gap in the natural order of things that slowly widened until the offending person fell through it.

He could not separate his lady from the Undeath Resonance, and he could not stop the Doom build-up. The only thing Armon could do was give his all to defeat the threats to his lady as they came. One day the sheer amount of Doom would draw an opponent he had no hope of defeating, or perhaps unleash some natural disaster on the manor. If that day was today the wraith knight would face his destruction with blade in hand and heart light with knowledge he had done all a man could do and more to keep his oath.

Throwing the cloak that was really an ethereal part of his ghostly form over one shoulder Armon offered a nod to his sleeping brother and stalked up the stone stairs out of the little crypt. As he moved the wraith extended his awareness once more, but this time he added a tiny portion of the Undeath Resonance that fueled him mixed with his own will.

When the fused Resonance touched the web of energy that connected the Undead defenders, it was absorbed by the greater Resonance system. Though it was no longer connected to Armon he was still aware of the tiny portion of himself. It was riding along the flowing helixes of invisible Resonance throughout the manor.

Room to room the little spark or resonance carried Armon’s will and command to the numerous undead monsters that were in various states of hibernation within the structure. First, it flowed through the rooms and halls of the first floor, then shot directly to the attic, and out onto the grounds. Next, it took a twisting route back into the manor, eventually entering every room of the huge building and finally the huge greenhouse that dominated the hidden courtyard at the manor’s heart.

In its journey, the spark of fused Resonance encountered dozens of the monsters it was seeking delivering to each the same simple command.

“Rise, Rise, and defend your home.”