“Those are the strangers…” Zigisma pointed ahead of the long dirt road. After a week of relatively peaceful march, Agrianos’ allied army received reports that there was a small warband encamped on the road towards the Undead Front.
Though they weren’t undead, their identities were unknown so the army was wary about the mysterious warband.
“I know those banners,” Agrianos said as he studied the warband from afar. The unknown soldiers looked like a group of people the drones were already familiar with, except they all wore orange cloaks and tunics. “Those are Vyssians.”
The warband also noticed the massive army approaching so they sent a group to greet them. A horseman surrounded by heavily armed Vyssians waved his axe with a big smile, exuding a wave of cheerfulness which went over the heads of the drones. The horseman shouted, “Ho, Rhanks! It’s already off-raiding season so it’s a bit too late to let yourself be plundered by us! Bwahahahaha!”
After a minute long laugh, Agrianos sighed and replied, “Greetings, Vyssian. Are you also here because of the call to arms?”
“Of course! It’ll be hard-pressed for me to ignore the invitation to beat in some demonic foes worthy enough to get me a saga of my own!” the Vyssian said and laughed loudly again. “You must be Archpriest Agrianos of… erm… Cathedral of Saint Socks?”
“Saint Sallus, mind you,” Agrianos corrected.
“Aye! That place! Never raided it before, so I couldn’t remember it well!” the Vyssian nodded heartily. He then turned towards Exarchi and pointed out, “And you’re also Vyssian, right?”
“They’re from the north of Vyssia,” Agrianos said.
“Are they now? The rumors are muddled so it’s hard to tell who’s right and who’s wrong, but if me wife says they’re from Vyssia, then they’re from Vyssia, you see? Methinks that’s a good way to live a long life!” the Vyssian replied while nodding at his own profound knowledge.
“Our operations mostly lie within Sea’axfeared territories and Northeast Rhankia,” Exarchi explained.
“Ah! I get it. Sea’axfeared, huh? So you’re the lot who took a huge slice of the pie and ate it in one go! It’s an honor to meet you northmen! I’m Oyuf af Kentfeared,” the Vyssian introduced himself.
“Kentfeared?”
“Aye, me lad! We’re Marcher Lord buddies!” Oyuf smiled.
Exarchi shook his head and clarified, “We’re not from Sea’ax.”
“Well, it’s still good enough for me.”
Agrianos coughed, interrupting the two. “Oyuf af Kentfeared, was it? I’d like to know what you are doing encamped here, if Humanos allows you to answer, that is.”
“I’m trying to reach the Undead Front, but by Humanos, me lads and I are lost! It ain’t me fault, though, I can tell you that. We’ve never been here before,” Oyuf answered.
“It’s a given. A searing is a once-in-a-lifetime ordeal,” Agrianos said. “I am slightly aware of where we are going, and King Zigisma here is well-versed in the geography of the frontlines.”
“A Zigisian, huh?” Oyuf turned to the stern-looking king and greeted, “O chook-chook yu!”
Zigisma frowned and pointed at the Vyssian, “Archpriest, tell that man that he just called me a sack of chickens.”
“Oyuf, I think your Zigisian is a bit off,” Agrianos sighed.
“Is it now? Well, that doesn’t matter to me! What matters is that he gets me to the front! I heard one of the castles down at… south is under attack, which is why I’m here in the first place.”
“It’s under attack? It’ll be disastrous if any castles fall to the undead!” Agrianos gasped.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Exarchi mechanically turned his head towards Agrianos and asked, “Why? Can’t we just take it back?”
Agrianos coughed as if he was spitting blood. “Assaulting a fort at such a far-off region with limited resources is bad enough, we can’t even starve the undead out of the castles either! In other words, every ground lost is a ground permanently lost to the enemies of humanity.”
Exarchi didn’t react as if nothing computed for him.
“Ah, but with you Varangians… it might actually be possible…” Agrianos muttered with a raised eyebrow.
“Archpriest Agrianos, what’s going on? We should get moving now,” Zigisma impatiently interrupted. After a quick relay of information, Zigisma frowned even harder than before. “We need to move south before the undead could strike first!”
Agrianos raised his hand and said, “Calm yourself, King. There are many bastions of our faith down south, so we’re not even sure which of the castles are undead attack.”
“Still…”
The archpriest turned to Oyuf and asked, “Do you know side the undead are concentrated in?”
“Nay, Archpriest. We just know it’s southwards. If we’ve without a choice, we’ll just have to check every one of them.” Oyuf shrugged.
“Then we’ll continue our original plan. My army will be going towards the closest fort, The Martyr's Rest. Will you join us, Oyuf af Kentfeared?”
“Aye, aye! Let’s get this lot moving!”
“Then it’s settled. King Zigisma, we’ll set ourselves up at The Martyr’s Rest, but you’ll have to send scouts to the other forts to find out about their situation,” Agrianos suggested.
“I can agree with that, Archpriest.” Zigisma nodded.
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The once green expanse were trampled underfoot by a swarm of undead, trying to push into a dull gray castle. Various streams of fire snaked across groups of undead, incinerating them into ashes. From atop the castle’s defences, men clad in a mix of chain and scale armor stood their ground against the undead horde.
Balls of corpses fell from the sky, but were stopped short by an invisible barrier which protected the stone castle. At the center of the castle was a burning tree, its smoke melting away into the shield as if it was fuel to the invisible barrier. Despite the seemingly dire situation, men calmly tended to the burning tree like there was nothing going on over the wall.
“Keep the idol of Humanos aflame, men. The undead will retreat soon enough,” a shirtless burly man shouted.
“As usual, Lord Warden. Though, they always return after a few days of respite,” a soldier commented.
“I wouldn’t say that. It’s been a month since they started attacking so they should start running out of corpses to throw at us. So far, we’ve only lost six valiant warriors,” the Lord Warden stated as he crossed his arms. “Look, they’ve started throwing dead birds at us! The desperate fools!”
Just as he pointed it out, a murder of black and bloodied birds flew overhead, trying to smash against the invisible shield. Handfuls of pebbles were thrown into the air by mages, scattering into tiny pieces which shredded the cloud-like swarm of undead birds.
“Enemies of humanity! I laugh at your feeble attempts!”
“Behold! The might of the living!”
“My grandmother is a bigger threat than all of you, creatures!”
The mages standing on the walls taunted the undead who could barely get close. Although the undead horde could fill an entire valley all by themselves, they still couldn’t do anything about the constant stream of arcane magic being thrown at them.
The Lord Warden moved from the courtyard and onto the ramparts, humming to himself. He groaned with confusion and said, “The creatures are more relentless today. What’s got them so riled up?”
A group of zombies marched forward, attempting to stack each other against the walls, but they were repulsed with magic as if a strong wind blew them away. Spider-like creatures used bows to snipe the mages on the wall, but again, the humans simply used magic to counter them from afar.
Whenever a mage got tired, another one replaced him. As such, the courtyard was just filled with men resting, trying to conserve their energy as much as possible. Other than the holy warriors, there were also normal folk who attended to their needs and do menial tasks such as moving weapons or cooking.
An old man went up to the rampart to give the Lord Warden a jug of water. Like the warriors, he didn’t feel a tinge of fear as he saw the sea of corpses trying to get close to the castle.
“How’s the food situation?” the Lord Warden asked.
“It is still fine, Lord Warden. But, do you really have no idea why there wasn’t a shipment of supply from the borderlands?” the old man replied.
The Lord Warden shook his head with an uneasy look on his face. “It’s impossible for the borderlands to be attacked by the undead as they are still held at the gates of humanity.”
“Then… could it be the kojans?”
“No. I don’t think so.” The Lord Warden groaned and spat on the floor. “The troubles will come to pass, I believe. Humanos will not abandon us.”
“Humanos guides us,” the old man said and bowed.
Just as the Lord Warden turned back to the undead swarm, his eyes widened. The horde of zombies split itself into two, revealing a wheeled machine pushed by undead humans. Its designs were dull; a simple long black metallic box on four wooden wheels, but its presence was immensely intimidating.
“What in the name of Humanos is that?!”