Lonely Mountains
She could see them. The crest of the bladed hand was carried by the bannermen as the warriors of Rust Irons continued their march. Delica just finished her summoning and was waiting for her mana to regenerate. Sitting on Maxilla's shoulder was very comforting that Delica didn't asked to be let down. The moss acting as cushions was so thoughtful of Maxilla and the view was just right for her. It's not because she was lazy. Definitely not.
Being conscious of the time, and since she has finished preparing, she tried sensing Acromion's group tailing the Army from behind, but her focus shifted more on the thousand base-tier warriors. According to Aiven's analysis, they were roughly 60-80 levels. Leading the army was a small cavalry that has higher levels going as far as 1st tier 10-30 levels. And at front was their leader, Sir Roginn of House Oreindr, a Tartaros Warrior, just a few levels lower than their Father's title.
They seem more serious and cautious. The typical roar and war cry that they have been spewing a while ago was gone. Probably since they were alerted with her little fiasco earlier. They already know she was here, but that was not what she should be concerned about. This was the moment she needed to protect her master. She has placed Master Maou-chan in this dangerous position just to get her soul back, so it was only fair that she finish this as quickly as possible.
They were just humans. And they dare to fight her Master? The Demon Lord? Hah! Even if Delica was just newly rebirth, she was nonetheless a servant. Cleaning up was part of her duty.
Kill them. Kill them all.
In time. All in due time.
Like an ill omen, black circles of clouds appeared overhead and the Bronze Army stopped as they witness the compilation of miasma from across the other side of their path for the first time. The whirling emotions from her familiars who were left behind have amassed so much dark energy that it almost become solid a black mesh of dreadful fumes.
And in that dark fog, her [Undead Familiars] have appeared, all kneeling infront of her. It seems they made it just in time. Even Maxilla kneeled, so Delica now sits just at their eye level.
Their dignified and intimidating aura made her proud. They were so adorable! It needs all her strength not to run and pet each and everyone of them! Aya, so fluffy and cute!
Actually she didn't need to because the moment she signaled them to stand, Ulna went infront of her and placed both her palms on Delica's shoulder, she exclaimed, "Mistress! were you all right? Is something hurting?! Those vermin!"
Distal was also teary-eyed as he struggled to hold his bastard sword in place. Radius was beside him patting him between his bunny ears. The other lesser class Undead continued huddling, wanting so bad to see a glimpse of their mistress but was suppressed, not wanting to crowd their mistress. Only three of the Undead Generals were present.
Acromion, head of Left Arm Unit, was assigned for pincer. Lacrimal, head of Skull Unit, was in the manor supervising the Serpent Vent.
So only Ulna, Lamina and Tarsus were standing before Delica. Lamina breathed out a sign of relief, steams started settle down. While Tarsus' crossed his bulky arms, head smugly jutted out as if saying 'I told you so," to his companions.
"I'm fine Ulna. I have Maxilla with me." And the Forest Elven bowed towards Ulna, not trying to stand since it'll be rude with Delica and Ulna's on-going conversation so she continued acting as Delica's chair. The Familars looked tense, obviously due to the excessive blood lust they have shared when they were informed that Delica could be in harm's way. Now that the cause of their worry was appeased, they were now directing all of it towards their enemy.
Just a glance, and they could tell that the Bronze Banner were made of three battalions, led each by platoons. Their formation was segmented. The forest was not a good place to create tactical formation due to many obstacles and visual hindrances, still a rough column could be made out of the warriors. With the outer columns made into smaller files. These files were then turned. The front faces ahead, the sides faces alternately from left to right, and the back were reversed. Even with the appearance of Ulna and the others didn't deter their formations. A well thought battle formation.
Delica placed her hand on Maxilla's shoulder and the Elven Undead raised in her full height. She activated her rune communicator, "Aiven, what do you think?"
And only on a phrase was heard from the earring, "
Hah, so it came to this. She was never a person for violence or war, but she was enjoying this, how sad that little Aiven opted for a more peaceful way out. Oh well, that can be fixed.
Smiling innocently, Delica made a simple announcement to the House Oreindr, making her voice unnaturally loud for them to hear. Her voice traveled far that even the rear guards were able to understand her words, "Mortals! Give me your King, er, your Herald! Herald of Rust-Irons Bronze! Or face us to your death!"
Silence. Then all of the warriors started shouting some curses and threatening her in ways too shallow, it didn't registered in her ears. Just like insects. Don't misunderstand, her psyche just became really tone down when she was dealing with mortals. Aside from her brothers, Aiven and Simos, her empathy turns off whenever she has to interact with them.
The lead platoon didn't budge, not giving any indication to answer her demands.
Sighing she said, "It's getting noisy," and then she used a spell. Immediately, magic circles appear from about 50 Bronze Warrior at the outskirts of their army and with a deadly smirk, she activate the circles. The warriors burst into meat and flesh and from their innards came a lone undead skeleton. The surrounding warriors became pale but living up to their class, they started fighting the skeletons. The others who were far away to do anything was forced to cluster closer at the center, not understanding what happened as screams and sounds of battle came from all direction. The warriors in the center were clueless until reports came.
Their head platoon was suddenly bombarded with different reports. For a still-breathing man to be turned into an Undead, that kind of spell was near impossible and was never been heard of! They can't gauge the level of their enemy or even estimate the range of her spell.
Actually, Delica just made a normal summon, she had already placed the circles beforehand so she could activate them even with the distance. But the only difference was, she made them materialized in the space inside the unlucky warriors' body, disguising the spell and giving a more pinpoint terror to their enemies.
Also, because the report flooded the Bronze, they weren't able to filter the appearance of a hostile group of undead which started to attack from the rear.
And so, the Bronze Personal Army decided to attack Delica, thinking they outnumber her 10 to 1.
Yea, that's it. Arrogance is the bane of weakly humans. It is because they were so weak, that the taste of power blinds them oh so easily. Making them rejoice first before they despair is so much fun!
Before they could reach the minimum spell range, Delica raised her hand and from the dense forest behind her, skeletons of a thousand or more emerged. As if sensing the living, they rushed towards their direction, bones clanging in every movement. The skeletons were moving in a speed that made the Bronze archers halt in their position, and waited until the skeletons was closer. Mages were a line behind them and the spears settled in the front. The warriors combat in sword didn't stopped their advance. Then with a signal they fire holy attributed arrows. Expecting the incoming undead skeletons which was the common summons of liches, they have set their plans into place.
Rains of arrow hit their mark and penetrated the first move of Delica. The skeletons were being shot down one after another. Then came the clash of swords from the warriors. The arrows didn't stopped. After all, the arrow's hit point was purposely low so it can be easily deflected by the armors used by the Rust Irons. But its holy effects were still potent for the undead.
Looking at it, the Undead Skeleton posed no great threat to the Rust Irons. They were mowed over time. But instead of getting alarmed, Delica watched the battle unfold with discerning eyes. When the skeleton warriors were halved, the posed Lich called the cavalry next. Dullahans, horsemen with empty helms were positioned in three lines each, encompassing the whole battle field. And with the drop of her arm, the horsemen sweep through the forest, bringing forth a single blow to the warriors who stand in the battle. Those at the back however was quick to change their equipment to a spear. With one warrior, hoisting the spear, another using strengthening to hold the butt of the spear on the ground, it pierced the horses galloping in their direction. The Headless Warrior who was unhorsed immediately reduced in stats and was easily cut down.
Those that were able to pass the warriors were welcomed by the spearmen who were stationed to protect the Archers and Mages. Some Dullahans were able to leap passed, but while still in mid-air, the mages released a burst of holy and fire magic.
Delica hasn't deployed any of her Familiars, they were getting excited but they didn’t dare air their desire to fight. Their Mistress will give the order. It was just a matter of time.
Then as if in trance, Delica stepped down on Maxilla and kneeled on the ground, her hands pressing on the dirt. A glow of light appeared beneath her and suddenly dark mist permeates the ground. The reason they needed to claim the summit was because of this. A fissure from the Serpent Vent was aligned exactly where she stand. With Lacrimal's help, the one overseeing the Main Vent under the Sila-ir Manor, they were able to deduce its existence and she then used Maxilla to locate the point. It's a small opening, but it'll be able to power her for a while. She's trying to get a feel of the fissure when suddenly, it gotten bigger.
Eeeih? What is happening?
The small crevice opened up as if forcibly being rip apart. The excess dark mana overflowed and covered the battlefield where the fallen has littered then in an instant, the corpses began to raise. Her skeleton army were revived. The whole forest was covered with dark miasma and the closer the warriors got to Delica's position, the thicker it become that it already gives a negative status on their health. Delica's mana became full and she can't stop but laugh in glee.
Holy arrows turned to any magic arrows that was in their disposal, until it dwindles to normal ones. The battle continued as the second battalion engaged the undead. They fought brilliantly, that she can praised, but the terrain's effect has been greatly altered with the second opening of the serpent vent in the Lonely Mountains. Futile. They all will be exterminated.
When the arrows stopped, the spearmen were given orders to move. The archers disregarded their bows and crossbows and suddenly let out their short sword and shield as they step infront of the mages. They will be on stand-by until they resupply their armaments. But that would never happen. Acromion's unit have already encompassed the supply wagons of the whole campaign, cutting off their war potentials entirely.
It was in actuality a normal strategy, the deposed archers were automatically assigned guards to mages the moment their main weapon was exhausted. This means, they were ready to use their main force. Magic.
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Delica spoke for the first time at the start of the battle. "Make this quick, nee?"
""We hear and obey!"" And they moved out. As soon as they said their words, a whole battalion of Blood Corpses, Undead Knights and Armored Cadaver, twice the number of the entire Bronze army, and the remaining three squadron of Dullahans appear from the forest.
The House of Oreindr, cloaked in Rust-Iron Bronze Banner would fall, there was no denying this fact.
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It was a nightmare. A hellish nightmare descended upon the House Oreindr. The Trusted of Sir Roginn, has pleaded for a retreat but the current Herald stand on his ground.
Despair engulfed his men the very moment a massive wave of undead clustered and centered on them. In terms of power, they have the upper hand, but the enemies' numbers were staggering. And there were a number of beings on par to monsters which has been slaughtering the lot of them. The few Undead that they thought was placed as obstacle for them to cross, became a towering wall that could instantly crush them. Facing his fate, he fought, and slashed at the ugliness the future waits for him. He didn't care if his own people deserted him, he would even be grateful if they did, in that case they might find a way to live in Frear.
Sir Roginn, he was the only one left of the Oreindr Banner that still held its name. A meaningless existence. He was still young for a Banner's Herald, he could have another heir if he so wished. Grey rakish hair that complements his brown eyes, and strong jawlines. The few wrinkles that etched its way on his brows and eyes, gave a mature serene bearing. Any noble lady would still find him attractive. But after his wife's death, there was no more glint or hope that can be reflected on his eyes, giving a strong impression for anyone to see that he has given up on life. And now, even his son, Telmar, was dead. No more can his house survive. For Sir Roginn, it was already too late, and he was too tired. He just wanted a respite, to breathe, or maybe to sleep?
Too bad, he thought at the recesses of his mind, he would have made a great grandfather. He has always liked children you see. Little ones who could just...he sighed. So innocent and pure. The world don't deserve them.
And he has just buried all of his.
His warhorse plodded on the bones that almost became part of the background of this graveyard they call battlefield. Their enemies fall and rise while his men gradually slip away to their end.
Silently, he heaved his stallion. And at the top of his horse' mane was a girl. Seated casually as if her weight don't bother the gentle animal.
"Are you Sir Roginn?" She meekly asked, her maize-colored hair adorns her petite and lovely face. And as if reading his mind, she smiled as if glad to find something she has been looking for awhile. His voice never caught up in response when the surrounding suddenly turned pitch black.
At this abyss, was only the two of them? His bloodied sword and armor still stuck to him, while the unarmed little girl cutsied daintily. She wore a lady's dress of frills and ribbons themed with red and black, the hem was intricately lined with laces of fleur-de-lis. He can't help but compare her to a doll. As pretty and as lifeless as a doll.
"I am Delica, an undying Lich. It is nice to finally meet you."
It was a realm he was not familiar with so he was cautious, not only that, the careless and clumsy introduction gave a disquiet feeling of superiority. As if anything he does would be seen as pointless. Since she was not threatening him, he lowered his sword.
"I am Roginn of House Oreindr, under the Flag of Arvalar, it's been a long time young Delica, " he answered in response to her formality.
"Hm? You know my shadow?"
"You were betrothed to my youngest...once."
"Betrothal?! I never heard of it from this shadow's father."
"Of course, it was only to appease the growing animosity to his neighbors. If I am not mistaken, he also made an offer to the Timberwolf."
"I see, nothing less from this' Father." The little girl sighed then continued, "But sir, you don't seem surprised to see me as a Lich though."
Roginn raised an eyebrow, "With Reculus as your kin? I wouldn't be surprised if his entire clan clawed the very earth just to kill him. Actually, I was wondering why it took this long for one to do so. You must have suffered greatly, little one."
Delica was taken aback by the honest warmth on his voice, "Ah, that's--*cough* that's because of his hired necromancer, I mean, to clear the growing negative mana. But enough of that dear Sir. I want to ask you something, if you wouldn't mind."
Roginn sighed and gently sheathed his sword, "Since I am in a time capsule, I guess I have no choice."
"Eh? You knew?" Roginn pointed down and Delica could see marks on the ground, though it was also coated in black material. Scratches, from the sword he had lowered. "Ohoh, splendid! You must have coated the tip with your own capsule for me not to notice."
"But yours is stronger. So what it is you want to ask?" If he was not mistaken then that means, the world outside has slowed so much it seems that it stopped. This spell could only last for a nanosecond, but for those in the capsule, it'll feel like hours. Great for torture, very useful for her class, he thinks. But when the spell ends, they'll be back in the Lonely Mountains. But to think he would actually meet a polite Lich.
"Well, um, were you aware that Reculus is dead?"
"Yes."
"Then why still bring your army to fight me?"
"This is bigger than a petty revenge."
"Petty? My father tricked your house! He took your daughter, and placed in a whorehouse in guise of her death! She wasn't just stripped of dignity, even her name, her banner, was--"
"I am well aware of that." And took a deep breathe, "He took dear Gunnier."
It was something he would never forgive himself. He was still broken from the thought of letting his wife planned the whole matchmaking. That silly silly girl. But alas, she loved their daughter and was only thinking of what was best. If only they knew.
And when he finally found her--maybe fate was finding happiness in his torture, she was so small, so helpless and naked in his own men's quarters.
His very own soldiers.
A sudden 'gift' from 'unknown' benefactor. He has to put down thirty of his officers. Not just those who touched her, but also those who witness the act. And just when he thought his family was complete, his wife who couldn't bear the truth soon followed ill, and his beautiful girl, killed herself. Poor dear child.
"Poor old man," Delica murmured.
Roginn just smiled and patted the young Lich. Delica don't know what to do that she wasn't able to push the friendly hand before it was taken back by Sir Roginn, "If you wanted to know why I am here, then you should ask the Cessine Regalia." Delica made a quizzical look and Sir Roginn continued, "The High King has commanded my House to subjugate the Undead plaguing the Canary."
"I see, they--they cannot sent their forces when the majority of the nobles and high ranks were in the Cessine Castle for the festivities."
Instead of aiding the Sila-ir, the High King tightened the security around his castle and with the Lion Gold already on the move, his Superiors didn't see any reason to divide their forces. Who knows, maybe this was just a diversion from that stupid rebels. After all, the rebels just infiltrated the Royal House Regalia.
"And for the House Oreindr, it was an opportunity to reclaim our honor."
"But, but if you hated Father so much, why did you agree for me to be your child's fiancé? It's unheard of!"
He had the very same thought when that filth came with such a ludicrous offer. Expressing graciousness so easily as if nothing happened, even if the bastard was well aware he was after his neck. But Roginn has no choice but to swallow it all. Knowing the system, there was no way for him, a knighthood banner title, could demand persecution to a Gold. He had tried for years but it was impossible especially when the lady in question has been considered dead for the past years. You cannot pass judgment on a wrongdoing done to a person that don't exist anymore. Presenting her body, would likely just place the insult deeper into their Banner. He wanted to avoid that at all cost. His daughter has suffered enough already.
Sir Roginn studied Delica carefully and with a soft defeated smile that aged him greatly, he confessed, "I guess, I wanted to save you." The way I wasn't able to with my Gunnier, "you might not know this, but I was there when you were a child, when my daughter was still your step mother. She would write letters of you. Of how friendly and warm you are. She was really...taken by you."
"But I don't...remember her." A flash of guilt that was easily faded came to her eyes. So far her expression has been calculated, almost scripted, but this one came as a surprise even to her.
"You are still just a babe, it is common. If you married, you would have been part of Rust-Iron House--of her and my Banner, and I think my daughter would have want that."
"But that's impossible now."
"Yes, impossible."
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"Mistress Delica, is everything okay?" Lamina reached out to her, only to be faced with a dazed look from her High Mistress.
Shaking her head slightly, her expression unreadable, she whispered, "nothing, nothing is wrong."
On Delica's lap was a head, the cranium was open, and on the exposed brain were tiny pins moving on its own. Delica moved her hand slightly, taking another pin from the opened [Undead Grimoire], her hand slide halfway inside the pages. At the tip was a small magic circle. Three other pins were already in place and when she inserted the fourth one, the expression of the head begun to contort in pain.
Grey blood-muddied hair that complements the listless brown eyes. Attached to the head was the exposed lungs and heart still palpitating and heaving through her magic, forcing the brain to stay active.
She was squatted on the ground, the head was carefully handled that she didn't mind the blood already being soaked in her red dress.
The forest has been razed to the ground--as far as the eye could see, due to the volley of magic from each sides and all around her were her familiars walking around methodically, checking for any survivors who might be feigning death.
The air of miasma comforted her.
"Lamina, let's stay for a while. I still--I still want to talk to him." She said, her eyes focused in a faraway place that only she could see.
"Understood, My Mistress."
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On the far side was Maxilla, her hand was covering her eyes. She was casting illusion magic with Incus' help, another Seafolk, one of the favorite of Lacrimal from Skull Unit. On the command central, they could only see Delica and the Rust Irons Herald talking in the Bronze tent, maybe it was just a trick of the mind, but there was also teen standing proudly beside the Herald, too young to be a commander.
It was a last minute request from Delica, not wanting Aiven to see what she actually plans to do. Afterall, a proper lady needs to keep up appearances.
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