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Chapter 8 - Grave Intention

Blightreign sat and watched his flesh regenerate and cover the wounds he had sustained. That was certainly something new, but definitely appreciated. He wondered if his strength was increasing the more followers he attained, or whether he was just getting more used to his new body. Was it a new body, or had he always been this way?

“Troops are ready, sir,” Earnest, the fallen Paladin stated, with a little half-bow.

Much like all the undead he had raised previously, Earnest had nothing bad to say about the situation - indeed he was almost thankful that the death knight had brought him back from the grave. It seemed like the more powerful you were in life, the greater control and ability you had as a risen corpse. This suited Blightreign, and he had delegated the task of watching over the basic zombies to his new second-in-command.

Three zombies and one chaos dwarf had been lost in the skirmish, with the dire wolves and giant bear taking some superficial damage but nothing that would affect them long-term. In addition to the paladin, he had been able to raise six foot soldiers and two arcane users. On seeing the might of the death knight the chaos dwarves had outfitted all their troops with the odd rifles, and let him take a few more fighters - fifteen riflemen in total.

Most remarkably, in the brief time they had spent resting and feasting on the bodies that couldn’t be risen, none of the zombies had made the mention of the union rules. He wondered whether this was due to an increased control over the will of the shamblers, or if he was starting to win them over purely on competent charisma alone. It didn’t seem to matter either way.

“Earnest, prepare the warband. We head out towards the castle while the moon is still high.”

“As you wish, my lord.” The fallen paladin nodded again, before turning to bark orders at the undead milling around.

Blightreign couldn’t help but feel there was something missing. He had his glut of supportive followers, which was increasing the more great acts he accomplished. There was definitely the point of always being more powerful than whatever he had to face. But there was an element of charm that had been an empty void since he… awoke. The elated mixture of confused metaphor, the flowery whimsy of being the top dog that everyone adored, or even just the playful cynicism of a close friend.

He did have a close friend at some point, right? It had something to do with the name that hurt his brain. Something from the before, whatever that was. The undead around him were pretty peachy, easy enough to talk to - non-judgmental, and the bear was comfortable to snuggle up against. But it was different, as if his unlife had a different tone to it, the prose more grounded and realistic.

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Shaking his head, he found himself atop the bear once more as the troop trudged their way through another section of sparse woodland. Thoughts kept his mind busy, and avoided the reality of the situation. What did he plan to do at the castle again? Surely at this point, there would be no bending the knee. Even the prospect of trying to renegotiate whatever union terms were in place seemed futile, or beneath the station he had now clambered to.

He had started an army, a small one for sure, but it had come easy to him - effortless even. All he needed to do was kill, and the thankful corpses would follow his cause till their second graves. There was still a bite in the back of his skull reminding him to only kill bad guys.

As the night’s moon waned, making an escape to the horizon, that is when they first saw it. The castle. Off in the distance, perched high enough up the end of a pointed cliff to almost comically entice someone with big enough boots to come to kick it off. Blightreign had modestly sized boots to match his average height, but enough ego to make up for it. That strangely felt cathartic to say, but he shuddered regardless.

“Mistress will undoubtedly be watching our approach, my lord.” Earnest looked up from beside the bear, his long white hair matted with dirt and blood. “How would you like us to approach?”

The death knight paused to consider before responding. “We will need to rest somewhere for the night, I would like to approach during dusk. Nothing sneaky or disingenuous, straight up the path to knock on the door.”

“I… used to know some of this area,” the fallen paladin furrowed his brow, “There should be an abandoned farm a short distance from here - the barns should provide ample cover.”

“Very well,” Blightreign nodded his thanks.

The journey to the farmhouse was thankfully relatively peaceful. Apparently, the marching of the growing group was enough to scare off any would-be predators, monsters, or opportunistic bandits. It was almost a shame to not have any additional friends to add to the warband - but it stood to reason that this close to the necromancer’s castle there would be a lot more vigilance to any attempts of undeading things.

He took guard duty at the door of the biggest barn where most of the living dead took their rest. The chaos dwarfs and wolves in another - something about the smell, which didn’t both Blightreign. Not that guarding was typically necessary, but there was something about the scalding sunlight that reminded the death knight of different times. He pictured himself standing atop a pile of foes, yelling a barbaric cry as he wielded his sword, and onrushing creatures heading straight for their doom. It was almost tangible how vivid that was, which was uncomfortable in his mind.

Lost in his thoughts, the sun soon made a pass over the skyline and began sinking back to the other side of the planet. The slightly cooler dusk air still had a humidity to it that slowly faded as the troops gathered together. As one they began the march to the castle.

As the moon rose, plotting the passage of time as they covered the distance, there began a slight incline to their trip. A winding road grew out from the thankless earth as they rose in elevation - the large castle looming before them.

At the top of a cliff that jut from the ground as if risen from the grave itself, the group of undead stopped as Blightreign knocked on the grotesquely large arched door.

A brief moment of silence passed before the door started to creak open.