One does not lead an army from a comfortable chair sipping tea. A true general leads from the front and is covered in the most blood and viscera.

~Cernunnos, Lord of the Wild Things

Niall spat out blood and placed his hand against his right side. Blood pumped from the hole gouged into it.

“Fucker,” he growled and slammed his broken ax down on the undead’s head. The ax blade had broken off hours ago, so he used it as a metal banded club. The wood was so heavily stained with blood and gore that it was hard to tell it was once a wooden haft.

Stepping back from the frontline, two large Druids stepped forward with massive shields about the size of a man. This was a unit that was specifically created to fight these undead monsters. They could keep the horde back with a shield wall while archers and warriors like Niall slowly obliterated the bastards.

Dipping his fingers into the wound, Niall found it wasn’t as deep as he thought. It was the corpse mana that was most concerning because each attack from the undead pushed that corrupted mana into his body. It wasn’t that big of a deal for a cultivator like Niall, as one night of cultivating would push it out. However, he’d already lost dozens of men to their infected wounds.

Rubbing some powder to staunch the bleeding, he stepped forward once more. Even with his cultivation level, his arm was starting to feel heavy from raising his broken ax and clubbing heads. Niall had lived a long time and seen and been involved in many wars, but nothing was as exhausting as fighting a relentless horde. He felt like he was trying to hold back a beast tide because even wounded, these dead things didn’t stop.

The shield-bearer next to him went down, and Nial stepped over him with his Shield glowing brightly. Blue light slid over his weapon like a sleeve, and then he swung horizontally. All the undead that tried to jump on the shield-bearer were cut in half felt the mana-infused broken ax. The force of the blow sent the body parts flying toward the horde like shrapnel. The six undead were killed instantly, and the resulting blowback killed another dozen. It created a sizeable gap around them. Niall quickly grabbed the boy—no, it was a woman’s arm and pulled her up.

“If you can still fight, grab your shield and get ready. If not, go back and get treated,” Niall commanded, not even taking the time to check on her condition. There was no time. He became a machine, slamming his weapon on enemy heads one after another. Conserving his mana only to rescue the men and women fighting around him.

Niall didn’t even notice there were no more enemies in front of him. Someone tapped on his shoulder, and he turned with his weapon held high.

“Sir!” The blood-covered soldier called out, breaking Niall’s trancelike state. “It’s done. We can clean up the rest.”

Niall just nodded, and his weapon disappeared into his Shield. The woman he saved earlier stayed at his side as he walked back toward camp. He glanced at her and knew it was the person he saved earlier. She had broad shoulders, big hands, handsome face—even if it was covered in blood and gore. She wasn’t one of his men, so he found it interesting she picked up a shield to guard his side.

“Speak,” Niall said, too tired to care about appropriate military jargon and rituals.

“Thirty-nine dead. Probably another dozen before the night is over. One of our assassins found a Witch Doctor and put him down. However, he thinks there might be two more around. Only a few pockets of the undead remain. They’ll be finished off before sundown. What are your orders?”

“Are you able to command them?”

“Yes. I’ve been appointed to be your… aide-de-camp.”

Niall gave her another look, surprised but not in a bad way. Anyone that could show up and step into a middle of a battle without missing a beat was worthy. She still had the curves of a woman, but Niall could see the muscles rippling beneath the soft appearing flesh. Based on her rough hands, he suspected she was more of a warrior than a shield-bearer.

“Gavin sent you then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Name?”

“Alys, daughter of Iceni.”

“Your clan is south of Oiche, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well,” Niall nodded wearily. “No man is allowed to rest until all the bodies are burned. Even our own. Record their names, deeds—you know the drill. But no one sleeps until those bodies are taken care of, especially if more Witch Doctors are out there. The last thing we need is an ambush while we sleep.” Niall said and continued walking. “Wait, tell the men to take ten minutes to clean their wounds and dress them appropriately, then start burning corpses. Any word on if headquarters managed to find us some people with an affinity toward fire? Digging these pits is slowing us down too much.”

“Other than your grandson, most Druids have an affinity toward Wood. They sent out emissaries to other Keystones.”

“For what purpose?”

“To propose an alliance.”

“Pfft, none of those assholes will agree. They all think the rumors are exaggerated. Any word on the Astrologers?”

“Hex Vodun overran their Keystone.”

“That…” Niall sighed. Astrologers came from the Platinum Isles. It was the only Keystone that wasn’t placed on a legitimate continent because they were an archipelago, so they were primarily seafaring people. However, their focus on astrology gave them a unique advantage of discovering some kind of ability that allowed them to teleport short distances.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

It wasn’t surprising they decided on a tactical retreat because their people were skirmish fighters. Niall doubted they had any decent defensive abilities among their people. The scariest thing about them was their teamwork and fighting ability. Facing a small group of them was terrifying, and Niall suspected they could sense each other, even while teleporting. It was why it was rare to see them fighting solo. These small fighting units were called Constellations, and they could kill people several ranks above their own. Even Niall would think twice about going up against one if their Shield levels weren’t far off from his.

Still, it was terrible news. Niall was in the southeastern region, more east than south, not far from the Astrologer’s Keystone. South of him was the Martial clan’s Keystone, which connected to the eastern continent.

The Keystone protected by the Astrologers was a strategic point, and Niall had been fighting toward it. Hoping to support them before the Hex Vodun reached them. Mountain’s stretched from the Basement’s eastern wall all the way into Skyfall. There was only one easy pass through those mountains, and the Astrologer’s Keystone was right in the center of that pass.

Without them in place, the Hex Vodun can push right on through to the south unhindered. That was troublesome because the next Keystone in their path belonged to the eastern continent. It was currently run by Xu Ke, which was Xu Chen’s father, and by all accounts, the man was a tyrant. He’d never—”

“Sir, they want you to approach the eastern continent’s Keystone with the intention of an alliance,” Alys said, and Niall’s jaw dropped open.

“Are they fucking kidding? Even if they agree, I won’t.”

“Sir, they sent this for your eyes only.” She handed over a letter. Looking at it curiously, Niall realized they sealed it with one of those knots that Crow had studied. “A drop of blood will unravel it if you are the intended recipient. If not, your blood will destroy it.”

“Huh.” Niall swiped his finger across the wound on his side and touched the knot with it. As it unraveled, he couldn’t help but admire the ingenuity. “Do you know who designed this?”

“I believe it was Sir Gavin.”

Niall nodded and read the short letter and laughed.

Negotiate with the eastern continent for an alliance. Fail, but don’t overdo it. ~Gavin

“Anything else?”

“Yes, but it’s not related to the war efforts.”

“Go ahead.”

“Luthais said Torcail reached out. Crow’s curse shouldn’t hinder his Shield trial anymore. Torcail believes your grandson will have to cultivate four times harder than others, but he shouldn’t have any bottlenecks. At all. Because of what the curse is doing, his foundation is going to be unshakable.”

“Hmph, good. That boy always worrying people. Is he really staying out of the war?”

“He has. He is currently west of Skyfall and heading south because Torcail recalled him. Whatever that man has planned for your grandson is about to start.”

“You work in intelligence, right? I know you aren’t just my aide-de-camp.”

“That…”

“It’s fine. I believe you are, and that’s all that matters. Not only that, but I’m guessing you are probably a Bard since your memory seems flawless. Don’t answer that either. Answer this. Do you think it’s a coincidence that all these forces are on the move at the same time? Torcail, Hex Vodun, and I’ve been hearing rumors of other powerful nations moving south. Am I overly sensitive?”

“I… think you should talk to Mugna or Gavin,” Alys said cautiously.

“Thank you for that,” Niall said, knowing that she was tacitly agreeing without compromising her own orders. “Alright, go give the men my orders. Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” Alys said and ran off to find the other officers.

Niall sat down at the closest fire, not caring whose it was, and stripped off his armor. His shirt was essentially ruined, so he pulled it off and tossed it on the ground. There were scratches and bites all over his arms and chest.

“Use this, sir.” A soldier near him carried a pot of boiling water over. The boy’s left arm ended in a bandaged stump.

“Thanks, son. Undead do that?” It seemed like a silly question, but truthfully, the dead rarely took off limbs. For whatever reason, they usually targeted organs, especially the heart.

“Uh, no,” the man flushed. “One of the men beside me went down during the battle, and I reached out without looking to grab him and pull him back. The man on the other side of the fallen soldier attempt to help too, only he chose to hack the undead apart. My hand was in the way—just bad luck.”

Niall burst out laughing. “You see some crazy shit in war, but don’t worry. There are doctors in the tower that can regrow your hand.”

Using a towel, Niall wiped all his wounds and used an ointment that Song Lin made for the soldiers. It helped with the corrupted mana within the wounds and worked to prevent infection. Minor injuries healed almost instantly, but no one wasted it on those.

The wound on his side was annoying because part of the wound went around his side and scraped his back. It wasn’t a spot he could easily reach, making him feel awkward trying to treat it.

“Let me,” the one-handed soldier said and took the towel. After the soldier cleaned the rest of the wound, Niall held out an open jar of the ointment, and the man dipped two fingers in and took a decent-sized dollop. He smeared it all over the wound, even overlapped the edges of it. Niall held a pad in place over the wound. He gave the wrap to the soldier, who took it and snugly wrapped it around Niall’s waist several times to ensure the pad wasn’t going anywhere.

“Thanks, kid. What’s your name?”

The soldier hesitated until several men came up.

“Hey, Lavin! Must be nice getting to hang—”

“Pfft,” Niall burst out laughing again. “Your name is Lavin? Wait, are you a son of Laimhin?”

“I am.”

This time his laughter continued until he had tears in his eyes. The other soldiers that came up were looking at each other in confusion. “Why is that so funny?”

“Because,” Lavin sighed resignedly. “Lavin and Laimhin both mean ‘hand’ and—” Lavin waved around his stump. “Go on, laugh, get it out of your system.”

The other soldiers joined Niall and slapped Lavin on the back good-naturedly.

“Is Liam your grandfather?” Niall asked when he was back under control.

“Great grandfather.”

“That old bastard has one more generation on me? Dammit. That old man is probably laughing at me because my sons have only given me one grandson. At least my grandson has several women.”

“Who is this?” The soldiers asked Lavin.

“Show more respect,” Lavin frantically whispered.

“Oh, shit—errr, sorry, sir. Didn’t recognize you without the—umm, without your armor on.”

“Relax. Today was hard-fought, and I won’t make things difficult. Thanks again, Lavin, son of Laimhin. If you see your great grandfather, tell that old bastard to buy you the medicine to fix your hand. It is the least he could do for allowing his lineage to curse you with that name. I refuse to let a man called Lavin walk around my camp with one hand.”

As Niall walked away, he could hear the men joking and poking fun. While he cremated some good men and women today, that encounter unburdened his soul. This wasn’t like the wars in the tower because these were his people. The deaths weighed heavier on him, and that was why he fought at the front every battle.

At least now they could retreat. There was no point pushing toward the chokepoint if Vodun Hex already controlled it. Instead, he had to plan on how to approach the Martial clans. No matter how much internal fighting occurred, those people put that aside when facing external threats. There wasn’t much pressure on Niall because he was supposed to fail, but not knowing what the hidden agenda was made him nervous.

If he played his cards right, he might be able to find out what had everyone so agitated.