Valkyrie's Shadow #201-253
Author: Aeridinae Lunaris
Date: 2021-07-23T00:00:00+00:00
Publisher: anonymous

Table Of Contents

- Table Of Contents -
Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 14
Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 15
Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 16
Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 17
Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 18
Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 19
Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 20
Winter's Crown: Halftime Q&A, Author Musings
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 1
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 2
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 3
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 4
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 5
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 6
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 7
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 8
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 9
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 10
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 11
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 12
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 13
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 14
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 15
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 16
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 17
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 18
Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 19
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 1
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 2
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 3
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 4
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 5
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 6
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 7
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 8
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 9
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 10
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 11
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 12
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 13
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 14
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 15
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 16
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 17
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 18
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 19
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 20
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 21
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 22
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 23
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 24
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 25
Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 26

Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Ilyshn’ish and Lady Shalltear watched Lady Wagner meander away in a stupor. After she disappeared down the stairs to the Demihuman Quarter, Lady Shalltear brought Ilyshn’ish back into the broom closet again. She closed the door behind them, then looked over Ilyshn’ish with an elbow cradled in hand.

“Maybe that was a bit too successful…” She muttered.

“Should I change back, my lady?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“What?” Lady Shalltear answered, “No, the impact is great – you just have to control it. Just hold off on your abilities unless you need to use them. Hmm…Frost Dragons are ambush predators; doesn’t that mean you’re naturally stealthy too?”

“I haven’t seriously put it to the test as a Human,” Ilyshn’ish replied.

“Well, find out when you’re on your way there,” Lady Shalltear said. “Now, since you seem to have been trained to an acceptable degree, I’m entrusting you with some very important work.”

“Important work? Me?”

“That’s right. Be on your very best behaviour…you do know what I mean by that, yes?”

“I-I’m not sure, my lady…maybe?”

Lady Shalltear peered up at her with a frown.

“Do not break any laws,” she told her, “do not say or do anything that will bring shame upon His Majesty or myself, and do not spread any tales or rumors amongst the population. As my subordinate, your conduct reflects upon me – if you do anything inappropriate, you will not enjoy the consequences…”

Ilyshn’ish swallowed. She had developed a vague idea of what was appropriate and what wasn’t, but it was always the things she didn’t know about that got her in trouble.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Ilyshn’ish said. “What if I do something unintentionally?”

“If you feel that it will be a problem, then keep quiet, be polite, and cooperate with Mare…grr, this would be much easier if Ludmila was available…”

“Who is that?” Ilyshn’ish

“A vassal of mine,” Lady Shalltear answered. “She’s also an Adventurer, so she’d be able to show you around as her junior, and ensure your conduct is appropriate. Unfortunately, she’s seeing to important duties in her territory at the moment.”

Lady Shalltear reached into a strange hole in front of her, withdrawing a pair of items.

“Since she’s not available,” she said, “you’ll just have to make do on your own. Take these.”

Ilyshn’ish looked down at the midnight blue notepad and pen held out to her. The notepad was plain, but the pen seemed valuable.

“What’s this for?”

“Can you write?”

“I’m good at Dwarf – at least the language of the ones that live in the Azerlisia range. There’s Draconic…also I’ve learned a bit of the local language.”

“Good, keep learning,” Lady Shalltear said. “This is to help you keep track of things. Anything you think you’ll have trouble remembering, just write it down in here.”

It would help, as Lady Shalltear said. As her experiences and knowledge expanded, she would need to rely on it less and less as the right connections would more often than not be made, but she should always run into something new once in a while. She tested the pen, watching the black ink flow smoothly onto paper.

“Lady Shalltear…”

“Hm?”

“I thought you were angry at me.”

“I will be angry at you if I have reason to be, just like with any of my subordinates. Since I have you within arm’s reach, is there something you’d like to inform me about so we can get it over with?”

“N-no, my lady,” Ilyshn’ish tensed. “I…I just thought you hated me for some reason.”

“Hate?” Lady Shalltear furrowed her brow, “You’re mistaking me for some other Undead race, I think. I have neither the time, energy or care to hate perpetually for such unimportant incidents – I reserve my true ire for His Majesty’s enemies. If you do something you should not be doing, then you will be punished. Since I enjoy that sort of thing, I will make you suffer in interesting ways if I can. If you wish to avoid this, then avoid committing any conduct that requires punishment. Simple, no?”

“I feel like punishments are inevitable, the way things are going.”

“Well, that’s just how it is,” Lady Shalltear told her. “Service to His Majesty demands perfection, but everyone eventually makes mistakes. We are fortunate that, in His mercy, He only asks that we learn from them so we may improve ourselves, but it is still proper to offer recompense. Now, get going – Mare should have long arrived by now.”

Ilyshn’ish concealed herself and left the broom closet, sneaking past the queue of customers at the front desk. She made her way along the wall until she reached the southern gatehouse, pondering how she would proceed. In the end, she decided to leap across the busy street to the rooftops. Looking around herself, it appeared that no one had noticed – or cared – not even the Elder Liches patrolling over the city.

She dropped down into the alleys, taking the shortest route to the main plaza. Ilyshn’ish fretted in the shade of a tree standing across the way from the Adventurer Guild. The pleasant mood that came with her new garb and the new insight on Lady Shalltear’s actions faded away and, no matter how much she tried to calm herself, her nerves grew more ragged with every breath.

Adventurers. Mysterious beings who sometimes appeared on the administrative ledgers in Feoh Berkana. Accompanying their entries was always some mark of dead violence: tribes exterminated, monsters slain, long lists of materials brought in from their merciless massacres. It didn’t matter whether one was innocent or not; Adventurers were always willing to hunt you down, for a price. As a Dragon, Ilyshn’ish was keenly aware that her kind was hunted for trophies and materials – hides, meat, horns and other parts of the Frost Dragons who lived in the same area were often on those lists, commanding a high price – so it was always a risk that Adventurers would come after her for her body.

According to her mother, the local Adventurers were especially on the lookout for higher quality equipment – though they all seemed to have a perpetual hunger for this – so an innocent Frost Dragon like Ilyshn’ish would be an irresistible target if they caught her in a vulnerable position. Zu Chiru also mentioned that they wouldn’t die even when they were killed, like some relentless Undead horror that kept rising from the grave no matter how many times it was put down.

Ilyshn’ish reviewed her options for what would most undoubtedly be the most dangerous trial in her all-too-brief life. She had the letter from Master Tian: it was a simple note that marked her as one of the Justice Dragon Dojo’s students, so its role in ensuring her safety would be entirely contingent on his reputation…which appeared flimsy, at best. There was also a certain Mare, who she assumed was the Dark Elf of the same name who sometimes came to the Demihuman Quarter. Establishing contact with him appeared to be the most direct method of gaining protection. If it came down to it, she might also be able to leverage the fact that she worked for Lady Shalltear.

Three lifelines; three chances to stave off a grisly fate if things should go awry and the Adventurers detected the presence of crafting materials in their midst. She took several deep breaths, then scanned her surroundings before sneaking up to the door. Should she knock? No one had come in or out of the building in her memory, so she wasn’t sure what the correct procedure was. She couldn’t find any sort of chain to pull for a bell, so she knocked lightly, just in case. This was supposedly the polite thing to do in this city.

No one answered…maybe she could go back now? If no one was home, then it couldn’t be helped, right? To her dismay, vibrations came from the other side of the door while she was considering retreat: the steady sound of footfalls coming ever closer.

“I don’t think it’s locked, Ishpen…”

A muffled voice came from the other side, and the door opened a crack. Ilyshn’ish swallowed, taking a few steps back.

“Yep, it's not locked…”

The door opened the rest of the way, and a Human female looked up at her, eyes growing wide.

“Oh…oh…ohh…” The woman spun on her heel and hastily withdrew into the depths of the building, “I-Ishpen, b-b-big catch! We got a big one!”

Ilyshn’ish steadied herself against the doorframe, feeling faint. A second set of steps joined the first, rapidly approaching the entrance.

“A big one?” A second voice said, “What do you mean…oh.”

A second Human female appeared, followed by the first. Her lips formed into an ingratiating smile.

“Welcome to the Adventurer Guild,” she said. “There’s no need to knock – please, come in.”

The two women coaxed her into the building, leading her around the stairs inside to a broad counter. Ilyshn’ish looked around nervously, trying to examine everything at once. The two leading her were the only others she could sense so far, which made her nervous over what powerful beings were hidden from her notice.

“So, what brings you to the Adventurer Guild, Miss…”

“Shiver,” Ilyshn’ish replied in a small voice.

“Miss Shiver?” The smile plastered to her face did not fade, “Then, have you come to register?”

“I…”

What was she supposed to be doing here, anyways? Something about representing both Lady Shalltear, the Justice Dragon Dojo, and finding Mare. She needed to be quiet and polite to maximize her safety. She retrieved Master Tian’s letter from her Infinite Haversack, placing it on the counter with a trembling hand. The woman across from her – Ishpen, she assumed – unfolded it and read over the content.

“It says that she’s from a new school for Monks in the city,” Ishpen told the other woman. “Does it mean that they’re trying to use the Adventurer Guild to market themselves?”

“That’s, hm…” The other women paused in thought, “I guess there aren’t any rules about that? It’s happened in the past several times, at least.”

Ishpen turned her attention back. to Ilyshn’ish.

“So Shiver is fine?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re representing this ‘Justice Dragon Dojo’,” she muttered as she wrote something down behind the counter.

“And Lady Shalltear,” Ilyshn’ish added.

Ishpen looked up at her with a frown, and Ilyshn’ish took a half-step back. Did she say something wrong?

“Isn’t Lady Shalltear Ludmila’s liege?” The other woman asked.

“She is,” Ishpen nodded. “As I recall, Ludmila was sent here by Lady Shalltear, too.”

“Hum…then which one is it? She can’t be under both, can she?”

Rather than helping to ensure her safety, the information only left the two Humans confused. Ilyshn’ish panicked and desperately played her final card.

“I-I’m supposed to see someone by the name of ‘Mare’, too.”

The two women turned their heads to look at one another.

“Is he still in the back?” Ishpen asked.

“I served him tea about half an hour ago…” The other woman answered.

“Go ahead and let him know, Wina,” Ishpen said. “I’ll get this done quick.”

Wina left the desk, ducking through a curtained frame leading into a back hallway. Ilyshn’ish’s brief sense of reprieve was pushed aside as Ishpen continued with her questions.

“So…what do you do, Shiver?”

“I’m a Bard,” Ilyshn’ish replied.

“Well, I guess that figures, going by your outfit…what sort of Bard are you?”

“I’m training to become a Dancer.”

“A Dancer,” Ishpen raised her eyebrows. “That’s pretty rare…most of them work as members of theatre troupes or as uh…private contractors. Anyways, it’s not something you usually find in any Adventurer Guild.”

“I-is there any particular reason for that?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“I guess you could say it’s difficult to make work,” Ishpen said. “Be it for the Dancer themselves or for their party. Now, if you’ll–”

A shadow appeared in the back hallway, and a Dark Elf appeared, accompanied by Wina. Mare rubbed his eyes as he walked out, yawning widely.

“Are…are you the one Shalltear sent?” He asked.

“Yes…yes, that’s right!” Ilyshn’ish nodded energetically.

Was she safe now? She examined Mare carefully – she had only ever seen him from a distance. She couldn’t gauge his strength, which she supposed shouldn’t be a surprise at this point. His garments smelled exquisite – it was the richest scent she had ever experienced. Her gaze wandered over his panoply of astounding equipment, until a certain detail raised alarms in her head. It couldn’t be…could it?

“M-mare…”

“Y-yes?”

“Your shirt…what is it made out of?”

“This?” He looked down and pulled lightly on the deep blue leather, “It’s dragonscale.”

“NOOOOOO!!!”

With a cry borne of sheer terror, Ilyshn’ish turned to flee. Lady Shalltear had betrayed her. Tsuare must have gotten to her too…or maybe they were in league with one another from the start? Ilyshn’ish thought that maybe – just maybe – she and Lady Shalltear had started to get along a little bit, but it was all some sick game to them. Maybe she thought it an interesting way to suffer? It was mentioned in passing. Ilyshn’ish had been wrapped up in fancy packaging and delivered as a gift to the Adventurer Guild.

“Um…where are you going?” Mare’s voice said from behind her.

Ilyshn’ish looked back. The Dark Elf had grabbed her wrist. She pulled as hard as she could, but he wouldn’t budge. Not again. It always started like this – no, this was probably the end for her. She whimpered as she pulled in vain: some new and unpleasant sequence of events was surely imminent.

The door to the Adventurer Guild opened, and a pair of shadows stretched past the stairs.

“Mare,” a girl’s voice called, “what’s taking so long? It’s been over thirty minutes already…”

Two female Elves walked around the corner, furrowing their brows at the scene. The taller of the two was fairly strong, though still comfortably below Ilyshn’ish. The shorter one was the same size as Mare, sharing many similarities…including the appearance and value of their equipment. Her eyes threatened to roll out of their sockets when she saw the shirt of red scales.

“Hiiiieeee!!!”

She turned around and darted to Mare, throwing her arms around her only hope.

“Eh?” Lord Mare’s muffled voice rose up from her chest.

The two female Elves’ expressions turned aghast, mouths falling open. The shorter of the two pointed a finger at her.

“W-w-what are you doing to my little brother?!”

The taller Elf female sprung into action, leaping forward and grabbing Ilyshn’ish around the waist.

“Unhand Lord Mare, you skank!” She yelled as she pulled, “Hnnnnng! She won’t budge, Lady Aura – this is...she’s in the realm of heroes!”

“Mare! What are you doing? Don’t let her rub herself all over you like that!”

“B-but big sis…”

“Don’t ‘but’ me!” Lady Aura said, “Out of the way, Merry: I’ll handle this…”

The arms around Ilyshn’ish’s waist released themselves, and she stepped around Lord Mare, putting him between herself and the advancing Lady Aura.

“W-wait – you’re Lady Aura?”

“Hah?” The Dark Elf scowled at her, “What about it?”

“Please…please make me your pet!”

A look of disgust flickered over Lady Aura’s face, replaced by a vehement glare.

“Mare…” She said in a deadly calm voice.

“Big sis?”

“Move out of the way – I’m getting rid of this dangerous woman.”

Ilyshn’ish’s knees buckled, and she hung off of Lord Mare’s shoulders weakly.

“W-w-wait!” Lord Mare exclaimed. “She’s here to help us! Why are you trying to get rid of her?”

“She is?” Lady Aura didn’t look convinced at all.

“She is!” Lord Mare nodded.

“I am?” Ilyshn’ish had no idea what she was actually supposed to be doing.

An exquisite bow materialized in Lady Aura’s hand.

“I-I am!” Ilyshn’ish ducked behind Lord Mare’s shoulder, “I’m here to cooperate!”

“She was sent by Shalltear to help with some things.” Lord Mare explained, “I-I don’t know what happened, but she’s trembling so much…she’s so scared that she’s making me scared!”

“She’s the one that Shalltear sent?” Lady Aura’s voice turned incredulous, “That idiot…hey! How long are you going to hang off of my brother for?”

Ilyshn’ish looked over at Lady Aura fearfully. She still looked quite cross, and Ilyshn’ish let out a helpless whimper.

“I-I’m scared, my lord…”

Despite her admission of fear, the two other Elves bristled at her words. What did they want from her? Everything she did made them angry.

The door to the building opened again, and a Human male appeared. Much like the two elves, he stopped and furrowed his brow as he came around the corner, bushy moustache stirring as he spoke.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Shalltear sent her to help out, Mister Ainzach,” Lord Mare replied.

“She did?” Mister Ainzach’s expression did not change. “I’m not sure if we need this kind of ‘help’ – why is she clinging to you like that?”

“Um…a-a few things happened?”

Ilyshn’ish felt a light touch on her forearm. Lord Mare peeled her off, despite her clinging onto him with all her might. She felt his hand squeeze hers lightly, and she felt some small comfort through his grip.

“Don’t be afraid,” Lord Mare said. “We’ll head to the back, and I can explain everything there, okay?”

Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Ilyshn’ish followed Lord Mare through the curtained door frame and across the back hall, into a large room arrayed with modest oak furniture. He brought her to a couch, where he released her hand and bid her to be seated. She sat down beside him, lightly pinching his sleeve between the fingers of her left hand as she took in her surroundings.

Around the room were what she assumed to be trophies and mementos of past kills: the head of a Gryphon, a Manticore hide, bits and pieces of once-living things arrayed in glass cabinets. There was a large portrait on the wall behind their seat, depicting a group of humanoids with wicked-looking weapons standing around a dead Dragon: it was a juvenile, based on its appearance. Ilyshn’ish shuddered, glancing at the closed door not far from the portrait. It didn’t lead into the hall, and she couldn’t sense anything behind it, but seemed a likely place to harbour hidden assailants.

Lady Aura frowned at them before seating herself on the other side of Lord Mare, while Merry glared daggers at Ilyshn’ish from where she stood behind the couch. What was she, some sort of bodyguard? An attendant? She didn’t even look like the same sort of Elf as the other two, yet she hovered protectively over them like a Harpy over her infants.

Ilyshn’ish turned away from the angry Elf and faced forward. Mister Ainzach took the couch across the table from them, while Wina retrieved a tea set from a nearby cabinet before vanishing into the hall.

“So, what’s the deal with this woman?” Lady Aura asked, “She doesn’t look very useful to me.”

“She’s going to help design a new wing of the Training Area,” Lord Mare explained. “With the expedition coming up, Shalltear lent her to us so we could create environments that have similar conditions to what you can find in the Azerlisia Mountains.”

She was? All Lady Shalltear told her was that she was to cooperate with Lord Mare.

“How would she know what it’s like there?” Mister Ainzach asked.

“H-how…?” Mare frowned, “Because she lived there before coming here? Shalltear said she knows all about the Azerlisia Mountains, so she’s basically a local expert.”

“I see,” Mister Ainzach said, holding his hand out across the table. “I’m Pluton Ainzach, Master of the Adventurer Guild. Pleased to meet you, Miss…?”

She gave the extended hand a hesitant glance. This was the guildmaster? The leader of the Adventurers? Ilyshn’ish sensed some power in him, but he wasn’t as strong as the Elf called Merry. She was certain she could fight both of them at once and win in a direct confrontation.

“Shiver,” she replied, reaching out to lightly touch his hand.

The guildmaster moved suddenly, taking her hand in both of his and shaking vigorously. It was all Ilyshn’ish could do to snatch herself away with a panicked shout.

“Shiver, eh?” He grinned, “Well, I suppose it’s a name that suits that frozen place. I guess you’re from the Dwarf Kingdom? To be honest, I didn’t know anyone aside from Dwarves lived there.”

Ah, he was one of those. Like so many other Humans in the city, they had a very narrow view on who they considered ‘people’. Ilyshn’ish withdrew her hand slowly, holding it against her stomach.

“Feoh Berkana,” she replied. “That’s where I came from.”

“Oh…the Dwarves I’ve talked to were all pretty excited to move back in,” jovial energy filled Mister Ainzach’s voice. “You must have been busy moving in as well, so I gotta thank you for taking the time to come out here to help us out.”

“N-no, it’s not like that at all…I had to move out, since the Dwarves were moving in…”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

The cordial warmth faded from Mister Ainzach’s face, replaced by a look of befuddlement over her reply.

“Shiver is a Frost Dragon, Mister Ainzach,” Lord Mare informed him.

And, just like that, she was exposed.

A frown crossed the guildmaster’s features. Ilyshn’ish’s breathing picked up as she started to panic. She clutched at Lord Mare’s sleeve several times before finally throwing her arms around him and squeezing her eyes shut. What were the Adventurers going to do to her, now that they knew and had her in the bowels of their nest?

“W-woah! Calm down,” Lord Mare placed a hand on the arm wrapped over his chest. “Why are you so scared?”

“A-adventurers…” Ilyshn’ish replied in a trembling voice.

“Adventurers?” Lord Mare said, “What about them?”

“Adventurers,” Ilyshn’ish swallowed. “They’re those crazy murderers, aren’t they? Bounty Hunters that kill people for money and harvest bodies to turn into equipment so they can kill more people for even better equipment…”

“I-if you put it that way,” the Dark Elf swallowed as well, “that does sound pretty scary…”

Lord Mare looked across at Mister Ainzach. The guildmaster sighed, scratching his head.

“Damn it all,” he said. “His Majesty really had me dead to rights, huh…”

“Did Lord Ainz say something to you about her?” Lady Aura asked.

“No, not her in particular,” the guildmaster answered. “Back when His Majesty first came to talk about the future of the Adventurer Guild, he asked me a question. He asked me who exactly Adventurers saw as ‘people’. He said that the Sorcerous Kingdom would be a place where all races could live, but I assumed that he meant Dwarves and Elves and others like that. Then he corrected me and said that he would include all races, whether they were monsters or Humans or anything else. I argued against it, but no matter which way I twisted or turned, he blew it all away and revealed me for the bigot I was.”

Mister Ainzach looked over at Ilyshn’ish’s quivering form.

“Even though all this has happened,” he waved his right hand loosely in the air. “The founding of the Sorcerous Kingdom. That time with His Majesty. The opening of the Demihuman Quarter and the folks helping us in the Training Area – it just keeps coming back. I just assumed she was from the Dwarf Kingdom, though, in hindsight, it doesn’t actually make any real sense. It just never crossed my mind that she might be anything else, or maybe I just willfully blinded myself to the facts and made up something that I thought could be plausible on the spot. Somewhere in the back of my mind, only the fair races still count as people. His Majesty spoke truly, all the way back then.”

He rose from his seat. The guildmaster snorted, and a self-deprecating look formed on his face.

“Fair races…yet one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on turns out to be a Dragon.” He lowered his head, voice solemn, “I’m sorry, Miss Shiver. I probably said some horrible things, from your point of view; I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for that.”

Ilyshn’ish peeked up at the lowered head of the guildmaster, then down at Lord Mare, whose head was still squished into her chest. He nodded up at her slowly. She slowly relaxed and, with a sigh, released her hold on him. Lord Mare let out a startled yelp as Lady Aura yanked him away.

“I-its okay,” she said quietly, settling back into her seat.

“Good,” Mister Ainzach let out a tense breath. “Good. I can’t guarantee that you won’t run into more of the same with our members, but I hope you’ll show us some patience while you help us out.”

“Lady Shalltear dispatched me to the Adventurer Guild with instructions to cooperate with Lord Mare,” Ilyshn’ish said, “but I’m afraid I don’t have any specific details about what I’m supposed to be helping with.”

“Ah, that?” The guildmaster said, “I guess word our training doesn't really filter out of the guild too much. Basically, we need to create a training environment for cold, alpine areas. We have some expedition work around the Azerlisia Range coming up, so we’re making the appropriate preparations for it.”

Wina reappeared, placing the pewter tea set on the table and pouring out their drinks. A steaming cup was placed in front of her. Ilyshn’ish could see places where it had been dented and straightened out in several places – another reminder of the violent nature of Adventurers.

“If it’s just making sure that everything feels right,” Ilyshn’ish said, “I think I can help with that. If it’s fighting, though…I’m just a beginner, so I don’t have much confidence in what I’m doing…”

“Anything that’ll help us prepare properly for what lies ahead,” the guildmaster picked up his teacup, “I’ll be more than happy with. Once you see what we’re up to, maybe you’ll be up to having a few rounds with our members.”

“B-but I’m just a Frost Dragon,” Ilyshn’ish said, eyes growing wide. “I can’t win against Adventurers!”

The guildmaster’s cup stopped as he paused mid-sip. Lowering it slightly, he looked over Ilyshn’ish’s shoulder.

“Merry,” he said, “didn’t you say that she’s in the Realm of Heroes?”

“Yep,” the Elf replied in a flat voice, “in various ways…”

Ilyshn’ish felt Merry’s glare against the back of her neck, and she shifted forward in her seat uncomfortably.

“Hmm…that’s what I figured too,” Mister Ainzach said. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard about our Adventurer Guild, but if we exclude Momon and Nabe, you’d probably defeat the entire guild – even if they all fought you at the same time.”

“R-really?” Ilyshn’ish replied, “But I thought Adventurers don’t die, even when they’re killed…I can’t win against that – they’ll get me eventually!”

“Er…we may be able to raise the dead, but our members don’t just pop up on their own again like some Undead thing from a drunken Bard’s tale. I’ve never even seen Undead get up after destroying them once…well, we don’t have any Undead Adventurers anyways.”

“But Lady Shalltear said she had another vassal here.”

The vast majority of Lady Shalltear’s servants Ilyshn’ish had encountered were the Vampire Brides stationed at the post offices. Now that she understood that Adventurers weren’t their own terrifying species, she figured that the vassal Lady Shalltear had mentioned that was also an Adventurer was another Vampire Bride. They had the same loose sense of danger as Merry, so they would fit in well…

“A vassal…?” Mister Ainzach said, “Oh, you mean Zahradnik. She might stand out in a few ways, but she’s still just a Human like most of us. The girl grew up around these parts, so there’s no mistake about that.”

…or so she thought. How did a Human even survive being a vassal of Lady Shalltear?

“Anyways, uh…was there anything else worrying you?” Lord Mare asked.

“Even if they’re only so strong,” Ilyshn’ish said, “won’t they still try to attack me? Adventurers are crazy about magic equipment and crafting materials, after all.”

“I, uh, can’t say that’s wrong, but…” Mister Ainzach frowned in thought, “At any rate, since you’re a subject of the Sorcerous Kingdom, they won’t attack you unless it’s a part of training or something. You shouldn’t have to worry about that at all.”

Ilyshn’ish mulled over what she had heard, then remembered Lady Shalltear’s advice. Pulling it out her notepad, she started recording hard-to-remember details. An awkward silence filled the room, occasionally broken by the scratching of her pen.

“Mmh…any more talking is pointless,” Lady Aura said after a few minutes.

“Why is that?” Mister Ainzach asked.

“I just spoke with her brother,” Lady Aura answered. “He said that it’s better to just throw her into the fire.”

Ilyshn’ish’s pen stopped. The fire? Maybe Hejinmal wasn’t such a good brother, after all.

“I-I might have a fire resistance item,” Ilyshn’ish clutched at Lord Mare again, “but fire is still bad!”

“Big sis means that it’s better to just have you learn from experience,” Lord Mare explained, taking her hand again and rising from the couch. “I can show you the place where we’re preparing everything, and you can see things as they happen while making suggestions.”

It sounded reasonable enough. All she needed to do was stay quiet, keep her head down, cooperate with Lord Mare, and she would be safe. Probably. The Dark Elf led her back out of the room and out in front of the counter with the two Human females. The pair looked up from their conversation, and Ishpen came forward with a sheet of paper in her hands.

“Guildmaster.”

“Hm?”

“I was filling out a registration form for the young lady here,” Ishpen told Mister Ainzach, “but we weren’t quite able to finish it…”

“I didn’t think she was interested in joining,” the guildmaster stroked his moustache idly. “Wait, don’t tell me you tried to sneak in an application…”

Ishpen cringed slightly, a guilty look briefly passing over her features. She seemed to collect herself, however, pointing directly at Ilyshn’ish.

“Just look at her, guildmaster!” She said, “She’s perfect – no, beyond perfect! She’s exactly what we need to market the Adventurer Guild! Did you know she’s a Bard? A Dancer, even! Our recruitment will skyrocket if she becomes affiliated with us!”

“I won’t deny that,” the guildmaster said, “but I’m not even sure how to place her, off the top of my head. That aside, we have rules, Ishpen – you can’t just press her into Adventurer work like that.”

“Fine.”

Ishpen sighed, then the ingratiating smile from before appeared on her face again.

“Miss Shiver,” she said in a too-nice voice, “would you like to join the Adventurer Guild? I’m sure you’ll have a bright future with us.”

Ilyshn’ish backed away slightly from the pressure Ishpen was emanating. This…was this fighting spirit? Killing intent? Master Tian sometimes referred to them when instructing his students.

“I-I’m just here to cooperate with Lord Mare…”

“This isn’t just any Adventurer Guild,” Ishpen told her, “this is the Adventurer Guild of the Sorcerous Kingdom! You’ll be a True Adventurer – exploring the world and uncovering its mysteries. You’ll become famous around the world; the envy of Adventurers everywhere!”

While the idea of exploring the world was genuinely tempting, it didn’t match up with what she knew of the Adventurer Guild. What did taking contracts on the lives of others have to do with exploration? The part about becoming the envy of Adventurers everywhere also sounded very much like she would be painting a target on herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I don’t–”

“As an exclusive affiliate of the Adventurer Guild,” Ishpen’s words rolled right over her refusal, “you will also receive a monthly stipend!”

“A stipend?” Ilyshn’ish forced out the unfamiliar word, “What’s that?”

“Simply put, as long as you remain affiliated with the Adventurer Guild, and participate in our activities, you’ll be paid every month. Everyone starts at Copper rank, which covers the expenses for living in the city while you train. That would come out to roughly one gold per month.”

That was far less than she could earn, even if it was just performing deliveries in the city. Then again, her current situation didn’t allow time for her to work at all.

“I’m sure you won’t remain at Copper for long, though,” Ishpen continued. “Merry mentioned you were already in the realm of heroes – that means you’ll be rapidly advancing through the ranks! Even if you just catch up to our Gold-ranked members, your stipend will increase to six gold per month.”

Six gold…it was far better, but the amount was still far overshadowed by her previous earnings.

“How high does it go?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“Much higher,” Ishpen’s expression brightened, “an Orichalcum here like Merry collects six platinum a month–”

“Collects?” Merry frowned, “You make it sound like I’m sitting around doing nothing all day.”

“–and an entry-level Adamantite Adventurer earns twelve!”

“Entry level?”

“That’s right,” Ishpen nodded, “Those who reach the realm of heroes are paid three times that amount – thirty-six platinum a month! Since Merry estimated that you’re up there already, it’s only a matter of time before you establish it as a fact!”

Thirty-six platinum coins…it could buy far more books than she would be able to keep up with. If she joined the Adventurer Guild for a few thousand years, she could have the platinum coin bed of her dreams…she could mix in plenty of diamonds to make it even better. But what was the catch? Surely they didn’t just pay her for existing. Ishpen said something about ‘marketing’.

“And~” Ishpen a finger up over their heads, breaking Ilyshn’ish’s line of thought, “aaaand, that’s not all! The monthly stipend is the least of our member benefits! You’ll gain access to our classes and state-of-the-art training facilities, found nowhere else in the world! We have resurrection services, just in case you meet with an unfortunate accident! Then there’s the ultra-exclusive Adventurer Guild store, where points earned with the guild go towards purchasing the finest in magic items and equipment from the Sorcerous Kingdom!”

Ishpen’s heavy breathing filled the silence that followed, and Ilyshn’ish absently fished around for the opening of her Infinite Haversack. Her mind was swimming – she didn’t know what most of it meant; she needed to write it all down. She did have some magical items from the Sorcerous Kingdom already…if she could get her claws on more, who knows how powerful she would become? She might at least be able to purchase a greater measure of protection than she currently had.

“All you have to do is sign here, Miss Shiver,” Ishpen dangled the sheet of paper in her hands between them, “and the fantastic life of an Adventurer is yours!”

“I…I, uh…but I already work for Lady Shalltear,” Ilyshn’ish told her.

“Well, so does Ludmila,” Ishpen said. “You could have a special arrangement just like her.”

Ilyshn’ish’s pen slowly rose.

“No, wait,” the pen lowered again. “I need to speak with her first…she keeps me really busy, after all, so I don’t know if I have any time.”

Ishpen’s cheek twitched, and Mister Ainzach cleared his throat.

“Let’s leave it at that,” He said. “Honestly, it looks like you’re interested, but, if you need to consult with Lady Shalltear, then it’s probably best to do that first. I don’t want the Adventurer Guild stepping on the toes of the Royal Court if I can help it. I have no idea what your schedule’s like, but if she was willing to send a busy noble like Ludmila over to us, chances are that you’ll be able to join as well.”

Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The group filtered out of the Adventurer Guild and into the bustle of the main plaza at midday. Though many distractions assailed her senses, Ilyshn’ish made extra sure to follow Lord Mare closely – she didn’t want to lose him and somehow get into trouble again.

“Guess we’ll be heading back out to the expedition base,” Lady Aura said. “Was there anything in town you needed to pick up, Merry?”

“No, Lady Aura,” the red-haired Elf’s tone took on a deferential quality, distinctly unlike how she had spoken to Ilyshn’ish or Mister Ainzach, “we should return to base camp. The scouts have probably gotten themselves into eight different kinds of trouble by now.”

“Mmh…how did they even manage whatever happened with the Hanging Spider colony last night?” Lady Aura frowned and shook her head, “That forest has nothing but low level things, but they somehow find a way…”

Her voice cut off as she slipped into a nearby tree and vanished. Merry followed suit, and Ilyshn’ish leaned over to look at the other side of the trunk. They had completely disappeared from her senses, but how did slipping into a tree do that? How did they even slip into a tree in the first place?

“A-are you going as well, Mister Ainzach?” Lord Mare asked.

“Nah, I’ve got the reports Merry just delivered to go over,” Mister Ainzach answered. “I have to run all over the city dropping off these samples, too.”

“Oh. Okay. Did they find anything interesting?”

“The expedition area isn’t far from the city,” the guildmaster replied, “so I’d be surprised if they actually found anything new. There are the things you’d expect, but beyond that…”

He shrugged, as if the movement explained anything else he had to say. Ilyshn’ish frowned as her imagination was cast adrift.

“I see,” Lord Mare said. “Then, we should get going…thank you for your hard work, Mister Ainzach.”

The guildmaster turned back around, but rather than returning to the Adventurer den, he made his way out of the plaza. Lord Mare turned to Ilyshn’ish.

“Would you like to go and speak with Shalltear before we go?”

“M-me?” Ilyshn’ish blinked.

Lord Mare was so strong, and he barely knew her at all – why did it matter what she wanted?

“Un,” he nodded. “I have some things to check on in the Demihuman Quarter, so you can drop by and ask her about the Adventurer Guild before we go to the Training Area.”

“If it’s not a bother,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “Actually, do you have any idea how she will respond, Lord Mare? I’d like to avoid angering her, if possible…”

“Why would she get angry?”

“I don’t know,” Ilyshn’ish said, “and that’s what scares me the most! Every time I open my mouth, I wonder if I’ll get punished or not.”

“Um…it really might not seem like it to people that don’t really know her,” Lord Mare said, “but Shalltear has always been pretty considerate of her vassals…well, except for the Vampire Brides, b-but that’s the way they’re supposed to be. If she’s punishing you, then you probably did something that you shouldn’t have, or you were really rude somehow. Maybe you don’t know enough yet and that’s why it feels that way, but I don’t think you’ll get in trouble just for asking about the Adventurer Guild…”

Lord Mare walked off towards the main street, and Ilyshn’ish followed him. They cut through the central district, following the road north until they reached the gatehouse leading into the Demihuman Quarter. Lord Mare stopped along the side of the street, across from the orphanage near the steps up to the Frost Dragon pens.

“Go on ahead,” he told her. “I’ll come to pick you up after I’m done here.”

Ilyshn’ish hesitated, but Lord Mare turned around and walked away without so much as a second glance. Her gaze lingered on him until he disappeared around a street corner. Taking a deep breath, Ilyshn’ish ascended the steps to the Frost Dragon pens. When she reached the top of the wall, Ilyshn’ish saw that the entire front half of the living space had been taken apart, and work on the hoardings was being done. There were no customers lined up at the front desk, but the Vampire Brides were all gathered there. Lady Shalltear stood in their midst, watching the proceedings.

Ilyshn’ish quietly walked up to the counter and cleared her throat.

“Lady Shalltear…”

Lady Shalltear turned at the sound of her voice, looking up at Ilyshn’ish with a suspicious frown.

“Don’t tell me that you ran away…”

“N-no, my lady!” Ilyshn’ish quickly replied, “I went as you instructed. Um…Lord Mare had something to do in the Demihuman Quarter, so he suggested that I come up and speak with you.”

“Oh? What about?”

A clamour filled the air, and Ilyshn’ish raised her head towards its source. The walls of one of the pens further inside had been brought down, and a team of Dwarves wandered around removing the rubble.

“I heard that there were going to be renovations,” Ilyshn’ish said as she watched them work, “but what’s being changed, exactly?”

“We’re fixing up the aerie,” Lady Shalltear told her. “The accommodations for Frost Dragons are being reduced from eighteen to six, and some expansion is being done besides. The post office is being moved down to the ground level – there will be one just below in the Demihuman Quarter, with a larger one facing the main plaza.”

“If I may ask, my lady, is there a reason for this?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“I have taxes to put to work,” Lady Shalltear answered, “so the development schedule for the aerial transportation network is being pushed forward. These pens were never meant to be permanent anyways: they were just what we could put together on short notice. The new rooms for the Dragons here will be four times larger…did you want to keep your broom closet, perhaps?”

“No, my lady,” Ilyshn’ish shook her head. “I just thought you didn’t care about our living conditions.”

“Probably not in the sense that you’re implying,” Lady Shalltear said, “but I do endeavour to ensure my subordinates have the environment that they require to function properly. It takes time and information to plan out what needs to be done with you newcomers, so appropriate measures take a while to implement.”

Did that mean that there were more changes on the way? Having their cramped accommodations expanded was certainly an improvement…

“But there’s nineteen of us…” Ilyshn’ish noted with a careful voice.

“There will be six Frost Dragons permanently based in E-Rantel for the foreseeable future,” Lady Shalltear explained. “In general, accommodations will be constructed at our busiest cargo hubs. As far as immediate plans are concerned, another two rooms will be built at Feoh Berkana whenever they fix up that surface outpost of theirs. You’ll have to share rooms with one another for a little while, but, as the network expands and we determine the best locations for new hubs, there will be private lodgings available for everyone.”

“I understand, my lady,” Ilyshn’ish said. “There was actually something else…”

“Hm?”

“The Adventurer Guild wants me to join them,” Ilyshn’ish said. “I-I mean, they wanted me to become an Adventurer.”

“Is that so?” Lady Shalltear replied absently as she watched the next wall go down, “You seem terrified of Adventurers for some silly reason, so I assume that you refused?”

“The woman there was so aggressive about it that I’d have run away if Lord Mare wasn’t there! I told them I work for you, and that we were really busy, b-but I said I would ask…”

Lady Shalltear looked back up at Ilyshn’ish, and her lips turned up in a slight smile. Ilyshn’ish had seen this expression before. She braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut – not that it closed off her Blindsight.

“If that is what you would like to do,” the Vampire’s silvery voice chimed up at her, “then you may do so by my leave.”

“Eh?” Ilyshn’ish’s eyes popped back open.

“Just remember that your duties come first and foremost,” Lady Shalltear told her, “and that you are to conduct yourself in a manner befitting one of my subordinates.”

“If that’s the case, my lady,” Ilyshn’ish said, “I’ll barely have any time for the Adventurer Guild, won’t I?”

“You’ll have ample opportunity to participate,” Lady Shalltear replied. “Since Mare is such a perfectionist, I’ve set aside a large block of time for you to assist him. Beyond that, I’ve removed you from the delivery schedule.”

Ilyshn’ish blinked, not quite believing what she had just heard.

“What of the cargo deliveries that are due?” Ilyshn’ish asked. “The Dwarven migration – we’ve been flying all day and night.”

“We’re pretty much done,” Lady Shalltear said. “How long do you think we’ve been moving cargo for? They can only stuff so much in that mountain of theirs. Our flights and sleds between locations in the Dwarf Kingdom have been running at five percent capacity for the last week using our old schedule, so the majority are being recalled. We’re moving onto the next phase of our work with the aerial transportation network, and a number of your fellows will be taking over your route.”

“Then what of me, my lady? Does that mean I’ll be with the Adventurer Guild from now on?”

“Remember what I said – your duties come first and foremost. For the time being, you will continue undergoing preparations for your work in the future. You will also now report to Sebas for two days out of the week in order to continue the training he is providing to you.”

“B-but what about Tsuare, my lady?” Ilyshn’ish asked, “I’m certain she tried to get rid of me – she might do it again.”

“Tsuare has no authority over my subordinates,” Lady Shalltear scoffed, “and Sebas will not do anything that oversteps his bounds. Furthermore, you will also continue to help Mare and the Adventurer Guild when they require your assistance. During the remainder of your time, you will be learning the customs, languages and mannerisms of the peoples that live in the city and visit from abroad.”

Ilyshn’ish grew curious over Lady Shalltear’s words. They seemed to be going in a much different direction than she had initially expected.

“Is there someone I should report to for this, my lady?”

“No. You will learn by observing the city and interacting with its people. You may visit any place you wish. You may even perform to hone your artistic skills and earn some coin, if you desire. However, you are only allowed to do so within the city walls. You will behave yourself, keep your abilities in check, and refrain from spreading any rumors or breaking any laws.”

“I-I don’t understand, my lady,” Ilyshn’ish dared to ask. “After everything that’s happened, why the sudden change in my treatment?”

“No changes to your treatment have occurred,” Lady Shalltear answered. “You have always been where I’ve decided to place you…and I dislike repeating myself.”

“Then…what did you mean by ‘future duties’?”

“They are whatever they will be,” Lady Shalltear said. “In the near term, should you prove yourself capable, you will be exploring new routes for the aerial transportation network. It will be regional, at first, but eventually you will travel the length and breadth of the world, learning all that it has to offer. That is your dream, is it not?”

“…how did you know that?”

“Hejinmal told me,” Lady Shalltear shrugged. “Your mother, as well.”

“They…they spoke to you on my behalf?”

“No, it was the other way around. A Dragon with job class levels is unheard of, where I come from. Naturally, I went around asking and learned quite a few things about you. They’re both quite chatty – I could barely keep up with my notes.”

Ilyshn’ish hoped that they didn’t tell her anything embarrassing. Actually, it was more likely that they spilled out everything they knew. A sigh escaped her lips: now Lady Shalltear had even more leverage over her.

“Is it not something that you want any more?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“It is something that I want, my lady,” Ilyshn’ish replied, “but the world is proving to be a rather ridiculous place.”

“That is why you need to prepare,” Lady Shalltear said, “and prepare you, I will. You will be trained and tested with all I have at my disposal; punished, if you provide me with reason to.”

“But why me?”

“Why you? Do you not understand what you are?”

Ilyshn’ish shook her head.

“You are a Dragon,” Lady Shalltear said, “a being that grows not just in power over the ages, but also in intellect and wisdom. Not only that, you are a Frost Dragon with all of the advantages inherent to your kind. Moreover, you are a talented Bard. Have you not considered what it all entails when put together?”

She was simply what she was? Ilyshn’ish couldn’t draw any connections between the things Lady Shalltear had outlined. So what if she was everything described? She had no real ambitions beyond doing what Lady Shalltear had just mentioned; no great imaginings for herself.

“P-please, my lady,” Ilyshn’ish said, “I’m not good at guessing like this. Maybe my mother would be able to give you the answer that you seek, but I’m too young and inexperienced…”

“You sell yourself short,” Lady Shalltear said. “You have already proven how resourceful and cunning you can be; how well you can learn and adapt. You’ve spent one day out of the week in this city – effectively seven days since you came here – yet consider all that you’ve learned. It is no small feat…”

Lady Shalltear reached out, pressing her hand against Ilyshn’ish’s belly. Ilyshn’ish jumped away by reflex, wrapping her arms defensively over where Lady Shalltear had touched her.

“You’ve also done so with quite the handicap,” Lady Shalltear smirked, “so I imagine things will go more smoothly after it has passed. Do you think the others of your enclave would be able to achieve what you have?”

“No, my lady.”

“Not even Hejinmal?”

“Hejinmal does have an interest in learning and exploration,” Ilyshn’ish replied, “but we do not share the same outlook on life, my lady. His path is not the same as my own.”

“It’s always interesting to see how different you Frost Dragons are from other people,” Lady Shalltear mused.

“My lady?”

Lady Shalltear came forward, wrapping an arm around Ilyshn’ish’s waist. She drew her away from the sight of the pens being torn down, leading her to the edge of the wall to look over the Demihuman Quarter.

“Ilyshn’ish,” Lady Shalltear said. “I consider you to be the most promising out of all of the Frost Dragons who have come into the service of His Majesty. But potential is only potential until it is realized; talent is worthless without opportunity. Tell me – what are your feelings on how the people here view your kind?”

“I…I don’t like it, my lady,” Ilyshn’ish said. “It’s as if we’re considered animals, or savage monsters.”

“They would not be wrong to see you that way,” Lady Shalltear told her, “if I were to be perfectly blunt. You are a Frost Dragon: impulsive, selfish and willful; an arrogant, capricious and ruthless predator. If circumstances remained unchanged from your earlier existence, I’m sure that any of these people would have been a snack at best if they had the misfortune of encountering one of your kind in the Azerlisia Mountains.”

Ilyshn’ish couldn’t say that it wouldn’t be the case: it was actually highly likely – nearly a guarantee.

“These people currently see you in the trappings of what amounts to superiority in this world,” Lady Shalltear continued, “the threat that you represent to them. Very few understand that the gifts that adorn you in these trappings are also a curse – chains that bind you to a stagnant existence where your nature may easily supersede your will…but I do. Amongst your kin, you have shown the greatest resilience against this nature, so I have decided to take you under my wing.”

“But we are already your servants, my lady,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Vassals who carry out your bidding.”

“There are vassals,” Lady Shalltear said, “and there are vassals. What I require from you is not simply strength or talent. You must shed your selfishness and shallow pride if you are to don the mantle of honoured service. The nature that constantly rises up to rule you must be broken down and reforged into an instrument to be employed at your discretion. Only by taking steps to achieve this will you also make yourself ready to take steps towards the future I envision for you.”

“If it’s not too much to ask, my lady,” Ilyshn'ish said, “what is it that you have in mind for my future?”

“You still haven’t figured it out yet?” Lady Shalltear gave her a sidelong look, “Well, I suppose it may serve as motivation of sorts.”

Ilyshn’ish was released, Lady Shalltear’s cool hand slipping off of her hip and lightly tracing its way back across her waist. Turning to stand and face her, Lady Shalltear cast what Ilyshn’ish could only consider to be a regal gaze upon her. Even in Ilyshn’ish’s Human appearance, Lady Shalltear did not even crest her shoulder, yet she felt as if the powerful woman was looking down at her from some height beyond her reach. Ilyshn’ish swallowed, fighting the urge to shrink in on herself.

“You will become an icon of the realm,” Lady Shalltear spoke in a voice meant for their ears alone, “an exemplar of Dragonkind – both within and beyond the borders of His Majesty’s realm. More importantly, you will be an incorruptible repository of the history, lore and knowledge of the Sorcerous Kingdom: a font of culture and wisdom that spans all of the ages between now and eternity. I have great expectations for you, but the proper foundations must first be laid before you can build towards this future.”

Ilyshn’ish tried to wrap her head around what Lady Shalltear described, but everything she could imagine merely amounted to what she had witnessed in her brief existence. She was also aware of something else – as lofty as Lady Shalltear’s words sounded, they also carried an undercurrent that added a shadowy weight to her voice.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” She couldn’t help but ask, “I…I can sense it behind your words.”

“Indeed, there is,” Lady Shalltear’s crimson eyes gleamed, taking on a hard edge. “You remind me of someone from the past, and I cannot stomach the thought of her.”

Lady Shalltear stepped closer, her intense gaze filling Ilyshn’ish with a sense of unease.

“I will hammer you until the chains that bind you to your nature are broken, Ilyshn’ish=Verilyn,” a chilling smile formed over Lady Shalltear’s features, “so try not to break first.”

Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Shalltear’s gaze idly followed the alluring movements of the Dragon-turned-Human’s body as Mare led her away. This much was acceptable, she supposed – Ilyshn’ish appeared to be following the instructions to suppress her abilities and minimize her presence; what remained was a fragment of her substantial natural charm that leaked out to those capable of noticing her.

The assessment that she shared with the Frost Dragon was not an exaggeration in any way: she appeared to be a prodigy in her own right, and the nature that could override her sense was a major obstacle that kept her from fully realizing her potential. When Ilyshn’ish finally did master that nature and establish the appropriate foundations, Shalltear Bloodfallen would have the full power of a talented Draconic Bard at her fingertips.

A subordinate well worth the investment, she thought – one who would help to address several significant weaknesses in the structure of her growing organization, and a crucial piece in its future expansion. She idly wondered about other individuals she could extend her influence over – Albedo and Demiurge still seemed to only value those with singularly superlative ability as worthy of their patronage, so there should be many others overlooked.

Shalltear was slowly drawing Liane Wagner and Florine Gagnier into her camp, but Clara Corelyn was much harder to work on; any inkling of her interest in the Countess would have Albedo react to interfere with her maneuvering, while she came into contact with Wagner and Gagnier for reasons normally related to her own duties. Fortunately, having all three of Clara Corelyn’s closest friends in her pocket would most likely serve her purposes indirectly…actually Ludmila was probably enough, given their relationship.

Beyond them, she needed more: more talented individuals in all fields, ready to be employed should Ainz-sama bless her with further duties.

She turned her attention back to the ongoing renovation of the Dragon aerie. Ludmila’s taxes had arrived with uncanny timing, allowing her to contract a new company of Dwarf architects that had just established itself in their mountain kingdom. They probably expected to be working on the restoration of Feoh Berkana rather than being whisked away to E-Rantel, but they more than happily took her full payment of coin, up front.

While they were here, she was trying to impress upon them the cost-effectiveness of Undead labour and the benefits of collaboration with the Sorcerous Kingdom, but that was yet another reason that she needed more talented agents. With her exposure to everything under the Sorcerous Kingdom’s influence, opportunities abounded. She needed more people to take advantage of everything she was made aware of.

After a time, she decided that there was no purpose in lingering any further and moved on to the next point on her itinerary. With Vampire Brides in tow, she floated down from the wall and into the central district, making her way along the boulevard to the entrance of the government warehouse. Already, a long line of Soul Eaters drawing wagons filled with grain awaited processing.

Though these shipments were the taxes collected from the devastated portions of the royal demesne that had been resettled, they still followed a convoluted route before they reached their final destination. The harvest was collected from the lands to the north and northwest, delivered to E-Rantel under the pretense that they were dropping off their taxes in the government warehouse. From there, they were transferred via Gate to the Great Tomb of Nazarick, which was basically in the opposite direction that they had traveled.

While she understood that it was for security concerns, minimizing the awareness of the nearby guild base amongst the general public, her efforts devising efficient logistical schemes for the aerial transportation network made her itch to fix it somehow.

Shalltear walked into the heavily-guarded entrance of the government warehouse and down the ramp into the cavernous, lightless space. Halfway into the bowels of the warehouse, she found the head of the line.

“「Gate」.”

A portal appeared, wide enough for the queued wagons to make their way through.

“You three,” she addressed the Vampire Brides who had accompanied her, “stay here and help direct traffic on this side.”

“Understood, Shalltear-sama.”

They lowered their heads in unison, and Shalltear stepped through the Gate.

“Welcome back, Shalltear-sama,” Pestonya’s placid voice greeted her on the other side.

“How are we doing on this side?” Shalltear asked.

“Preparations have been completed,” Pestonya replied. “We await delivery…wan.”

The landing area of the Gate brought the awaiting wagons of grain to an area near the front entrance of the Nazarick. A short distance away, there was a ramp leading up to a raised platform, beneath which was placed a bin for dumping grain. From that bin rose a long metal tube that fed into a single, raised silo beside it.

“Where have I seen this before…”

“It’s a common device used by the locals for moving any number of things,” Pestonya explained. “The Death Knights will work a mechanism that drives the screw inside the pipe, which carries the load up with it as it turns. Grain, soil, water – it appears to be applied quite widely throughout the region.”

“I see. Where’s Pandora's Actor?”

“Hmm…on the other side of the silo, by the cabin, I believe…wan.”

Pestonya led Shalltear around the silo, and they found Baroness Wagner near the log cabin in front of Nazarick’s outer gate. Attended by three Elder Liches, the Human noble held a clipboard before her. She tapped a pen against her lip while furrowing her brow at its content.

Shalltear glanced around as she approached the group. Though they had been carried over into the Sorcerous Kingdom’s new administration, the nobles were not permitted to come within sight of Nazarick. Never mind that, Nazarick’s existence shouldn’t even be known to the citizens, save for a few privileged individuals.

The baroness looked up at her approach. Tucking the pen behind her ear, she handed her clipboard to one of the Elder Liches.

“Good afternoon, Lady Shalltear,” her knee-length skirts fluttered in the wind as she respectfully curtseyed, “I hope the day finds you well.”

“Good afternoon, Lady Wagner,” Shalltear replied. “I’m surprised to find you here. Under whose authority have you…”

Her words trailed off, and she looked around again.

“Pandora’s Actor,” she frowned at Baroness Wagner, “whatever are you doing?”

“Hehehe,” the Human noble cackled, “it’s my win.”

The three Elder Liches sighed, and Pestonya tittered at Lady Shalltear’s side.

“Indeed, it is,” the Homunculus head maid said. “But I will still consider this outcome a win, in other ways.”

“Hmm…suppose I can’t deny you that,” Pandora’s Actor replied.

Shalltear glanced over her shoulder at Pestonya before returning her gaze to the form of Baroness Wagner.

“Would someone be so kind as to explain what is going on?” She asked.

“Kinda like a wager?” Lady Wag–no, Pandora’s Actor grinned, “‘Bout how you’d react seeing a Human in front of Nazarick. The Elder Liches predicted that you’d immediately exterminate the interloper, Pestonya thought you’d capture her, and I said you’d try and figure out what was going on first.”

“What a preposterous thing to make a wager over, arinsu,” Shalltear sniffed. “We should be getting this grain processed, yes? Why are you frolicking around as Liane Wagner, arinsu?”

“We’re gonna be conducting a simple experiment before we really get things goin’ here,” Pandora’s Actor explained. “His Majesty wants to not only explore the development of the Adventurers, but how to fix up the civilian population as well. With the summer harvest, we’ve got the opportunity to get a good measure of various people around the realm – data for our research, or something like that.”

“How will you do that, arinsuka?” Shalltear asked.

In response, Pandora’s Actor withdrew an object from his inventory.

“With this!” Lady Wagner’s voice rang out in a grand declaration.

Shalltear peered at the item held up over Pandora's Actor's head.

“…with the Exchange Box?” Shalltear tilted her head, “Also, your talking like Baroness Wagner is starting to make me feel…itchy.”

“With the Exchange Box.” She–no, he nodded with a smile, “The conversion rate of the Exchange Box is contingent on the merchant levels of the operator. The volume of the harvest from each village is large enough that we should be able to treat each shipment of grain as a controlled variable…though we will do it several times with taxes from different villages, just to be sure.”

Pandora’s Actor nodded to the Elder Liches, and one proceeded to the first wagon awaiting on the platform. The Death Knights stationed there tipped the grain out into the bin. The two other Elder Liches scooped out crates of grain, delivering them to Pandora's Actor.

“I see,” Shalltear said, “it is for this reason that you’ve copied Liane Wagner, arinsune.”

“Correct,” the form of Liane Wagner puffed out her petite chest. “Though we have no way to determine levels directly, we can do so through indirect means. We understand how the Exchange Box functions, thus we can derive our measure through its output. Now, how about another wager?”

Shalltear watched as more and more wagons exited the gate, arranging themselves neatly over the nearby grassland. They would be here for a while.

“Why not?” she shrugged. “What do you have in mind, arinsuka?”

“I have three civilian forms stored,” Pandora’s Actor said, “and I will be going through various known merchants as we process taxes over the next while. Of those currently stored, the first is Baroness Wagner, the second, an old lumber magnate from Jezne County. Finally, I have a middle-aged woman who sells ice cream for a living in E-Rantel’s main plaza. Out of the three, who do you believe will offer the most favourable exchange rate?"

“Has this old magnate earned great renown amongst his peers?” Shalltear asked.

“As far as I understand,” Pandora’s Actor replied, “he is only known locally, with no outstanding achievements credited to his long career.”

“Then I’ll go with Lady Wagner,” Shalltear said.

“Is there any particular reason for your selection? This isn’t favouritism, is it?”

Shalltear thought Liane Wagner a bright and attractive young woman of clear usefulness, and she did favour her over most Humans, but it hadn’t factored into her decision in this particular instance.

“It’s because,” she told him, “despite her young age, she is already well known as a capable and ambitious merchant, arinsu. She is from an established merchant bloodline, and has learned directly from her family since childhood.”

“I see,” the form of Liane Wagner rubbed her chin, “So you would use the same logic that has been demonstrated with Baroness Zahradnik: bloodline, tradition, education, and personal ability coming together to result in a superior specimen.”

“That’s exactly right, arinsu,” Shalltear nodded.

“A reasonable choice, then. What about you, Pestonya-san?”

“I choose the magnate,” Pestonya said. “Though Baroness Wagner is indeed all the things Shalltear-sama has chosen her for, we cannot say that this Magnate does not enjoy the same foundation. He may not have earned any great fame, but his long life should have afforded him the time and experiences to grow that the baroness has not.”

Shalltear bit her lip upon hearing Pestonya’s reasoning. She had a good point – decades of accumulated experience should probably amount to something substantial.

“Umu,” the expression sounded strange in Lady Wagner’s voice. “Another solid conjecture. Then I will go with the ice cream merchant – not just to be a good sport, mind you. I truly believe that she will come out on top.”

Why would a simple ice cream merchant be superior to an experienced magnate or a talented individual with ambition and fame? Pandora’s Actor set down the Exchange Box, adjusting its dimensions before retrieving the first crate. An Elder Lich stood by to record their findings as bushel after bushel of grain vanished into the Exchange Box.

After 95 crates were emptied, a single Yggdrasil gold coin appeared.

“A five percent reduction in the conversion threshold, hm?”

Pandora’s Actor nodded to the Elder Lich, who recorded the findings. Shalltear frowned and retrieved a forest green notepad from her inventory, flipping through the pages.

“It takes 100 bushels of grain for a single Yggdrasil gold coin?” Pestonya muttered, “What sort of grain is this…wan?”

“Oats,” Pandora’s Actor replied. “Due to the shortened season that resulted from our…initial difficulties, we settled on a fast growing crop for the Royal Demesne. The fact that we had detailed and accurate local data for preparing this particular crop was also a factor in the decision to do so.”

“A bushel of oats is enough flour for 24 loaves of bread…” Pestonya said, “this rate of exchange seems quite poor, compared to the cost of food in the city.”

“A bushel of oats sells for 2 silver, 9 and 4/10ths of a copper,” Shalltear found the note she was looking for, “at least according to the market prices at the beginning of the harvest. If one Yggdrasil gold coin is worth two Re-Estize gold coins, we’re looking at some dire returns here…”

“Indeed,” Pandora’s Actor said. “100 bushels of oats would net us 24.75 Re-Estize gold coins if sold at that rate. Even accounting for the relative value of a Yggdrasil gold coin…well, the Exchange Box is already known to provide a fraction of base commodity values. In addition, food prices are inflated due to the shortages in Re-Estize, so it makes things seem that much worse.”

“Should we be using the Exchange Box at all, if this is the case?” Pestonya asked, “I feel that this food would be better put to use in some other fashion.”

“Well, dumping this grain on the market will have the effect of lowering its market value,” Pandora’s Actor said. “We’ll be competing with our own merchants as well. The taxes and rent for Undead labour are only a minor portion or the Sorcerous Kingdom’s total harvest, and Albedo has dipped her fingers into the commodities markets in Re-Estize to take advantage of the oncoming glut in supply. Converting this much should be fine.”

That was the first Shalltear had heard of any such thing. What was Albedo up to? She would need to ask the real Baroness Wagner if she had any idea of what might be going on.

After producing four more Yggdrasil gold coins, the form of Lady Wagner warped and melted like so much wax, reforming itself into the balding figure of an aged Human male. Shalltear hmphed as he only took 91 bushels to produce a coin. Pandora’s Actor repeated the process with the ice cream merchant, who produced a Yggdrasil gold coin with 86 bushels. The ice cream merchant put on an insolently smug look that Shalltear would have swatted off of her face if she saw it in the main plaza of E-Rantel.

“I don’t understand,” she pouted. “Why is a stupid ice cream merchant superior to an experienced magnate or Baroness Wagner? Did you really expect this result, arinsuka?”

“I had a sense that it would turn out this way,” Pandora’s Actor said. “The studies of our Adventurer Guild members provided me with the clues for this outcome. It also appears that the improvement of conversion rates has diminishing returns: Nearata-sama’s form took 70 bushels of oats, yet the relative difference between these locals and Nearata-sama is far more vast by comparison.”

“How did the Adventurers clue you in on Merchant levels?” Shalltear asked, “They’re entirely different things, arinsu.”

“The people of this world grow in a distinctly different manner from Yggdrasil entities,” he explained. “For Yggdrasil beings, with levels come skills, spells, abilities and the immediate access to everything else that the level provides. Past that point, it is a matter of execution. The Adventurers do not progress in this manner: gaining in strength does not automatically provide them with new spells, martial arts, skills or abilities – nor do they understand the limits and applications of their improved capabilities. Sometimes, they do not even realize what they are capable of: there is no convenient guidance system that will point them to anything made newly available upon gaining their levels. Nearly everything they accomplish is built on generations of knowledge and hard work, or dependent on their own effort, talent and intellect.”

“So you’re saying that these Merchants are subject to the same difficulties…wan?”

“That’s correct. My hypothesis is that every vocation in this world has these same challenges. These people do not inherently utilize the full capacity of their classes, and various circumstances lead to various levels of utilization.”

Shalltear frowned, mind working to understand the broader implications of what was being said.

“So Lady Wagner only seems to be a high level merchant relative to everyone else because she is squeezing more out of her class levels than these two others are getting…because their circumstances or ambitions don’t demand it?”

“Just so,” Pandora’s Actor nodded. “The magnate has lived comfortably for his entire life, and the ice cream merchant has been doing the same thing for her entire career. There are no motivations that would drive them into harnessing more of their class potential.”

“But it doesn’t explain why they are higher in level,” Pestonya said. “The Adventurers work hard and rapidly gain in levels, so Baroness Wagner, who has a high degree of class utilization, should be advancing in a similar way for her hard work.”

“I believe it is related to your initial thoughts on the lumber magnate,” Pandora’s Actor said. “Both Baroness Wagner and the lumber magnate operate at the top levels of their respective organizations, but the magnate has had the time to accrue more experience. The number of direct merchant actions that they conduct is limited, while this ice cream merchant conducts business directly every day. By the same token, the best merchants under this magnate or Lady Wagner will probably be significantly higher level than their employers.”

“Shouldn’t this lead to merchants becoming more successful than their employers and overturning them?” Shalltear asked.

“It is not as straightforward as combat-centric vocations,” Pandora’s Actor answered. “Outside factors have a great effect on civilian ventures – capital, connections, influence, ability. One who inherits a merchant company has its resources at their disposal and the rights to its direction. As long as they run things with a bare minimum of competence, the tables are not so easily turned. A high level merchant that leaves his company to establish his own essentially loses all of the leverage and resources represented by the organization that he left.”

“So if we leave Baroness Wagner in charge of an ice cream stand,” Shalltear said, “she will become quite the amazing merchant.”

Pandora’s Actor chuckled, seemingly bemused by the idea.

“That might be interesting to see,” he said. “But also keep in mind that we are mostly groping about blindly when it comes to this world’s civilian vocations. The vast majority identified so far did not exist in Yggdrasil, and we do not know where they lead. Forcing people into specific paths might work to a specific degree, but individuals like Wagner are complex. She is a merchant noble, and there are few hints as to how they develop or what they ultimately might become. If those in leadership provide bonuses to their subjects, and a militant noble manifests command capabilities, a merchant noble might also provide some sort of bonus to the merchants working under them. In that case, it is a better path where one who provides benefits to many, who in turn are allowed to focus on their own specializations.”

Pestonya scratched her cheek as they listened to his reply, and Shalltear wasn’t quite sure what to think of it at all.

“That gives us a lot to think about…wan. Yuri Alpha will surely be interested in this information for the sake of developing her curriculum.”

“If we had limited lifespans like these Humans,” Pandora’s Actor said, “it would be a monumental effort – one that requires generations of work on a broad scale to research and develop; prone to losses in direction and focus. Fortunately we do not have this problem: we will figure it out eventually, be it in a thousand years or ten thousand years.”

Pandora’s Actor transformed into Nearata-sama and continued with his work, while Pestonya and Shalltear equalized their mana to keep the Gate running. Pestonya walked off to sit down and watch the flow of wagons, but Shalltear lingered.

“Are we to do this every day until the taxes and rent have all been converted, arinsuka?” She asked.

“For the first day or two,” Pandora’s Actor answered. “Albedo is being extra careful about security in the warehouse. Once she gives the go-ahead, we’ll be doing this in the government warehouse.”

“That’s a relief,” Shalltear said. “It would take weeks to transfer all of this otherwise.”

She continued watching Pandora’s Actor work, tapping a finger against her arm idly.

“Was there something else you wished to discuss?” Pandora’s Actor asked.

“I told her,” Shalltear answered.

“Already? Either you have a great degree of confidence in this Frost Dragon, or she has shown some incredible progress.”

“It is both, I suppose,” Shalltear said. “I should thank you for your thoughts on the matter.”

“Mah…your exceptional intuition provided the initial direction – without it, I wouldn’t have had anything to explore and expand upon in the first place.”

“Will it work?”

“I do not know,” Pandora’s Actor shrugged. “In this new world, where so much is unknown, those with keen intuition hold advantages that those who rely on intellect can only wish they had. Demiurge, Albedo and I require at least some data to work with. You, Mare and Aura, on the other hand, will often discern what is right through mere feeling alone.”

“Do you know why this is?”

“It is how we were designed, is it not?” He replied, “Demiurge, Albedo and I were created to be peerless intellects in our own respective fields, while you, Mare and Aura are a Cleric, Druid and Ranger respectively – classes well-known for intuition and empathy. I would wager that these tendencies extend to all of us in Nazarick with our respective settings.”

“Our settings…speaking of which, I am not self-serving like that Frost Dragon.”

“You are not,” Pandora’s Actor agreed. “The rest, however…”

Shalltear looked down at the grass, fighting to keep the disquieting feeling roiling deep within from changing her expression. Even to this day, she had no memory of what she had done – and she never would. All she had were the accounts of the others, and all she could do was helplessly think about what had gone through the mind of the Shalltear of that time as she did what she had done.

Impulsive and willful. Arrogant, capricious and ruthless. All but helpless to the whims of her created nature when she indulged in her savage lusts and carnal pleasures. She could only imagine what had led to her downfall – her great failure. Her beloved had forgiven her, yet it would always remain: a thorn, lodged deep in her heart.

Shalltear shook her head. No, she couldn’t keep dwelling on it. Any more and she might just dive headfirst into the Exchange Box. After taking a deep breath, she looked up from her introspection and found Pandora’s Actor looking over at her with a teasing expression.

“Hmph,” Shalltear turned her head with a snort. “The Shalltear of tomorrow will be different from the Shalltear of today. I will not allow the mistakes of the past to be repeated.”

Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 18

Chapter 18

“Deeper?”

“Yes, deeper please, Lord Mare.”

“Um…how much deeper?”

“Until I can fly.”

“…”

“Oh…you’re amazing, my lord!” Ilyshn’ish exclaimed as Lord Mare moved his staff around, “It became so huge…”

The chasm widened, its depths growing deeper and deeper. Ilyshn’ish approached the edge, watching the cavern expand before her through Lord Mare’s magic. The powerful Dark Elf had a look of concentration on his face, the tip of his tongue pressing against his upper lip.

“Hmm…”

“Was there something you noticed?” Lord Mare asked.

“I would like to take a look around, my lord,” Ilyshn’ish answered. “May I assume my usual self?”

“Um, sure?”

Returning to her familiar and comfortable Draconic self, Ilyshn’ish started preening over her scales before she noticed Lord Mare staring up at her. She shifted her wings to settle them more comfortably over her back.

“Does my appearance displease you, my lord?”

“N-no, there’s nothing wrong…can other Dragons do that?”

“I have the vague sense that it should be possible to learn how,” Ilyshn’ish replied, “but no one else in the enclave is capable of doing so, my lord – nor have I read of any Dragons in the Dwarven texts displaying such a feat.”

“Why is that?” Lord Mare asked.

“Why?” Ilyshn’ish thought the answer obvious, “Because they have no good reason to, I suppose. It took me half a century to figure this out. Simply changing appearance is just a minor part of it: one must adapt themselves to each appearance’s ‘normal’ behaviour to blend in properly, as well. The barriers to entry and usefulness are quite high; not many Dragons would care enough to invest so much time and patience into appearing and acting as what they consider to be an inferior race. In my case, I learned because I decided it would be useful in my future journeys, yet I still prefer my Draconic self.”

“I see,” Lord Mare returned his attention to shaping the cavern. “We don’t see many Dragons around here, but there should be enough available territory to have plenty of them all over the place. I thought that maybe there’s actually a lot of Dragons around, but they’re all wandering around as something else. It’d be more convenient for many Dragons to gather when they’re Human-sized.”

“I’ve lived in the Azerlisia range all of my life,” Ilyshn’ish said, “so my knowledge of the lands beyond is limited to what I could learn from Dwarven records and a few findings I’ve made from the belongings of dead Frost Giants. Maybe in some nice, advanced, nation somewhere what you speak of might actually be the case, but it’s nowhere near here if what I’ve learned so far is true. Dragons are considered little more than threatening monsters by the people in these Human lands.”

“Still, it’s strange,” Lord Mare told her. “Dragons are really strong compared to almost everything else around this place. Big sis was really excited when we came here because she thought she could finally get a Dragon for herself, but, no matter where she looked, she couldn’t find one. There must be some explanation as to why they’re so rare – I can’t think of anything besides something just getting rid of them all recently…”

The undefined spectre of a threat so dire that it could wipe out the absent Dragon population drifted up from the depths of Ilyshn’ish’s mind. She shivered involuntarily, scales rippling in a wave over her entire length.

“Um…you’re scaring me, my lord.”

“Hm? Oh! Sorry…a-anyways, Lord Ainz gave her Hejinmal, so she’s pretty happy.”

“But…what about my brother?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“He’s a pet now, isn’t he?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve heard that His Majesty desires prosperity and happiness for his subjects,” Ilyshn’ish said, “but I don’t think any Dragon could be happy with Hejinmal’s arrangement.”

“Why?” Lord Mare tilted his head curiously, “Is there something wrong with having a pet? Big sis has a lot of them.”

“Having some pets wouldn’t be so ba–I mean, Hejinmal is basically a slave now, isn’t he? He has to do what Lady Aura wants, since he’s her belonging now.”

“Did he tell you that he was unhappy?”

“Not in as many words,” Ilyshn’ish said, “but he seems so unnaturally chipper now. Something must be wrong in his head.”

“Maybe he really is just happy?” Lord Mare suggested.

Ilyshn’ish’s sigh cast a frozen puff of air out over the ledge. Watching the crystals of frost drift down into the chasm, she struggled to comprehend Lord Mare’s words.

“We’re not some sort of domesticated animal,” Ilyshn’ish told him. “Not like those…those things that look like mutated wolves. I see them around the city and in the farms – sometimes people walk them around on leashes or style their fur in absurd ways. Gophers.”

“Dogs.”

Ilyshn’ish blinked twice and looked down at Lord Mare.

“A-are you sure about that?” She asked.

“I-I think so?” He answered, “Anyways, big sis takes good care of her pets – none of them look sad or lonely or anything like that. Plus you can get passive and active buffs from your master, depending on what classes they have.”

“I can?” Ilyshn’ish shook her head violently, “No, wait, I’m not interested – just curious…what are they like?”

“Hmm…in general, they’re benefits that allow you to help with whatever your master is doing. A Bard’s familiar might help with performances or do little things to help out in general, and they gain skills and abilities they never had before.”

“Bards can have pets? I didn’t know that…”

“They’re not very strong compared to the Bard,” Lord Mare told her. “A Bard about as strong as a Gold-rank Adventurer might have a songbird or something like that.”

Did that mean she could have a weak little Human as a pet? Was it allowed? The way Lord Mare put it, owning a pet didn’t count as slavery. Pam was nice and non-threatening – maybe they could arrive at a beneficial arrangement.

“If it’s a cavalry class,” Lord Mare continued, “their mounts gain bonuses that help them perform well in the type of combat that their rider engages in. This is especially important since most common mounts are a lot weaker than their rider, so if they don’t get those benefits, the mount can be charmed or just killed under them as they ride into combat.”

Nope. That sounded like pure lunacy. No creature would be so insane as to volunteer for this terminally stupid vocation.

“What about Lady Aura?”

“C-could it be that you still want to become her pet?”

“N-no, but she looks impossibly strong. How can someone like Hejinmal even help her?”

“Well, not every pet has to be the fighting kind,” Lord Mare told her. “Big sis has a bunch for that already anyways – she just wanted a flying pet. I guess if she wanted to, she might be able to train him up so he can fight better? Her buffs are really strong across the board, so even a weaker pet can become a threat.”

“I see,” Ilyshn’ish nodded in understanding. “So they trade their freedom for power…”

“It isn’t just about power,” Lord Mare corrected her. “A pet is a close companion, and a good master will give them a lot of love and care.”

“Love and care mean very little to my kind,” Ilyshn’ish told him. “Becoming more powerful is clearly the main benefit here.”

Lord Mare stopped what he was doing, looking up at her with his big, watery eyes.

“My lord?”

“I was just thinking that my own Dragons act pretty differently from you.”

Ilyshn’ish’s idly swishing tail stopped. She reviewed Lord Mare’s words several times before moving her head down closer to him.

“Y-you have pet Dragons?” She said in a low voice, “Are there any fine gentlemen, perchance? If so, perhaps you could introduce me…at great risk of sounding desperate, I’m getting desperately desperate these days.”

“Desperate?” Lord Mare tilted his head curiously.

"I, erm…how should I put it,” Ilyshn’ish said carefully. “I am currently in season, and Lady Shalltear will not let me leave to find a mate. All of the Dragons here are my brothers and half-brothers. I’m keeping myself together so far, but my mind and body are in a terrible mess…it’s getting really bad now, so I think my time is almost up. You understand my predicament, yes?”

Ilyshn’ish’s conversation with Lady Shalltear earlier in the day made her aware of how strangely she had been acting in the past weeks. Compared with the cool, calculating self of her memories, her life had become a tempest of emotions and impulses. Being conscious of her current irregular state helped, but doing something about it was still a monumental challenge.

“I-I don’t think it will work,” Lord Mare said in apologetic tones. “You’re not the same type of Dragon.”

“I-I see,” Ilyshn’ish sighed.

“Sorry.”

“It’s nothing you should need to apologize for, my lord,” Ilyshn’ish dipped her head. “As I mentioned, I’m in a bit of a mess right now. I’ll just have to wait for it to pass.”

“What happens if you don’t find a mate?”

“I don’t know,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “My mother never had any problem finding a mate. This is my first clutch – everything is new and frightening and weird. I don’t really like how I am right now…”

“Well, maybe we should focus on our work, then.”

“Yes, maybe we should,” Ilyshn’ish nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”

During their discussion, Lord Mare had continued to shape the stone, moving it around until he had opened an underground chasm roughly three kilometres long and five hundred metres wide. It was not deep, however, looking to be about three hundred metres to the bottom. Her brow furrowed at how shallow the space was.

“I went down until I found groundwater,” Lord Mare said. “Any deeper and it will just flood.”

“There aren’t any cave systems below the city?”

“Nothing like the one that connects the Dwarf Kingdom underground.”

“That’s a shame,” Ilyshn’ish said. “The Realm Below is quite expansive, but this city seems to have no connection to it.”

“The Realm Below?”

“Yes,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “I think I’ve also seen it occasionally mentioned as the Underdark. The cave networks that run under the Azerlisia Mountains are only a tiny part of a vast system that stretches under the entire continent. The Dwarves have explored a bit of it because of all the mining that they do – there’s a lot of nastiness down there.”

Lord Mare blinked slowly several times.

“M-maybe we shouldn’t let that nastiness in…” He said.

“M-maybe you’re right,” Ilyshn’ish quickly agreed. “Please forget I said anything, my lord.”

“Is this really going to be long enough?” Lord Mare looked out across the cavern, “Adventurers can move a lot faster than regular people.”

“Once we give it the appropriate weather…er, powerful Druids can change the weather, yes? I hope that book wasn’t some fanciful story…”

“Yes, I can…hmm, this cavern should be large enough to have its own weather…”

Lord Mare raised his staff.

“「Control Weather」.”

Several seconds passed before clouds started to visibly form over the chasm. A light drizzle started, filling the dusty air with the scent of rain.

“Mmh…it takes a bit to cool things down in here.”

“Yes, my lord,” Ilyshn’ish said, “We’re underground, after all.”

It inevitably did cool down, however, and the drizzle turned into a flurry. When fat snowflakes started drifting through the air, Ilyshn’ish hopped off of the ledge, taking wing to examine the cavern. The freezing winds whipping around her were a comfort after a morning filled with anxiety. She flew around lazily, through snowfall that would have reduced visibility to near nothing for any of the local inhabitants.

When ice started to cake on the walls of the cavern, she flew up and latched onto the sheer surface. It appeared that her ability to move about on icy surfaces as a spider would on walls and webs worked even if the terrain was magically created. She crept around, absorbing the layout of the entire area. At the bottom of the cavern, she found that groundwater had indeed flooded the entire floor, but it only went up to her ankles.

Taking wing again, she returned to the ledge overlooking the chasm. She folded her wings neatly over her back and rested beside Lord Mare. Her tail idly went back and forth again behind them.

“You didn’t have trouble flying through all that?” Lord Mare asked, “There are supporting structures in the way as well, so I thought you might crash.”

“Feoh Berkana has huge support pillars that span between the ceiling and the floor,” Ilyshn’ish answered. “They’re all over the city, so I’m used to navigating something like this. As for the weather you’ve created, fierce squalls and blizzards are ideal hunting weather for Frost Dragons. We have no issues flying through what others might consider impassable conditions, and those same conditions are severely debilitating to our prey, making it all the easier for us to overwhelm them.”

“That’s pretty cool…does that mean that Frost Dragons can transport cargo through any kind of weather? I think Shalltear had you deliver something to the Adventurer expedition camp southwest of here last week.”

“If it’s just violent winds and heavy snow or rain – even hail – it shouldn’t matter to any of us. Being struck by lightning would be terrible, but we can just fly above that…”

Her brows slowly started to furrow as a shard of her memory threatened to pop the fragile bubble of her composure.

“…what did you say about Lady Shalltear sending me to do something, my lord?”

“Um…I asked if Shalltear could deliver something from the city to the Adventurer expedition camp, so I think she sent you?”

“They’re…they’re as bad as I thought…” Her voice sunk into a moan.

“Huh?”

“A-and Lady Shalltear – why did she do that!?” The moan became hysterical, “I was so scared; I even told her I didn’t want to go near any Adventurers, but she sent me straight to them right after I said so!”

“C-come to think of it, she did say something like that…”

“Something like what?”

“That you were super scared of Adventurers for some reason, so she sent you out there to see if you had some sort of violent allergy to them.”

“Does being hit by a sword count as a violent allergy?”

“I-I don’t think I’ve heard of an allergy like that before…someone hit you with a sword?”

“Yes! I walked up to drop everything off and a Human screamed really loudly and hit me on the nose! They didn’t even seem to care that it happened – it was like some sort of joke to them…they’re uncivilized brutes, truly.”

“I don’t think they’re trained to randomly attack new people they meet, never mind our own Frost Dragons…I’ll have to do something about that.”

“Please do, my lord,” Ilyshn’ish said. “My life has been harrowing enough as it is.”

For a long while, they watched the snowfall together in silence, and Ilyshn’ish basked in the peaceful sensation after she recovered from her unwelcome realization. As she gazed down to the chasm floor below, she was reminded of what she had observed there.

“Lord Mare,” Ilyshn’ish asked, “would it be possible to make the bottom a bit deeper?”

“I can, but why?”

“To have something like a river,” she replied, “or a small lake. There are species in the Azerlisia Mountains that may dwell underwater. Also, this is a survival exercise, so it is another feature that should be present. I assume that these Adventurers will favour valleys with more hospitable conditions for their kind as they explore, so having bodies of water nearby will be a common occurrence.”

Lord Mare hopped off of the ledge, and Ilyshn’ish followed after him. The Dark Elf slowed down to float over the water at the bottom. He flew back and forth a few times, looking this way and that.

“A river running all the way through might take up too much space,” he said after Ilyshn’ish settled into the water beside him. “How about something like this?”

He flew off, adjusting the terrain as he went. The cavern floor became a slope, with lengths along the lowest portions filled with water. Several small lakes were formed, with the largest of them in the centre of the cavern. Ilyshn’ish slowly scanned the surroundings, imaging the wintry scene that could be portrayed with the right elements in place.

“I believe it will be suitably convincing once all of the details are added, my lord,” Ilyshn’ish said. “If the cavern ceiling is obscured by this weather, people of races not adapted to frozen climes will not be able to see through to it.

“Alright,” Lord Mare replied. “What about plants and terrain features?”

“It should be conifers – fir, spruce and pine of various types – hearty shrubs and grasses, mainly. Lower elevations will see a broader selection, obviously. Also, I understand that we’ve just begun, but the terrain should also look more natural – rougher ground with stone and loose soil. Maybe some shallow caves where animals and small tribes shelter, too.”

“Do you think a cave with a Dragon in it might work, too?”

“A cave with a Dragon…wait, by Dragon you don’t mean me, do you?”

“Your place is being renovated, isn’t it?”

Ilyshn’ish blinked away the tears that suddenly started to well up in her eyes. Lord Mare was truly a good and dependable person.

“…that’s very considerate of you, my lord,” she sniffed. “I will take you up on your kind offer.”

Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 19

Chapter 19

“Hehis, heau hee!”

“Hah?”

Themis looked up at the incomprehensible, yet desperate sounding Mag. Eyes filled with tears, the Rogue pushed her face forward, tongue nearly touching Themis’ nose. Themis went cross-eyed trying to see what was wrong.

“「Light Cure Wounds」.”

The petite woman sighed in relief, tongue returning into her mouth. Her mouth worked silently for a moment.

“That hurt sooo much!” She cried, “I love you, Themis!”

Mag threw her arms wide, coming forward to embrace her. Themis braced herself. Just before the Rogue reached her, however, she faltered and stopped.

“What?” Themis asked.

“After what just happened,” Mag answered, “I figure that might not be such a good idea…”

“What do you mean?” Themis frowned, “What even happened to you?”

“Well, uh…the fingers of my gauntlets were sticking together for some reason after warming them up by the fire just now.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I didn’t either! I thought maybe it was some kinda weird magical effect. Anyways, I started testing things out and my tongue somehow got stuck to my dagger somewhere along the way.”

“Wha?”

“I know, right? I panicked and yanked it off, but I didn’t realize how stuck I was. It felt like half of my tongue came off!”

Mag’s mouth worked again after her account, as if testing to make sure that everything was actually there. By the looks of it, it wasn’t actually that bad, but Themis knew better than to try and trivialize the suffering of others.

“Mag,” she told her, “we can’t afford this…”

“We can’t?”

“We can’t!” Themis told her, “This place is a huge drain on mana. It gets so cold that Horton and I have to take turns casting cold protection spells to spread out mana usage.”

“I-I didn’t think it would turn out that badly!” Mag said, “Maybe like ice cream, at worst?”

Themis sighed despite herself, and Mag slinked away.

After completing their two-odd weeks of familiarization with the expedition system, they had returned to the city and were told to prepare for ‘acclimation training’, which was touted to be as close to authentic to the conditions of the Azerlisia Mountains as could currently be made. It was described as a ‘winter-like environment’, so they had prepared for what they thought would be suitable for a winter expedition. Unfortunately, winter around E-Rantel was short and cool, a period of rainy weather and soggy mats of dead leaves. The number of times that the citizens had seen snow falling on the city could be counted on one hand.

Themis’ first attempt – this was the second – had ended in utter disaster. The biting cold was more than just an issue of comfort. Temperatures were so severe that energy protection spells were eaten away in a matter of minutes. Their Ranger, who had set off in advance to scout their way forward, never returned. After about an hour, they were forced to withdraw without making it ten metres past the entrance. Pestonya appeared shortly after, bringing with her the frozen corpse of their Ranger. They had to wait a good while before she thawed out so they could resurrect her.

The next day, she was added to a new team. Going by their rather absurd-looking attempts at bundling up, they had all experienced the new training course; not a single comment was made on each others’ appearance. This time, her party consisted of a Fighter, a Rogue, a Monk, a Bard, a Wizard and herself. The lack of a Ranger as their scout was already turning the experience into a nightmare.

To her credit, Mag was doing what she could. She was generally excellent in ruins or catacombs, but Rogues could simply not match Rangers when it came to exploring untamed environments. Progress was slow – so slow that Themis suspected if the weather wasn’t obscuring their vision, they’d be able to see the entrance of the course from where they had decided to camp for the night.

She thought it a miracle that they even survived thus far. They were lucky enough to locate a shallow cave, where they all huddled together in the scant warmth of a small campfire. The wood they managed to forage was cold and wet, filling the air with thick smoke that added to their misery. Themis was used to replenishing her mana during periods of rest, but the need to refresh protective spells to stave off the cold left her in a state where every spell was precious, and mana levels much harder to sustain.

As they finished packing away their camp, Mag returned from her reconnaissance.

“I think it’s warming up?” She said, “The worst of last night is over, at any rate.”

“What did you see?” Lawrence, the Bard who was acting as the party leader, asked.

“I followed the slope a little ways,” Mag answered, “and it looks like it’s curving a bit as it leads down. I didn’t notice any animals – just more of this frozen hellscape.”

“That’s a good thing,” Horton said. “If we get into any rough fights, our mana is going to be in big trouble.”

“Let’s stay conservative with that,” Lawrence said, “even if we do get into a fight. Our mana is the only thing keeping us alive against the elements here.”

“You don’t have a spellsong for something like this?” Horton asked.

“I sure as hell wish I did,” Lawrence replied. “I’d be the most popular guy in the Adventurer Guild right about now.”

“I doubt we’ll be able to find any cold resistance items in the city either,” Neil, the Fighter, said, “this whole thing is really making me rethink what’s valuable and what isn’t. I saved up two months’ worth of points for this suit of enchanted Dwarven plate mail, but it doesn’t help me at all against cold weather.”

“Did they even have energy resistance items in the guild store?” Maurus, the monk, asked.

“No idea,” Lawrence said. “I’m pretty sure most people have been focusing on equipment that would help with all of the combat training we have. In hindsight, we should have been preparing for expeditions – that’s what we’re ultimately supposed to be doing, yeah?”

It did feel obvious, in hindsight. As the fair-haired Bard had mentioned, everyone had been entirely focused on what would help them in training, which was primarily combat until recent weeks. The first inkling Themis had that she should be considering more than just what she needed to make it out of fights in one piece was out on the practice expedition. Even then, it amounted to matters of inconvenience rather than need.

“I guess,” Mag said from the front. “I’m in the same predicament – I spent most of my points on combat and scouting gear. Actually, now that we’re talking about points, there’s a rumor about this new course.”

“A rumor?”

“Yeah, I heard there’s some secret bonus in here somewhere – maybe we’ll get something nice if we figure it out, eh?”

“I think I heard something like that as well,” Lawrence said, “ya seen anyone with anything new and shiny since yesterday?”

“Nope, maybe we’ll be the first,” Mag’s eyes twinkled. “Alright, I’m getting in the mood now. Exploring the unknown, finding new things – that’s our Adventurer Guild, right?”

“As romantic as it sounds,” Lawrence said, “I’d rather not push our luck. Remember how expeditions are supposed to operate – our first priority is to collect information on the assigned area. Looking into specific details comes after that.”

“I agree,” Themis nodded. “We don’t even have any idea of how much further we need to go. If we get sidetracked and waste our resources, we might not have enough to make it to the end.”

“The end,” Lawrence frowned, “as in a boss fight?”

“Have you been on one of these training runs that didn’t have a boss fight?”

“The training expedition didn’t,” he replied, “but I guess you might have a point.”

The members of the party exchanged glances, uncertainty clouding their expressions. The current training session was unlike any they had taken part in previously. They were warned that it could take days, had to bring their supplies with them, and faced hazards that the Training Area did not have in its other sections. In addition, even if they had to fight something at the end, it didn’t mean that the session would be considered a success – they still had to make it back out. It was more akin to their training expedition in the forest outside of the city: there was a lot of moving, camping and surveying. The only violent encounters that they had during the training expedition were when they disturbed the lairs of forest animals and monsters; the outcome of most being that the two sides disengaged after a brief confrontation.

With this in mind, they carefully made their way forward, breaths misting in the frigid air. There were no traps, as far as they had seen, but the terrain was difficult enough. They trudged through waist-high snow and were assailed by howling winds that sent veils of icy crystals whipping over them. Anything beyond a few hundred metres turned into a grey murk hidden behind the thick mist. Perhaps if it were a portrait, or some magical illusion, Themis might have appreciated the scenery for its otherworldly beauty. As one personally trying to survive it, however, she could only shiver in the life-stealing cold.

“I think I found the bottom,” Mag said upon returning from one of her forays.

“The bottom?”

“Yeah the bottom. This is supposed to be like some sort of valley, right? I found a river or a lake or something down at the end of the slope.”

“Any shelter?” Lawrence asked.

“I didn’t see anything,” Mag shook her head. “It was flat and clear as far as I could see. There’s a big cliff that curves around and out of sight. Maybe we’ll find something if we follow it.”

They followed the Rogue through the ‘forest’ of stone pillars, vaguely shaped to resemble trees. The ground was rocky and uneven; once in a while, a member of the party would stumble into a depression and injure themselves, taking some of Themis’ mana away. It was far more difficult for her to manage than a training run full of monsters – inexorably sapping away her mana despite their progress being little more than a crawl. Eventually, Horton ended up being the one to lead the way after Mag, slowly probing the way forward with his staff.

“How many points is it for a stick?” Neil mused.

“Why are you wasting points on a stick?” Lawrence asked, “We’ll be able to just grab one out in the wilderness, yeah?”

“I guess? It’s probably not as good as a proper quarterstaff or spear, though. If something attacks us, I have to react right away. A random branch isn’t going to do much good.”

“Just buy one from the city,” Lawrence said. “Couldn’t be more than a few silver for a good quarterstaff.”

“I wonder if the parties with Rangers have this much trouble…”

“Hey!” Mag said defensively, turning to glower at Neil, “I’m doing my best here!”

“Just curious,” the Fighter held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Grr…”

“We didn’t even get a chance to find out with ours,” Themis said. “He went out saying that it would be ‘no problem’. The next time we saw him, he was frozen solid.”

“Same here,” Lawrence said. “I don’t think our Rangers are trained for this sort of terrain anyways. All of ‘em are local – they’re used to forests and plains.”

“Ludmila might be,” Themis pointed out. “She lives in the mountains south of where we had that training expedition, doesn’t she? You can see snow there in the winter from the city.”

“She might be,” Lawrence shrugged, “but it doesn’t help us. She’s still silver-rank, and busy with noble business besides.”

“What does Ludmila have to do with Rangers?” Neil frowned.

“Uh…she is a Ranger?”

“Really? The only time I’ve been in a party with her, she was leading and we had another scout.”

“Well, she’s a frontier noble,” Lawrence told him, “they lead their patrols out in the wilderness and…wait, shouldn’t you know this? I thought you said you’re from a frontier village.”

“I’m from a little place in the north, yeah. The noble there didn’t do any of that, though. Hell I don’t even know what they look like – it’s not as if they’ll come to get their fancy asses muddy out on the border.”

“What? How did you people not get eaten by something from the Great Forest of Tob with no one defending you?”

“Nothing really serious has ever come out of there,” Neil shrugged, “for as long as the village has been there. Worst was a few Goblins and maybe an Ogre or two. Nothing the local Adventurers couldn’t sweep up back when the guild used to pay bounties.”

“That’s really different from what I heard about the south. They’re constantly on guard against raiders there and, once every few years, there’s a big fight. Dying on the border isn’t unexpected.”

“That sounds really rough, but I can’t really speak for ‘em. Our villagers could even go into the forest to collect food and herbs without trouble. Would explain why that woman’s teams always mercilessly brutalize everything in their path, though.”

After pushing through the forest for another hour, they reached the edge of a clear area that stretched off into the distance. The mists concealed the far reaches, but the endless blanket of snow could have as easily been a field as a lake.

“This is a lake?” Lawrence peered out into the distance.

“Yessir.”

Mag squatted down and brushed the snow aside. Rather than stone or soil, there was a solid sheet of ice.

“What the hell?” Neil bent over to look more closely at the surface, “I’ve never seen anything like this before. How does a whole lake become ice like this?”

“Probably something to do with it being so cold that our asses freeze off? Mmh…”

Mag frowned down at the ice for a moment, then stomped her boot several times. Neil gave the ice a few experimental taps with his warhammer. When nothing happened, he gave it a good swing. A chip came out of the ice, but the rest remained solid.

“Do we have enough time to cross?” Themis asked, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to camp in an exposed place like this.”

“It isn’t even noon yet, I think,” Mag said. “This looks a lot easier to walk over, so it might not be as slow as before. The sooner we get through, the sooner we can get out of here.”

“Let’s follow the cliff, then,” Lawrence nodded. “It should be faster, and I don’t want to find out that this lake isn’t as frozen as it looks.”

After an hour following the cliff face, Mag returned from her forward position.

“Hold up – there’s monsters ahead.”

The party stopped in their tracks, looking to the Rogue expectantly.

“What kind?” Lawrence asked after she stood in front of them silently for several seconds.

“Oh, dunno, never seen ‘em before. They look like they’re made out of ice or something.”

“I might have some idea,” Horton stepped forward, “is it safe to go up and look?”

“Should be,” Mag said, “I came into plain view of ‘em, but I stayed a good ways back. There’s not much to hide behind out there.”

The Wizard followed Mag out, and they returned ten minutes later.

“There’s a cave up ahead,” Horton reported, “with two Ice Elementals standing out front.”

“Are they hostile?” Lawrence asked.

“I-I don't know?” Horton replied in a helpless tone, “It’s not as if I could go up and ask.”

“How strong do you think they are, Mag?”

“They’re the strongest lumps of ice I’ve ever seen – the second being some ice cubes I had in a drink once.”

“Then…does anyone know how Ice Elementals fight?”

“I’ve only ever read about them, but they’re physical attackers, mainly,” Horton told them. “Bludgeoning damage using their bodies. They have a charge attack like Earth Elementals, and their regular attacks have a cold attribute – the opposite of what Fire Elementals have. The cold protection enchantments that we have on us already will defend against it. They looked maybe a bit larger than a Human, so they should be the equivalent of a tier three or four summon.”

That sounded manageable. As a general rule, the summons of an individual were usually weaker than the tier of the spell that summoned them. A tier three summon would be about as strong as a Silver-ranked Adventurer, while a tier four summon was about as strong as a Gold rank. If Horton’s estimate was accurate, it was at worst two monsters – each equivalent in strength to a Gold-rank Adventurer – against a full Gold-ranked team.

“Let’s form up,” Lawrence said. “We’ll approach them, but don’t attack first. I don’t want a fight if it can be avoided.”

They all nodded, and assumed their positions. With their team composition, Neil and Themis were the defensive line. Mag and Maurus were immediately behind, ready to come around and flank their opponents once they were tied up by the front. Edging forward, they came within a hundred metres of the Elementals in question. Behind them was a cavern perhaps three metres in height, and five metres in width. They stopped and peered over at the swirling entities, whose bodies were composed of blocks of bright blue ice.

After a few moments, they let out a collective sigh.

“Well,” Neil told them, “looks like we’re good.”

The Ice Elementals came to life and swirled towards the party. Everyone shot the Fighter a glare.

Within a dozen seconds, the Elementals crashed into the defensive line, and Themis found herself assailed by chunks of enchanted ice. She raised her kite shield just before a block of ice the size of her head thudded heavily into it, jarring her arm. Smaller chunks swirled around and pelted her plate mail.

“Themis!”

“I’m fine – these hits aren’t getting through.”

As disorienting as the attacks were, they couldn’t get through her armour. As long as the big chunks could be blocked or deflected away, she would be able to hold her position without much trouble. Maurus reached out and grabbed one of the flying bits of ice that bounced off of her right pauldron. He was yanked forward slightly, and he let go before he collided with her.

“Detached, but attached,” he mused. “Hey, how do we even fight these? Where do we hurt them?”

“They should be weak to fire,” Horton called over the clunking of their constant attacks. “Otherwise, we’ll just have to break them up.”

“Works for me,” Neil said.

The fighter’s warhammer whipped out and shattered a block of flying ice. Its fragments fell lifeless to the ground.

Themis and the Monk joined in, hammering away with mace and unarmed blows. Mag had a tougher time, spending more time dodging the whirling fragments than striking with her mace.

“Why do these things have to attack in all directions?” She complained.

“Should I cast something?” Horton asked.

“Save it – I think we got this handled,” Lawrence replied. “Let’s get this settled before they wear down our cold protection.”

After the initial confusion of facing the strange and unfamiliar foes, the party settled into a stable routine, dispatching their opponents with no more than a few scrapes and bruises. Themis saw to the injured while they caught their breath.

“At least we’re all nice and warmed up now,” Maurus said.

“How’s your mana, Themis?” Lawrence asked.

“I’m more behind than I’d like,” she replied. “We should start looking for a place to camp.”

Themis’ gaze went to the dark cavern, rimmed in ice. Her eyes followed the cliff face, which continued to slowly curve out of sight.

“Mag?” Lawrence said.

“On it.”

The Rogue set off along the cliff, disappearing out of sight after a few minutes. The party huddled together just inside the lip of the cave finding a place to hide from the wind.

“Unless the opposite shore is nearby,” Horton said, “I think we’re going to have to use this cave.”

“Yeah,” Lawrence agreed. “Even if we find the opposite shore, we still have to make sure the camp area is secure.”

“Is it even safe here?” Themis asked, “There might be more Elementals inside.”

“I don’t hear anything inside, at least,” Lawrence peered into the darkness. “We’ll send Mag in after she gets back.”

Thirty minutes passed, and Mag returned to the party.

“End of the lake is around the bend,” she reported. “Should be enough time to check around while we make camp there…what?”

“Since it’s pretty close to the shore,” Lawrence said, “could you check out this cave before we move on?”

Mag frowned over into the cave entrance. Icicles hung from the ceiling, giving the impression of a maw filled with teeth.

“Uh…why?”

“We should see what’s inside, yeah? Exploration and all that.”

“Initial exploration is supposed to be mapping out the surface, isn’t it?” Mag returned, “Caves and other things come after that.”

“That’s true…”

“What about the bonus?”

Neil reminded them of the discussion from earlier in the day, and everyone but Themis hmm’d.

“…so we nab the bonus from the cave and move on?” Lawrence said.

“If the bonus even exists,” Horton said. “It’s worth a look, I guess?”

“Okay,” Mag frowned. “Whatever happens, it’s not my fault, okay?”

“Got a Darkvision item?”

“Yeah.”

Mag pulled her auburn hair over an ear, revealing a glittering obsidian stud before vanishing into the darkness of the cave. Ten minutes later, an ear-splitting roar blasted out from the interior. Those waiting at the entrance cleared out onto the lake outside, and Mag skittered out shortly after.

“This bonus sucks!” She cried.

“What?”

Lawrence’s question seemed a needless one. Whatever it was that was after Mag, none of them wanted any part of.

“Run!” She said, “Runrunrunrunwoah!”

The Rogue lost her footing, falling onto her back and skidding by. The object she had been cradling flew out of her hands, rolling up against Themis’ plated boot. She frowned down at the icy sphere. There was something encased inside…

Her eyes grew wide as a sinuous white form passed under the stretch of ice cleared by Mag’s long slide. A wave of primal fear washed over her, mind and body freezing in pure terror. All around her, the party was in the same state of paralysis.

Oh gods...

The surface cracked and exploded upwards beneath their feet, dumping everyone into the water. The last thing Themis saw was a pair of broad wings behind a long, scaled neck, rising out of the broken ice. Glowing, reptilian eyes glared down furiously upon them, and a jaw filled with dagger-sized teeth opened in their direction. Themis’ head sank below the surface, and darkness accompanied her into the icy depths.

Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Through the Mirror of Remote Viewing, the proctors watched as an entire Gold-ranked party was consigned to an icy fate.

The Frost Dragon was not done, however. As she rose into the air and the Adventurers’ heads dipped beneath the waves, the Dragon blasted the surface of the water with her supercooled breath. The lake instantly froze over again, sealing the Adventurers beneath a thick layer of ice. She then went over and picked up her stolen egg, lowering her head to inspect it closely.

“That’s…that’s, um…hmm…” Pluton Ainzach struggled to put his thoughts into words, “Isn’t this difficulty a bit…extreme?”

He was still trying to come to grips with what had happened. Within the span of six seconds, the party had been wiped out. Ainzach had witnessed the fierce agility of Gryphons and the martial might of a War Troll, but the Frost Dragon ambush left him with a chill that made him feel like he was standing on the other side of the mirror. It was the cold ruthlessness of a being that dominated the apex of the Azerlisia Range, delivering uncompromising death with swift and brutal efficiency.

It was one thing to be overwhelmed by the incomprehensible might of the Sorcerer King and his servants; your sheer insignificance by comparison resigning you to a dull acceptance of an impossible-to-challenge reality. It was another thing entirely to firmly grasp everything that happened before one’s eyes, understanding exactly how death would come to inexorably claim you.

“That was six Gold-ranks against a new Copper-rank, right?” Aura replied with a mischievous grin.

Ainzach sent a reproachful look in Aura’s direction. It was true that Shiver was now a Copper-ranked Adventurer, but that was due to a combination of her recent registration and the Adventurer Guild’s stringent procedures for training and promotion. As Ishpen had so adamantly asserted, she was bound to quickly make her way up the ranks once she could be formally run through their curriculum.

“I don’t believe that there were any losses, at least,” Momon said from behind his desk, “and it looks like Pestonya is already on the scene to make sure.”

No losses?

Ainzach looked up from his thoughts and saw that the powerful Priestess had already arrived through a Gate. She lifted the newly-formed layer of ice with one hand and effortlessly tossed it aside – it must have weighed several tonnes. Shiver openly gaped at the shattered disk of ice for a moment before Pestonya said something to her that was unintelligible over the howling wind.

The Frost Dragon nodded, transforming into her Human appearance and diving into the water. Seconds later, the Adventurers were ejected onto the ice, looking like so many stranded fish. Pestonya used healing magic to resuscitate them one by one, and Yuri Alpha came and brought them through the Gate. The Dragon and her egg vanished after the last Adventurer was delivered, probably returned to her makeshift lair.

“What was that ambush even?” Ainzach asked, “I’ve heard recountings and tales of Adventurers fighting Dragons, but it’s generally a bit more…”

“Fair?” Momon chuckled, “Indeed, those are the accounts that I’ve heard as well. Keep in mind, however, that these are the tales that people actually survive to tell. There are also many different types of Dragons. Frost Dragons are some of the weakest and least intelligent of Dragonkind, but they make up for that with predatory cunning and their opportunistic nature. The longer they live, the more proficient they become at these methods of fighting.”

“She didn’t seem particularly stupid to me,” Ainzach replied.

“It varies by individual, of course,” Momon told him, “just like the majority of other races. An Adult Frost Dragon should, on average, be the same as the average Human in intelligence. As with all Dragons, they become wiser, smarter and generally more powerful with age. Due to their awareness of being the weakest of their kind, you’ll have individuals with far less of the predictable, self-assured pride that other types of Dragons have. This makes them especially dangerous – what you may have learned to be an exploitable weakness of Dragons might not be present at all.”

Did that mean that the only thing that kept these Dragons from establishing a nation of their own was their feral nature? According to the stories brought back from the Dwarf Kingdom, the former Lord of these Dragons was doing exactly that. Another thought occurred to him.

“There aren’t any more Frost Dragons in the Azerlisia Mountains, right?” Ainzach asked, “They all follow His Majesty now? I’d hate for us to run into one of them when the expedition is actually underway.”

“That is actually unknown,” Momon replied. “The rivalry between the Frost Dragons and Frost Giants is an ancient one, with both races seeking to enslave members of the other. Our Frost Dragons mentioned that their kind was commonly enslaved by the Frost Giants. Seeing that the Frost Dragons had no Frost Giant slaves of their own, it’s fairly clear who was winning that contest. Though it resulted in a couple of fatalities, His Majesty’s actions probably saved the rest of the Frost Dragon enclave from that eventual fate.”

“But that leaves us to deal with those Frost Giants,” Ainzach frowned. “Our members stood no chance against a single Frost Dragon; how can we be expected to deal with these Giants? We’ll be dodging boulders before we can even get close enough to talk to them.”

“I-its a secondary objective anyways,” Mare said. “The main purpose of the expedition is to survey the route for the new highway – the focus for the training expedition was also narrowed down to related activities. The Frost Giants are just a bonus.”

“A bonus,” Ainzach snorted, then he frowned. “Wait, don’t tell me that you’re the source of that rumor…”

“I-I might have said something where the members could hear me…” Mare avoided meeting his gaze.

This kid…no – it would be a mistake to consider him as just another kid. Despite the new section’s straightforward design, the Adventurers were being taught many unforgettable lessons at once. Mare didn’t often speak with most of the guild members, but the strokes he delivered through the Training Area were unquestionably effective.

The course that every member of the upcoming expedition was being put through consisted of a path that had the training party come across the Dragon lair with the Ice Elementals standing guard in front of it. Just beyond that was the objective, where they would find the far end, fight a few Winter Wolves, then return the way they came. It drove home the value of expeditionary preparations, resource management in a hostile environment, and punished them for making decisions that they shouldn’t on the field. The ‘bonus’ here was just as deadly as becoming sidetracked in the Azerlisia Range and running into Frost Giants, and it wasn’t something that would soon be forgotten.

A part of him wasn’t sure whether it was due to Mare being eminently capable at his role as the Training Area Manager, or if he was naturally as ruthless as his decisions seemed to suggest. Over time, Ainzach had started to lean towards the latter: he used what could be used, and he did so with what might be considered perfect efficiency. He wondered if Shiver knew that she had also been co opted into his planning.

None of the junior Adventurers had an inkling of this at all: everyone had an overwhelmingly positive opinion of the soft-spoken and outwardly timid Dark Elf. Personally, Ainzach thought Mare’s willingness to unapologetically correct problematic behaviours was a boon overall – better to suffer in training than face catastrophic failures on the field.

There was a knock at the entrance, and Ainzach turned to see Shiver peeking around the doorframe. Her stance seemed to compel him to stand and protect the entrancing woman from whatever was troubling her. If Ainzach hadn’t just witnessed her obliterate an entire Adventurer party, he might have leaned towards accommodating her in any way that he could.

Was she doing it on purpose? If so, her ability as a Bard was peerless – she appeared to be entirely authentic in her performance.

“There’s no need to wait at the door,” Ainzach called out to her. “Make yourself comfortable.”

The Dragon in Human form dipped her head shyly before entering, heading straight to Mare. Aura cast a critical eye towards them, as if measuring the distance between the two.

“How was it?” Mare asked.

“I think I can do it, Lord Mare,” Shiver replied. “Do they get any more scary than that?”

“The strongest should be Rainbow – Moknach’s team,” Ainzach told her. “We added a Platinum Bard and Wizard to fill out their number, so it should be something like a weak Mithril team overall.”

“I-is that the group with that Elf, Merry?” Shiver asked.

Ainzach nodded.

“Merry is scary,” Shiver cringed away. “It would be best if they just ignore the cave entirely.”

Scary seemed to encompass anything that Shiver imagined could possibly hurt her, even just a bit.

“You didn’t seem scared at all back there,” he said. “Can you describe what you did? I think we got most of it, but the mirror can’t convey invisible effects, if there were any used.”

Shiver looked at Mare with a question over her features, and he nodded up at her. Her hands lightly traveled over her body, fixing imperceptible flaws in her perfect appearance before she turned to address Ainzach.

“Um…when the Human female snatched one of my eggs,” Shiver explained, “I tried to scare her into dropping it, but she just ran off. I slipped into the lake from an underwater entrance that I tunneled out beforehand, then used Dragonfear to freeze her party in place once she led me to them. I sensed where each Human was positioned and broke out of the ice to dump them all into the water. Once they went under, I froze the surface over with my Frost Breath.”

Aura walked up to one of the mirrors, looking around the cave while they spoke.

“…you devised that plan within seconds of encountering them?” Ainzach asked.

“Yes?” Shiver tilted her head with a puzzled look, “Hunting down our opponents and prey is natural – we don’t have to think about it at all.”

“Maybe I should level up Hejinmal…” Aura muttered as she continued to fiddle with the mirror.

“Hejinmal was a shut-in, Lady Aura,” Shiver said. “I did almost all of his hunting for him.”

“Eh? Does that mean you stole his eckspee?”

“E-ecskpee, my lady?” Shiver struggled with the strange word.

“Yeah, eckspee…you know, experience poi–bah, never mind.”

“I-its true that he basically has no hunting experience, so his instincts should be similarly dulled…”

“Muu…”

Ainzach idly wondered if this ‘Hejinmal’ was about to have something happen to him. He flipped through his notes, looking for other questions he might need answered.

“You sounded really mad when they took that egg,” Ainzach murmured, “I thought one of the mirrors was going to crack. Was that more instinct at work?”

“I suppose I was furious about that,” Shiver admitted in a quiet voice. “Maybe it was too much? Lady Shalltear told me that I need to learn how to master my nature if I want to truly improve.”

“I don’t think anyone would fault a woman for having maternal instincts,” Ainzach responded with a slight smile. “That should be the expected result if you steal a baby or egg from any mother.”

“Maternal instincts…”

“Hey,” Aura interjected from the side, “you have five eggs! Think I could have one?”

On the opposite end of the line of desks, Momon shifted in his seat. Was he about to admonish one of the Sorcerer King’s servants? Shiver glanced around nervously, as everyone appeared to be reacting at once.

“That’s, um…well, I should perhaps ask if Lord Mare would like one of them first?”

“Hah?” Aura said, “Why does Mare get one first?”

Shiver wordlessly stared at Aura, then a pretty blush appeared over her features.

“That’s because…” she brought her fingertips together lightly, averting her gaze, “that’s because Lord Mare was the one who finally helped me with my eggs…”

“WHAT!”

Aura grabbed Mare by the shoulders, shaking him violently.

“W-w-what have you done, Mare?!” She all but shouted, “You’re only 77! I can’t be an aunt at 77! Why do women keep happening to you?!”

Aura switched her glare to Shiver, who visibly flinched and jumped back.

“You! When did this happen?”

“A-after we finished making the training course, my lady,” Shiver replied. “I don’t understand what’s wrong!”

Mare was suddenly released, and Aura pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath.

“Okay,” she said. “Tell me what happened after you two finished the training course.”

The flush over Shiver’s neck and face started to rise again.

“Why are you blushing!”

“Because it’s embarrassing!” Shiver cried, “What would you do if people demanded to know about your first time?”

“B-big sis…” Mare looked over at Aura with wide eyes.

“I-I don’t have one!” Aura snapped.

“So, what happened?” Momon stepped in.

“Lord Mare fashioned the cave for me,” Shiver glanced up at the Dark Warrior cautiously, “and the conditions were nice enough in the training course that I could finally lay my eggs.”

“...and that’s all he did?”

“Well, my lord was very kind to me,” a warm smile grew over her face. “He made me feel safe and comfortable, and it wasn’t as painful as I had feared it would be. I was finally able to relax and it just happened overnight.”

A frown appeared on Aura’s face again.

“Just to be clear,” Momon asked, “who is the father?”

“The…the father?” Shiver’s shoulders slumped sadly, “T-there is no father: I was too late…”

“That so?” Aura breathed a sigh of relief, “I thought Mare was going to be a father.”

“Eh?” Shiver blinked, “Was that an option? What have I been doing all this ti–”

“Hoooookay,” Aura told her, “you just forget about that right now and never think about it again.”

“Wait,” Ainzach said. “Why were you so angry when Mag took that egg, then?”

“B-because they’re valuable?” Shiver replied, “Lady Shalltear mentioned something about nobles paying for them when we first met, so I figured I could sell them to the highest bidder after the training sessions were done. Dragons react poorly to having their valuables stolen, you know.”

“But they’re your eggs…”

“I never found a mate,” her voice seemed to shrug, “so they’re just eggs. Also, you mentioned maternal instincts – Frost Dragons don’t have them.”

“Y-you don’t?”

“Not in the same sense by which you mortals care for your young.”

“So you don’t take care of your hatchlings at all?”

“Of course not,” Shiver hid a smile behind her hand, but her amused expression spilled around it. “We normally lay our eggs wherever we think plenty of food will be available. Trying to take care of them personally…well, that would be a nightmare. I clearly remember when I was a Wyrmling: I would kill whatever I thought I could eat, then kill stronger things for fun. It was a good thing my parents moved into Feoh Berkana – without so many Quagoa around, I might have just eaten Hejinmal instead.”

Shiver lowered her hand, revealing a bright and beautiful smile. Her ice-blue eyes shone as if she were recalling some fond childhood memory.

“Actually,” she said, “I did take a chunk out of Toranjelit’s tail once. He went screaming to his mother, and she just slapped him straight over the castle wall for not acting his age. Mother and Father were so proud of me – that’s when they started paying attention to my upbringing, I think.”

Ainzach felt the need to reorganize his thoughts about the outwardly-alluring young Frost Dragon. His old colleagues would often complain about how terrible their own children were at a certain age, but he was reasonably certain that it was nothing like this. Looking at her beaming face, he decided that he would really need to wrap his head around what it truly meant to have so many different races with different values living in the Sorcerous Kingdom. The depth behind the Sorcerer King’s intent grew unfathomable, and he did not envy those who had to figure out how to integrate so many into one society.

“So you do have familial instincts,” Aura said. “They’re just focused on having strong kids.”

“Yes…I suppose so, my lady,” Shiver replied. “Rather than mortals who seem to so often shelter their children from the dangers of the world, we try to ensure that our offspring are armed with the weapons to face them. Usually, for every five or six clutches of eggs, perhaps a single Wyrmling will be strong and cunning enough to survive to adulthood. My mother encouraged us to seek paths to power beyond our natural strength, and my father encouraged us to grow stronger so we could hold our own.”

“That sounds about right to me,” Aura agreed. “You can’t be a weakling, or you won’t be able to defend what’s important!”

“I’m so glad we could finally find some common ground, my lady,” Shiver brought her hands together in a pleased gesture. “I truly look forward to working together with you.”

“Un,” Aura nodded and smiled back. “But I’m still gonna skin you if you try anything funny with my brother.”

The Dancer

The glow of warm lighting accents a swirl of gossamer silks; within, a sumptuous figure enthralls assembled patrons – clients gathered around an exclusive stage. They can only watch, enraptured by a vision of ephemeral grace. In the haze of a tavern; on a wooden festival platform; under exquisite frescoes over marbled ballroom floors, the Dancer reigns over her audience. When she finally releases them from her enchanting embrace, dreams and longing follow in her wake.

Much like it's core class of Bard, the Dancer exists in many forms throughout the races and cultures of the world. Dancers have turned their body into an instrument in its own right, capable of masterfully rendering Bardic Spellsong in basic and advanced form. The path to this mastery, however, is long and arduous – something few truly achieve – though Dancers with various levels of expertise will easily attract patrons wherever they go.

The vast majority of Dancers, like Bards, make their living in civilian vocations. These Dancers focus on entertainment, finding a place in venues for every walk of life. In addition, these performers may gain great fame, becoming icons of the fine arts in the lens of high society and popular culture alike. They are the focus of adoration and desire, as often pursued for their charisma and beauty as for their artistic talent…though most have difficulty discerning where one ends and the other begins.

Very rarely, Dancers may engage in martial pursuits, though this path is strewn with hazards. Many may equate the athleticism and grace of a Dancer to martial potency, but both survivability and proficiency in combat are rarely in an artist’s grasp or interest when they initially pursue their careers. Dancers forgo shields and even light armour to maintain the effectiveness of their form, as well as all but the simplest of armament. As such, Dancers who engage in battle tend to be found amongst races who at least possess potent natural weapons and durable bodies. Those without them, like Humans, Elves or Goblins, may find use in specialized equipment such as floating swords or other weaponry that allows one to maintain distance from sources of bodily harm.

In combat, Dancers possess agility and maneuverability equal to those of Monks, often also demonstrating similar unarmed technique. Like Monks, Dancers have stances, though unlike the stances of Monks – which purely confer combat benefits – the stances of Dancers are artistic forms that allow them to also render Spellsong. In place of Ki attacks or Martial Arts, they have Dances: sequences of movement imbued with bardic power that can unleash various effects for themselves, against their targets or over their surroundings. A master Dancer who has made her home on the battlefield is a force to be reckoned with: a singular point of devastating beauty and exquisite grace, weaving their art over a deadly stage.

Winter's Crown: Halftime Q&A, Author Musings

Hello!

So we’re about halfway through Winter’s Crown, and I thought I’d finally pause and take some time to answer all the questions that have piled up for previous acts. I guess I also purposely refrained from doing a Q&A since I wanted to see how Ilyshn’ish, the newly introduced MC, was received. Some reactions and interpretations were expected, while some were quite a surprise…anyways, here we go~

Where are we in the canon timeline?

Act 4 of Winter’s Crown ends during the third week of Upper Fire Month. For reference, this is roughly 4 months from Chapter 1, Act 1 of Birthright. Volume 12 of the LN canon starts some time before the middle of Autumn…so a good three months until then, at least. Remedios’ diplomatic contingent does not speak with Blue Rose in Re-Estize until after midwinter, then moves on to E-Rantel. I hope that pins where we are in the timeline adequately.

On Frost Dragons:

For those unfamiliar with the source of our scaly new friends, Maruyama almost certainly nabbed them from 3.5e Dungeons and Dragons. Going by the details presented in Volume 11 of the Light Novels, he pretty much copy-pasted them wholesale. Appearance, behaviour, traits, spell progression, abilities and ecology – including their traditional rivalry with Frost Giants and the tendency for the two races to enslave each other(or want to) and other local species have all been kept almost entirely intact, or all just the same through some ridiculously uncanny coincidence.

There are a few changes that Maru made to adapt them to his setting, however. The most notable differences are that the Frost Dragons in Overlord appear to mature about twice as quickly(and have all of the relevant age categories consolidated into the ones you see), had their CR(d20’s DR) adjusted downwards by 2/3rds and were physically powered down to match this adjustment. Wyrm and Great Wyrm, the most powerful age categories, do not exist in Overlord. Appearance-wise, there is a single change: the vanilla central frill coming off of the back of their heads being replaced by a pair of horns. Their history always varies by setting, and Overlord has a fairly jobby backstory for Dragonkind.

So, following his lead, I went ahead and established their basic biology and nature through the Overlord canon sources and the 3.5e D&D sources, creating the baseline for Frost Dragons in Valkyrie’s Shadow.

The Blessing and Curse of Flawless Episodic Memory:

The current point in Valkyrie’s Shadow is still highly character-development centric while expanding the details of the setting according to our new Dragon pov, so rather than their physical power relative to the average citizen, how a Frost Dragon mind works is actually one of the biggest factors in portraying Ilyshn’ish. My expectation was for readers to start Ilyshn’ish’s pov and read her as if they were reading a Human, but the thoughts and actions that were woven in over time to portray how she is not a Human at all seemed to have a hard time sticking for many. I’ll need to work on that, but I’m glad people like her character nonetheless.

As mentioned as early as in Act 4 of Birthright, Frost Dragons come with a built-in flawless episodic memory: meaning that they remember all of their experiences perfectly. Their minds are built around this feature, so the way they think and remember things is entirely different than that of a Human. Frost Dragons are, in general, are pretty dumb until they reach Adult stage and older. They’re little more than really smart predators as Wyrmlings, and live like that until they are at the end of their Juvenile age category.

Ilyshn’ish is petulant, snarky, arrogant and cunning because she is a rather successful Frost Dragon(by their measure). Her perfect memory of what works, what doesn’t, and how the world operates are a huge factor on her outlook and responses to various events. She gets lost five minutes from E-Rantel, can’t grasp abstract concepts easily, or even remember stuff that she reads if it’s not presented in a recognizable way. All she has to work with is a hundred years’ of personal experience in a completely different environment, and she’s crashing headfirst into an unfamiliar new reality.

Her mother, Kilistran, recognizes what is going on right away, as she has lived centuries longer than Ilyshn’ish and is well aware of what her daughter will have to go through to rapidly learn. Ilyshn’ish has not had the ‘benefit’ of having the deaths of Olasird’arc or Toranjelit burned into her mind like the rest of her family, and just saying what happened is not enough to make things click in her head. She’s never experienced such a ridiculous thing before, so she cannot treat it seriously due to her biological operations.

You see this mental function demonstrated in many scenes. She’s a murderhobo when flying around the Azerlisia Mountains, then suddenly turns cautious and timid when she’s in E-Rantel. She has no experiences to refer to that can help her make solid decisions about the new place, so she just goes in headfirst and feels her way around. Her actions in Feoh Berkana are another example of how this works: it has been her home for the last century, and she can smoothly work her way around the Dwarves in her old stomping grounds using her century of learning in Dwarf culture and history.

Ilyshn’ish is quite smart, but the way her brain works makes her appear dumb(or cute) – when she’s way out of her depth. Of course, she doesn’t stay like this forever and, after becoming familiar enough with E-Rantel, her confidence returns…until something new happens to her again. This brain function is even to the point where she nearly misses the Frost Dragon aerie when it starts being renovated because things have changed enough that she doesn’t recognize it.

Shalltear, of course, has figured out how to deal with Frost Dragons already, and starts whipping her into shape. Her actions and decisions focus on teaching through (sometimes painful) experience knowing that Frost Dragons learn the fastest in that manner. She has a bit of her own fun along the way, but she’s ultimately been charged to take care of them by Ainz, so she can’t do whatever she wants, and she certainly can’t kill them. You see the culmination of her initial efforts near the end of Act 4, after Ilyshn’ish has been forcefully reshaped into a bare minimum standard of behaviour without the Dragon realizing that everything had been done on purpose until the end.

Ilyshn’ish=Verilyn:

A bunch of the important, more biologically-driven parts of this character are stated above, but…

We first see Ilyshn’ish at the start of Winter’s Crown, in what is pretty much her raw state. She is powerful and confident, as far as Frost Dragons of her age go, and has gained an advantage over most of her generation by pursuing the path of a Draconic Bard. She perceives things in a very limited way, as her own experiences are very limited, making her various plots, schemes and reactions appear hilariously ill-conceived to the reader. Stuff happens to her because she dives head-first into unknown territory, acting on her obsolete or out-of-place experiences. She never stays down for long, however, constantly endeavouring to learn and gain advantages in her cunning sort of Frost Dragon way.

Did I mention she’s in heat? Yeah, that’s a thing too – turning her more emotional and irrational, prone to natural and reactionary impulses and thinking. Despite this, she mostly keeps a lid on things and squeaks by, though there are also several instances of her unable to resist or unknowingly flaunting herself through actions and words. Poor Hejinmal, who has been partnered with her for weeks of deliveries, has to deal with her pheromone cocktail too.

Ilyshn’ish’s time under Sebas quickly leads to her picking up her Dancer class, and she continues to explore the possibilities that it brings. She gains some understanding of Shalltear Bloodfallen and joins the Adventurer Guild. We start to see her more cool-headed, casually evil side after she finally lays her eggs and starts recovering from her hormone-enhanced roller coaster ride.

Though we’re only part of the way through her foundational arc, I think it’s probably safe to say that certain distinct aspects of her character have been fairly well established and her potential for the future appears quite promising. Hopefully, my writing will distinguish her from a ‘Human’ character more and more as time passes, but, at the same time, entrench her as one of the comfortably familiar MCs of the story. She is an individual who becomes more skilled, confident and powerful as time goes on, but predictably gets dumped into the cycle of Frost Dragon learning whenever she goes somewhere new.

Fuyutsuki, the Battledancer outfit that Shalltear has Ilyshn’ish copy, means ‘Winter Moon’. Someone mentioned it in reference to a character in Evangelion, but the characters in Evangelion are named after ships from World War 2. Fuyutsuki was an Akizuki-class Destroyer of the Imperial Japanese Navy, who named their Destroyers after natural phenomena or scenery – and the Destroyer Fuyutsuki was named after the same scenery that the Battledancer outfit paints.

Its appearance is designed to resemble a clear winter night with the moon overhead, giving it its overall motif. Conveniently(or annoyingly) a character named Eula was released in Genshin Impact just before Ilyshn’ish in Fuyutsuki made her debut. There are a weird number of overlaps in appearance between Ilyshn’ish and Eula, particularly in their icy themes. Aside from appearance, however, nearly everything else is different about her.

If you’re curious about what Ilyshn’ish in Fuyutsuki sort of looks like, check out Eula’s Character PV trailer on YouTube. It is not exactly the same, but it does give off the same feeling.

Ludmila Zahradnik:

Ludmila continues to mostly coast along, though she’s had several deadly setbacks. Reconciling the strange gap between a Martial Arts user and a mundane combatant was an interesting exercise, as the Light Novels only vaguely demonstrate what they can do and how they work. Ludmila’s path to polearm mastery is one of the answers I came up with that drew all the threads presented in canon into a more comprehensive, sensical package that can become an established ruleset for the story going forward. It also defines the line where relying on even substantial combat skill is no longer sufficient to be effective in combat.

Her upbringing as a martial noble addresses the strangeness in how Martial Arts are described to be learned. Canonically, it takes a long-ass time™ for people to learn normally, yet some characters can seemingly learn new ones within a very short span of time. Hamsuke and Climb’s rapid realization of their Martial Arts, the existence of combat schools mentioned in v7 and v14, Brain’s new developments by v14, and some narrative bean-counting of Martial Arts usage throughout the novels provide the basic framework. Hopefully it was put together convincingly for the new Adventurer Guild school proposal as well, and will become solidly logical within the narrative as Martial Arts come more and more into play.

We also get a brief overview of Ludmila’s ancestry, and where her affinities come from. There’s also a whiff of where her level cap might potentially be if all the right things line up. Bloodline awakening is not limited to Player or Dragon blood – it can also happen with native bloodlines, and more than a single bloodline can awaken at once. That being said, not all bloodlines are inherently strong.

On the demesne front, things go as peaceful as can be expected when you have nation-wrecking Undead keeping potential troublemakers at bay, Elder Liches doing your data collection and accounting, and Mare providing ‘perfect’ weather. The Lizardmen are getting ready to move in, and she needs to figure out how to integrate them. Zurrernorn is also starting to appear, beginning the track of magical development in Warden’s Vale. The summer harvest has rolled in, and some people have probably already calculated the tax revenue for that. Clara also appears to have some evil(good?) plan brewing.

With Shalltear, Ludmila grows closer, to the point of offering bottled meals. The possibility of Vampire Ludmila is also explored a bit, outlining the downsides that come with becoming a thrall and why maybe it’s not such a good idea. Overall, Shalltear has become quite candid with her first New World vassal, though her vassal still observes the proper forms in public.

Shalltear Bloodfallen:

The Bloody Valkyrie doesn’t get much of a chance to be bloody these days, but she still appears to be doing quite well. What might be called a successful experience with her first native vassal has led her to seeking out more potential additions to her collection of useful people. This is one of the primary things that readers may notice with Shalltear: while many of the ‘competent’ characters in Overlord are pillars of intellect or skill that seem to power themselves with the sheer strength of their own ability, Shalltear – despite being the strongest Floor Guardian – is very social by comparison: combining her intuition, charisma and authority to guide those who fall under her ever-growing shadow.

She has her sights set on members of the Noble Quartet, has made professional connections with new world natives, and she has even seized the initiative with Ilyshn’ish, using her hard-earned knowledge and confidently employing her connections to mold the unwitting Frost Dragon into something more. Needless to say, her shadow will continue to grow, without most of her peers truly understanding just how influential she has become.

Shalltear still enjoys making people squirm when she can, and subtly encourages her associates into doing what might be perceived to be evil things. Her post-volume 11 ‘transformation’ is in full swing, however, and she’s working hard to ‘catch up’ for lost time and opportunities, aiming to rise above her colleagues and earn recognition from her beloved master.

Mare Bello Fiore:

Mare shows up quite a lot – he is probably in as many chapters as Shalltear so far in Winter’s Crown. Well, he deserves more screen time anyways.

Our favorite Dark Elf Druid is actually pretty...itchy to write. As a Druid, he is driven by intuition, much like Shalltear. His resulting competency when it comes to what he does is through the roof. Yet he doesn’t have the charismatic flair of Shalltear – all of his work is done wearing his timid and seemingly insecure guise. Well, most of the time. Sometimes people notice it slipping off, and he also slowly opens up to a few who he is comfortable enough to act assertively with, while enjoying broader popularity everywhere he goes.

As far as non-Nazarick individuals go, Aura and Mare have picked up Merry as a tagalong for certain reasons, though Aura appears to have Merry in tow more often than Mare does. With Ludmila, he appears to be quite comfortable, even coming over for dinner and working long hours together with the Human noble on multiple occasions – she even gets a ring from him. And a collar. And a bath. Ilyshn’ish sticks to him, and considers him ‘safe’. His future as a bishounen gigachad is already kicking in, much to Aura’s annoyance.

Warden’s Vale:

Some significant changes are occurring in Warden’s Vale, as Ludmila’s plans for having a small number of farming villages supporting a modest harbour town with a handful of fledgling advanced industries have evolved due to various events and circumstances. Demihumans came over, then more Demihumans were dropped into a territory where the primary faith is a pro-Human one, and the liege herself is a member of their congregation. Though the absolute strength and authority of the Sorcerous Kingdom does make for a smooth ride, it doesn’t mean that everything will just work out when it comes to matters that raw power cannot directly solve.

Major alterations to the land are underway, and Mare is encouraging Ludmila to extend her management over the southern border to preserve the natural state of the land and provide a place for non-Human citizens to live. These new residents are sure to come in the future, and a new culture must develop or old ways will result in an ever-accumulating powder keg.

On the Human front, there is a shortage of temple staff and a cult with a pretty bad history has started moving in, though the first two seem nice enough – if not what the rest of the population might consider normal. Development plans have evolved from their humble state, yet they are still broad and undefined beyond ‘it would be nice if we could have x’. The lady in charge has a lot of studying ahead of her before she can truly begin to advance in this new direction.

The Aerial Transportation Network:

One of the major handwaves of the Sorcerous Kingdom in canon; one that ‘just works’ and has many varying interpretations in the fandom. In most cases, since Dragons are these huge, mythical monsters in most readers’ minds, they end up having no upper limit to carrying capacity and thus unlimited endurance, range and all that.

The Frost Dragons in canon also seem to be viewed as these convenient beasts of burden to readers; the character and intelligence of their v11 representations long forgotten. Ryurarius’ scene in v12 is the last mention you ever get of them that suggests that they are even people. Even Ainz seems to consider them as walking troves of crafting materials before handing them off to Shalltear. This perception of Frost Dragons is reflected by various characters, and by their apparent treatment over the chapters where the Ilyshn’ish is acting as one of the delivery dragons in the network.

By defining the dimensions and capabilities of the Frost Dragons, a more concrete and thoughtful(probably) version of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Air Transportation Network was devised. It is one where logistical and organizational challenges exist – even with the extensive means available to Nazarick – and results in what eventually is described as the ‘Vampire Post’ – named after the highly visible Vampire Brides who serve their customers in every office where the Dragon couriers are posted.

They’ve mostly been working for free up north in their publicity run so far, but now that it’s over, exploration of new routes, matters of efficiency, utility and profitability will begin to come under scrutiny. Rather than something that ‘just works’, the postal service in Valkyrie’s Shadow is meant to be a true fantasy postal service, with all the bells and whistles that one might expect from it.

Zu Chiru:

The birth of a Quagoa merchant was fun to write – a combination of New Worlder antics and setting exploration for the Demihuman Quarter of E-Rantel. He has his own little short story nested within the larger Ilyshn’ish act, where he transitions from the world he used to know to the one that he takes his first tentative steps into. It is a bit circular in nature, where the beginning has identical elements that are also present in the end, but his responses differ due to the developments in his one-night reformation.

Shalltear, Sebas Tian, Ilyshn’ish, Liane Wagner and Florine Gagnier all serve as authoritative facets of his world. Shalltear is the Crimson Harbinger of Death: the terrible being that single-handedly slaughtered most of his people on the Day of Sorrow – a reminder of the unassailable might of the Sorcerous Kingdom, forcing the Quagoa to bend the knee or perish. Sebas Tian is a good NPC filled with similarly good views and intentions, yet his lack of results and the actions of the Sorcerous Kingdom in the past make his idealistic expression ring hollow. Ilyshn’ish conveys cynical views as a counterpoint that resonates with Zu Chiru, who understands that the world that they live in is one where might makes right.

Liane Wagner and Florine Gagnier are New World natives who have already made the transition from past to present circumstances: nobles of Re-Estize who have become nobles of the Sorcerous Kingdom. With the authority, resources and connections at their disposal, the two best friends extend their assistance to new citizens, trying to figure out how they can best fit into a place that is alien to them. Florine is warm, gentle and nurturing while Liane is direct, aggressive and opportunistic, but their work is undeniably producing results.

In the end, Zu Chiru falls to the power of money capitalism the future that these two nobles present to him, demonstrated through a simple exercise that uses Zu Chiru’s own ability and yields tangible results. In a world where might makes right and one is overshadowed by beings of unfathomable power, the weak still have to make their way through the world – a problem that the ‘strong’ in many stories tend to not truly experience or understand, yet still take the time to preach about.

Prestige Classes…wut?

On a very basic level, Prestige Classes are simply Job Classes that have certain requirements that a character must fulfil before they can gain levels in them. Due to said requirements, they are broadly stronger than basic Job Class levels, or allow a character to embark on certain progression paths that would otherwise require inefficient multiclassing. Rather than taking 50 fighter levels and 50 caster levels to try to become some sort of janky magical swordsman, you instead follow the progression path for a level 100 Eldritch Knight, or some other similarly-themed prestige class line that allows you to avoid the pitfalls of multiclassing.

Momonga’s Eclipse class is an example of a Prestige Class that requires his necromancy-themed character/race build to access. Ludmila’s Noble Fighter class requires that one possesses a certain aristocratic cultural tradition, while her Weapon Master class has prerequisites in adequate martial advancement. Ilyshn’ish’s Draconic Bard classes require one to be a Dragon. These prestige classes also tend to portray certain concepts, resulting in strengths and weaknesses that would not normally manifest in a more basic class.

Because the New World is a real world, there are logically far more prestige classes there than in Yggdrasil, and more than a few Ygg-impossible examples appear in canon. These classes can vary widely in strength due to how they come into existence via cultural conceptualization. The character sheets of the Noble Fighters(Nimble and Lenias) of the Baharuth Empire show inefficient builds, yet they still qualify for their status as Great Imperial Knights. On the opposite end, there are many civilian prestige classes(like Runesmith) with very little combat potential.

On Bards…

A class barely touched upon in Overlord; one not from a western d20 system. They are actually from a system called Sword World RPG, which originates from d20, but has been adapted into a more simplistic Japanese ttrpg. Being hit by a lawsuit for related reasons resulted in many changes on top of that. Beyond being a ttrpg in Japan, the novelizations – called ‘replays’ – have been adapted into video games and anime. Most famous amongst these replay settings is Forcelia: the world of Record of Lodoss War, Rune Soldier and Legend of Crystania.

Bards have varied iterations in Sword World, from backline supporters to something resembling the more direct combat-oriented Bards of d20. Sword World’s class system(which includes some other classes you see in Overlord) combines major and minor archetypes, combining into what the character effectively becomes. For instance, an Elf Bard might take Ranger and Bard, the two archetypes effectively creating something like the vanilla Bard that you see in FFXIV. Combining Sage + Bard will result in a loremaster-type Bard. The starting race of the Bard also influences the attribute array of the character, causing them to lean towards certain playstyles. A Dragon Bard, as you might imagine, is well-suited to being a melee combatant, such as a Warrior or Rogue.

As Overlord adapts its various inspirations into the mechanical baseline of a d20-like system, these nuances often become lost or melded into the setting in ways that can be confusing to readers. The first notable one being the matter of the Sage class, where one has no idea how it works unless you also know how Sage works in Sword World RPG. Since Sword World is originally derived from d20, however, it is easy to reverse the process once you do. The many variations of the Bard have their corresponding classes, either in the form of base job class levels or advanced prestige class levels. Racial attributes go into, well, racial class levels, or racial prestige classes.

Ilyshn’ish’s backstory as a Draconic Bard has her naturally flow from her basic Draconic Bard class to her Draconic Dancer class, setting her on the path of an unconventional, yet undeniably powerful, melee-oriented build.

…and Spellsongs.

Spellsongs are also something from Sword World RPG. It is a system distinct from Tier Magic, and, within Sword World, it is not considered magic at all despite doing obviously magical things. In Overlord, it is also considered a skill/proficiency-based system rather than a magic system, alongside oratory abilities, Martial Arts and the other supernatural senses and abilities that come with class levels. I think the way I describe its effects muddle things somewhat as well, which I’ll have to edit at some point and be careful of using certain magic-related terminology in the future.

What Spellsongs are capable of range widely. In Sword World, you have simple songs such as ones that provide a regeneration-like effect, various cosmetic things, or straight up RP stuff like calling birds just for the sake of having birds flying around you like a singing Disney princess. There are also several potent Spellsongs that I question existing in Yggdrasil, like mana regen/degen songs, powerful CC effects, skill/ability disables, spell jamming, and aoe level drains. In canon, we see that Maru does not limit himself to this list, adding Spellsongs reminiscent of the performances of western d20 bards, improving various mechanical aspects of the characters within its area of effect.

As with most things in the new world, composition of new Spellsongs is a possibility, so there will be a wide range of things on display. In the hands of someone like Ilyshn’ish, they become devastating when employed – both in battle and outside of it.

Magical Healing, Fast Healing and Regeneration…

Someone made an astute observation about how, canonically, magical healing not only restores damage taken by the target, but reverses beneficial things like muscle and bone strengthening as well. In d20, there are actually multiple forms of magical and supernatural healing. Depending on the setting, what spells/items/etc cover what can vary a bit, and this is no different in Overlord.

Magical Healing is the instant healing effect that accompanies spells and Yggdrasil red healing potions. Traditionally, it doesn’t cure amputations and old wounds, but I’m pretty sure Maru changed that for uh…agricultural purposes. It’s also more flashy in combat narratives if it is more potent than its usual ttrpg iteration.

Fast Healing only superficially exists in Overlord. New World mid-quality healing potions have something like a Fast Healing effect, but they are effectively Magical Healing due to the fact that it reverts bodily changes(the more recent example being Ludmila’s blood mysteriously vanishing after she fills the decanter and drinks a potion). A Vampire’s ‘regeneration’ is also traditionally a Fast Healing effect, but it got changed to Regeneration. Traditionally, Fast Healing doesn’t cure amputations and old wounds, making it essentially nonexistent in canon. All the effects shown in canon are either Magical Healing or Regeneration, the latter making certain races that traditionally have Fast Healing way more powerful than they usually are.

Regeneration is something most readers familiar with this genre are aware of. An effect over time that restores even amputated body parts to full functionality. Certain races have certain weaknesses that result in this trait being disabled, such as a Troll’s weakness to Acid and Fire. Regeneration rates differ by race, and there are ‘healing’ spells that are actually a Regeneration buff, such as the one that Shalltear employs. Regeneration does not revert beneficial bodily changes, as evidenced by Trolls in canon not being stick figures because they can’t bulk up. Ilyshn’ish’s Song of Restoration is a Regeneration effect, so those poor disciples in the Justice Dragon Dojo won’t be left wondering why they haven’t built up any muscles.

The Azure Sky, Iron Fist Institute for Promising Children:

Otherwise known as Yuri’s Orphanage in canon. I ended up stealing the name from one of the associated mangas.

As mentioned in the Pleiades Days side story, Yuri has been granted the full support of Nazarick to build the orphanage of her dreams. This is no simple apartment where orphaned children are stowed away in cramped bunk space: it’s a fully fledged complex where everything Yuri Alpha believes is necessary for raising children has been built.

In addition to adequate living space for the orphans, it has educational and recreational facilities, a kitchen that also performs charity work, a hospital, a divination chamber for Nigredo, offices for the staff, a spacious yard, and a vegetable field. There may also be various security systems present, so intruders should beware.

A handful of Yuri’s sisters come visiting at various frequencies. Solution has been there before early on, but does not make a point to visit. Narberal doesn’t visit at all. Entoma and Cz come by quite a bit, while Lupu comes infrequently to cause mischief. If one were to rank the popularity of the Pleiades amongst the orphans, it would be Entoma > Lupusregina > Cz > Yuri. Spider mom best mom.

Odds and ends, reader comments that I might have answers for:

Ludmila not having any Martial Arts is an interesting way to explain her deaths... but overall I don't think it holds up. She has been the only person to die in all her runs so far, you even wrote that Themis' armor was near spotless when Ludmila came to. Themis was just another lowly aspiring priestess when she became an adventurer around the same time Ludmila did.

Ludmila is a conservative tactician, and her parties tend to run full mana even by the end. The reason why Themis is untouched was that, even with Ludmila dead, they still nuked the crap out of everything.

Por más buena que sea ludmina, sentidos como el olfato serán siempre inferiores a por ejemplo un hombre lagarto. Un hombre lagarto debió detectarla por su olor, y ludmina aún debería ser al menos 5 niveles más debil

The prevailing winds come from the north in this region of the world, which has been shown and even exploited in past acts. The harbour village is south of the Lizardman camp, so catching her scent would be difficult. That being said, she outclasses these particular Lizardmen in the stealth department.

Just one thing that kind of rankles on me regarding the story. How are Nazarick's people so understanding regarding Shusharna? If I recall correctly, they should easily take offense to anyone claiming to be the "God of Death" like that. Even if Ainz himself gives the order to keep the peace, it seems odd that there hasn't been an overt (that I can recall anyway) display of disdain towards the claims of the religion of the Six.

Shalltear just outright ignoring a slight against her Master like that seems completely out of character to me. Unless lesser creatures that weren't created by the Supreme Beings are allowed to believe whatever delusions they want? But then again even Sebas took exception to claims on dominion over death by a lesser being?

Nazarick has explicit instructions from Ainz to leave religion alone. They also have a pretty dismissive view on ‘gods’ in general(like how Shalltear describes her own deity, Cainabel, in canon). Any affront that they might have displayed or acted on has not surfaced in canon, so it will not surface here. Narratively, they should care little for the gods that are worshipped by lesser beings. Rather than being understanding, they are just dismissive.

Sebas’ actions against Davernoch only happened after he received orders to act – he didn’t run off and murderize the Six Arms the second he heard about the guy.

I’m sure Ainz’s obviously deep and insightful policy in regards to the Sorcerous Kingdom’s stance on the Temples will result in a sasuga one of these days…

Aclaro que me gusta tu fanfic tú temática y te admiro por escribir tantos capítulos y tú enorme conocimiento de overlord, tu humor me gusta excepto por la confusión de ludmina de la supuesta relación de limón y nabe solo por viajar juntos y son hombre y mujer, y no se pregunté sobre la especie de nabe y si tiene género, y ludmina me sorprende que no preguntará de la religión de shalter y sobre los nombres que mencionaba como su creador y que shalter no mencionara a los seres supremos

This avoidance of religious topics is due to the secular nature of their government, both for Re-Estize and the Sorcerous Kingdom. Religion is only framed in terms of their lawful place in the fabric of society, and it’s essentially taboo for a noble to push religion too much, as it can be construed to be interference in politics and grounds for censure. Thus, it’s safer to just not say anything at all unless it is necessary, or perhaps as a form of explanation as Ludmila does a few times.

El temor a los aventureros es tonto, ella debió detectar el poder de todos los aventureros allí, solo los seres muy débiles con mucha sutoridad podrían hacerla creer de que ocultan su fuerza con ítems mágicos, habilidades o talentos

At the point of this comment, Ilyshn’ish doesn’t even realize that she’s seen an Adventurer already. They are a threat of unspecified appearance, only known to her by the records and rumors they leave behind. She doesn’t know that ‘Adventurer’ is a vocation – she thinks it’s a powerful race of some sort. You see how quickly she adapts once she realizes the truth at the end of the act.

La caja de cambio no debería ser influida por ninguna profesión no es talento como el esposo de enri la caja de cambio es como esas cosas parte de la base de gremio en los juegos que he jugado donde conviertes artículos en materiales o dinero no es un item que no se compra ni se puede conseguir otro si así fuera tendrián varias de ellas y como es una extensión del gremio si es dañada o destruida volverá a aparecer en nazarick automáticamente según creo con lo que he leído de overlord

Assuming that I’m reading this correctly and the poster is talking about the Exchange Box…

“I might as well order Pandora’s Actor to put one of that woman’s blades into the Treasury’s shredder and see what happens.”

“The shredder?”

It was only when he heard Albedo’s surprised voice that Ainz recalled the proper name of that item.

“That would be the Exchange Box. Someone with merchant-type skills can get better prices when using it. Order Pandora’s Actor to take Nearata-san’s form and use his skill.”

– Overlord, Volume 4 Prologue

The Exchange Box in canon renders any object processed by it into a fraction of its base material value. Characters with Merchant-type skills improve this rate of exchange, which is why Momonga has Pandora’s Actor use Nearata’s form – in order to use the Exchange box while employing Nearata’s Merchant-type skills. In the Act 4, Chapter 17 scene, Pandora’s Actor is doing the same with each of the copied merchants to collect data for comparison.

Wyrmling & Juvenile? Not Dragonling & Young? The other two; are they racial classes too?

They are the same Racial Classes. It is a streamlining of racial categorization, to avoid confusion in the future for this story. Maru does specifically have 'Dragonling' and 'Young' over 'Child' and 'Youth' on FDL's character sheet. There are actually 12 Dragon age categories in d20, and Maru scrunched them into half-time and knocked off the top two, picking names out of the remaining. I ended up choosing the categories that best define each stage represented.

Musings on writing multiple major povs:

Winter’s Crown would actually be two separate volumes if I had divided the story by plot like Maruyama did with volumes 2-7 of Overlord. The plotlines of the two characters are separate for most of Winter’s Crown, yet occur in roughly the same timeframe. Since it’s a web publication, I thought I would try dividing them into acts instead. I’m still actually on the fence about it, but I think the timing is sort of there. People ask about the other character towards the end of the act, so it seems okay.

The other option was to break it up even more, with characters getting 3-6 chapter segments and bouncing the story back and forth that way. Zu Chiru’s mini-arc was actually a bit of an experiment with that, but, as a minor character, he doesn’t threaten to overshadow Ilyshn’ish’s act. Two major characters might conflict, however – especially if they each have a major, independent plot going. Some discussion on this might be enlightening.

Next up…

The next act will follow the Demihuman character briefly introduced at the beginning of Winter’s Crown, Act 3. Since it begins with Happy Farm, I should give fair warning because, well, it’s Happy Farm. For those unfamiliar with the canon material, it's the personal project of Demiurge: a monumental pile of atrocities that visits suffering upon many different races. It, and its various findings, have been discussed or mentioned offhandedly in previous acts, but now we're actually going there. The tone of this act is fairly grim compared to the relatively lighthearted stuff that has come before.

Once again, thank you for reading Valkyrie’s Shadow!

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The stench of smoke, unwashed bodies and weeks of waste rose into the air around the cages piled high in the Dale of Defiance.

Qrs felt the cool metal bars of his own prison, absently tightening and releasing his grip. It was not steel, nor any other metal he knew of. He could snap steel bars, fold mithril plate, and warp even stronger metals, but there was no give at all with these – the bars of this cage would not even budge in the slightest.

The metal cages were also incredibly light. Gusts of wind would set the towers swaying, and everyone would stay very still: silently trying to will their makeshift prison to stop rocking back and forth. Being placed near the top, it was akin to being set on top of a tree, even the slightest movement or breeze sending him slowly teetering this way and that.

Qrs looked down: it was roughly fifty metres to the ground. In the event of a collapse, he figured that he would easily survive, and he mused over whether it would jar the hinges of the cages loose or damage them in some other way so he could escape. He never made his own attempt, however, for few others could survive the fall. Not that he would have cared for anyone else, but they had put his son in the cage beside his. At first, Qrs thought it a relief that he could see that he was still alive, but, over time, he suspected that they were using his son to ensure his docile behaviour.

And, so, the days passed. During the day, they all baked together in the sun – praying for the evening to come sooner. At night, they shivered in the cold – praying for the warmth of the sun. When it rained, they cupped their hands or whatever they had and opened their mouths to the sky. They licked the soiled metal bars of their cages for every bit of moisture they could get. They were not allowed to relieve themselves elsewhere, either, so had to simply do it where they were. That particular discomfort mostly abated, much to the relief of everyone, since they were only fed once every few days.

A telltale quiver ran through the bars of his cage, distinctly out of time with the rocking of the wind. The quiver came again, and Qrs exploded into action, twisting around and leaping forward to smash his fist into the bars on the opposite inside.

“Fuck off, creep!”

The form looming behind his son’s cage recoiled at his shout. His son jerked awake with a cry, scurrying to the opposite corner of his tiny prison. The movement of the three jolted the entire tower, and a great wail rose from below. The top of the tower swayed in wide circles, offering a roiling view of the landscape below, but Qrs didn’t give a damn. He rose to his feet, glaring murder at the figure who had been stalking in to take a swipe at his son.

Across from him stood the towering, four-legged form of a Zoastia, feline eyes gleaming at him from the shadows of its own cage. The sparse meals that they were allowed had clearly taken a toll on its form, its tan fur hanging in flaps where its powerful body had melted away from hunger. As they faced off with one another, a guttural growl rose from the barrel chest of it’s humanoid torso. The features of its cougar-like head flinched, and the being turned away.

Perhaps if it had been a more regular situation, Qrs might have felt a sliver of pity for the Zoastia. Then again, if it was a more regular situation, it wouldn’t have growled at him and Qrs would be preoccupied with killing it instead. Zoastia prided themselves in discipline – their mastery over their bestial selves – letting loose such a growl was considered a shameful thing; a sign that they couldn’t reign in their savage nature. The weeks of borderline starvation that they were being subjected to was slowly, but surely breaking the Zoastia’s will.

“Hey, what’s that racket?”

A deep voice snarled up the tower from below. The prisoners collectively hushed.

Clank…clank…clank…

The sound of a metal rod being drawn against the bars of the cages slowly travelled around the base of the tower. No one dared utter a sound.

Clank…clank…clank…

For minutes, it went on. Minutes that seemed like hours. From down below, came an Armat’s distinct whimper.

Clankclankclankclankclank…

The sound picked up, accompanied by the pounding of heavy steps. The metal rod slammed against the bars of a cage somewhere north of Qrs.

“Answer the question!”

“Hiiieee!!!”

The wickedly-clawed hands of the fiend below gripped the bars, giving them a good shake that could be felt across hundreds of cages.

“I said answer the question, you stupid animal!”

Piteous, incomprehensible, noises only rose in return as the Armat cowered in terror. The creak of metal sounded as the cage was opened, and the Fiend reached in to snatch the Armat out of the corner of its prison. It held the rodent Beastman high in the air, a good four metres off of the ground. The Armat squirmed weakly, continuing to moan and whimper.

“If you savages can’t say anything useful,” the fiend lashed it’s reptilian tail against the ground, throwing up clods of cracked soil, “then SHUT UP!”

The Armat was violently flung to the ground. Bouncing weakly with a grunt.

“SHUT UP!”

The metal rod rose and fell as the fiend brutally clubbed the Armat into compliance.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

The words were punctuated by each blow. All around, the prisoners in the cage towers witnessed the scene in grim silence. Members of dozens of races were incarcerated here, yet they all shared the same uncomprehending expressions of horrified disgust – each according to their own kind. There was no purpose in this; no need. No hunger, no challenge, no sport or competition. Not that any of it mattered to their fiendish warden: a Devil with reptilian wings that spanned six metres across, it’s sinuous form clad in oily black scales that caused the eye to slip right off of them. A being of pure, methodical evil.

This was a game that played out every day, seeking out the most fragile and sensitive of wills in their number. Answering the question didn’t actually matter, nor did any pleas or reasoning. Nothing you did mattered – not after it singled you out. A foregone conclusion stretched into violent farce using any flimsy excuse it could find. Even as the rod continued to rise and fall, the horned, reptilian head did not express even the slightest hint of fury or sadistic glee. It simply did what it did because that was what it did.

The tower shuddered as the Armat was tossed back into its cage, bars clanging shut behind it. The warden continued on its rounds.

Qrs gripped the bars of his cage to still his own, trembling hands. He stared at them dully – perhaps it was not the cages that were strong, but it was he that had become weak: just like the Zoastia. Gnawing hunger accompanied him throughout the day, and his body was less substantial than it was before.

His eyes ran down his thin, shaking fingers: following the once-mighty arms where his slackened hide was draped over emaciated flesh; the outline of bone, plain to see. The thick bands of muscle and fat over his torso, once able to absorb powerful cuts and blows, were all but gone, and his ribs protruded over the curving hollow of his stomach.

How long had it taken to shrivel up into this pitiful husk? Weeks? Months? Like the Zoastia; like Qrs and his son, the others around him appeared to fare no better.

Evening fell, and more of their fiendish captors appeared. They brought with them a number of tables and benches, and a few carts with sheets of cloth draped over them were drawn in their wake. The prisoners in their towers of cages all watched as they moved below, arranging what Qrs could only think of as tables for dining.

Row upon row, places for many dozens were made – there were even empty platters laid down at regular intervals, though no utensils could be seen. The cloth covering the nearest cart was lifted, revealing pitchers and small, wooden cups. They, too, were arranged along with the platters on the table. The figures below moved back and forth, filling them with a clear liquid. Qrs could not smell anything new mixing into the rancid air, so he thought it should be water. He swallowed painfully though his parched throat.

A clinking sound filled the air as some sort of Devil with a great number of heavy, shimmering chains draped over its humanoid body went around. Several cages nearer to the ground were opened, but the prisoners within were too wary to leave.

“W-what is this?” A voice drifted up fearfully, “What are you doing?”

“Feeding time.”

The Devil’s voice grated in the air like the sound of its chains. The prisoner continued to cower in her cell.

“Not hungry?” The Devil said, “Fine by me.”

The rattling of its metal links filled the air as the Devil started to close the cage.

“No, wait!” The prisoner staggered forward, “I’m hungry! I want to eat, I need–”

The bars banged shut, drowning out her voice. The Devil locked the cage – which still contained the prisoner – and moved on.

No one else voiced their hesitation, shuffling up to the long tables and taking their places. A group of smaller fiends below took wood from the wagons, forming a long pile. They placed a huge slab of black metal over it.

A shadow floated up before Qrs, who ignored it as he watched the proceedings below. The sound of the cage beside him being unlocked finally drew his attention. His son had his back pressed to the rear of the cage again, looking fearfully towards a Demon that had flown up on bat-like wings. The cage opened, and she reached inside. The boy whimpered.

“Wait,” Qrs said. “What are you doing?”

“Feeding time,” the Demon replied in a sultry voice.

Qrs glanced back down to the tables slowly being filled with the prisoners who were awaiting their meal.

“Go on, boy,” he said. “You need to stay strong.”

He looked his son in the eye and nodded slowly. After a moment’s hesitation, the boy stepped forward hesitantly to be brought down. Qrs’ gaze followed them, and they alighted on the ground. Rather than having him go to a table, however, the Demon threw his son face down onto one of the carts. Nearby, the chains of the Devil from before seemed to spring to life of their own accord: winding around the boy and binding him tightly.

Qrs pressed his face to the bars of his cage, nostrils flaring.

“Hey!” He shouted down at them, “What the hell are you–”

A knife glinted in the firelight, and a Devil of the same type as their warden carved out his son’s left haunch with several deft motions. The boy’s agonized cries filled the air, and the slab of flesh was tossed over to land on the metal plate placed over the fire. The sound of sizzling flesh joined his son’s screams. Qrs slammed the bars of his cage, rocking it back and forth as his enraged shouts joined the sounds of his screaming child. The prisoners all around him shouted to stop rocking the cages.

The figure at the slab produced some metal implements and worked on preparing the haunch, slicing it up and cooking it thoroughly before dumping it in a large metal bowl to the side. A fiend carried the bowl away towards the tables, serving out portions to the awaiting diners. They hesitantly stared down at the prepared meal, then at one another, but eventually their hunger took hold and they shoveled fistfuls of Qrs’ son greedily into their mouths.

The bowl returned to the cooking fire, by where Qrs’ son lay pale as blood pooled under the cart. The boy could only half look at the approaching butcher with its gleaming knife as it approached. Tears of anger, frustration and grief rolled down Qrs’ face as he stared down powerlessly from his cage with clenched fists. At least his child would not need to suffer for much longer…

“「Light Cure Wounds」.”

Healing magic passed over his boy with its telltale glow, but the damage to his body remained. A fiend with a thin wooden board standing nearby wrote something down. She looked up from the board and held up a finger, and a gaunt figure nearby in a black leather apron cast a spell.

“「Middle Cure Wounds」.”

The fiend with the clipboard looked down at the cart, her pen scrawling over paper. After a moment, she looked back up and nodded.

“「Middle Cure Wounds」.”

On the cart, his son’s leg appeared to be healed completely, and colour had returned to his skin. His shallow breathing grew less ragged. The Devil with the knife moved again, taking the freshly healed haunch away. His son cried out in agony, joined shortly after by the sound of his sizzling flesh. The macabre feast continued for hours, until several towers of cages surrounding the makeshift dining area were fed.

Some time along the way, Qrs’ whitened knuckles gradually lost their strength. He curled up against the bars of his cage, dry sobs wracking his body.

“You’re a real piece of work.”

The disgusted voice of the Zoastia sounded from behind him. Qrs turned his head. The bestial face of the prisoner behind him twisted into a snarl, yellow eyes gleaming as it spat out its commentary.

“I didn’t know,” Qrs replied weakly. “How could I know?”

The Zoastia turned away, uninterested in his words.

“What now, this again?” A Hobgoblin said from another cage, “I don’t know how you can keep up that act. I’d spit on you, but you’re not worth the moisture.”

“I’m not–” Qrs swallowed his anger as he tried to clear away his confusion. “I’m not acting. How…how could you say that – that’s my kid down there!”

“That's what you said last time,” an ape-like Caben said from below, “and the time before that, and…how many times is it now? We’re all sick of it. How can you even live with yourself? You’re an insult to your name.”

“That’s…what do you mean? What ‘last time’? Hey! Answer me!”

Qrs’ words met with a uniform silence and, everywhere he turned, everyone pointedly looked away.

A dark figure arose from below. The cage beside him opened. Qrs turned to see the Demon tossing his son back into his cell. The boy fell to his hands and knees upon being released, trembling so violently that the cage rattled around him. No one voiced any complaint.

He looked pale, but healthy. His skin over where his flesh was taken again and again was clean and unmarred. He wavered unsteadily near the opening of the cage until the booted heel of the Demon kicked him sharply from behind, sending him sprawling inside. Qrs pushed himself against the bars of his cage, reaching out with his hand.

“Boy! Are you alright? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…I didn’t know. I didn’t know…”

His son silently rolled over, turning his back to him.

“He’s such a good boy,” the Demon hovering outside remarked with a wicked smile. “He obeys every single time, no matter how many weeks have gone by. He respects you so much – if only everyone had such an excellent father.”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Qrs roused with a start, bolting upright with the first faint grey of the dawn. He forced away the cobwebs of his sleep-addled awareness, driven by the shadows of a paranoid fear. Ignoring the cramps and bruises from sleeping on the small and hard floor of his cage, he forced his mind to work. How much time had passed? Days? Weeks? No – months. He remembered…or at least he thought he remembered.

Though the dreary days trapped behind bars blurred into one another, events and scenes could be clearly recalled. Months since Jaldabaoth fell upon the Dale of Defiance. From his vantage, he could see that the river was swelling, the harsh dryness of the land abating somewhat, and hardy shrubs turning lush and green. He didn’t remember the specific turning of days, but he did remember when he had come here, and how much should be missing from his recollection between now and then.

His cage had been placed where he was currently stuck, atop a pile of identical cages stacked near as high as the tallest treetops in the valley. He had watched as more towers of cages were stacked around him; then more across the river. More clusters of towers rose up and down the river on either side, stretching on over the horizon. The scenery was reminiscent of the view from the top of the massive Human wall in the west; painting a distant skyline of their clustered settlements and towers.

There were tens, no – hundreds of thousands of prisoners, stuffed in cages and left exposed to the elements, half starved and slowly going mad. How many more cages were there? What was the point? Did Jaldabaoth mean to hunt down and imprison every free being in the Abelion Hills?

The sound of fiends working in the morning gloom turned his attention to the ground below. Over a half dozen moved about…where did they come from, anyways? Jaldabaoth had at least a small army, judging by the number of places where the cages rose and what it took to tend to them, yet there was no news or sign of invasion preceding his ruinous arrival in the Abelion Hills. Was it some tribe’s fault? Some foolish ritual enacted in the midst of a festival commemorating the fall of the Demon Gods that doomed them all? Maybe an Imp or some other weak fiend for entertainment…but he couldn’t imagine how summoning an Imp could call forth a Demon God instead.

There were powerful mystics in his tribe, who might have a real explanation for Jaldabaoth’s appearance, but Qrs was not counted amongst them. He was a warrior through and through, and all of his knowledge of warfare and personal combat availed him little when pitted against these too-often stupendously powerful beings.

“Need to pick up a few for the labs,” a thin, reedy voice floated up from below.

“Which one?” The warden asked.

“I-3.”

“It’s starting already?”

“Still a ways off,” the reedy voice replied, “but we’ve got prep work.”

“Whaddya need?”

“Hmm…that bunch over there looks fine. Any diseases or other weirdness crop up recently?”

“Nothing the Torturers haven’t reported.”

“Then we’re good…we’re good, right?”

“Papers?”

“Ah right, right, we didn’t need those before…”

Qrs squinted down at the pair conversing below. The huge figure of the winged warden blocked the view of the other fiend from his angle. The other fiends were hulking brutes, though nowhere near as imposing. Behind them, a short procession of beasts drawing some sort of travois awaited.

“Looks like you’re clear,” the warden said.

“Thanks, bud!”

The fiends below started moving about again, unloading cages from the towers and adding them to the caravan nearby. Qrs counted six cages, whose occupants remained mostly silent. The one who did make noise simply had his cage dropped from where it was being flown across from, then roughly rolled over to its destination.

This was something Qrs remembered. Twice a day, fiends would drop by: one group to take prisoners away, and the other bringing new ones in. Unlike today, most of the outbound prisoners went to something called ‘Processing’. Regardless of their destination, they were never seen from again. It was one of many similar scenes that repeated itself for weeks and months, and Qrs nodded to himself as he watched the caravan vanish to the south.

They would be left to waste away for the remainder of the day, and nothing further would happen until the evening. That was when the problems started.

He could remember the last time; he could remember his son being taken to feed the masses of slavering prisoners. He could also remember the condemnation of those surrounding him; the mocking voice of the female Demon with her bat-like wings. They told him it wasn’t the first time – that it had played over for weeks and months…but he only remembered the last time. The only person he could trust to confirm their story was his son, and he refused to speak with Qrs at all.

Evening came, accompanied by the sound of cages being opened and prisoners being led to their tables. The female Demon flew up towards them. At the sound of keys being withdrawn from a leather thong hanging from her waist, Qrs went over to the edge of his cage.

“Wait,” he said.

The Demon turned her attention towards Qrs, a question vaguely painted over her smooth features.

“Take me,” Qrs told her.

The Demon tilted her head at his words, glowing amber eyes flickering under her fluttering lashes.

“Take you?” Her venomously sweet voice seemed to coax him, “Why? Should you not see to the needs of your child first?”

Qrs’ cheek twitched.

She was still trying to convince him to send his son? Did she not know? If he let on the idea that he knew what was going to happen, how would things change…or was she testing him?

He thought that, perhaps, he had developed a resistance or immunity against whatever was being used to cut out his memories. Everything seemed to play out in the same manner as what he could recall, so he figured that they did not know that anything was amiss. Perhaps everyone was in league with one another, putting on an act to ensnare him in a web of lies. In that case, who was lying to him, and what was the truth?

Maybe whoever was doing it to him had just messed up. Or maybe they just grew bored of tormenting Qrs and his son.

Maybe. But ‘maybe’ didn’t matter – he would do what needed to be done.

“I-I’m hungry, dammit!” His hoarse shout painfully cracked from his parched throat, “Let me go down first, before I start chewing off my arm!”

Out of the corner of his vision, his son looked up at him with wide-eyes. It took all Qrs had to not look in the boy’s direction to offer him some form of reassurance. The Demon appeared to silently ponder his words for several moments, then flapped over and opened the door of his cage instead.

“Very well,” she smiled, “We’ll have you join us for dinner first.”

A long, sinuous tail reached out and wrapped around his body, and he winced as its tiny barbs fixed themselves into his skin. The Demon carried him away, gliding down to the ground. Qrs stole a brief glance upwards after he was set back down and saw his son staring at him from high above. At least he would be spared, even if it was just this once.

Qrs wobbled on his weakened legs for a moment before he was tossed onto the awaiting cart. Even after resolving to submit himself, he couldn’t help but struggle in a vain attempt to escape what he knew would come. He felt hot chains close around his ankles and wrists, with more lengths wrapping over his torso. In the end, he was bound so tightly that he could only look down over the edge of the cart, watching the dancing shadows of the fiends around him in the firelight.

“Hey,” a deep voice sounded from behind him. “What’s this?”

The ground thumped as the lower portion of the Devil butcher entered Qrs’ field of view. Layered in ruddy, reptilian scales, the splayed claws of its long-toed feet dug into the dusty soil.

“Dinner,” the female Demon replied lightly

A hand came down on Qrs’ leg, and he squirmed as it roughly squeezed and prodded him.

“The other one looked a lot better,” annoyance filtered through into the butcher’s rumbling voice. “You trying to drive down the quality of my cuisine?”

“It’ll be a change of pace,” the shadow of the female Demon shrugged. “They must be getting tired of the same thing all the time.”

The Devil butcher let out a dubious sound in his deep voice, and a corner of Qrs’ mind agreed. How would it be any different? They were the same–

A sharp gasp filled Qrs’ lungs as something lanced into his leg, sending white-hot pain up his body. Despite his efforts to hold them in, grunts of agony filtered through gritted teeth as a piece of his leg was torn away. The sizzle of the grill rose, and the aroma of his own cooking flesh filled his nostrils. The clinking of metal utensils joined in, creating a sick caricature of cooking for several minutes, then stopped.

“I knew it,” the deep voice came from the direction of the grill. “This one’s tougher. Our guests are going to have a tough time choking it down – especially the ones without any teeth left.”

“All the better,” the female Demon said lightly.

“Maybe…but are we allowed?” The butcher asked, “Jaldabaoth told us not to take our fun too far. If we waste these materials selfishly…”

“It’ll be fine~” The female Demon’s voice lilted lazily, “It’s not as if they’ll die if they can only manage a bit this one time.”

The sound of utensils working the grilling meat continued as Qrs’ vision faded. He trembled under the chains, involuntarily shuddering as blood steadily dripped down onto the dry yellow clay below.

“Order for table one!” The butcher called out.

A dark veil of weakness draped over this awareness by the time the empty bowl returned. Another presence came near to him.

“This isn’t the same one,” a voice said suspiciously.

It was the pale, gaunt fiend with the black apron.

“Just heal him already,” the female Demon told him. “He looks nearly done.”

“Mmh…”

The black apron drew closer with the shuffling of hidden feet. Gangly arms that nearly dragged their knuckles over the ground came into view. The fiend raised his hands, casting a spell.

“「Light Cure Wounds」.”

Qrs felt the healing magic wash over him, restoring a portion of his injury. With it, however came the return to awareness and the world of pain that it delivered. He winced and swallowed the rising agony, fighting to regain his composure against the raw sensation. The black apron stood by quietly, and Qrs thought he could feel the fiend watching him closely.

“This one does not even sing,” the aproned fiend lamented in wistful tones. “The boy was far superior – his voice so pure and sweet; so easy to tune.”

“Blame her for picking him out today,” the butcher grumbled.

“Oh whatever,” the female Demon sniffed dismissively. “We can just go back to the usual tomorrow.”

Were they trying to elicit a response out of him? Qrs held his tongue; there was no point in responding either way. The aproned fiend continued casting his spells.

“「Middle Cure Wounds」.”

“「Middle Cure Wounds」.”

He felt his condition improve, the waves of searing pain replaced by a dull, throbbing ache.

“Eh?”

The aproned fiend’s confused voice sounded after the third healing spell was cast. The others standing over Qrs shifted to turn towards him.

“What?” The female Demon asked.

“Leg’s nowhere near done,” the aproned fiend answered.

“Uh oh…”

“Dammit!” the butcher cursed, “I knew you shouldn’t have changed things up!”

“How should I know?” The female Demon complained, “They’re all so puny. What’s one or two low tier healing spells?”

“W-what should we do?” The aproned fiend said, “I still have mana–”

“Don’t you dare,” the butcher cut him off. “We’re on a budget; we’ll just fall behind even more if you use them on this mana sponge.”

“H-he won’t die now, right?” The female Demon reasoned, “I can throw him back up in his cage and he can heal up on his own. We’ll just stick to the young ones now, yeah? Lord D–”

The female Demon’s voice was cut off by a gasp that faded suddenly, as if she had been snatched away. A wet, crunching noise filled the air for a handful of heartbeats. The body of the Demon who had retrieved Qrs from his cage landed on the ground in front of him, rolling twice before coming to a stop. She had been wound so tightly on herself that what remained resembled a rag squeezed dry of moisture. Arms and legs; wings, tail and head – everything was twisted into a single gory length of bloody flesh and bone.

“Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth, if you please,” a smooth, unforgettable voice joined the conversation.

“A-apologies, Demon Emperor,” the butcher’s deep voice trembled. “We were just preparing dinner, but there’s been a…a…”

“Misallocation of resources?”

“…it is as you say, Demon Emperor.”

“That’s not good,” Jaldabaoth said. “Not good at all. Our work relies on smooth, efficient operations. The blood, sweat and tears of our precious charges depend on the healing touch of our Torturers.”

“Yes, Demon Emperor,” the horned Devil said. “We’ll return to our usual routine – it won’t happen again.”

Qrs idly entertained the idea of throwing himself at the nearby Jaldabaoth. He tested his restraints, but they were as tight and unyielding as before.

“What should we do with this one?” The aproned fiend asked.

“Hmm…well,” Jaldabaoth pondered. “Complete his healing. The laboratories have a large shipment on the way, but it will be some time yet until it arrives. He can work off his debt to us there.”

“We’ll prepare a cage and transportation,” the warden joined the conversation. “Which laboratory should we send him to, Demon Emperor?”

“The new one will do,” Jaldabaoth replied. “I-5.”

“It will be done, Demon Emperor.”

The thud of weighty footsteps approached, sending chips of dried clay dancing over the ground. Qrs attempted to turn his head towards the sound and was rewarded by a heavy blow to the temple. The world reeled, and he struggled to regain himself. A second blow came crashing in, and oblivion stole his awareness away.

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The world rolled and lurched, jolting Qrs awake and into a groggy daze.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will himself into wakefulness. The floor beneath him lurched violently again, and his head banged painfully against metal bars. The scent of blood tinged the air and he felt a wetness trickle over his cheek, dripping off of his chin. Lifting a hand to his head after steadying himself, he discovered a wicked gash over his temple.

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.”

Qrs set down his hand and twisted towards the source of the voice, wincing as his cramped muscles protested the movement. He stopped halfway, feeling pressure against his right leg. Shifting his weight gingerly, he tested what he last recalled was a grievous wound where his haunch had been carved out by the Devil butcher. He felt around: the flesh was slack, but unmarred.

Still in half a daze, he leaned back against the bars of his cage, trying to collect himself.

“What’s going on?” Qrs asked as the cage continued to shudder, “Where is this?”

“Who knows?” The female’s voice said lightly, “They’ve been dragging us upriver for days.”

Days…had he really been out for that long? His stomach growled.

“Hey now,” the voice piped up at the sound. “I’m pretty inedible, so don’t come groping over here.”

Curious over her claim, Qrs turned enough to look over his shoulder. A frown formed over his face as he saw nothing but an empty cage behind his own.

“Down here.”

Near the floor of the cage was a small being: a short creature with gangly arms and legs, wild black hair and dusky skin. Two yellow eyes with large, round pupils looked back at him from over a compact nose. A Spriggan.

“You…I think I saw you there…” Qrs furrowed his brow, “When that Demon Emperor first showed up.”

“At the festival?” She replied, “That wasn’t me.”

“How did you end up here, then?” Qrs asked as the cage lurched again.

“My tribe’s from the eastern part of the hills,” she replied. “We lived under some cliffs near the river. Jaldabaoth’s fiends overran us just after midwinter…right after the festival, I guess. We didn’t even stand a chance. At first, I thought we were going to be eaten or have our souls taken or something, but then they split us up. I’ve been on top of a tower of cages ‘till today.”

Worry furrowed his brow. The portion of the Abelion River that the Spriggan described as her home was a day or two north of the Dale of Defiance. If Jaldabaoth’s forces kept going north up the river, they would eventually encroach upon his own territory. At the thought of his family, he looked around.

“Is it just us?” He asked, “There’s no others in this caravan?”

“Caravan?” The Spriggan gave him an odd look, “It’s just us and this big dumb animal I’ve never seen before. First time I saw you, you were alone on this travois being dragged in from somewhere else. They brought my cage down and added it to yours.”

They had separated him from his son. After keeping them together for months, why would they do that? His head pounded as he tried to make sense of what was going on.

“So you’re from another set of those cage towers,” he said slowly. “I saw others from where I was imprisoned before.”

“There weren’t just one or two,” the Spriggan nodded. “I was stuck on top of mine, so I could see them all up and down the valley. It’s as if they’re trying to capture everyone.”

The sight of the valley from his cage returned to him, and he sighed in relief. Maybe he still had most of it right. Still, the Spriggan’s location had been a day away, yet she could see even more stretching to the north. The sheer scale of Jaldabaoth’s activities beggared the imagination.

“I see…then, have you heard about some place called a ‘Laboratory’?” he asked. “Jaldabaoth mentioned moving me there before they knocked me out.”

“You might know more than I do about that,” the Spriggan said. “I only heard it once before they tossed me onto here.”

Qrs examined their surroundings. The Spriggan said that they had been going upriver for days, yet the valley was nowhere to be seen. They were instead travelling through a dry gulch filled with shrubs and grass. Based on this, he thought they should still be somewhere in the hills, which were arid and covered in windswept shrub and grassland. At their speed, they would still be in the east.

“Why don’t you escape?” Qrs asked, “This place is so perfect for you to hide in, and it doesn’t seem like there are any sentries or patrols.”

“Oh don’t think I haven’t tried,” the Spriggan said. “Once we left the valley and entered this gulch, I did my damndest. These cages aren’t made of any metal I’ve ever seen, though. I wasn’t able to use my ability to grow in size and pop it open, and the bars are too narrow to slip out of.”

The last was spoken in rueful tones, and the Spriggan shifted in her cage.

“Anyways,” she said, “I’m Senara…and I don’t feel like calling you ‘hey you’ forever.”

“It’s…Qrs.”

After all that had happened, his name brought only sour thoughts to mind.

“Qrs, huh…” Senara mused, “Well, we’re going to need all the ‘Qrs’ we can get if we’re going to do something about this.”

Qrs looked back at Senara with an incredulous look.

“Do something?” He said, “How? Jaldabaoth and his servants are so powerful…what do you think we can do?”

“Who knows,” Senara replied. “But I didn’t get as far as I have by giving up at the first discouraging thing.”

“I think we’re well beyond discouraging things,” Qrs snorted derisively. “We don’t even know where we are, or where we’re headed.”

“You might not, but I do.”

Qrs frowned over his shoulder.

“I thought you said you didn’t know where this ‘Laboratory’ was, or where we are, for that matter.”

“I don’t,” Senara said. “But I do know where we were, and in what direction we’ve been heading in. We’ve been going north – following the river that comes down from the Baafolk lands to the northwest. Earlier today, we split off and started heading north after the river started to bend.”

Qrs tested the air. Based on how much moisture there was in addition to Senara’s claim, it meant that they were almost to the edge of the hills. Why had they come so far? When Jaldabaoth had mentioned a ‘Laboratory’, Qrs figured that he would be put to work as a slave at some place, since he was apparently too costly to be harvested for flesh.

Did the reach of the Demon Emperor really extend this far? He reflexively tensed up at a twinge of fear – his tribal lands were just beyond the edge of the hills, in the aspen forests to the northeast.

“Seems like you’ve thought of a reason to fight,” Senara noted from her cage. “You want to do something now?”

Qrs rose in his cage, struggling to keep his balance as the travois was dragged along. Some sort of beast was drawing it, one that he had never seen or heard of before. He couldn’t see past its massive form. Behind them was only the rugged trail, with the fresh marks of their passing leaving a long pair of lines that disappeared behind the turns of their path.

“Are you sure we’re the only ones?” Qrs asked, “This beast can’t be dragging us off to wherever it is on its own.”

“Well, it did arrive back there with you the same way,” Senara answered, “so apparently it can. We haven’t been given food or water for a few days, so we must be getting close.”

“Or they could have just sent us out to die,” he muttered.

“I don’t know what happened where you were kept,” Senara said, “but they sure went out of their way keeping everyone alive where I was. They’ve got their own thing going on, and I’ve no idea what it is aside from making people suffer as much as they can without killing them…so at least we can cross that possibility off, eh?”

Now that she mentioned it, Qrs understood it to be true. Everyone he had seen in his prison was kept alive, to the point of being forcefully healed. The only time their numbers diminished was when they were taken away, never to be seen again…which he supposed was what was happening to them now.

“I don’t understand any of this,” Qrs mumbled. “Why go through all this? Why attack everyone in the first place?”

“They’re fiends,” Senara shrugged, “who knows why they do anything? They certainly don’t care for what we think, and they don’t seem to think in any way that I can make sense out of. All we can see is that they’re pure evil.”

“Then…what? Do we just wait for a chance?”

“Pretty much,” Senara nodded, “We’ll watch and wait. Everyone screws up at some point – even fiends like them.”

Qrs had no reason to doubt her. Spriggans lived long lives, and she had probably seen far more than Qrs ever would.

“You’ve fought against fiends before?” He asked.

“A few times,” Senara answered. “Angels and Elementals too. They’re all a different kind of nasty, but I’ve never seen ones so powerful as Jaldabaoth and his minions before.”

“Then you don’t think we can win?”

“Win?” Senara snorted, “Who cares? We survive, or we die – and I would rather be free either way. You can waste your chances going down fighting, but I’ll be running as far away as I can.”

“Run?” Qrs frowned, “You’re not going to fight to free your people?”

Senara furrowed her brow, then shook her head.

“You said it yourself,” she told him, “Jaldabaoth is too strong. No one is fighting that – just take your people and run the hell away. What he did to my home…he can probably do to your village or whatever it is just as easily.”

“But where can we run?” Qrs asked her, “We’ve been dragged all the way to the edge of the hills – that must mean his control must stretch at least that far…”

“For you? East, probably – through The Neck. Going south will drag you too close to that whole mess that we just came through. There’s the foothills and mountains to the north, but I hear that the Zern make their home up there somewhere. Even if you survive trespassing, there’s tales about even more powerful things lurking in the northern ranges that no one wants to mess with.”

East...Qrs’ home village was a few days northeast of the Abelion Hills, in the forests below the foothills of the mountains. If the opportunity arose; if he could make it out alive; if Jaldabaoth hadn’t stretched his hand that far yet, he could raise the alarm. Save for his eldest son, his entire family was waiting for him still. It was still months to winter, so they could make their way eastwards a fair distance, but how far could they go? Was there even a place for them to live beyond their ancestral homes?

There should be – there was no reason that it wouldn’t be the case. The wilderness was vast, and the spine of the northern ranges stretched far beyond the horizon. There should be plenty of forests and rivers provided they traveled along the foot of the mountains.

The travois followed the trail around a soft turn downhill, and the scent of woodsmoke drifted in the air as they continued on their way. Qrs thought he could see their destination: at the bottom of the forested gulch below, there was a makeshift cluster of crude buildings where rows of cages could be seen peeking out from between the trees. Figures milled about, but, at their distance, Qrs could not make out whether they were fiends, prisoners, or something else entirely.

Several hours later, they arrived with the morning gloom painting the eastern skies. Before them lay a settlement of sorts where Demons moved unmarked crates and bags from place to place, loading, unloading and sorting out whatever it was that they were handling. Within the open-walled structures he had seen from above, gangs of prisoners were chained together before long tables where they appeared to be toiling away. Before he could see what they were doing, their cages were unloaded from the travois and dumped onto the ground, sending Qrs sprawling.

He fell forward, rolled twice, and slammed into the bars on the other side of his cage. In the faint light cast by the flames of the camp beyond, a shadow fell across him.

“Right on time,” Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth said. “Excellent work, my friend.”

Qrs struggled to gain his feet, backing away from the bars facing Jaldabaoth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Senara do the same. Rather than walk up to stand before them, he went to the beast at the front of the travois.

“Now,” he said, “I wonder if there has been any mischief conducted along the way…”

Jaldabaoth leaned forward, and the strange beast turned its head.

“Hm, hm…is that so?” Jaldabaoth said, “My, even after I went out of my way to say so.”

The Demon Emperor came back to the front of the cages, stopping before Senara’s. The Spriggan female had pressed herself to the bars at the back of her cage.

“My friend here says that you tried to escape by enlarging yourself and breaking the cage,” Jaldabaoth said, “and that you continue plotting to do so. I believed I warned you from attempting anything of the sort. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I–”

“No, no,” he spoke right over her. “I suppose the time for excuses is long past. To think that you would spurn my mercy from the first incident.”

Senara looked up helplessly at Jaldabaoth, eyes filled with terror.

“A just and proper punishment is due for breaking the rules,” Jaldabaoth said. “For what are rules without the will to enforce them?”

Jaldabaoth straightened to his full height, firelight glinting off of the strange adornment resting on the bridge of his nose as he adjusted it with the middle finger of his right hand. From his mouth came a single word.

『Grow.』

Qrs, flinched away, recalling the cursed voice that had stolen his will. It was not directed at him, however, nor did he think he could be commanded to ‘grow’. He looked to the side: in the other cage, Senara grew from a height of one metre to two.

『Grow.』

Senara grew again, the panic on her face plain to see. She bent her back to fit into her cage, while her arms pushed desperately against the bars.

『Grow.』

“Aiiiieee…”

A keening wail rose from the Spriggan, trapped within her cage. She had curled up into a ball that pressed against its confines.

『Keep growing.』

A mess of flesh, limbs and hair pushed out against the bars, Senara continued to enlarge, and her voice could no longer be heard. All at once, the bulging skin on one side ruptured, spilling its pressured contents over the grass. Jaldabaoth stood watching, arms crossed, a tight smile on his lips. Qrs fought the urge to retch at the stench.

“A fitting punishment for her actions, don’t you agree?” Jaldabaoth’s smile turned Qrs’ way, “Our friend has mentioned nothing against you, so it appears that you’ll be able to offer your contributions here. Alas, I cannot supervise things here directly – there is so much to do, after all – but, rest assured, your work will be of significant value! Before I leave, allow me to introduce you to your new comrade: I am sure you will find his bright outlook most refreshing.”

As if on cue with Jaldabaoth’s words, a stout figure appeared. It was adorned in a strange and unfamiliar outfit with stains of various colours smeared over its white material. Qrs suspected much of it to be blood and ichor. The long beak on its mask made Qrs wonder if it was some sort of avian Beastman.

“Welcome!” He said in a cheery voice, “Welcome – a thousand times welcome, good volunteers! I am Pulcinella, and I offer you the most joyful of greetings to your humble new abode.”

“Volunteers?” Qrs wrinkled his snout.

“Why, yes!” Pulcinella replied, “Volunteers…”

The beaked mask turned to Senara’s cage.

“Oh. How sad – how sad!” Pulcinella cried in mournful tones, “But at least you must feel better, knowing that you have not shared the same fate?”

Qrs furrowed his brow in confusion. How did he come up with that line of thinking?

“I didn’t volunteer for anything like this,” he told the strange being.

“But you did volunteer for something, yes?” The voice lost none of its cheer, “That would make you a volunteer!”

Qrs glowered through the bars of his cage. He had certainly offered himself in the place of his son, but that had little to do with anything here.

“Yes, yes, volunteers are so precious,” Pulcinella continued without prompting. “So brave. So selfless and kind. I love kindness! I love selflessness! Volunteers make people happy; that’s why I love volunteers!”

“What…what do you want, exactly?” Qrs asked.

The beaked figure waddled towards him: Pulcinella would barely reach his waist if Qrs was standing upright.

“What do I want? What do you want? What does anyone want? To be happy, of course! Worry not, my brave volunteer,” Pulcinella pointed to himself with both of his hands, “for I am a volunteer as well! Together, let us bring happiness to many…”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Pulcinella twirled away with a grace that belied his rotund appearance.

“Hey, how ‘bout letting me out?” Qrs shouted.

Without a glance in his direction, the figure in white disappeared into the closest building. Qrs stood in his cage, turning to look around. The rest of the place appeared to ignore his existence, and Jaldabaoth appeared to have disappeared without a trace while Qrs’ attention was occupied by Pulcinella. His new comrade’s gushing ramblings were nothing if not suspicious – no, they were more like the ravings of the deranged.

After some time, a disfigured-looking fiend of some sort hopped out of a building nearby. Qrs couldn’t tell what it was, even when it loped over to stand in front of him. To Qrs, it looked nothing more than a multi-legged blob of smooth pink flesh with mouths and tentacles that resembled thick, elongated tongues. He eyed the fiend warily, and was abruptly struck in the face by one of its tentacles, the blow leaving a smear of sticky mucus over his eyelids. Reeling back weakly, he brought his arms up to cover his head. A second tentacle came up and smashed into his groin; his legs buckled as he gritted his teeth.

The fiend reached out with three of its disgusting appendages, and the cage was tumbled into the air. Qrs’ face slammed into the bars on the way down. He opened his swollen eyes a crack and five of the fiend’s mouths opened below, each laughing in a different, high-pitched voice. It continued tumbling the cage as it hopped off towards wherever it was bringing him; Qrs’ world was too busy heaving and spinning for him to tell where.

As he was tossed along, the morning light dimmed and the cage stopped it’s chaotic movements. The fiend turned the cage until Qrs could face its five equally stupid-looking grins. Though nausea and pain assailed him, he kept his face a mask, frowning back at the thing. The grins slid off of the Demon’s head. Its eyeless face seemed to peer at Qrs as it shook the cage about again. When he offered no reaction, it chuffed and continued on its way, no longer tumbling the cage about.

The bits of lore that Qrs knew of when it came to fiends appeared to be at least partly correct. They were evil things that either promoted or reveled in suffering and anguish, and everything they did seemed to go out of the way to draw it forth. They quickly became bored if their playthings did not react in a satisfying manner. If they couldn’t get what they wanted, they would just kill you or leave to pursue the next promising victim. Either way, your misery would end.

This was also what puzzled Qrs. Even while behaving this way, there seemed to be some sort of underlying purpose to everything that they did. Up until this point, they had kept people alive, Jaldabaoth’s machinations dictating their cruel actions for the sake of some incomprehensible scheme.

His thoughts were interrupted when the cage was heaved into the air and slammed into a hard surface, bringing its journey to an end and Qrs face first into the bars again.

“Oh?” A familiar voice sounded from nearby. “Oh? Oh, oh Oh, OH? It seems our lovely volunteer has arrived! It appears that a new friend has appeared to spark much joy!”

A stout form waddled into view – it was the strange fiend with the beaked mask, Pulcinella.

“Welcome, my dear,” he said in a low voice that rose in volume. “Welcome, my fellow volunteer. Please don’t mind the mess; we were just situating our guests!”

Qrs looked around. He was in one of the open-walled buildings he had seen coming in. The edges were lined in cages, each with a prisoner inside. Some were bound to flat surfaces, while others were simply left free to roam in confinement. They were arranged in sets, in groups of a half dozen for each race. He noted Armat, Bugbears, Ogres, Hobgoblins, Gnolls and a few others he was not familiar with.

They all stared back at him, making Qrs shift uncomfortably despite himself. All were carnivorous to at least some degree, and being subjected to the gaze of a predator was never a nice thing, especially in his weakened and vulnerable state. He glared back, resolving to not show any fear before them, and, in doing, so realized that there was something not quite right with many. While some predictably fixed hungry eyes on him, others seemed not quite there. Even not being of his own race, he could tell that there were those amongst the others who looked dangerously unwell; he hoped that there wasn’t some sort of disease going around the place.

A line of fiends appeared, carrying great cords of wood in their arms and claws and tentacles. The scene tugged at a fragment of Qrs’ hazy memories, but before he could pin it in his mind, Pulcinella came around again.

“We are prepared, my friends!” He said in a ceremonious voice tinged with barely-concealed excitement, “Prepared to prepare. As the newest of our new friends has arrived, let us become familiar with our volunteer – let us partake in joyous fellowship!”

The beaked thing’s meandering words only added to Qrs’ confusion over what was happening. Were they being asked to get along with one another? To cooperate in some task?

“Now, my dear friends,” Pulcinella continued, “I have an important question for you: have you heard of the saying ‘you are what you eat’?”

The prisoners responded to the question with silence and, into that silence, the clatter of chains came.

“Why, of course you have!” Pulcinella spoke over the metallic sound, “It is in your ways, your culture, after all. To become strong, by eating the strong!”

Qrs turned his head to the source of the clattering chains. At the entrance to the building, a slight figure shuffled in, followed by a fiend nearly identical to the Devil warden from his old prison. By its thin build and pale skin, the figure in chains appeared to be a Human. Whether it was male or female, he could not tell. Recalling his own, recent experiences, he wondered if they would be using it as a source of meat for the others.

When he was younger, Qrs had joined raids against the walls of the Human nation to the west of the hills, out of curiosity for a strange foe that he had never tested his mettle against before. The defenders were armed and armoured, but their equipment paled in comparison to that of Dwarven make. Individually – no, even in groups – they were weak. Why they had even built such a wall was beyond him: it was a declaration of strength; a monument that invited challengers, drawing those just like him.

His time there was a disappointing experience overall, but at least captured Humans had value as slaves to the Dwarves and could be traded for useful things. For that reason, he had never actually tasted their flesh before, despite capturing many. This Human looked even weaker than those of the wall. There couldn’t be that much meat on it. It was possible that it took fewer spells of healing to fully restore, thus saving on mana.

He looked to the slab in the middle of the room, and the fire that roared below: it was similar to the city of cages, so Qrs had a fair idea of what was to come. Except…what was it Pulcinella had said? Surely he wasn’t crazy enough to think they would become Human by eating Humans.

“Please,” the beaked thing in white said, “introduce yourself, my dear.”

The scrawny Human looked around at the dozens of prisoners around it through fearful eyes, ultimately turning its head down without a word. Pulcinella tilted his head at a right angle and shrugged.

“Our new Human friend goes by the name of Anise,” Pulcinella told them, “and you are most fortunate and privileged to have her here! She hails from the Human lands over the mountains to the north, from the Royal Capital of Re-Estize itself! A famous chef, she is, and so you will be treated to the most delightful of dishes; the high cuisine of nobles and kings! She will bring you happiness with her professional expertise, as she has with so many others.”

The Human female did not look up with Pulcinella’s glowing introduction. If anything, Qrs thought she looked even more miserable.

“Come, come, my lovely Anise,” the beaked figure said. “Your guests await.”

The Human looked up at Pulcinella, then at the slab in the middle of the building. The fiend behind her snorted, and she gave a fearful cry, scurrying forward. She stepped up onto a platform, where a wide variety of implements were arrayed on the slab. Qrs’ mouth watered at the thought of food. His last meal must have been days ago, before he was taken away from the city of cages. Pulcinella waddled over in front of Qrs’ cage, reaching up to open it.

“Out with you, now, our dear volunteer,” it said as the hinges creaked open.

Qrs stepped out. He looked around the building again, looking for something like the tables at his former prison. Finding nothing like it, he looked back at the beaked figure.

“…where am I supposed to go?” Qrs asked.

A hand gracefully gestured to a large cart near the slab.

Qrs’ eyes widened as realization dawned upon him, and he shot forward, dashing for the entrance. Despite his speed, which would cover the distance in a heartbeat, the Devil that had accompanied the Human into the building reacted, reaching out for him with a massive, clawed hand.

“「Flow Acceleration」!”

The world slowed to a crawl as he activated a Martial Art. He ducked under the wicked claws and drove forward into the morning light…

…then he struck the ground, face-first.

Qrs felt himself being dragged back into the room, scraping over the dirt and gravel. He saw the base of the slab before he was raised, dangling from one leg. The scaly, black skin of the horned Devil’s legs filled his vision, and he looked up at his own. It had used a whip to snatch one of his ankles, and Qrs swung lightly from its coils.

“My, my,” Pulcinella’s voice drifted in lightly from near his head, “my dear volunteer…you did volunteer, did you not?”

“I changed my mind,” Qrs replied.

“Changed your mind? Changed your mind…” Pulcinella tittered, “Don’t be silly, my love – volunteers have no choice.”

Qrs’ surroundings whirled, righting themselves once more when he was slammed onto the cart. Shackles found his wrists and ankles, stretching him tightly over its surface.

“Why…why are you doing this?” Qrs’ winded voice called out, “I thought I wasn’t worth using for food!”

“Such a depressing outlook,” Pulcinella shook his head sadly. “We even found a place for you to share your kindness, where your selfless actions will bring happiness to your fellows. ‘To become strong, by eating the strong,’ I said – surely you didn’t think our frail and precious Anise was to be the main course? Who would want to become as weak as her? Forcing such meagre sustenance upon our friends would be most cruel! But you: you are strong, yes? A brave; a hero…or something like that? Our friends here are nowhere near as strong as you, but your kindness has given them a chance to see this hopeful future!”

Qrs couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was true that some races had customs where they believed that eating the strong made them stronger: who engaged in rituals where they consumed a worthy foe that they had personally vanquished. There were even races that did get stronger depending on what they ate…but nothing like this. They were trying to feed him to others, as if consuming his flesh would directly grant them power.

“It won’t work,” he growled out against the cart pressed to his cheek. “You can’t become strong just by eating me!”

“Oh my, is this true?” Pulcinella said worriedly, “But we set up this building just to find out…”

The beaked figure came up to where Qrs lay, bringing his strange mask close.

"Are you certain of this?” He spoke in low tones, “Have you tried?”

“You’re insane,” Qrs snarled.

“You are too kind,” Pulcinella pulled away and straightened again. “Too kind!”

He clapped its hands loudly, waddling around the building again, raising his arms as if expecting the cheers of the surrounding prisoners.

“Come, come! Let us partake of the kindness of our friend!” He said, “Anise, my dear: you may begin.”

Qrs heard the sound of the metal implements being drawn nearby, and the Human came into view. A long knife was in her trembling hand, and she looked down upon him, reeking of terror. He watched her arm lower…then it stopped.

“What’s the matter, my dear?” Pulcinella asked.

“I…”

“Is this fellow too unfamiliar for you? Should we perhaps bring something you’ve already become well accustomed to–”

“No!” She cried, “Please, no. Not again, Mister Pulcinella, a-anything but that!”

Qrs flinched as the blade touched his thigh. The cold edge drew across his skin but, surprisingly, he felt no pain. The knife slid over his skin again.

“This hide – it’s so tough,” the Human said.

“Come now, you’ve just barely started – put a little more love into it, hm?”

The point of the knife pricked his skin, then withdrew. If it were a battle, Qrs wouldn’t even have noticed it but, bound as he was, every action of the weak Human seemed especially pronounced. He twitched at the sting of pain as the knife stabbed into his leg again. The Human worked the knife deeper, striking the base with her palm, pressing her weight into it, and wiggling the blade around. Qrs gritted his teeth in discomfort as she struggled. She grunted with every effort, and her laboured breathing soon filled the room. The blade stopped again.

“Oh my, is that all you can do?” Pulcinella asked, “You were capable of so much more just yesterday! Is there something wrong? Did they forget to feed you?”

“The…”

“Hm?”

“The knife…I-I need a better knife,” the Human answered. “This one’s all dull and tarnished.”

“The knife? Hmm…”

The blade embedded in his thigh was suddenly driven through the rest of Qrs’ hide, punching through fat and muscle to glance off of bone. His pained howl filled the air.

“This knife seems perfectly fine,” Pulcinella said. “See? In and out and back and forth and swish and sw–oops.”

He interrupted himself, and the haphazard movements of the blade stopped.

“That might have been important…healer? Hmm…healer?”

Pulcinella waddled off, and Qrs’ strength rapidly faded away…

“「Middle Cure Wounds」.”

…awareness returned, but the chill remained.

“Ah! Too much!” Pulcinella said mournfully, “You closed up part of our good chef’s hard work. Alas, we must try again.”

The Human said nothing this time, and the attentions of the knife returned. It sawed and caught and tugged, opening his flesh as it worked in a way unachievable by the strikes of a skilled warrior. The knife trembled and the Human would back away with a cry whenever Qrs could no longer stand the slow torture and his agonized reactions came forth.

Eventually, the Human finished, taking a large part of Qrs’ leg with her. She heaved out a great sigh, looking towards Pulcinella.

“What are you waiting for, my dear?” Pulcinella said, “It’s time to work your culinary magic! Our hungry friends await…”

She glanced towards Qrs before working to slice up his flesh. Qrs, restrained as he was, was forced to watch. The aroma accompanying her preparations started to fill the air, and Qrs’ thoughts slowly grew dim.

“I-It’s done.”

The Human’s voice broke through the murky haze, and she released a ragged breath. Healing magic washed over Qrs, mending his leg and snapping him back to pained awareness.

“Excellent work, my dear chef Anise!” Pulcinella clapped his hands energetically, “I knew it wasn’t a mistake to choose you for this task. Now what is the dish called, my love?”

“It’s stir fried…um, leg…with roasted garlic mushrooms, sautéed onions and diced forest greens in a savoury sauce.”

“Hmm…that seems a mouthful,” Pulcinella said. “Surely there is some inspiration for this? Where is your inner artiste?”

“Then…Abelion stir fry à la Pespel.”

“Marvelous!” Pulcinella clapped his hands grandly, “Simply marvelous! Yet another revolution in the culinary arts by our dear Anise! Surely, your talents know no bounds. Everyone will be thrilled at this new addition to their menu.”

The aroma of the dish filled the air as Pulcinella brought it around in front of all of the cages, and the scent of Qrs own cooked flesh filled his nostrils.

“Now, remember, dear friends,” Pulcinella said. “If you wish for this special dish, all you need do is request it by name and our precious Anise will lovingly prepare for you a hearty helping!”

He inhaled deeply, releasing a satisfied sigh before continuing in a lively voice.

“My, this truly is a delight!” Pulcinella looked around the building. “Who would like to have this first course? Surely it would be better while it’s still hot.”

The prisoners around the room remained silent. Even the Ogres and Bugbears had the pride to turn down food after witnessing the reprehensible display.

“No one?” Pulcinella made another round around the room, “Come now, surely there must be some interest? Far better than the cold, raw mince from before this breakthrough in high cuisine, yes?”

Once again, silence followed in the wake of Pulcinella’s words.

“There’s no need to be shy – we’re all friends here, after all. Just one word; one gesture, anything to let me know, and this joyous entrée shall be yours. It wouldn’t do to waste good foo–”

The conspicuously loud noise of a growling stomach filled the air, and all present turned their gazes on Qrs.

“Heh?” Pulcinella let out a noise of its own, “Hehe…heheHEHEHEUHEEHAHAHA!”

Strange, squeaking laughter rose from the beaked figure clad in stained white garments.

“Fabulous!” He cried, “Wonderful! I was not wrong – not wrong…our brave volunteer has volunteered to be the first to partake.”

Pulcinella motioned excitedly to the horned Devil nearby.

“Give him the taste of happiness!”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Orders for food punctuated the evening air, which was filled with the aroma of meaty dishes. Whether they were appetizing or not probably depended on who you asked, but it agitated Qrs to no end that nearly all of them smelled edible to him.

The roughly constructed building that they occupied had been renamed Café Anise, in honour of the Human Chef’s ‘advancement’ in the fields of cuisine, and the prisoners learned the names of all the meals that she came up with over the weeks. They were all made with a main course of Qrs, of course. As Pulcinella had promised, all they needed to do was ask.

They fed Qrs with those same dishes. He refused at first, of course, but the Human would eventually just make something out of him without asking. He turned his head at her offerings, but the fiends assisting her just pried his jaws open and forced them down. If he vomited, they would just use a spade to scoop it up from the ground and force him to eat it again, with an extra helping of dirt and filth.

Qrs howled as a knife entered his arm, and the Human peeled away a long slice of flesh. At some point she had received enchanted tools, and no longer struggled with his tough hide. She no longer flinched away from his reaction to her attentions, either. Over time, Qrs thought, she stopped recognizing him as a living being. He had just become a slab of meat – perhaps a somewhat noisy ingredient to work with.

The human female came up with new dishes every few days, and Qrs seethed when the prisoners eventually became used to the routines of their new jail, clamouring over one another to taste her new creations. Yet, he couldn’t blame them. These fiends broke down body and spirit like it was an endlessly satisfying meal of its own; their appetite for it, bottomless. All around him, week by week, he watched as the prisoners’ wills were twisted and warped, turning them into little more than base animals capable of speech.

Except for one. Except for the Human. She came as a prisoner, just like they, yet even the smallest suggestions cowed her into compliance. Like some pet, she turned docile, no longer offering complaint or showing even the slightest hesitation. A pet of the fiend Pulcinella, pouring her efforts into fulfilling his desire to grant happiness. It was not long until her chains came off, and she was allowed to roam freely. She had a number of fiends that answered to her call, delivering whatever she required for her ever more sophisticated ‘craft’.

After weeks of being subjected to her work, he still couldn’t understand it. Why would one need hundreds of ways to prepare food? Some of it he couldn't even recognize as meat any more, so different it looked and smelled. Humans were surely a soft and weak people, spending so much time on such frivolous pursuits.

He cast a baleful gaze to the Human as she worked at her table, but she simply ignored him. Was she getting stronger – strong enough to shrug off the intimidating presence that radiated from his raw strength? No. She ignored him because she knew he had been rendered harmless.

The Humans of the wall were much the same. So proud and fearless in their fortifications, shining equipment and teeming numbers. So brave, until they encountered a true warrior who proved all of that worthless. Every time, they were reduced to pitiful, wailing wretches that soiled themselves and cried for mercy. A disgusting race with weak bodies and even weaker wills, lacking the pride and resolve of decent living beings. It was a wonder that they hadn’t been wiped out of existence. If Qrs somehow managed to escape and regain his freedom, he figured that he would remedy this whenever the opportunity presented itself.

A trio of long shadows cast themselves over the floor. Pulcinella entered the building, flanked by two grotesque, tentacled Demons – the same as the one who had brought in his cage after his arrival. Pulcinella stopped to inhale deeply.

“Ah, tantalizing as always, this aroma,” he released a contented sigh. “Is there no limit to your skill, my dear Anise? Your talent was surely wasted on the aristocrats of the royal capital.”

The Human’s steps slowed at his praise, then resumed as she carried a platter to an Ogre nearby. Pulcinella waddled up to her, inspecting its contents.

“Hmm…it appears that something is missing,” he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “There were special instructions for this one, yes?”

“But–”

Pulcinella reached into a crate placed near the Ogre’s cage, and withdrew a fistful of what Qrs thought was gravel. The pebble-sized fragments were sprinkled over the platter. The Human opened her mouth silently, then closed it again.

“You are confused, my love?” Pulcinella asked, “Well, I suppose these matters are beyond your expertise. Allow me to explain…”

His hand opened the cage, in which the Ogre was bound to a standing table. Pulcinella retrieved the platter of food from the Human’s hands.

“An exploration of our concept, of our theme,” Pulcinella continued. “Armat have a most wondrous biology; they can consume ore, which in turn allows them to grow fur as strong as iron, or mithril, or adamantite, depending on what they are fed! Ogres, unfortunately, do not: they only have their naked hides to protect themselves from the sting of swords and arrows. It is unfair – unjust, don’t you think?”

Pulcinella tilted his head slightly, leaning closer to the Human. She only stared back silently as he continued.

“In an act of overflowing compassion, our dear Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth has resolved to rectify this unreasonable reality. You see, we have taken this one’s stomach out…and replaced it with one from an Armat!”

The fiend spread his hands out at the gleeful revelation, and Qrs’ fought to keep from retching.

“Such genius!” Pulcinella proclaimed, “Such kindness! Such is our Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth! Our dear Ogre friend will now be able to consume Ore and grow an armoured hide. Or was it fur? An armoured Ogre – such an improvement, don’t you agree? To be certain, we have performed the procedure with this pair: one will consume his food normally, and the other will have it put straight into his belly – just in case chewing matters, you see. We will leave no possibility unexplored! No possibility…hm…since Armat gain their traits while they are still young…I wonder how many children we have left in stock…”

In a demonstration of his insane methods, the muttering Pulcinella scraped the plate of food out into the gaping wound propped open in the Ogre’s stomach. The Ogre only drooled like an invalid in reaction.

“But…but what about the Armat?” The Human asked.

“The Armat?” Pulcinella replied, “Which Armat? Oh, those Armat. They are making everyone else happy, of course.”

“W-what?”

“By knowing the unfortunate conditions that have been visited upon them, everyone else knows that they are in a better situation by comparison – thus, they are happier! It is a clear and logical thing; the beauty of countless people provided happiness by those loving few is a solution of such elegant simplicity.”

Pulcinella reached up to pat the cheek of the drooling Ogre.

“Think of our good friend Armat,” he said, “and be happy! Be strong! Do not spurn his love!”

He continued moving about the room, inspecting the surrounding prisoners and offering his insane commentary. It wasn’t long after he arrived that Qrs realized that all the ‘guests’ were experiments, subjected to various conditions. One of each race was fed raw meat, another had raw meat pushed straight into its stomach through a slit in its belly, just in case chewing took something away. Another had prepared meals introduced in the same fashion, for the same reason.

The rest had various…alterations. Some, like the Ogre, had their organs replaced with those of other races. One of the Armats had jagged stones grafted into its skin in place of fur. There was a Hobgoblin with its eyes replaced by the compound eyes of some insectoid race. There were a half dozen each, and each was fed Qrs, rendered into various complex dishes by the Human Chef.

The Human returned to the counter and walked up to Qrs, raising her knife.

“Ah, hold if you will, my dear Anise,” Pulcinella raised his oddly-shaped hand. “We have come to the conclusion that feeding strong individuals, even with meals created through your considerable talents, does not make weaker ones stronger. So we are done with this one.”

The two tentacled Demons came forward. The Human began to shake uncontrollably, clutching at the counter with her free hand.

“You…no,” her voice was frantic, “you said…y-you told me – no, don’t send me back! I can’t go back to that…that…”

She collapsed to her knees, knife clattering to the ground. Pulcinella turned towards her at the sound.

“Hm? Oh! No! No no no no no…shh…shh…”

Pulcinella spoke in soothing tones as he came up and embraced the quivering Human, gently stroking her hair.

“You need not worry now, my precious,” he said. “Your esteemed contributions are still required here.”

“What do we do with this one?” One of the Demons asked, and Qrs tensed.

“Throw him back into his cage for now,” Pulcinella waved his hand towards them without looking. “Bring in the new materials as well.”

Qrs chains were removed and fleshy tentacles wrapped around his body before he could react. He flew into his cage, casually tossed from where he had been bound. The door slammed shut even as he reeled from the impact.

“Careful, now,” Pulcinella said. “Careful. We’re done with healing our volunteer until we find more work for him.”

The second Demon came in with a covered cart, rolling it in front of the Human Chef.

“For your new menu,” Pulcinella gestured grandly towards her.

The Human stretched her arm towards the tarp covering the cart.

“What is it?”

“I’m so glad that you asked, my bright and lovely Anise!” Pulcinella gushed, “A wondrous, exotic and plentiful supply of materials from the north has come into our possession.”

The Human’s hand stopped at the fiend’s words.

“Not Humans, of course,” Pulcinella answered the growing look of horror on her face. “You have graduated beyond the need to practice with the materials most familiar to you. No, we are past that – we are going international! Cosmopolitan! A world of fine dining awaits, my magnificent Chef Anise!”

At Pulcinella’s continued prompting, the Human threw back the cover. The prisoners around the room all looked curiously at the contents. They watched as the Human reached in and withdrew a furred arm, tipped with long claws. She placed it on the table, poking and prodding it experimentally.

“Smells like Armat,” one of the Gnolls said.

The Armats placed in a corner of the room froze. The largest one turned an accusatory glare at Pulcinella.

“Y-you lied to us!” She shouted, “You said you wouldn’t feed us our own kind! You promised!”

Was there a promise like that? It certainly didn’t apply to Qrs.

“My dear friends,” Pulcinella parted his hands in a disarming gesture, “Would I lie to you? When have I ever failed to deliver on my promises?”

The prisoners around the building fell silent, and audible swallows could be heard. Their faces – the ones Qrs could read, anyways – made it clear that whatever promises were made, the results were undesirable, at best.

“Now, my lovely Anise,” Pulcinella turned back to the Human, “work your culinary magic. Fresh, new discoveries await!”

The Human brought several pieces to the counter, laying them out separately from one another. Her brow furrowed as she frowned down on the seemingly random assortment. Qrs peered at the nearby countertop to the closest piece. It was a mess of blood and fur: a limb that looked like it had been ripped off. Rather than being separated at a joint or even at some point along the arm, half of its shoulder was still attached. Protrusions of bone where the shoulder had been shattered by some brutal blow glistened in the firelight.

The fur and hide gave off a reddish, metallic sheen: it was clearly not Armat, but it did share some similarities. If this was the case, the appearance indicated the strength of the individual it came from – like the Armat, whatever race the parts belonged to might have consumed ores that strengthened their natural defences. Even a moderately strong member would have fur that offered more protection than the best of what the Humans of the wall used for armour.

Qrs questioned whether he could have done this himself, let alone in such reliable frequency. His gaze went to the other pieces on the counter. They were in a similar condition to the first, but they were all from different bodies. The coloration, textures and size were all different, no two exactly the same.

The Human continued her work, turning out dish after aromatic dish. The cart was emptied, and Qrs wondered what great warrior had fallen upon these people. He couldn’t imagine the sort of battle that had ensued to produce these grisly results. That was, until a Demon came in with another cart.

“How much more do you need?” The Demon asked the Chef.

The Human looked up from her work. Her mouth twitched as her eyes fell over the grotesque form across from her.

“H-how much?” She looked at the orders strung up in front of her, then around the room, “We’re about one third done here…is there enough? Or do we have to…”

The Human turned her gaze towards Qrs in his cage, and he felt himself bristle. A dull anger rose out of the pit of his stomach. If not for the bars of his cage, he would tear this disgusting creature apart. These Humans had no pride; no honor: they were filth below even the most desperate Goblin.

“No need,” the Demon said, “we got plenty. Should last a place like this for years.”

Qrs’ mouth fell open. He stopped keeping track of all of the different corpses. Years? It wasn’t a battle: it was a massacre. An endless tide of bodies shredded the force of some unfathomably powerful monster. Maybe this was the true power of Jaldabaoth, who so frivolously toyed with so many of the greatest champions of the wilderness tribes. No one could fight this. They could only run, and pray that he did not pursue them.

A loud bang jarred him out of his thoughts. A tentacled Demon holding a studded metal rod had struck the corner of his cage.

“What’s your order?” It demanded, “Chef’s closing up soon.”

Qrs glowered silently at the Demon, and it returned his look with a sneer.

“Ah, I get it,” it spat out of a side mouth. “Just can’t get over the taste of yourself, can you? You Demis really are hopeless animals.”

A tentacle reached over and snatched a metal bowl from the counter.

“Hey!” Someone complained, “That’s my order!”

“Shaddap,” an unseen mouth shot back, “Chef’ll make you another.”

The bowl was tossed between the bars of the cage, landing in front of Qrs.

“Have a taste of civilization, you filthy savage.”

Qrs stared at the bowl until long after it had cooled. He finally reached out to take it.

Without the constant haze of pain visited upon him during previously prepared meals, cold reason returned. Senara was right: he needed to escape, somehow. To maximize his chances, he needed to recover and keep his strength up. He would wait for the opportunity that must eventually come. He needed to return home to his family and tribe; to get them away, before they were all subjected to the sick touch of Jaldabaoth. He prayed to his ancestors that he wouldn’t be too late.

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The clang of metal filled the world, jolting Qrs from his slumber. He jerked upright, pulse hammering through his veins. A bowl of food landed in front of him with a dull clatter.

“Breakfast,” a tentacled Demon spat.

Qrs peered through raw eyes as it loped around the room. Another bang filled the building, followed by the startled yip of a Gnoll. Amusement from the Demon’s multiple maws filled the air.

He glanced at the edges of his cage. The tentacled Demon had been bashing the cages with its metal rod again, drawing amusement from their flinching reactions and startled cries. Over the past few weeks, the hinges of his cage were slowly being worked loose. Qrs relaxed and closed his eyes again, leaning against the bars.

Surely enough, the cage jolted, and the sound set his ears to ringing.

“Food’s getting cold, ya lazy swine!”

Qrs jumped up with a fearful cry, looking wide eyed at the eyeless Demon, who ‘peered’ back at him with several grins. Qrs reached down to take his meal, and the Demon continued on it’s way.

It was shameful, but the act worked. As long as you entertained it, it would continue performing the same actions to draw more amusement. He looked to the hinges of his cage again. They were never let out, so it seemed that the Demon didn’t notice as a result.

Could he force the door? He could. He was sure of it. Qrs had forced himself to take as much food as he could, and the weeks that had passed allowed him to recover by a significant amount. He took inventory of the prisoners and looked around for any other fiends. It appeared that the tentacled Demon was the only one present, and it was one he could quickly overwhelm with the right circumstances.

Qrs exchanged glances with the Hobgoblin across from him and nodded.

A retching noise filled the room, and a putrid stench permeated the air. The Demon turned and looked up at the Hobgoblin, who was crying and retching and making all sorts of pitiful noises.

“Oy! What’s this now?”

“I-I’m so dizzy…the cage…everything’s spinning…hurgphblg!”

The Hobgoblin fell onto her hands and knees, retching again. The Demon loped over towards her cage.

“Eh? This again? You wanna be taken for another spin? No problem, sweetie!”

The Demon leaned its rod against the central counter and lifted the cage with its tentacles. The Hobgoblin wailed as she was tossed and spun in the air, joined by the raucous laughter of the Demon.

Qrs grasped the bars of his cage.

“「Greater Ability Boost」.”

The Martial Art filled his body with strength, and he gave the bars a solid push. The hinges came off, their light clink masked by the clamour on the other side of the building. He quietly worked the door the rest of the way open, then set it down softly before padding forward.

“「Flow Acceleration」.”

He darted around the table and snatched the studded rod, working it around and over his head.

“「Savage Blow」!”

The Demon’s bulbous body collapsed with a wet crunch. The spinning cage with the Hobgoblin landed on top of it.

Qrs eyed the crushed Demon, alert for any sign of life. It didn’t move, leaking strangely-coloured ichor over the ground. There was a gasp to his right, and he turned his head: it was the Human, still holding her knife.

White hot fury filled him at the sight of his tormentor. The rod swept out across the table, swatting the Human’s head off of her shoulders. Qrs leapt over in a rage, smashing the decapitated corpse on the ground over and over again.

“Hey, stop wasting time! Get us outta here!”

He looked up, breath heaving. A Gnoll was calling out to him from a half-broken cage. A few of the other prisoners had managed to wrest open their own, but several still looked stuck. He raised his weapon, and the Gnoll stepped back.

“「Sundering Blow」!”

The lock and latch came cleanly off of the door, and it creaked open. Imitating that pest, Buser – just how far had he fallen? The irritating thought cooled his rage, and he let out a complicated sigh. A half minute later, all of the cages were open. Qrs leaned on his weapon, watching the Hobgoblin who had distracted their warden wobble out of her own cage.

“Thanks for that,” Qrs said.

“Hey, I’m just glad it worked,” she replied, “I–blorpgh.”

The Hobgoblin vomited again.

“Gross,” Qrs stepped back from the expanding puddle – how did she have so much stowed away?

“Your ass is gross,” she retorted after wiping her mouth. “And I mean that literally. I have no idea what that Human kept adding when she was cooking you up. They can keep their high cuisine to themselves – I can’t wait till I get my hands on some proper food.”

The Hobgoblin walked over to the headless Human, prying the knife out of her hands. She walked back to one of the other Hobgoblins, who was still chained up. Its dull gaze still stared forward as she slashed its throat out.

“W-what are you doing!”

“Mercy,” she replied. “That’s no way to live. They were trading organs between a bunch of the prisoners here, and he was one of them…I don’t think any of them are fit to move. Best to put them out of their misery before they become part of some other insane experiment.”

“Did you know who that was?” Qrs asked.

“My mate, actually,” the Hobgoblin said flatly.

“Sorry.”

“Why?” She snorted, “You didn’t do shit. Well, you did give me indigestion.”

The Hobgoblin continued around the building, and Qrs looked about. Some of the prisoners had taken the Human’s other utensils, while the rest held firewood or whatever else they thought they could use. Despite their ordeals, those who stood looked ready to fight. He went to one of the openings where a Gnoll was cautiously poking its head out. The tall Hyena Beastman sniffed the air, rounded ears twitching this way and that as it surveyed the morning gloom.

“Anything?” Qrs asked.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Quiet.”

A rare mist accompanied the morning, clinging to the ground and slope beyond. There was no sign that anyone was aware of what had happened. Two Ogres made their way out towards the treeline, tall figures looking painfully exposed in the growing daylight. Nothing happened, however, and they disappeared into the trees. Several others started filtering out of the building, darting away into the mist. Qrs stepped forward as well, and he didn’t look back.

As he made his way through the sparse cover, he tried to get his bearings. The thinly wooded vegetation marked him as somewhere at the edge of the Abelion Hills, but the landscape could have been anywhere along a band that stretched across the north. If he kept on going north, there were three possibilities: he would find his own territory, end up facing his neighbors to the west of his own home, or he would be overwhelmed and eaten by the Zern.

There was also the matter of his son…Qrs shook the thought from his mind. He had no idea where he himself was, never mind where his son was, and his family and tribe were still out there somewhere. Tens of thousands of lives hinged on his warning – that was, if they were still there. Continuing on his way, he tried to pick his way northeast while staying clear of any outcroppings or clearings; fiends could often fly, and he didn’t want to risk being spotted by a patrol from above.

The sound of several others reminded him that he was not alone on his trek, and he glanced over his shoulder to see who was still following. Most of the prisoners from the building had dispersed, but some of them still trailed after him. As a warrior, he wasn’t exactly the sneaky sort so he didn’t think they would make his escape more noticeable than it already was, but the nine or so were still a curious sight.

Gnolls lived near his own people’s territory, so seeing them headed the same direction was not a surprise. They were natural hunters, however, so they should have been handily outpacing him through the rugged terrain. Perhaps they were sticking close for mutual protection against Jaldabaoth’s fiends…or there was something that they wanted from him. Several Hobgoblins and Armat followed him as well, which struck him as odd.

“I get why the Gnolls are coming this way,” he said, “but what about the rest of you?”

“Our tribes lived in the central hills,” one of the Hobgoblins said, "so our homes were overrun by fiends. There is nothing left to return to, and we have a debt to repay to you as well.”

“I don’t plan on stopping after I get home,” Qrs told them. “Once I get there, I’m packing up and running with my people.”

“We are of the same mind,” one of the Gnolls yipped in agreement. “Fighting is folly against this Jaldabaoth. We will convince our tribes to flee east as well.”

“Are you saying we should band together?” Qrs frowned.

“Yes,” the Gnoll nodded. “Beyond, we are simply intruders – they may not know of Jaldabaoth. If our pack is large, it would be harder for others to resist us, and easier for us to hunt down those who try.”

It was a straightforward line of thinking, the downsides being far outweighed by the benefits of the arrangement. The tribes of the Abelion Hills generally did not mingle, save for the ones who attended the festival – and only for that – but the threat represented by Jaldabaoth was so great that it had created a common cause: to flee far beyond the Demon God’s reach. For that, they needed enough force to punch through whoever didn’t get out of their way.

Qrs grunted his agreement.

“Do you know which way we should be heading?” He asked the Gnolls.

“We are going in the right direction,” one replied, “and it is too dangerous to cross high ground to shorten our journey. It will be two days until we are well within your territory.”

“Go ahead and blaze the trail,” Qrs motioned with a hand. “Your kind are far better at this than mine.”

The largest Gnoll stepped ahead, and their pace quickened. The days passed in silence as they saved their breaths: months of languishing in cages had stolen away much of their strength and conditioning, and it would take time to fully recover. Fortunately, there was no sign of pursuit. After stopping for two brief periods of rest, the arid hills gave way to the lush band of forested lowlands below the foothills of the border ranges. The scent of moisture rolled over them from the north. Mixed in with it now, however, was the scent of smoke.

“It’s woodsmoke,” he said around midday, “but it’s far too thick. Is it safe enough to climb up the ridge and check?”

Everyone exchanged glances, then looked up to the ridge above them. While the arid climate of the hills left their heights dry and exposed to the elements, the trees now gave enough cover that Qrs thought it might be safe enough to look around without being spotted from a distance by any pursuers.

“I’ll go,” an Armat with rust-coloured fur said.

It scurried into the undergrowth without waiting for a reply, disappearing within a few seconds. The group continued up a shallow riverbed that the Gnolls recognized would lead north towards their territory. An hour later, the Armat caught up with them.

“Smoke rises from the west,” he reported. “Fires, coming closer.”

The group slowed down as they digested the news. Worries crept out of the shadows of Qrs’ mind. They were well within his territory now, and the fires described were possibly the villages of the tribes under his leadership.

“How far away were they?” Qrs asked, “How fast were they advancing?”

“The closest fires are one day away, maybe,” the Armat looked up at him. “I didn’t stay long enough to see if anything new appeared. The smoke has not drifted too far – they are new, or perhaps strong winds have dispersed them.”

“The scent is new,” a Gnoll reasoned, “it must be recent or we would have caught wind of it days ago. We must hurry.”

“You Gnolls have farther to travel,” Qrs nodded, “and you’re faster than we are – go on ahead and find your people. We can meet again in the east.”

Qrs wondered if it would be as easy as he said. Gnoll tribes were nomadic, and wandered quite a bit; finding their tribe members wasn’t as simple as heading towards a permanent settlement.

“The river ford, then?” One of the Gnolls asked.

“It’s the nearest place for the both of us to cross,” Qrs agreed. “The other side will be rough, so we’ll want to gather our strength before heading in. If any of my people stop you…well, I don’t have anything on me that they’ll recognize, so try to avoid being detected.”

“Then we go,” the Gnoll replied.

The four Gnolls sprinted off and out of sight. Qrs looked back at the Armat and Hobgoblins.

“This place is far from our lands,” one of the Armat said. “We know not of this river, or its crossing.”

“I guess you’re coming with me, then,” Qrs said. “We’re still two days away from my place at this rate…can you run any faster?”

They all shook their heads.

“You’re far stronger than us – the reason for their profane experiment, yes?”

Qrs grimaced at the mention of the grotesque events. The group of former prisoners clearly deferred to him, so he felt obliged to lead. At the same time, he wanted to get home as quickly as possible: if he was on his own, he would be able to make it within the day. He looked around, scratching his head as he tried to think of a good alternative. His vision came across a familiar landmark, and he looked back to the group, stretching his hand out to the east.

“Do you see that bald hilltop over there?”

Their gazes followed his gesture. The Armat shook their heads, but the Hobgoblins were tall enough to spot what he was pointing to and nodded.

“If you climb up halfway,” Qrs explained, “you’ll see a big river on the other side coming out of a canyon. There’s a place where the rapids settle into the ford that the Gnolls were talking about. You should be able to make it there before we get our tribes moving, so you can start collecting food and whatever else you think you’ll need for the journey once you get there.”

“What if we run into others?” The Hobgoblin female from the prison camp asked, “We have recovered a portion of our strength, but we are still few.”

“You won’t have to worry about that,” Qrs answered. “This part of the wilderness is my territory, so you shouldn’t run into anyone on the way. Across the river is a big stretch of Bugbear territory, which is why we’re gathering there first.”

The Hobgoblin nodded with an understanding look.

“Very well,” she said. “We’ll begin organizing things once we arrive. When should we expect you, Qrs?”

“Not more than a week – sooner, if it looks like those fires are advancing. We’ll be bringing what provisions we can.”

“Then the time for talk has ended,” the Hobgoblin said. “We will see you when we see you.”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Now alone, Qrs crashed through the undergrowth, heading up the ravine as fast as his legs could carry him. Familiar landmarks grew more frequent as he made his way, giving him a more exact sense of where he was.

He kept looking to the ridges peeking through the canopy, resisting the temptation to climb up and see how far the Demon Emperor’s forces had advanced. As powerful as Jaldabaoth was, the fact that he was subjugating all of the people around the Abelion Hills – capturing them to be imprisoned, enslaved and tormented – lent him the hope that more time would be needed to complete his domination.

What was considered the ‘Abelion Hills’ covered the western half of the wilderness, and were full of not only strong and populous tribes, but also those who dwelled in places which were hard to deal with. There were races living in high places, deep forests and in the darkness of the underground. Rooting them all out was an unimaginable undertaking.

His steps slowed as he came out of the top of the ravine, following the clear brook bubbling through the sparse woodlands of his territory. In the skies to the west, he could see no sign of the fires spotted by the Armat that morning. Qrs resumed his run, passing groves of aspen and vast stands of birch until the familiar smells of home grew strong on the wind.

On the dry, shallow slopes on either side of the brook was a large village, but, long before he arrived, two shadowy figures intercepted him.

“Hey you – stop right there,” the first to reach him said. “Wait…Chief? What the hell happened to you?”

“A few months late, aren’t you?” Said the other, “Don’t tell me you’ve spent all this time wandering around naked in the woods, waving your giant rod around. Your wife is going to skin you alive.”

The two sentries relaxed into conversational tones, but remained alert to their surroundings.

“Trouble,” Qrs told them. “Big trouble. Gather the elders – now.”

The sentries exchanged a brief glance before trotting off in the direction of the village. Qrs glanced to the western skies again, but still could not see anything in the distance. Was the Armat mistaken? If there were fires a little over a day distant, they should be visible from his village. Perhaps the fighting had been brief, and the newest flames extinguished. He stopped again when he crossed paths with a young, female sentry, who shouted and leveled her spear in his direction.

“Get to a high overlook,” he told her as she gawked at him. “Check the west for signs of any trouble.”

There was a plain question on her face, but she nodded wordlessly after a moment and left to do as he bid. He still wanted to look for himself, but evacuating the village was the more pressing issue. Ignoring the stares of the villagers, he strode straight past his home towards the wooden platform that served as the stage for where important meetings were held. No one had arrived yet, and he tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the village elders to be roused.

“Qrs?”

A familiar, female voice sounded from behind him. He tensed and stared at the floor for several moments before setting his features grimly. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face his wife, Rholh.

“Get the girls and start getting ready to leave,” his voice was more terse than he had intended it to be.

“You’ve been gone for how long and that’s the first thing you say?” Rholh’s rounded features broke into a scowl, “What do you mean by leave? Why are you standing up there naked? Where’s Dyel?”

“We can talk later,” he told her. “You need to go and get ready now. Food, clothing – all the supplies you think we can carry between us. The sooner, the better.”

His wife crossed her arms, face settling into an annoyed look. He wanted to shout at her to go, that there was no time for this, but he realized that there was just too huge of a gap in their sense of urgency. She was a good female, but that meant she had a stubborn personality that accompanied her strength as well. Convincing her properly was a luxury that no one could afford. Qrs glanced around, seeing a few of the village elders approaching.

“Look, the elders are on their way,” he said. “Once we’re through here, we’re emptying the whole village and as many of the other villages as we can. No one can stay here – even the Gnolls to the north are getting the hell out.”

Rholh finally relented, releasing a long sigh. She unwound the long shawl from over her shoulders, tossing it into his chest. Qrs nodded in thanks and drew it around his waist before turning to see to the matter at hand.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only person that would need convincing. He envied the Gnolls for their nomadic lifestyle right then: a sedentary people like his own would be much slower about uprooting from their ancestral homes. He turned back to face the platform and found three of the five village elders awaiting him. The other two could be seen coming from their respective dwellings. Several dozen other villagers had appeared to watch from the surroundings, drawn by the growing commotion. Qrs waited silently until all five elders stood before him.

Though they were called ‘elders’, they weren’t terribly old. Two were of Qrs’ generation, and the remaining three from his parents’ time. The strong were called on time and again to defend their lands, and those that rose to positions of leadership rarely survived to a venerable age.

A female tapped the butt of her gnarled staff to silence the onlookers, beads of her shawl rattling from the movement. Rholh’s younger sister, Rhag, shared many similarities with her sibling, but she had chosen to pursue the path of the mystic. He felt some of the mental burden over his shoulders easing at the sight of the village’s Chief Druid. She was looked to for her wisdom and experience with unfamiliar things, and would perhaps be able to shed some light on the catastrophe that had befallen the Abelion Hills.

“A season late and now you’re kicking up some sort of fuss,” she spoke after everyone had quieted down. “I can’t imagine you actually losing out there, but you look like a whipped Goblin right now.”

After his long incarceration, he supposed that his haggard appearance must have made him look the part. Qrs took a deep breath, speaking loudly so that all those gathered could hear him over the wind rustling through the canopy.

“At this year’s festival,” he said, “a Demon God fell upon the land.”

Shocked looks passed between the bystanders, but none dared utter a word as they waited on him to continue.

“We must leave our homes and go east,” Qrs told them. “Not just this village, but all of our allied tribes.”

“That seems a little extreme,” Rhag’s dubious voice followed after his statement. “Should the wilderness not gather its strength to drive away this Demon God like the stories of old?”

“The festival was well underway when he appeared,” Qrs replied. “He fell right into the midst of everything, devastating a vast swathe of the Dale with his mere arrival. All of the champions; all of the braves…we came to attack him as one, and none could even touch him, never mind hurt him. His strength far surpasses those Demon Gods of the stories, who could be wounded by the strongest of our champions. This ‘Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth’ professes to not be a Demon God, but I feel that he only said this to mock us.”

“I do not know you to be craven,” Rhag said, “nor are you a liar…but surely there must be some way to fight him – some weakness to exploit?”

“No,” Qrs shook his head. “If he has such a thing, it probably doesn’t matter. He is unlike the Demon Gods in the tales, who come as singular foes that sow destruction over the lands. This Jaldabaoth has armies of fiends at his command, many who are as strong as I am or even stronger. The mere sound of Jaldabaoth’s voice can wrest body from mind, turning our own people against us. All who have suffered at his hands agree that standing to fight only guarantees misery and death.”

A low murmur filled the air at his account, and the villagers looked up at him with worried expressions. Qrs was undeniably strong – a tribal leader whose strength guaranteed security against all of their neighbors. If their champion openly admitted that he was no match against Jaldabaoth and his minions, worrying was all they could do. Rhag tapped her staff on the wooden platform again.

“If he is that strong,” she asked, “how is it that he hasn’t come to slaughter us yet?”

“Because he does not only come with destruction,” Qrs replied grimly. “He sends his armies of fiends to capture and imprison the peoples of the wilderness – unleashing sick and twisted torments upon all. The destruction of our bodies is not what he desires: it is to break our very souls. The fact that he is so thorough is likely what gives us the time to escape.”

Rhag turned to look towards the other elders, but they could only shake their heads silently at his words.

“How long do we have?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Qrs admitted. “The Armat this morning said that he saw fires a day away from where we were. I sent out a sentry on the way here, so we should know how bad things look soon.”

“An Armat?” Rhag furrowed her brow, “Why was there an Armat?”

“We are not the only ones fleeing this Jaldabaoth,” Qrs told her. “There were Armat and Hobgoblins with me as well – the Gnolls to the north are also preparing to leave their lands. All of the other races who have escaped from his clutches have only one thing on their minds. It is as I said: all agree that staying is folly – the only way to survive is to flee.”

“Bugbear territories lie east,” Rhag noted. “We would be crossing The Neck. How can we safely bring our children through?”

“By numbers and force. The Gnolls have agreed to join us on our journey east. We will try to convince all others to join us along the way; those who stand against us will be trampled.” A sneer entered onto his features at the recollection of the recent past, “It would still be a better fate than what has befallen the peoples of the west.”

Rhag silently appraised him with a neutral look. The villagers waited for her decision – if she supported Qrs, there would be no opposition. If not…

“I see,” she said. “We will send runners to the other villages, then. This will be bad – our stores are still depleted from the winter.”

“I know,” Qrs agreed, “but we’ll just have to make do.”

He looked around at the assembled villagers, wondering how many would survive. Not only was food a problem, but water as well. He could only hope what they found along the way was enough. He sent the villagers out to prepare, picking out the fastest among them to deliver the will of the High Chief to the rest of the tribal settlements scattered around their territory.

Upon returning to his own home, he found the door open. Rholh and their daughters were packing away their things. He set his weapon aside, looking for a change of clothes.

A shadow fell over the light from the doorframe.

“So,” Rholh said, “can you talk now?”

“There’s not much I can say,” he didn’t look over his shoulder. “I told him to pack up and go home when it happened, but I’m not sure if it would have mattered. Jaldabaoth fell upon us so suddenly – tens of thousands were captured across the Dale in a matter of days. We were imprisoned beside each other for a time: the things they did to us…”

He forced his hands to keep moving, waiting for Rholh to respond – scream at him, beat him, anything.

Rholh said nothing, and light returned to the room as she went away. Qrs gritted his teeth, clenching his fists until they trembled violently. With a cry of frustrated anguish, he struck the ground. The wooden floor cracked and splintered at the impact, and the back wall split open to the ceiling. In the evening sunlight that filtered through the drifting dust, he released a shuddering sob.

What champion? His strength was worthless. Never mind the tribe, he couldn’t even protect his own son.

Qrs rose to his feet after a few minutes, wiping his face and shaking out the fresh garments and spare equipment of dwarven make that Rholh had laid out for him. He changed, then looked around to see if anything had been left behind. Seeing nothing, he left the building and shut the door. A pointless habit – he would probably never see the home of his ancestors again.

Outside, his three daughters shouldered their share of the belongings in oversized backpacks. Rholh stared silently at the building they had lived in for over two decades, raising their four children. The fringes of his chainmail jingled lightly as he approached. She let out a sigh and turned to face him.

“What about the other villages?” She asked calmly.

“They sent runners,” he replied. “There were columns of smoke this morn…”

His words trailed off when the sentry he had dispatched returned to the village. She stepped up to the central platform and scanned the milling forms of the villagers. Qrs jogged over to speak to her.

“Chieftain,” she said as he approached. “I went to the ridge: there’s no sign of raiding in the west – everything looks clear.”

At the report, he looked to Rhag and one of the elders that remained on the platform to help direct the evacuation. They looked back at him, a question over their features – maybe they thought he would call everything off.

“Are you su–”

Imminent danger washed over his senses, and Rhag’s eyes went wide as Qrs abruptly raised his weapon and lashed out in her direction. His studded war club connected with something in mid-air, and a spray of gore erupted from nothing. They looked down at the mangled body that thumped to the wooden floor.

A coppery, scaled creature with leathery, bat-like wings lay on the floorboards. Its body was not even a metre tall, though it had a twitching, barbed tail that dripped with green fluid. Qrs brought his rod down on it again to make sure it was dead. His mind raced, gaze going from the body, to the elders on the other side of it, then up to the evening air. The sense of danger had not subsided.

“Imps!” He roared, “Protect the Druids!”

His command resounded out into the air, its power rolling over the villagers. Warriors and hunters started to collect around the mystics of the tribe, occasionally taking swings at the empty air. It was soon enough that the bodies of Imps started to appear over the ground, swatted out of their invisibility.

Qrs took another swing, finding another Imp. The sound of leathery wings rose from between the trees – first dozens, then hundreds.

“Get moving!” His voice boomed over the village, “NOW!”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

In the fading twilight, the Imps started to shed their invisibility, their numbers clouding the air like a swarm of bats. Undersides aglow in the light of the village fires, they dipped and swerved and swooped, but never came within striking distance of the spears and clubs below. Rocks and other small objects started to fly up at the swarm, bouncing harmlessly off of their scaly hides.

“Don’t waste your energy!” Qrs shouted, “Get moving!”

Even the weakest of Imps had a supernatural resilience that could shrug off minor blows. Without the ability to perform powerful ranged attacks, or possessing projectiles with qualities that bypassed their defensive traits, the only option at this distance was to use magic, or wait until they fluttered close enough to strike with enough force to overcome their damage reduction.

Qrs heard a flutter nearby, and found another invisible Imp with his weapon, smashing it out of the air before it reached Rhag.

“The Imps up top are a distraction!” He told the villagers, “There are still invisible ones going after our healers.”

Once their healers were out of the picture, so many Imps would be able to disable villagers at their leisure. Imp venom affected coordination; being stung multiple times without resisting its effects would leave one unable to handle a weapon, or even put one foot in front of another. He suspected that whatever else was on its way would be taking those that were incapacitated away to be caged.

All around him, villagers were ducking, covering their heads and trying to crawl away.

“Rhag,” he said, “is there anything you can do about this?”

“The ones above us, yes,” Rhag replied.

“Do it.”

Rhag stood upright, stretching her hands out above her head. Qrs stayed alert for any invisible Imps trying to take advantage of her brief vulnerability.

“「Widen Magic – Vortex of Teeth」!”

A towering cloud of transparent fish with gaping maws and needle-like teeth appeared in the air over their heads. Rhag sent the swirling vortex of voracious phantasms against the path of the Imps circling overhead. Pieces of their shredded remains rained down on the village and, after half a minute, the spell dissipated in silence.

“「See Invisibility」.”

Qrs glanced down at the Shaman below. The figures of ghostly fiends appeared in his sight, and he caught on.

“See Invisibility!” He shouted out over the villagers again.

The sound of the spell being cast repeated itself over the village lanes. Warriors and hunters started striking out with deadly accuracy at the suddenly-exposed Imps. Within minutes, the forest was quiet again, but Qrs couldn’t imagine that the lull would last very long

“East, to the river!” He ordered, “Stop packing your things – move!”

The villagers started streaming by, following the slope up east out of the village. Qrs looked down at Rhag, who was tending to a stung child.

“That was a good spell,” he said. “I didn’t know you had anything like that.”

The Chief Druid did not turn to respond, instead focusing on a boy with a gash on his arm.

“「Cure Poison」.”

“「Lesser Restoration」.”

Rhag returned the child to his mother and rose to her feet, dusting off her knees.

“I hadn’t had the chance to use it until then,” she said. “It’s a spell of the Fourth Tier, but legend has it that there’s an even stronger form.”

Recalling how the spell had shredded hundreds of Imps in a matter of seconds, Qrs couldn’t imagine what a more powerful form of the spell would be like. This one alone appeared to be enough to devastate any number of enemy raiders.

“Well, it’s a good thing you learned it,” he told her. “There’s bound to be more attacks like that.”

“Between handling all these stings,” she said, “I’m not sure if mana will hold out. Not only do we have to nullify the toxin itself, we have to restore the negative effects. If our tribe didn’t have as many mystics as it does, we’d be in real trouble right now.”

“How many others are capable of wiping out masses of enemies like that?”

“There are two others in our village that are capable of casting fourth tier magic, but I don’t think we’ll last long if this is going to be a continuous thing.”

“It should take some time for them to realize that the Imps didn’t work,” Qrs reasoned. “Whoever is following up to capture all the people they expected to succumb to the Imps will be the first to know, but hopefully we’ll be long gone by then.”

“These Imps left no remains on the ground,” Rhag told him. “They’re summons. Their summoners will have known that they’ve failed the instant we quelled their attack.”

“Well great,” Qrs sighed. “We’re still moving, regardless. Hopefully the other villages can make it out.”

He stepped off of the platform, leaving Rhag to her work. He found Rholh and their daughters at the eastern threshold of the village.

“Are we all okay here?” He asked.

“We’re fine,” Rholh replied. “Leela was stung, but one of the Druids took care of it.”

Qrs looked down at his youngest, who was frowning down at a hole in her shirt – she looked more annoyed about that than the fact that she had been hurt.

“Good,” he grunted. “We need to get to the river before the next wave catches up to us.”

“There’s going to be more?”

“If that was all Jaldabaoth amounted to,” he told her, “we wouldn’t be running. You could have taken out all those Imps on your own with enough time. Those are just advanced forces – the venom in their stingers will build up in their victims that can’t resist it until they lose all coordination. I’m sure they’ve already sent forces to capture the fallen, so they’ll be pretty mad when they find that their attack was fruitless.”

“Then what about the other villages?” Rholh furrowed her brow, “We sent out those runners just an hour ago…”

“I know,” Qrs said. “There’s no way they’d have reached anyone in time. I don’t know if they sent Imps to every village or if they were just sweeping over the land but, with some luck, our runners will make it back to us with news either way. As annoying as they are, these Imps are weak compared to an experienced hunter, so they can probably sneak by any number of them.”

Qrs looked up to the eastern ridge, which still glowed dimly with the light of the setting sun. They would cross over it by midnight at this pace, but it was still over a day to the river with the slow going of the villagers. They would see in the dark just fine, but so could fiends in general. The timing was also extraordinarily bad. Most would be exhausted by the time they reached the ford, and they would be travelling at a snail’s pace through The Neck just trying to stay safe, rested, and provisioned.

A voice called to him from the rear, Qrs looked over his shoulder.

“Looks like I should get to the back,” he told his family. “I’ll be bringing up the rear, just in case more attacks come, but be careful all the same. These things can fly, and they can pop up from anywhere.”

Rholh nodded and gathered their children closer, within the reach of her quarterstaff. The kids had staves of their own, but they were literally children with sticks who wouldn’t be able to get past the Imps’ defences. Qrs sighed over how much more fragile his entire world suddenly seemed.

Dropping back to the rear of the procession, he found Rhag encouraging the slowest forward.

“How are things looking?” He asked her.

“Still clear, as far as I can see,” Rhag replied. “Even the fastest of those runners we sent out won’t catch up to us for a few hours yet – if they even make it out at all.”

“Unless they run into something a lot stronger than Imps, our hunters should be fine,” Qrs told her. “We’ll know how many of the other villages are still on their way by tonight.”

They made their way in silence, saving their energy for the trek through the night. As predicted, the runners started finding them after several hours.

“Chief,” the first that caught up to them nodded as he trotted up to them, “the closest northern villages bordering the Gnoll lands are on their way.”

“Did they give you any trouble?” Qrs asked.

“They were surprised,” he shook his head, “but they didn’t question your decision. A Demon God isn’t something someone just makes up, never mind you.”

“Good. Any sign of attacks?”

“Not at their villages, nor on the way back here…did something happen?”

“Our village was attacked not long after we sent you all out,” Qrs told him. “A big swarm of Imps came in while we were still getting ready to leave.”

“…did we lose anyone?”

“They were just Imps,” Qrs shrugged. “Our mystics used up a lot of mana tending to their venom and its effects, though.”

“If these fiends made it that far,” the runner said, “does that mean that all of the eastern villages are overrun?”

“We’ll find out soon enough. Hopefully targeted our village specifically in an effort to cripple our ability to make decisions. Find your family – let them know you’re okay.”

The runner nodded and trotted east to catch up with the column.

Over the course of the next few hours, the rest of the runners appeared. Half of the villages had been reported overrun, and it appeared that Jaldabaoth’s forces were sweeping in from the west. The remaining tribes had not questioned his orders and were already on their way.

“I don’t get it,” Qrs said. “How did they end up attacking right at this moment? It’s not as if our villages are hidden…”

“It’s pointless to ask why these fiends do anything,” Rhag replied. “They’re beings of pure evil with minds and motives entirely alien from our own.”

“Then…are there any races nearby that deal with Demons? This Jaldabaoth can’t have just sprung out of nowhere…”

“Imps are commonly used for various things,” Rhag replied, “but you probably know enough about them already. If this Jaldabaoth is as powerful as you say, perhaps a great ritual…no – I know of no tribe or people in the nearby lands that is capable…”

After a time, Rhag spoke once more.

“In the southeast, there is a Human nation rumored to have demonstrated magics that could only result from great rituals,” she said. “Clearing the wilderness to make room for expansion is an understandable motive, at least. Perhaps they have summoned this Demon God to do just that.”

Humans, again.

Qrs lip curled in a sneer. Why was it that Humans seemed to be the source of his woes recently? Puny beings that couldn’t fight for themselves, summoning evil fiends to do so in their stead. He tried repiecing his knowledge of events with this information, trying to make sense of anything he could.

“They started in the southeast of the hills,” he said, “in the Dale of Defiance. Shouldn’t they have started along their own borders if this is the case?”

“The Humans of the wall are on the other side of the hills,” Rhag said. “If they pushed solely from the east, their fellows would be overrun by those fleeing in advance of this Demon God – just like we are fleeing now.”

“So they start from the hills to create chaos and slowly contain us,” Qrs scratched his ear, “and, in the end, they will connect with their kinsfolk from the west. Or…”

Qrs frowned as a disturbing thought crossed his mind.

“Or?”

“Or there are more beings like this Jaldabaoth, and this is happening all across the wilderness.”

“I-impossible,” Rhag paled. “So many beings like this would mean the end of the world if they flew out of control! No one has the power to control them, nor would they be such fools to employ them.”

“Maybe. Even so, this Human nation you speak of lies to the southeast of the wilderness, so our current course is potentially leading us into a trap.”

“But what can we do?” One of the hunters nearby asked, “The mountains to the north are rugged and near impossible to cross, and – even if we manage to make it past the now fiend-infested hills – the Great Forest of Evansha lies to the south. Both destinations spell doom for our people.”

“We–”

The hunter raised his hand, ears swiveling slightly in the wind. Qrs looked around, but sensed nothing.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Sounds to the northwest,” the hunter answered. “Screaming, fighting; young and old…they’re ours – probably one of the villages following after us.”

“Damn it,” Qrs cursed. “How far away? Any sign of anything coming for us?”

“Not that I can see or hear,” the hunter replied. “The fighting is drowning out everything else…maybe an hour away – a bit more.”

Qrs’ mind worked, trying to figure out how to best divide their numbers. If they sent help, they would essentially be splitting their numbers three ways, which would be easier to defeat individually if their pursuers were aware of it…but they couldn’t afford not to – they needed as many people as possible to force their way east.

“Stop!” He called out over the long procession.

The villagers came to a halt, turning their gazes back to him.

“Back half of our fighting forces, gather on me,” he said. “Front half, create a perimeter for our villagers and prepare for possible attacks. Take a breather while you can: there’s another village fighting behind us; we’re going back to help.”

The villagers started to gather into a tight circle under the trees as they followed his instructions. Qrs turned to Rhag.

“Stay here and keep things under control,” he told her. “If they come after both groups, you’ll probably be the smaller of the two so you’ll need your magic to get rid of anything like those Imps just now.”

“I hear you, Chief,” Rhag nodded. “How long should we wait?”

“Four hours,” he decided. “Split the watch in half, take turns getting quick naps. After that…we probably have a handful waiting at the ford already – Hobgoblins and Armat.”

Rhag nodded again at his words, and Qrs turned and motioned for the hunters to lead. The force of hunters, warriors and mystics headed off to the northwest. After half an hour, the sound of baying animals could be heard over the wind.

“That’s not an Imp,” Qrs looked to the hunter beside him.

“Not unless they’re doing impressions now,” she replied. “There’s more – a large pack, at least. Wolves, maybe…no, wolves wouldn’t make all that racket.”

“Well,” he hefted his war club, “at least it sounds like something less annoying to fight.”

Ahead, the hunters in the vanguard stopped, raising their spears. Qrs caught up to them and, not far in front, several figures started to appear from the trees.

“They’re ours,” one of the hunters called.

Qrs rushed forward to meet the first of them: an old crone leading a small group of children.

“Old one,” he said. “We’ve come to help. Tell us what you can.”

She leaned forward to hang on his arm, breathing ragged.

“Fiends,” she said, “like we were warned…but there’s so many. So many…”

“We heard something like wolves,” Qrs said. “What was that?”

“They…they were hounds, but they had flames in their mouths. They’re the ones that found us; followed our trail.”

“Sounds like Hellhounds,” a Druid said to the side. “They’re rarely summoned and they’re no match for our warriors, but if they’ve gone from tracking to attacking, it must mean they’re trying to slow us down for whatever is on its way.”

“Was there anyone else attacking you?” Qrs asked the old crone.

“No,” the old crone shook her head, “but we were at the front.”

“The front?”

“The people from all the villages started to flow together at some point. I’ve no idea what’s in the rear.”

“Got it.”

Qrs looked around. He pointed at two fighters and a hunter.

“You, you and you: start leading them up to the others – ensure that no one gets lost. Don’t go too fast: we want everyone else following the path to see you and join up.”

Following the trail of fleeing villagers, it was not long until Qrs and his reinforcements found the edge of the main group. Sentries formed around the edges as they slowly made their way forward and, once in a while, a pack of Hellhounds appeared from the trees. As the Druid had mentioned, they didn’t last long against the defenders, but they did have the effect of slowing things down.

Qrs came across a tall warrior, his spear pinning one of the Hellhounds to the damp soil. The fiendish creature snarled and snapped at the shaft, struggling until it expired.

“Dol,” Qrs called out.

The warrior, one of the village chiefs, planted his foot on the Hellhound’s body and yanked out his spear. There was a dissatisfied expression on his face as the creature disintegrated into glistening black motes that vanished into the air.

“I was hoping free food was being sent our way,” Dol said, “but they’re all summons.”

“How long has this been going on for?” Qrs asked.

“Over an hour, Chief,” he answered. “We’ve barely been scratched, but it’s hard keeping everyone together and moving with all this happening.”

“Someone up ahead said there was a lot of this.”

“There was,” Dol propped his spear over a shoulder, “and there’ll be more if what’s gone on keeps going. Packs of five or so all along the west side of the column every few minutes. Adds up.”

“How many villages made it?”

“Hmm…eleven, at last count. This is turning into one giant mess: you sure we couldn’t have fought this crap off? I could take these things out all day.”

“This is nowhere near the worst of it,” Qrs told him.

“Hmph. Well, it’s a good thing you’re here now, Chief. Go on and straighten everyone out – we’ll hold the line.”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The tribes of Qrs’ people were distributed somewhat evenly over their territory into smaller villages, which served as centres for the many family groups that either lived in the villages directly, or in the forests surrounding them. Eleven villages meant that roughly 11,000 of his people were on their way at best – not counting the 1500 or so those from his own village’s area. The reports from the various, often confused, sources in their sudden evacuation could not give him any concrete numbers, but he would see for himself soon enough.

He silently shook his head as he tried putting a number to all the fleeing people he had seen along the way. While half of the villages were reportedly overrun, it did not mean that the other half would arrive unscathed – or at all. The small groups living out in the lands outside of the villages would be easily overwhelmed by the numbers of fiends he had witnessed attacking their lines so far. The warning from the runners he had sent out would have needed days and weeks to reach most of them; it was a miracle that they had reached half of the villages in time. Hopefully survivors from the outskirts would appear at some point, but the rest of them couldn’t afford to wait with Jaldabaoth’s forces literally nipping at their heels.

The howls of the Hellhounds and sounds of light battle filled the air as the next wave was put down all along the column. Qrs pointedly stayed out of the fighting as he continued organizing his people.

Like most Lords of various races, Qrs was not only a powerful member of his species, but had also developed the supernatural ability to lead and support his people. The effects and abilities varied from race to race, but, under his leadership, his people became more coordinated, iron-willed, and fought harder. He could see the people’s expressions lift even as they laid eyes upon. They grew hopeful and confident, understanding that he had come to lead them personally. At his orders, the lines drew together to become tighter and easier to defend as he slowly worked his way down the river of refugees.

Village chiefs – like Dol – also demonstrated similar qualities, but Qrs was the greatest leader in his tribe. Under his tangible influence, all understood that he stood over them, and there was no one who could challenge his authority or skill. In times of strife, the other chiefs fell into their role as his captains, leading warbands composed of forces from their respective villages.

He stopped occasionally to see how each village’s mystics were doing, and it turned out that they had actually fared far better than his own. Attacks had been light – it seemed that the speculation about how Qrs’ village was the hardest hit out of those that had shown up was correct. Still, it also meant the missing villages had been hit by something far stronger, else there would at least be some loose survivors coming in even while his runners were arriving to inform the others. Once the main body of Jaldabaoth’s forces were done with those villages, Qrs thought it highly likely that they would be coming their way.

The sound of approaching Hellhounds filtered through the forest again as he found the end of the procession. Two village chiefs – Gad and Bowge – were bringing up the rear with their warriors.

“Looks like it’s the same thing back here,” Qrs noted, after they finished with the newest set.

“Yep,” Bowge said. “We’re getting pretty good at taking ‘em out now – even the unblooded warriors and hunters. The time between waves is getting longer since we’re getting rid of them faster. For being on the run, this feels a bit…relaxing? Haven’t had this much fun since that Baafolk raid that got full of themselves and ended up in our neck of the woods.”

“I don’t get it,” Gad lowered his battleaxe and turned around to face Qrs. “They’re spending so much mana conjuring these weak summons – why don’t they just fly in and hit us with some spells that actually hurt?”

“Jaldabaoth has been taking his time capturing the peoples in the hills for months,” Qrs told him. “His goal isn’t to kill us.”

Qrs looked up into the night sky. As long as everyone had travelled so far, dawn was still hours away.

“Speaking of which,” he added, “have there been any Imps?”

Bowge and Gad exchanged looks.

“Imps?” Bowge said, “No…why?”

“My village was attacked by hundreds of them,” Qrs said. “All at the same time – not like these packs of Hellhounds that come in nice little waves. I figure they tried to paralyze us by taking out the tribal leadership, but we were stronger and more coordinated than they thought. That’s why we’ve got these Hellhounds now – they’ve realized we’re one move ahead of them, and they’re tracking us for something nastier that’s on the way.”

“Saying something like that is bound to invite trouble,” the sound of Hellhounds approached again, and Gad sighed. “See? Well, at least it’s just Hell–「Fortress」!”

The sound of Gad’s impromptu parry rang through the air as a blur descended from above. A creature bounced off of Gad’s enhanced defence, and Bowge kicked it to the ground. Qrs stepped forward to smash it with his war club, shattering its carapace with a dull crunch. They stared down at whatever it was that had fallen upon them, wrinkling their snouts at the pungent odour.

“What the hell?” Gad said, “A Blader? No – what is this thing?”

The disintegrating corpse had a partially insectoid look, with two huge scythes similar to what one would find on a Blader – a mantis-like race that lived in the Abelion Hills. The sound of chitinous wings filled the air as more of the fiends fell upon the column, and the sound of battles joined along its length rose in the air.

Qrs helped the rear finish the additional assailants that had dropped down from the skies and surveyed the damage. As with the Hellhounds, these new creatures appeared to be summons, but they were substantially stronger. Several warriors around him had received deep gashes, and the uninjured warriors moved to intercept the Hellhounds that were trying to get by.

He walked over to a Shaman tending to the wounded.

“Mystic,” he said. “Do you know what those were?”

“I’ve never seen the like before, Chieftain,” she shook her head. “They are beyond the summons that we’ve seen so far, but they’re still probably a kind of fiend. Those scythes have some sort of venom on them, and it’s hard for most of our people to resist it – this is going to cost us in mana.”

Qrs turned his head at the panicked squeals of children somewhere up the column.

“We’re the strongest in the rear,” he told Bowge and Gad, “and it’s probably another half hour until we get to my village’s position.”

“Go on ahead Chief,” Gad grunted with a rough gesture of his head. “We can keep this up no problem.”

Qrs made his way back southeast along the column, passing groups of warriors being tended to by healers. Though not extraordinarily strong, these new arrivals were enough to be a real threat to regular combatants who were caught alone. Fortunately, the abundance of mystics in the tribe ensured that all but immediately fatal injuries were handled in a timely manner.

Fifteen minutes later, the baying of Hellhounds filled the air again. His pace quickened, and he ran a critical eye over the lines for any weak points in their defences. Though the columns had not broken up after the last attack, the warriors defending them had tightened into fighting groups capable of conservatively handling the new arrivals. The sturdier villagers had weapons readied to defend the resulting gaps: just in case Hellhounds managed to slip through.

His gauntlets creaked as he gripped his war club, senses alert for any sign of an attack. The first fiend dropped down in the midst of a group to his right. Another dropped down on the group to his left a second later, and Qrs quickly looked over each battle in turn. He calmed greatly after watching them for a few moments.

The first wave had been a complete surprise, but that was all the defenders needed to adapt to their new opponents. Since they were only a bit stronger than their seasoned warriors, these new insect fiends could be dealt with safely when they were juggled defensively between the members of each group.

With a satisfied nod, Qrs decided to head to the front of the column and get the people of his own village moving.

“「Savage Blow」!”

His weapon caught one of the newly arrived fiends across the midsection as he jogged by a group along the way. It ruptured and split in half, spraying the ground with foul-smelling ichor.

“Don’t take too long putting these things down,” he told them. “We should be fine if it’s just this, but who knows what the next surprise will be. Once you’re done with yours, leave two defenders for the Hellhounds – the others should help out with the groups to either side to speed things up. Pass the word.”

The heads facing him nodded, and four of the group of six split away. Qrs looked to the Druid supporting them from the rear.

“How’s mana holding up?”

“Since the last attack, gaining, actually,” the Druid replied. “Surprises like the last time can put us behind, but we’re wise to their tricks now. We’re making extra sure not to take damage from these new bugs.”

“Good,” Qrs said, “keep it up. We’re almost all together now.”

Qrs continued up the column, noting their progress. The freed-up warriors that had gone to assist their neighbors already overwhelmed the next insect fiend, and the process appeared to be repeating itself up the line. He took heart in the fact that they appeared to be doing well, but Gad’s observation kept tugging at him from the more wary corner of his mind.

Was Jaldabaoth so obsessed with capturing them that he was willing to expend this much mana in an effort to whittle down their strength? There must be some other scheme in play, or perhaps some limitation that Qrs was unaware of. If Jaldabaoth himself came, he could probably use the power of his voice to turn everyone right back around and march them straight into their respective cages.

Given the size of the wilderness, it was possible that Jaldabaoth’s forces were spread thin, and some lesser minions had been sent to deal with their tribe: ones that they might be able to defeat directly, and so resorted to these massed attempts at harrying them.

When Qrs reached the head of the column, the hastily arranged defences of his awaiting villagers were already in sight. There were no signs of battle in the surroundings, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips. He spotted Rhag and the other elders, who were already sending the people east.

“It didn’t look like anything happened, but…”

“Nothing happened,” Rhag said. “We’ve had our chance to rest, but the rest of the tribes coming up behind us seem just a bit too energetic for having had a running battle for the last few hours…”

“We’ve been fighting,” Qrs told them, “but the fights have been manageable. What you’re probably seeing is exhilaration over their clear success against our foes, not knowing just how powerful the master of these fiends actually is. This is nowhere near as difficult as it should be…and that’s what worries me.”

They fell into step with the rest of the column, and he summarized what had happened. Rhag listened intently, frowning slightly over his thoughts on their odd circumstances.

“You are the greatest chieftain of our tribes,” Rhag said, “and your expertise as one who has seen many battles is something I can only defer to. As for the magical end of things, there is at least some precedent. These fiends – these Devils and Demons – have the ability to summon their kin, and they may also have the ability to cast spells that do so as well. Rather than a single, powerful fiend, it may be an army of weaker ones in this part of the wilderness: coordinating their efforts to capture whoever makes the land its home at Jaldabaoth’s bidding.”

Could the explanation be so convenient? The tribe’s casters tended to organize themselves, seeing to their own respective roles, so Qrs knew little about magic beyond its basic applications. It would be prudent to rely on the wisdom of the tribe’s High Druid. He certainly had no idea about what fiends could do beyond the weak ones that were occasionally summoned as servants and expendable combatants by those who dared to use them.

That being said, there were too many questionable tactics being employed against them.

“I still have my doubts about what’s going on,” Qrs said. “Sending these attacks against us so regularly will only make us accustomed to fighting them. Our people will grow in prowess as time goes on, while their summons remain the same. These unseen summoners must realize that they are becoming less effective with every failed attempt.”

“One can hardly argue against the results,” Rhag chuckled, “and we should take what we can from events that have befallen us. This strategy they are employing hones our fighting edge, which will only help us going forward.”

“Unless we get attacked by both fiends and eastern tribes at the same time,” Qrs frowned. “I’m still debating whether we should rest before crossing or try to get as far away as possible.”

“The people will be dead on their feet by the time we reach the river,” Rhag told him. “We’ll be easy prey for the tribes of The Neck if we attempt to cross their territory in such a state. Not only that, but we are also lacking in provisions.”

“You’re right,” Qrs agreed. “I agreed to wait for the Gnolls at the ford as well. Still…I just can’t shake off this feeling that something else is going on.”

“Then what would happen if we change the plan?”

“In what way?” Qrs frowned.

“Like staying to defend our lands,” Rhag said, “or at least finding a highly defensible position to weather out the storm.”

“I can’t see how that would be possible,” Qrs told her. “Even if the strength of our foes stays the same – which I doubt will be the case – being pinned down by fiends in one place means that we can only fight. The initial reports say that half of the villages are on their way; gathering food, building homes and lives…it’s impossible to settle down again with these constant attacks. We can either flee, or fight a futile war where our strength slowly wanes until it falters and we are overrun.”

“Then our course remains unchanged,” Rhag turned her attention forward. “We must focus our efforts on the long journey ahead.”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Several hours later, the attacks stopped. As they made their way into the valley towards the great river, Qrs realized that they had ceased with the coming of the dawn. In the apparent reprieve, he searched the column for his family, spotting them making the trek with a group of fellow villagers.

He looked over his daughters: they looked tired, but otherwise healthy. After placing one to ride on his shoulders, Qrs picked up his two other girls, falling in to walk beside Rholh.

“Is everyone okay?” He asked.

“We’re alright,” Rholh answered. “These fiends have stopped attacking us – do they only move at night?”

“I don’t know,” Qrs said. “Our gaolers in the hills did not seem to care either way, but they were a lot more powerful than the ones attacking us tonight. Your sister thinks that our pursuers’ capability to send attacks against us is limited somehow – perhaps by mana or some innate ability. I think they might be focusing their efforts to take advantage of the night.”

Though Darkvision improved their ability to see at night, there were limits to its range. As such, the hours of darkness were still preferable for ambushes and sudden assaults like those that Jaldabaoth’s forces had been conducting.

“I saw some of the fighting when it got close to us,” Rholh nodded. “After being slain, they vanish in much the same way as summons do, so what she says does seem to be in line with what’s happening now.”

“It would be better if the bodies stuck around,” Qrs snorted. “Keeping everyone fed is going to be a big problem unless we find other tribes to raid.”

“That shouldn’t be an issue once we cross the river.”

Qrs suppressed a grimace. It was true that The Neck was full of Goblins, but the problem was that Goblins tasted horrible no matter how you prepared them. He supposed he shouldn’t be picky with their current situation and thankful instead. The Neck was full of other problems that would affect their journey, however.

While the numbers of Bugbears and their minions in the lands across the river were plentiful and thus there were plenty of targets to raid, the problem was that they were too plentiful. Bugbears were the largest and most savage of the Goblinoid races, and essentially bullied whatever they could into subservience. Goblins were most common, used for everything from expendable fodder in combat to literal fodder. With the teeming population of Goblinoids also came Barghests and Greater Barghests.

There were so many of them that Qrs’ tribe had settled on using the river as a natural barrier rather than attempt expanding in that direction. Fortunately, the Bugbear tribes warred with one another as often as their neighbors. He led raids on their lands infrequently to get a rough feel for the overall strength of the nearest tribes, but they always ended the same way: no matter how many you killed, there always seemed to be more. Even wiping out a whole tribe just meant others would come to fill the vacant territory.

His gaze followed the densely-forested valley up its shadowed slopes on the far side, wondering how he could lead so many safely through. The Gnolls he had parted ways with probably had the right idea: while a single champion could carve through thousands of opponents, one could not be everywhere at once. They needed the numbers with suitable strength to defend their own effectively.

“If it was a raiding warband, I’d agree with you,” he told Rholh. “But there are thousands of us now. We need to fight, gather supplies and push forward all at the same time. The more tribes we ‘convince’ to join with us along the way, the easier it will be to cross the wilderness, but the more mouths we’ll have to feed.”

“I can’t say I enjoy the taste of Goblin,” Rholh replied, “but I don’t think we’d ever run out of those out there.”

“Hmph,” Qrs grunted, “we’ll see who starts complaining about it first. How is our village doing for supplies?”

“Food is a problem,” Rholh told him. “Our village has maybe a week if we depend entirely on the stores we’ve brought with us. Everything else is fine for now. All of the villages are probably in the same situation. If these fiends keep attacking us, we won’t be able to spread out enough to forage and raid.”

“Once we reach the ford,” Qrs said, “we’ll see if we can dig in and spend a few days collecting provisions. That would depend entirely on whatever’s been harrying us with these waves of fiends, but, if they stop attacking at dawn like they have now, it should be manageable.”

They walked on in silence, and Qrs kept trying to think of ways to tackle their looming issues. Without knowing when and where they would be attacked from, it was hard to come up with any sort of plan to address their food problems. The immediate areas wherever they stopped would be stripped bare; risk of capture increasing the further one ventured. This would be doubly so once they crossed the river, as they would need to contend with native tribes in addition to attacks by fiends.

The morning passed with no sign of further attacks from their pursuers, and they entered the bottom of the valley. By late afternoon, they approached the river ford. Qrs stirred his daughters from their slumber so he could set them down before heading to the head of the column. There, he found the tribal elders consulting with several of the chiefs.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “Anything out of sorts going on?”

“Not really,” Rhag replied. “A few of the chiefs want to send out foraging parties before we reach the ford.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Qrs said. “These fiends haven’t attacked all day, and I’m beginning to regret that we didn’t do that earlier.”

“You and everyone else. Not that we knew what would happen.”

“Then I take it that everyone else is in the same supply situation?”

“About one week of real food,” Rhag reached into her satchel, “but we do have a reprieve…such as it is.”

The mystic pulled out a roll of black bread, and Qrs couldn’t help but recoil at the sight.

“Ancestors, spare us,” he grimaced. “I’d rather be eating Goblin.”

“I sent word to the entire tribe,” Rhag told him. “Every mystic is conjuring food whenever their mana reserves fill. It can’t be preserved like real provisions, but we can stretch out actual supplies by taking this first.”

Qrs reached out and grasped the hard, black lump. He had the misfortune of tasting conjured food before, and he wondered if it was any different from eating sawdust. Taking a bite out of the bread, it seemed that his memories hadn’t betrayed him when it came to the vile stuff. He choked down the bread with a draught of water.

“Bleah,” he stuck out his tongue and nearly gagged anyways.

“You don’t say,” Rhag smirked from the side.

“How long can we last on this?”

“It depends,” Rhag said. “If we have long stretches like today where we can recover mana without interruption, three weeks. More, if we can gather during the day as well. If we’re attacked, all of that stops.”

“Do you have any idea why they stopped attacking us at dawn?”

“I don’t know enough about fiends to say for sure,” Rhag replied. “It shouldn’t matter at all to summons, but it could be that the summoners themselves are averse to daylight. Or maybe they’re just waiting for their abilities to become available again, or enough mana to summon more waves like last night. Or it could be they realize that what they’re doing isn’t working, and they’re just letting us go to focus on some other part of the area.”

“Or they’re waiting for more forces to attack us with.”

“You really love looking for the darkest clouds on the horizon, you know that?”

“It keeps us alive,” Qrs snorted. “Send word down the column to start foraging. We need to set up advance sentries to warn us when these fiends start coming again. There should be a few others waiting at the ford – I’m going ahead to make sure nothing stupid happens.”

After he broke away to walk ahead, Qrs found Rhag at his elbow.

“Not tired?” Qrs asked.

“Not as tired as the others,” Rhag answered. “The two of us should be able to deal with any large ambush out of the fiends we’ve seen so far, if it happens. I’m also curious how you came to meet these other people.”

They paced in silence over the sandy soil, following a game trail that led to the riverbank. Qrs kept scanning their surroundings, waiting for any sign of an attack out of the thick brush.

“We were kept at the same place,” he told Rhag after some time, “where they performed all sorts of twisted experiments on the prisoners. One day, we managed to break out. Not everyone stayed together, but the people that did agreed that the best option was to escape, far away from Jaldabaoth.”

“What sort of ‘twisted experiments’?”

“You probably don’t want to hear it.”

“If it provides some insight into the character of this Demon God, I’ll willingly do so.”

“Then,” he licked his lips, “you know how some races out there think that eating strong enemies will make them stronger?”

“I’m familiar with practices like that,” Rhag nodded.

“Well, that was one of the experiments they conducted,” Qrs clenched a fist over the handle of his war club. “They brought in a Human that specialized in preparing food in an attempt to ‘improve’ the meals somehow.”

“I hardly know of anyone stronger than you are,” Rhag frowned. “Who would they feed…oh.”

“Uh huh. That Human would carve out pieces of me and cook them up to feed to everyone else, just to see if they would get stronger. It wasn’t as simple as that, either: they had groups fed differently – some of them had slits opened into their stomachs just so they could stuff the food straight in. Oh yeah, they exchanged organs between races as well, to see if that had any effect. A couple of poor sods got Armat stomachs and were forced to eat ore to see if they would grow armoured hides.”

He took a swig from the skin of water at his waist, rinsing out his mouth before spitting it out. The more he spoke about it, the thicker his words felt. The raw memories were recent enough to clearly recall the sounds and smells of that place.

“There were some other things going on as well,” Qrs continued, “and I have no idea what happened with all the other groups of prisoners in the camp. Eventually, the experiment I was involved in was deemed a failure and we were just caged up and kept alive with some meat that they claimed was from somewhere else – that’s how we recovered enough to break free.”

“…how in the world did you survive all that?” Rhag asked.

“They have a lot of healing magic,” Qrs answered. “They’d cast it on me to regrow my lost parts, just to remove them again until everyone was fed. Every day. For weeks. That wasn’t the worst of it either. They…toyed with your head, and…well, that’s enough about that.”

“You can’t be alright.”

Qrs’ gaze flickered towards Rhag, who was looking up at him with eyes full of worry.

“Probably not.” He said, “But that hell is right on our heels now, and I’m trying to keep us out of it.”

They came to the great river – the same river that eventually flowed southwest through the Dale of Defiance. The winter swell had receded greatly, leaving a long stretch of gravelly shore stretching southwards out of sight. In the distance, fires could be seen against the deepening gloom of the valley floor.

“That should be them,” Qrs told Rhag. “It looks like they made good use of their time, as well.”

Racks of meat were being smoked over the fires. They weren’t picky about it – fish, rabbit, venison, rodents…anything they could probably get their hands on could be seen. A single Armat and a single Hobgoblin were keeping watch, in addition to a half-dozen Goblins.

“You sure didn’t waste any time,” Qrs called out as he approached.

“Time’s not for us to waste,” the Hobgoblin replied. “Conveniently enough, we found a Goblin tribe right across the river. Had to kill half of them before the rest got into line, but now we have a bunch of handy little helpers.”

Qrs eyed the line of racks of smoking meat again, spotting a dozen or so gutted Goblins stretched out at the end.

“Where are the others?” He asked.

“Out hunting,” the Hobgoblin replied. “Of the Gnolls: no sign yet. Don’t tell me it’s just the two of you.”

“I came ahead to keep any accidents from happening,” Qrs said. “We’re less than an hour away, eleven villages’ worth coming down from the northwest.”

“A good start,” the Hobgoblin nodded. “If the Gnolls bring just as many, we can probably overrun any single tribe out there before they can even react.”

“Well, we have to keep an eye on our tails as well,” Qrs told him. “We were attacked by fiends all of last night.”

Both the Armat and the Hobgoblin looked at him sharply.

“How haven’t the whole lot of you been captured?” The Armat asked.

“Jaldabaoth wasn’t there,” Qrs told them, “nor were any of his powerful minions. A few hundred Imps attacked our main village, and more fiends attacked the rest as they came to join us. We must have killed several thousand Hellhounds and hundreds of weird fiends with sickles as arms, like some cross between a Blader and six other things.”

The Hobgoblin stroked his chin in thought, looking up the western slope of the valley.

“I wonder why they didn’t send anything stronger,” he said. “One of those horned Devils back in the hills could wipe us all out on its own.”

“I can only guess that Jaldabaoth’s forces are being spread thin,” Qrs replied, “and we’re just lucky to be seeing the weaker stuff. I don’t plan on sticking around longer than we have to, though.”

“Our captain agrees,” the Hobgoblin said.

“Your captain?” Qrs frowned.

“Avod,” the Hobgoblin answered. “The female that spoke for us on the way here. She said that once you’ve arrived, she’s going to take us across the river. Ah – I’m Zrol, her second.”

“You’re not joining with us?” Qrs asked.

“We already have,” Zrol answered, “and we will stay. However, we’re not going to be overshadowed in fighting strength by you guys. While your people prepare for the crossing, we’ll be out recruiting.”

Orcs have hordes; Hobgoblins have armies.

It was an old saying, but it seemed that they were about to see these Hobgoblins live up to their legendary reputation in practice.

“Four Hobgoblins and a dozen Goblins,” Qrs said. “Looks like a rough start.”

“It’ll be fun,” Zrol grinned. “Besides, It’s not every day that you get to build a Goblin army.”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Avod and the other Hobgoblins returned to the camp shortly after the column from the northwest started to arrive. At least five dozen Goblins accompanied her, carrying game animals, crudely crafted tools, and various other odds and ends. He peered back and forth between the group crossing the river and the goblins smoking the racks of meat – how did they go from four Hobgoblins to seventy Hobgoblins and Goblins in a single day?

Eyeing the throng behind Qrs spreading out to organize themselves into camps, Avod approached him with Zrol at her side while the others went to tend to their newly caught game.

“I figured you’d be spending more time packing things up,” she said. “Was gonna greet you with a whole bunch of new friends.”

“Having more time would have been nice,” Qrs replied, “but Jaldabaoth’s minions had other ideas.”

“How bad was it?” Avod asked. “Well, I guess it couldn’t have been that bad judging by how your lot looks.”

“Not too bad,” Qrs agreed, “but we couldn’t stay like that. It looks like his forces are spread thin, and they’re still trying to catch us to stick into cages. The attacks stopped when dawn broke…speaking of which, do you know anything about fiends and daylight?”

“Beats me,” Avod shrugged. “Before all this, the most I saw was an Imp being summoned by some idiot. If they only attack at night, then maybe I’ll get to see what’s been harassing you before I get going.”

The thin sound of hunting horns wavered over the evening air, warning of approaching trouble. Qrs shot Avod a look, and she raised her hands in front of herself disarmingly.

“Well, you got your wish,” he said. “If you want that first-hand look, get your people ready to defend the perimeter.”

“The Gobs are still raw, so they’ll be useless,” Avod said, “but I’ll still have a look myself. Actually, since I have you here: were you able to pack up any spare equipment? Aside from this nice little knife from the prison camp, we’ve been making do with sharpened sticks and flint knives for the last few days – the tribes in the east don’t seem to have much.”

“What do you need?”

“Hmm…if those Goblins we’ve picked up so far are any indication, we won’t need any magical equipment to do our thing out there. Bows, big shields, spears and something to bash things with for me and my men – armour if you have it as well.”

“I hope you you don’t intend to just give all that away,” Rholh’s voice sounded from behind him.

“Uh…maybe?” Qrs avoided looking at her as she stepped up to them, “We’ve been through at least three different kinds of hell.”

Rholh rolled her eyes and pushed him out of the way.

“A full kit of war gear,” she said. “Warbow, tower shield, steel spear and morning star. Chainmail, greaves, bracers, gauntlets and helmet. All steel. Dwarven make. Not enchanted. Our boots should fit you as well.”

“I’m listening…” Avod said.

“Each set for 4000 kilograms of game – doesn’t matter what it’s from, as long as it isn’t poisonous or gone bad. You don’t have to pay up front, and I wager you’ll have more than enough once you start fanning out with all your Goblins.”

“How much of this equipment do you have?”

“Our food stores were low with this timing, so we ended up bringing everything else instead. There should be plenty to spare for the time being.”

Avod took all of one breath to consider Rholh’s offer.

“You have a deal,” she told her. “We need four sets – I will call my men.”

The Hobgoblin captain turned away and headed towards her own fires. Qrs glanced at Rholh.

“We’re going to be eating Goblin for months,” she told him. “Everything besides that is going to be a delicacy.”

“I won’t disagree,” Qrs replied, “but can we really afford parting with that equipment?”

“What, you don’t think the Dark Dwarves will pop up one of these days?” Rholh snorted, “Those grubby little profiteers can smell business from across the whole wilderness. I’d be surprised if they didn’t show up within a week or two. For being the High Chieftain, you stink when it comes to negotiations like this.”

“Probably because I’m used to negotiating with a weapon,” Qrs grunted.

The horns sounded a second time, much closer than the last. Qrs cleared his throat.

“Speaking of which,” he said, “I need to see to the defence. Signal says fifteen minutes.”

“Don’t get yourself killed – we’ve still got a long ways to go.”

Qrs hefted his weapon and trotted up in the direction of the still-incoming tribespeople. Their defensive lines were more compact now with the people gathering on the riverbank; makeshift barricades and loose earthworks already appearing along the perimeter.

“Qrs!”

Bowge’s voice called out to him from further to the rear of the column. It took him several moments to spot the female chief.

“Did something happen?” He asked.

“Nothing yet,” she answered, “but are we really stopping here?”

“We are,” Qrs replied. “We left yesterday evening, so most of our people have been awake for over a day and half now. Our warriors and hunters would be able to keep going, but we’ve got the entire tribe with us. On top of that, we need to collect what provisions we can before crossing the river. Setting up camp while we’re being attacked does feel off, but that’s what we’ll have to do. At least you’ll be able to wash up after this, eh?”

The horns sounded again, a few minutes away.

“By the sound of it,” Qrs noted, “there’s nothing new. We should take this chance to get our camp set up while everything is nice and manageable.”

“The defenders are going to need rest at some point,” Bowge said.

“We’ll see what it’s like – the rest of the villagers need time to prepare, anyways. If nothing new pops up, we should be able to split into decently long watches.”

“Guess I should find a nice spot to dig in, then.”

“Don’t get too comfortable: they added those new things partway through last night – they might do the same again.”

The hunters on sentry duty started appearing out of the trees. Qrs reached out to stop one.

“Nothing different?”

“Not that I could see,” she shook her head. “We were even able to knock a few of those bug things out of the sky on the way in.”

“That’s great,” he clapped the huntress on the shoulder, sending her on her way.

Over the course of the previous night, the incoming fiends had gone from unsettling and alien to something they were starting to measure in familiar terms. They were able to kill them in close combat, and many of the tribe’s hunters were strong enough to take down the airborne opponents with javelins. If their opponents’ tactics remained the same as the previous night, things would be much easier now that they were fighting in a defensive position with few trees to obscure flying enemies.

He found Rhag and the tribal elders in a large pavilion just behind what appeared to be the defensive line. Rather than having all of the elders of every village gather, it appeared that there was a representative for each. Several runners were gathered nearby to convey instructions. The chiefs were not present, so he assumed they had gone off to oversee their warriors.

“Chief,” Rhag said as he approached, “you have a lot of questions waiting for you.”

Qrs figured as much. With the chaos of the day settling, the people needed direction beyond being told which way to run. He suspected he would not be able to participate in any of the fighting for the night.

“Let’s do this in order, then,” he said. “Anything critical that needs to be looked at?”

“Nothing immediate,” Rhag replied. “But we have much to organize before the night is over…we are staying here for a time, yes?”

“As long as they let us,” Qrs nodded. “Did we get a real count of our people? What are our numbers looking like?”

“The elders have all reported in,” Rhag told him. “All of the tribes are missing people: mostly those who were out living in the forests when the attacks started. The villagers have nearly all made it – of the villages that showed up at all, anyways. In total, we have about 7000 here with us.”

Qrs frowned inwardly. Half of the villages had escaped, and only half of each village’s total number. The majority of their hunters came from the family groups that lived outside of the main settlements, putting them at disadvantage when it came to those who could expertly forage and hunt for food. Village residents were primarily warriors, mystics and tradespeople who depended at least in part on those same hunters they now lacked.

The clash of Hellhounds against the defensive line turned several heads, but Qrs was too deep in thought to pay it any mind.

“We’re lopsided,” he said, “we don’t have enough hunters to adequately feed the tribes while we run. How can we fix this?”

“Fix this…” an elder said, “it’s not something so simple that we can ‘fix this’. Hunters do not sprout up overnight like Goblins.”

“Then why don’t we substitute our missing hunters with our new allies?” Rhag asked.

Most of the elders displayed looks of confusion over her suggestion.

“New allies?” One of them asked, “What new allies?”

“The Gnoll tribes to the north are joining us,” Qrs told them, “we have Hobgoblins that are starting to do their thing as well. There’s a handful of Armat, but I have no idea what they can offer. I’m not sure if the runners had time to really explain, but that’s what it looks like right now.”

“How did this happen?” The elder furrowed his brow, “We’re more likely to fight these ‘allies’ than work together with them. It’s unheard of since the time of the Demon Gods.”

“There’s a Demon God out there right now,” Qrs pointed westward, “one far stronger than what the legends tell. That’s why they’ve agreed to band together. Our greatest chance of survival depends on us all working together to escape the reach of Jaldabaoth. We’ll take anyone who will join us to improve our odds.”

“Demon God? Jaldabaoth?”

Rhag cleared her throat to the side.

“Maybe you should explain from the beginning, Chief.”

Qrs scanned the confused faces of many of the tribal representatives. He took a deep breath and related his experience since the winter. Though he summarized it as briefly as he thought reasonable, it still took a half hour. By the end of it, however, the faces of the elders were all pale and grim. Even so, Qrs still felt that his words were insufficient to convey just how dire the threat was.

“This…this tale is filled with madness,” a shaky voice rose over the murmurs of the assembly. “We could flee for the rest of our lives and still not escape one so powerful as you describe. Never mind escaping – if he is not stopped, the world is doomed!”

“That may be the case,” Qrs said, “but I will not so readily consign our people to that fate. We will run and survive until those who can stand against him manage to end the reign of this ‘Demon Emperor’, or until the world is consumed by his madness. That is what we must do – the alternative is the hell I left behind.”

The sounds of battle issued from the lines again, and Qrs folded his arms.

“Enough time has been spent on this explanation,” he told them. “Rhag – what were you saying about our allies?”

“It should be easy enough to understand,” Rhag replied. “We have plenty of idle tradespeople. Gnolls are natural hunters, and the Goblin army will be hungry for our goods. We’re crossing The Neck – so we’re going to be up to our ears in Goblins, Bugbears and everything else that comes with them by the time we get through.”

The elders turned to one another, discussing her proposal. Qrs had a vague idea of what Rhag was trying to convey, but he wasn’t sure if they could do what she proposed.

“So you’re saying that our villagers should service our allies in the place of our missing hunters.”

“That’s right.”

“I can see how some of that might be possible,” Qrs said, “but what about our tradespeople that left their shops behind? We’ll be on the move for as long as Jaldabaoth continues to hound us.”

“The tradespeople should have brought all the hard-to-replace tools from their shops with them,” one of the elders told him. “Even the smiths will have brought their anvils and bellows. We’ll just need to create portable facilities that can be packed up and carried along whenever we travel from one place to the next.”

“So rather than hunting and foraging,” Qrs muttered, “we will be crafting and bartering.”

“Yes, Chieftain.”

“What about our warriors and what’s left of our hunters?”

“They can pull their own weight if the situation demands it,” the elder said, “but I suspect they will be ensuring that our tradespeople are safe and secure. Not only can these fiends fly and drop in wherever they wish, I have no illusion that the relationship with our allies will be perfectly benign. Scuffles within our encampment will be sure to arise, at least.”

Qrs couldn’t refute what appeared to be the most practical direction for their tribes. Rather than try to eke out a living on their own while they slowly raised new hunters, they would be acting like the Dark Dwarves and bartering their limited crafts and services. The Goblins living in the region were known to be simple and lacking in artifice, so there was little concern over whether the idea would work as long as a Goblin army was raised as they expected.

This assumed a working relationship with their allies, of course. He wasn’t sure how it would take shape exactly: only that everyone shared the same driving motivation.

“I’ll have to speak with our allies about this first,” Qrs said, “but go ahead and start preparing – we’ll be needing to do it for ourselves anyways. Anything else that we need to cover?”

“Coordination for the villages is being left to their own leadership,” Rhag said. “We just need you to settle the big decisions…I know it’s not really up to our side of things, but how long do you think we’ll be able to stay here? Even some loose expectations will be able to help with planning.”

“If the pressure on us at night remains like this, well, we’ll want to wait at least as long as it takes the Gnolls to arrive. They move a lot faster than we do, so I’d say around three or four days before they come in and we can expect to leave.”

The clamour from the defensive line drifted over to the pavilion again, reminding Qrs how ludicrous making such an estimate was. They were only a day away from where they had started, yet now they had to stop and prepare. If they were allowed the leisure to do so, then so would their unseen adversaries ordering the waves of attacks against them. He was not so naïve to imagine that they would simply let them resupply, recover and leave without making new moves of their own.

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 12

Chapter 12

“Sounds good to me.”

Silence hung between Qrs and Avod for a moment at her immediate response.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, “That was quick.”

“Considering the options that are available,” Avod told him, “it’s not much to think about. We have something you need, and you can provide us with something useful in return. I doubt anyone will find fault with that.”

Qrs supposed he might have just been thinking himself in circles, worrying over how his people’s shortfall in hunters might be exploited by the others. It didn’t help that Avod was away for a whole three days, leaving him to stew pointlessly over it.

Her lieutenants were sent back occasionally with supplies and more Goblins to help with work around the camp. Surveying the steady stream of new arrivals setting up across the river, Qrs still couldn’t get over how fast they collected: they started out with just their four Hobgoblins perhaps four days ago and added sixty-six Goblins by the time he saw them the next day. On the evening of their third day of ‘recruiting’, they numbered over two thousand.

“They’re mostly just Gobs,” Avod smirked as he scanned the opposite shore. “There’s some decent ones in there, but the majority are fodder. The ones we get equipment on, we’ll start training.”

“Training…”

“Yep!” Avod grinned, “Gobs’ll be skirmishers, mostly. Bugbears’ll be our heavies. Sooner or later, we’ll have enough wolf riders to form proper cavalry wings. There’s a fair number of mystics in every bunch we bring back too.”

“…have you done something like this before?” Qrs frowned, “Everything is just sliding into place so naturally.”

“Haha, nope. Goblins are kinda sparse in the hills, so there’s not much chance to. It’s just one of those things – like birds just knowing how to build nests. That’s the saying, right? Orcs have hordes, Hobgoblins have–”

“Armies, yeah,” Qrs finished for her. “It’s one thing to hear about it, but it’s another to see it happen in front of you.”

“It’s too bad we can’t stay for much longer,” Avod told him. “‘Recruitment’ isn’t usually even necessary – once Goblins catch wind that there’s a new Goblin army somewhere, they just start heading over on their own.”

“…and that’s natural, somehow.”

“Probably is,” Avod nodded, “but it also stinks to be a Gob. Out in your little tribe, you’re one of the weakest things out there – everyone’s out to turn you into a slave or eat you. Joining up with a Goblin army, things start looking up. You get equipment and training, and once you’re toughened up, you get put in with a bunch of your Goblin buddies. At that point, the tables have turned – instead of everyone and their mother thinking your little green ass is a convenient snack, they’re running away from a swarm of yas.”

“That only works to an extent,” Qrs said.

“Sure,” Avod agreed, “but it’s a lot better than what they had before. Anything too tough for the average Gob, we’ll use casters or Bugbears against. If anyone like you shows up, well, that’s what people like you are for.”

Qrs snorted. That was always the way it worked out, no matter what race, it seemed. Regular individuals were numerous and could be set to perform many tasks that covered a large area, but champions of Qrs’ strength were extraordinarily rare. Powerful individuals could lay waste to armies of average individuals, but that was only if they stood around to let you hit them, and your opposite number wasn’t waiting to stop you from doing so.

With singular strength came the fact you were a single person who could only be in a single place at any given time. No adversary was insane enough to line up all of their forces nicely so that you could trample them with a single, powerful, champion. While a champion fought one threat, a hundred other threats in a hundred other places could show up at the same time.

As such, the strong were often reserved to keep the strong in check, and this thinking applied to every degree of strength downwards. Frequently, the highest quality rank and file combatants were the ones that actually did most of the work in a war – or even a border where raids frequently occurred. Yet, if one side failed to maintain the balance of power in terms of powerful individuals at all times, they would quickly crumble and be subjected to a one-sided slaughter.

“Is there anyone like that ahead of us?” Qrs asked.

“Not that I’ve heard from the Gobs we’ve picked up so far,” Avod answered. “It’s more likely that anything like that will be coming from behind. If anything like those horned Devils back in the hills show up, we can just kiss our asses goodbye. Anyways, if you want to get your people to work, we’ll need shortbows, spears, and daggers for our Gobs. Bugs’ll need some big two-handed weapon – even a club will do. Shields for everyone will make them that much more annoying. Hide armour for our sergeants, too. None of it has to be too fancy – Dwarves’ll pop up sooner or later for that.”

“I’ll let my people know,” Qrs told her. “Anything else?”

“Litters for our baggage and more blankets,” Avod told him. “Can’t recall anything else too urgent off the top of my head. Hopefully those Gnolls show up soon – the longer we stay, the more likely all hell will break loose. Three days is already making me jumpy. I’ll be in the Goblin camps on the other side of the ford if you need me.”

Avod turned and waved loosely behind herself as she strode off towards the riverbank, and Qrs went on his own way. He kept the worry off of his expression as he spoke to his tribespeople, but, like the Hobgoblin captain, a sense of unease was increasing with every additional day that they stayed.

Their first night at the ford was accompanied by attacks of a similar strength to those that occurred while they were fleeing from their villages. They similarly stopped at dawn, granting the defenders a long and welcome reprieve. It was not without problems, however.

The Hellhounds, which represented the least threatening of the fiends that attacked them while they were on the move, became problematic when they set up camp. Their behaviour changed: instead of trying to wound the villagers or maybe drag them away, they attacked the encampment in general: setting alight waterproofed tents, stockpiles and defensive wooden barricades with their fiery breath. The dense shrubs and unfamiliar terrain of the valley floor allowed several dozen to sneak through during the earlier waves on the first night, and so the villagers spent the following day clearing a wide swathe around the encampment to keep them from getting through unnoticed.

It wasn’t enough to prevent Jaldabaoth’s forces from attempting to exploit the newfound weakness on the second night, however. New Hellhounds, measuring at least 150 centimetres at the shoulder appeared, leading packs of their lesser kin. They turned out to be no stronger than the average warrior, but the threat they represented to the camp behind the lines was an unignorable distraction that opened gaps in their defences. Rather than the larger Hellhounds breaking through, the smaller ones slipped in. Fortunately, the villagers were already wise to their tricks and dispatched them before any major blazes could erupt.

The Blader-like fiends also continued to rain down upon them with every wave, but by the second day there were enough javelins made for the hunters to thin them out greatly as they flew in. Qrs eyed a basket filled with the metre-long throwing weapons – they were placed at regular intervals along the defensive line, each with a hunter stationed beside it. The hunter nodded as he passed, and Qrs continued his inspection of their defences.

As expected of their long ordeals, the defenders had become stronger – even those villagers who had come forward to fight. The stockpiles of extra equipment that they had brought with them were distributed to raise the overall quality of the arms and armour all along the line. They weren’t exactly all adorned in dwarven equipment, but the worst was at least being replaced by the craftsmen working throughout the day.

Their supplies were reorganized to be less vulnerable, as were the orientation of their tents. Barricades had been replaced and doused in water; belongings readied to be taken away at a moment’s notice. Fresh defenders had taken their places for the evening. There was nothing more that could be done with what they had on hand – they had prioritized preparations for defence, and now all they could do was welcome their fiendish foes with steadfast determination.

The sound of a horn carried over the cool evening winds, and Qrs’ ears swiveled in its direction.

One…two…three…

Qrs stopped in his tracks, sharing a glance with several of the warriors nearby. The horn let out a single blast, two seconds on the heels of the three. A furrow formed on his brow. One blast was a long range warning, two ordered the foragers out in the valley to immediately return to camp, three meant that a stronger wave than experienced previously was on its way. Four was…

“Hey, was that three or four?”

“Shh!”

Another horn sounded.

One…two…three…four.

A chill seized his body.

『ROUSE AND RISE!』

Qrs let out a great bellow, broadcasting his voice over the thousands of tents along the ford. The horns continued, drawing closer as they sounded their dire warning. Four blasts meant that their defences were probably insufficient for the incoming attack. They needed to run.

『Get off your asses – we’re leaving! Get your families together, pick up your stuff and follow your village elders!』

The horns continued to blare. One sounded three blasts, then was abruptly cut off during the fourth. Qrs looked up to a sentry standing high on a makeshift watch post.

“What do you see out there?” Qrs asked her.

“Villagers are still coming out of the brush. Hunters now, too…what is that?”

The huntress blinked her eyes tightly twice and peered out with a furrow on her brow.

“The slope of the valley is shifting…moving? It’s like a flock of birds, or bats, or…”

“Imps.”

“They’re coming in fast! Five minutes, at this rate.”

Qrs looked around behind the defensive line, where his people were already streaming away, leaving bits and pieces of the camp behind. Enough Imps to look like a flock of bats that covered the valley slope – how many thousands was that?

『Rhag.』

“I’m right here.”

He jumped at the sound of her voice beside him.

“Did you hear all that?” Qrs asked her.

“I did,” Rhag nodded. “We’ve put half of our mystics along the line, while the other half are tending to the people. Even if they’re Imps, that many…well, we have one good chance at keeping them from getting past us, provided nothing interferes with it. Be ready to issue your commands.”

“Right on top of us?”

“Right on top of us.”

Rhag turned away to take her place directly behind the line, leaving Qrs to his doubts. It was a part of the defensive preparations they had come up with over the past few days, but he was dubious as to whether it would work. The spell was meant to stop volleys of arrows in the event that the Gnolls ever tried to invade their territory, but could it stop Imps?

He eyed the shifting cloud approaching them. Two minutes. He eyed the clearing, but there was no sign of Hellhounds or anything else coming overland. Qrs took a deep breath, sending his orders across the defensive line.

『Be ready to jump these little pricks. There’s thousands of them, but there’s thousands of us too – and we’re a lot stronger. We need to get rid of as many as we can before they recover from our little surprise.』

All along the line, the defenders steeled themselves. Across the clearing, with the Imps half a minute away, flickers of flaming mouths announced Hellhounds breaking out of the brush.

Perfect.

Qrs smiled grimly. They hadn’t announced themselves in advance with their telltale baying, but a massed assault was expected. The leading edge of the Imp swarm swept overhead.

『Wind Wall!』

Across the line, dozens of Druids cast the same spell simultaneously at his command.

“「Widen Magic – Wind Wall」!”

The cloud of Imps smashed into the wall of air that stretched into the sky over the line. From below, it looked like the tip of the swarm had been clipped off by a colossal pair of invisible shears. Thousands of stunned Imps rained down onto the field, creating a waist-deep pile of fiends. The Hellhounds charging across the clearing below collided straight into them.

『Clear out these pests!』

The line surged forward, warriors using great cleaving strikes to destroy several Imps at a time. Hellhounds started popping out of the mess, streaking by to chase after the refugees waiting to cross the ford. A small portion of the warriors turned to follow.

『Ignore them! Focus on the Imps before they recover and get away!』

The column escorts could handle the Hellhounds easily, as demonstrated during their initial flight. Healing the stings of thousands of Imps, however, would empty out their mana reserves in short order. The first few of the winged fiends were recovering from their tumultuous collision. Javelins from awaiting hunters shot out, dispatching them as they cleared the ground.

More and more of them rose, despite their efforts to dispatch them. Suddenly the javelins changed trajectories, and larger bodies came crashing down.

『It’s those damn bug fiends! Watch your heads!』

Qrs leapt out, ichor splashing out into the air as he dispatched a dozen of them in quick succession. When he felt that the pressure on his part of the line had been sufficiently relieved, he looked back to the ford. Hundreds of Imps and Hellhounds had reached the rearguard, but it looked manageable – half of their forces were escorting the fleeing villagers.

What next, Jaldabaoth?

He felt like punching himself after the unbidden thought. All of the fiends that had been sent against them previously had appeared, which made him wonder what else would come. As the fighting died down, he looked around for a hunter that looked like they had been out on sentry duty.

“Were you out in the field this evening?”

“Yes, Chief,” the huntress nodded.

“What else was coming?” Qrs asked, “Surely that wasn’t everything…”

“It wasn’t,” the huntress shook her head. “The other ones were…slower. I don’t know why they would be taking their time – they’re a lot stronger than any of this stuff we’ve fought so far.”

“How many of them were there? What did they look like?”

“Twelve of them: about as tall as an Ogre – twice as muscular. Giant bat-like wings, scales, long tail like a snake. It’s head was like the skull of a deer or a goat, with flaming blue eyes.”

“How strong would you say they were?”

“Really strong. Not as strong as you are, but far out of my own ability to handle.”

Qrs examined the huntress. She was well seasoned and should be amongst the best of them. The newly appeared fiends she described were of a type he had never observed during his captivity.

He eyed the eerily empty battle line: there was no trace of the summoned wave that had filled their vision just fifteen minutes before, as their remains vanished into nothingness. Were these newly-discovered fiends the summoners? If they were casters that had already depleted their mana, then they would be significantly less of a threat than if they were fresh warriors.

“Were they holding any weapons?” He asked, “Whips or rods, maybe?”

“All of them had a huge maul,” the huntress replied. “At least my size.”

That didn’t sound like a magic caster at all. The huntress was shorter than Qrs, but she was still nearly two metres tall.

He scanned the ford again. The first of the refugees were starting to scale the opposite shore, and there were no signs of extensive panic or disorder. Across the river, the Goblins were retreating ahead of them, into the dense forests of The Neck. The battle line looked mostly recovered. Qrs cast out his voice over the line again.

『We’re good here; let’s start heading to the ford. Maintain your lines – we still might have some nastiness incoming. If they do, try to stay on the defensive and I’ll come deal with them one at a time.』

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“How do you think we’re doing for mana?” Qrs asked Rhag as the lines started their slow retreat.

“We’ve been conservative this entire time,” Rhag replied. “Given the weak nature of our adversaries, it’s more efficient to keep a group of warriors swinging over an extended period of time.”

“Did you hear what that huntress said just now?”

“No, I was busy tending to the wounded in the front.”

“Then…what would you do about a fiend that’s roughly halfway between you and me in power? A warrior-type.”

Rhag looked over at him with a frown.

“In that case,” she said, “it’d be best to leave it to you while I support. We should have warriors that can survive blows from something of that power with Martial Arts, as well.”

“And what if there’s a dozen of them?”

“What?”

The High Druid’s hissing reply was sharp enough to turn heads in their direction.

“That was the huntress’ report,” Qrs told her. “A dozen new fiends I’ve never seen before, armed with giant mauls. She said they had wings, but I’m not sure if they’re able to fly – they were taking their sweet time walking this way, at any rate.”

“So this is the reason you called for the camp to mobilize.”

“It’s the only other thing that she mentioned,” Qrs nodded. “If her report is accurate…we can’t take multiple attacks like this.”

“I agree,” Rhag said. “Even delaying one would require dozens of warriors, depending on what these new fiends are capable of. The orders just now were your answer for this threat?”

“I was hoping you could improve on it,” Qrs said. “I believe that our warriors have gained the strength and coordination to withstand these fiends for a time, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to reach everyone before we start losing too many.”

“Reinforcement magic will help with things up a bit,” Rhag said. “There aren’t nearly enough mystics to get it on everyone, though. The best I can probably do is improve your capabilities so you can deal with them faster, while the others try to keep as many alive as possible while they attempt to tie up these powerful enemies.”

Qrs nodded, though what she described was nothing new. Druidic enhancements would result in a substantial increase to his own fighting strength, and would help the others, but it was definitely not enough to make up for the deficit in raw power that they would have against a dozen of these powerful fiends. Though their warriors did learn how to defend themselves, Qrs and his people were more suited to offence.

“How about damaging spells?” Qrs asked, “Or perhaps some way to debilitate them…”

“It would be unreliable, at best,” Rhag answered. “Without knowing what these fiends are weak or immune to in advance, we’d be wasting time and mana trying to figure out what works. There’s also the matter of our difference in strength – they will be highly resistant in general. This fight will be a champion’s burden.”

He nodded grimly. Qrs had hoped for more, but that was what it ultimately came to. The strong were needed to fight the strong, and even what would be considered strong warriors in a more regular situation could only serve as temporary distraction against these powerful fiends. A crucial distraction where they would trade their lives for the survival of their people.

Somewhere in the north of the line, a single horn sounded. Warriors slowed their steps, looking all about warily.

“Hold on,” Rhag said, “let me get these enchantments on you.”

Qrs’ gaze joined that of the others as he felt the enhancing spells fill his body with power. While they had signals for incoming enemies, there were no hunters in the field for advance warning. Wherever these enemies were, they had to be fairly close. He continued to peer outward, into the night beyond the range of his Darkvision.

Rhag completed her final enchantment, and a layer of tough, bark-like skin coated Qrs’ hide.

“Geh, this one always makes me want to scratch.”

“Oh shut up,” Rhag said. “Those spells took half of my mana – you had better make good use of them.”

More horns sounded, all along the line. Qrs still couldn’t see anything.

“Coming in from above!” A hunter nearby called out, “Four, looks like?”

Four? Not twelve? Qrs strained his vision, looking for any sign of the incoming fiends in the night. A blotch made its way across the stars overhead.

『They’re here! Spread out, don’t let them land and smash a bunch of you at once! Team up and try to hold out – juggle them between you with Defensive Arts!』

Warriors and hunters milled about, heeding his command.

“Wait, that’s not one comi–”

The first fiend slammed into the ground, crushing a pair of warriors underfoot. Two others landed in rapid succession to either side, and they started sweeping the defenders aside two and three at a time. Rather than four attackers, it was four groups of three, their fellows concealed by following behind one another in the darkness of night.

I guess if we can gang up against them, they can do the same to us…

Qrs and Rhag ducked as a warrior flew over their heads. Qrs silently activated a Martial Art, searching for weaknesses in the nearest fiend. Their plan required Qrs to go from fiend to fiend quickly, relying on raw brutality to overwhelm his marks. This suited him just fine – it was exactly his style, and their tactics revolved around it.

“「Greater Ability Boost」.”

He shot forward, closing the twenty-metre distance in a breath. Angling his war club as he came in, his entire body rotated as he struck. The mass of glistening black metal clove through the air with a low whoosh.

“「Skullshatter」!”

The weapon connected with the fiend’s right knee, tearing through to the other side.

“「 Flow Acceleration」.”

Using the martial art to abruptly reverse his direction, he twisted around with a powerful backhanded strike.

“「Grand Power Strike」!”

The club connected with the goat-skull head of the three-metre tall fiend as it stumbled on its remaining leg, jerking it roughly to the side. Bone splintered, spraying fragments and gore over the gravel. Qrs eyed the creature as it twitched on the ground, the flickering blue flame of its remaining good eye glaring balefully in his direction.

“How was that Skullshatter?” It coughed.

Is this thing seriously asking that now?

Warriors all around the fallen fiend set upon it, hacking and bashing away. Qrs calmly observed them as he recovered from the sudden strain of using the series of advanced Martial arts in rapid succession. The warriors looked no more than a group of children, beating the fiend ineffectually with sticks.

Damage Reduction…then the difference in strength…these fiends are nastier than I thought.

Though he was able to overwhelm its defences, the others had great difficulty scoring more than minimal injuries, even when employing Martial Arts. At least it showed no sign of having regeneration. Leaving the downed and crippled fiend to be finished off by the other defenders, he dashed off towards the next.

The defenders surrounding it had not weathered the beginning of the clash well, and dozens of warriors were strewn all over the ground. The fiend’s massive maul lashed out at a fresh warrior who had stepped up with a shout of challenge, but the powerful attack was solidly countered by a Defensive Art. The warrior backed away after taking the hit without apparent injury, and the fiend pursued – only to be stabbed in the knee with a spear from behind. A snarl of annoyance filled the air as it abruptly turned away and brought its weapon to bear, and was stopped by a fresh warrior with another Defensive Art.

It appeared that they had quickly recovered from the shock of the first minute. Qrs took advantage of the distraction, rotating his body into another Skullshatter that slammed into the fiend’s hip. Rather than an attack that was specifically meant for an opponent’s head, Skullshatter was a strike that dealt overwhelming concussive force. It destroyed bone and organs alike, severing limbs and crushing the natural bone plating that some other races had. Humans of the wall were turned into paste inside their gleaming metal armour.

He took the time to break the fiend’s arms before turning around to look for the last of the trio that had landed in front of him. It had made its way a short distance in the opposite direction; the first group to challenge it was apparently insufficient to hold it back. Qrs set off, trotting towards the awaiting battle.

“How long do I have left these enchantments?” He asked Rhag, who was following alongside him.

“It’s barely been three minutes,” Rhag replied. “You have at least another twenty minutes on the shortest ones.”

With a nod, his pace picked up, accelerating into a run towards the final fiend of the set. It had finally been held up by a group capable of taking turns harassing it.

“Puny little piggies!” It bellowed at them, “Are these pitiful pinpricks all you can pro–glprohagk!”

Qrs leapt up from behind, abruptly ending its sentence with a downward strike to its head. Was it normal for fiends to use such grandiose tones in the midst of battle? Maybe it was – they reveled in fear and despair, after all.

The scaled fiend staggered forward, and the warriors around it backed away as one. Qrs allowed it no time to recover, taking out its left leg and driving it to the ground. As he worked on crippling his opponent enough for the other warriors to finish it off, Rhag shouted at him from the side.

“Qrs! There’s something happening at the ford!”

His head snapped eastwards, ears swiveling forward. The villagers were scattering, and screams filtered over the air from the river.

“Any idea what it is?”

Qrs continued to smash the scaled fiend on the ground. He had a feeling it would be something that couldn’t wait, so he tried to finish off his opponent as quickly as he could without expending himself.

“I can’t see any details from here,” Rhag said, “but if the villagers are breaking, it’s at least causing problems for the escorts.”

Were the scaled fiends that fell upon the line a distraction for a flanking attack on their villagers? No, they were strong enough on their own to demolish everything in their path if not for the defenders. They had made the proper preparations, but they were being overwhelmed. Qrs stepped off of the disintegrating fiend – it was a summon, somehow – to address the nearby defenders.

“You lot,” he said, “patch yourselves up and get to the river. Stay together – we don’t know what’s going on out there.”

They nodded and the mystics in the group started tending to their wounds. He cast his voice to repeat his instructions to the other groups he had freed up along the line, and they moved in accordance with his commands. Qrs looked over to the ford again, but was still unable to discern what was going on.

“We need to free up more warriors,” Rhag said. “Whatever it is, it’s affecting a lot of people at once.”

Qrs nodded. Rather than going personally, it would be more efficient to send many to deal with what appeared to be a widespread problem. Aside from that, he couldn’t just leave the line and the thousands of remaining defenders to their fate. He looked up and down the groups still holding their positions.

The north had two sets of fiends, while the south had one. None appeared to have been felled, but they were continuing to be harried by the stalwart defenders. With things as they were, however, any breakout would potentially collapse the line. He headed south, deciding to relieve them first.

“Nine minutes,” Rhag warned him.

He charged off. They needed to resolve their end of things before the enchantments wore away. He clashed with the first scaled fiend, who was unfortunately facing towards him as he came in. His strike was parried by the giant maul, and Qrs danced back from the expected counterblow. The ground shuddered from the impact, which rippled out and forced the surrounding defenders back.

Did it just use some special attack? No: it was probably just how strong it was. Miraculously – or perhaps terrifyingly – these fiends were all summoned. For the time being, it offered him a clear path to victory.

In all his years, he had never encountered a summoned being capable of Martial Arts. Almost all of them had specific traits, and while some had spells, skills and abilities, they were limited in the odd, unnatural way that summons were. Summoned creatures often possessed substantial physical might or advantageous traits, but this shortfall – in addition to their lack of combat experience – made them easier to deal with than they actually appeared when everything was factored in.

Qrs stepped in again, striking down at the maul half-buried in the gravel.

“「Sundering Blow」!”

His war club slammed into the haft of the maul, just below the head of the weapon. The report traveled back up the handle of his weapon and through his arms, but he felt something give on the other end.

“「 Flow Acceleration」.”

“「 Sundering Blow」!”

The second sundering attack connected before the fiend could finish withdrawing its weapon from the ground. The haft shattered, leaving it with the splintered handle of its weapon. It stared down at its broken maul, and Qrs came forward again. The remaining piece of the shattered haft flew out towards him, and he swatted it out of the air. His action was enough to create an opening, however, and the scaled fiend lunged forward, claws stretched forth.

“「Crippling Throw」.”

A metre-long javelin came out of the darkness with the cool voice of the hunter who had thrown it. The projectile barely penetrated the fiend’s scales, but it was enough. It staggered as its leg seized up, and Qrs brought his war club down on its head.

That’s right. He thought, You may have come down like you had some sort of plan, but, in the end, you’re still stupid summons.

Without their summoner present to command them, the fiends that had been sent against their defences resorted to simple, often predictable behaviours to carry out their broader instructions. The only thing that they had going for them were their special traits and raw power. Against a group of opponents capable of withstanding their attacks, methods could be devised to deal with them. Against an opponent of similar strength, they were significantly easier to handle than a real combatant.

“Recover and get to the ford,” he instructed the warriors nearby, “there’s something going on out there – stick with your groups.”

Qrs rushed forward with Rhag, moving to dispatch the remaining two fiends in the south. His enchantments wore away as he faced off against the last fiend, but the fiend had been worn down quite a bit by the time he got to it. He repeated his orders to the remaining defenders in the area, then looked out towards the river.

“We’ve sent hundreds of warriors to help out already,” Qrs frowned. “It still looks like whatever is going on is still causing chaos out there.”

“Do you want to head over to the ford?” Rhag asked, “It might be worse than it looks if it’s been going on for this long. Our warriors on this end were wearing down these fiends by the time we got here – they may be able to settle things themselves.”

He thought about the question for a moment, glancing between the northern line and the river.

“Let’s get closer to the defenders in the north, first,” he answered. “If they look like they’re doing alright, we can head over to the ford.”

They made their way back up with hurried steps, covering the kilometre or so back to the former centre of the defensive line. What greeted them did not look promising.

“Don’t rush off,” Rhag told him, “I need to refresh your enchantments.”

Qrs bit his lip as Rhag started casting spells, gazing over the bodies strewn across the field. Based on what he had seen in the southern portion of the line, he thought they could hold out…but something had clearly gone wrong. Nearby, there was a large group of warriors and hunters still keeping the closest fiend occupied, but, beyond them, two had joined and were making their way further north.

“Done,” Rhag said. “Go.”

“Mana?”

“I have some left for a few heals,” she replied, “but we haven’t needed any for you yet. I’ll come along, just in case.”

The first fiend was in much the same condition as the one from the south end. Despite wanting to charge off after the two mauling their way through the line, he stopped to speak to the remaining warriors.

“What the hell happened on this side?”

“I don’t know,” Dol replied. “Some time after you started going south, the one closest to us broke through the defenders and started pushing its way north.”

“So they didn’t team up to do all that?”

“No,” the chief shook his head, “it’s more like one eventually caught up with the other, and they’ve become too difficult to hold back.”

“I’ll do something about it,” Qrs said. “Something’s causing chaos at the river. Get your people sorted out and head over to see what you can do.”

“Got it, Chief.”

They parted ways, and Qrs could only grit his teeth as he ran past the corpses of hundreds of brave defenders. From the brief glances he stole over them, they did not look any less seasoned than the others. There was no sign of any additional fiends appearing to attack them, nor was there any sign of magic being employed from afar. Was it just bad luck? Or was the fiend placed at this position stronger than the others?

By the time they caught up with the rampaging scaled fiends, they had joined a third. Like Dol had mentioned, they looked as if they had simply come together like the debris from an avalanche. Each fiend appeared to be fighting independently, but they were so close together that it was impossible for the defenders to stop their massed assault. Qrs picked out the fiend that looked like it was having the easiest time getting through the defending warriors, determined to stop their ruinous momentum.

“「Greater Ability Boost」.”

“「Skullshatter」!”

He took off the first scaled fiend’s arm at the shoulder as it was finishing a powerful swing. The severed arm flew off with the weight of its weapon, and the fiend turned to take a savage swing at Qrs with its remaining arm.

This one acts like a summon, too…

It looked like it was the strongest one – was it just bad luck that things had turned out this way? Glancing quickly to the other two as he dodged back, Qrs decided that they were completely identical in appearance and strength. As he came to his conclusion, however, the others simultaneously turned their attention to him.

“「Invulnerable Fortress」!”

Qrs caught one attack on his raised war club; the other on his side. Fortunately, the Defensive Art didn’t actually care what you blocked with. Both fiends staggered from the recoil of their blows, and he ducked under the recovery of the fiend he had parried.

“「Whirlwind Assault」!”

He felt two solid hits, while the third clipped the one-armed fiend who was coming in to take another swing at him. He followed through with his attack, ruining its left leg before pivoting to face the two scaled fiends he had left behind. He blocked the maul of one, but the other came around to attack him from his left side.

They’re getting smarter? What’s going on?

They all appeared to behave like summons when he arrived, yet now they were demonstrating some basic tactics. Did their summoner arrive to issue specific commands to them? He couldn’t see beyond the two hulking figures, and he couldn’t afford to divert his attention to ask.

The scaled fiend that was flanking him roared in annoyance at something, turning its attention away. Qrs took advantage of the distraction to land a decisive blow on the fiend before him, but he was suddenly jostled to the rear when he stepped forward. The scaled fiend in front punched out with the haft of its weapon, catching Qrs in the forehead. He recoiled from the stunning blow, falling back awkwardly.

Only then did he notice that the second fiend had turned its attention back to him. It was too fast to have dealt with whatever had drawn its attention – the movement had been a feint. Qrs rolled away, narrowly avoiding the maul that smashed down into the earth where he once lay.

“「Invulnerable Fortress」!”

The clawed foot of the second fiend came down on his midriff, and it raised its maul over its head. The attacks of the other warriors appeared to do nothing to divert its attention. Qrs raised his weapon to parry the blow, but the first fiend came in and stomped on his arm. He steeled himself, trying to time the next incoming strike for his Defensive Arts. Several blows would be manageable, but repeated attacks would eventually wear him down.

A javelin embedded itself into the second fiend’s arm, and another pierced its wrist. Two more followed, and the fiend dropped its maul. He felt the weight pressing down on his stomach shift.

“「 Greater Ability Boost」!”

Qrs grabbed the leg on his torso and heaved. The fiend lost its balance and stumbled backwards, wings flapping awkwardly. Qrs rolled away and back up onto his feet, belatedly realizing that the first fiend was no longer stepping on his arm. He raised his guard and pivoted to face the attack that must surely be coming, and an unexpected sight greeted him.

The heads of two dozen javelins were jutting out of the first fiend’s torso, dripping with black blood. It collapsed onto its knees and started to disintegrate, its summoned life snuffed out. He pivoted again to face his second opponent, but was met with a similar sight. Qrs leaned over to retrieve his weapon, staring down at the ground where the scaled fiends once stood. While the bodies had disappeared, the javelins that had killed them remained scattered over the gravel.

His eyes ran along the length of the deadly projectiles; over the fletching on one end. They weren’t javelins at all – they were javelin-sized arrows. He picked one up, examining the dark feathers of a giant mountain eagle on the end. At the end of the line, he saw the remaining two fiends fall to the unseen attackers from the north.

The telltale yips of countless Gnolls rose from the thick brush. Qrs closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 14

Chapter 14

“Tell me you didn’t time that arrival just to look good.”

The tall Hyena Beastman barked out a short and bitter laugh. Qrs thought he recognized her – there was a nick on her right ear and a scar on her cheek, in the same places as one of the Gnolls that had escaped with him. Like Qrs, she was now using equipment: armour of layered hides covered her torso and a great warbow was in hand, standing two metres tall even when strung.

“If only we were afforded such a luxury,” she said. “Things just worked out that way, is all.”

“You mean something happened to you along the way?”

The Gnoll raised her head and looked back towards where her people had appeared from. A number of smaller Gnolls – males, Qrs assumed – were wandering around like silent shadows, collecting spent arrows from the field. The delay in her reply sent a wave of unease through him.

“Not along the way,” she finally replied, “at home. Jaldabaoth himself came to our forest, arriving from the west.”

Her words matched what had happened in his own territory and offered a possible explanation as to why Jaldabaoth’s forces hadn’t swept through the area immediately after their escape. The Zern were powerful and numerous, and lived in the direction that Jaldabaoth had come from; living in subterranean nests where they were all but impossible to uproot. He would have needed a substantial amount of time capturing them even with the strength of his forces.

In any other situation, he would be infuriated with the Gnolls bringing such a dire threat to his people, as some tribes often did with powerful monsters. With Jaldabaoth, however, all anyone could do was flee for their lives.

“Well, you’re here now,” he tried reassuring her. “I can’t blame you for not putting up much of a fight, all things considered. All we can do is combine our strength and push forward, as agreed.”

“Ah, about that…we did fight.”

“You did?”

The subdued tone of the Gnoll’s voice did not suggest any sort of success.

“The Matriarch did not believe Jaldabaoth to be the threat we made him out to be,” she told him. “That, or she did not want to leave without fighting for our home first. She reasoned that the Demon God’s army would be greatly weakened after vanquishing the Zern.”

Despite himself, Qrs could not help but be curious.

“…what did you end up doing?” He asked.

“We ambushed him while his forces were crossing the bottom of a gorge,” she answered. “The army that was with him was decimated in a running battle that lasted the entire day. How many thousands of fiends we slew, I do not know…but, in the end, only Jaldabaoth remained. We led him into a great trap, even as he slew dozens of our number with every passing minute.”

The Gnoll visibly swallowed, eyes haunted as she continued her account.

“We…we felled one of the Ancients upon him: a tree older than memory, thirty metres across at its base. Hundreds of my people sacrificed themselves just to pin him down so the tree would crush him.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense, his voice–”

“I know!” The Gnoll gnashed her teeth bitterly, “I know. But even I was caught up in what was happening. I thought that there must have been some reason; perhaps he had spent his might on the Zern. Everything was moving just barely within our expectations, and when the tree fell upon him, elation took me. I dared to hope…but all we brought down was his wrath: upon us.”

The Gnoll looked over her shoulder again, as if expecting Jaldabaoth to appear at any time. All Qrs could see was more Gnolls coming out of the brush and streaming towards the ford.

“The tree…the place where the tree had fallen on Jaldabaoth exploded. A conflagration that turned the trunk into splinters and ash. Out of that calamity rose Jaldabaoth, but not in the small and deceptive form that we saw him use before. It was his true form: a massive, towering fiend – taller than even the horned Devils that serve him. His wings of flame sent scorching winds before him, and he was wreathed in an inferno. Everywhere he went, my people burned just from standing too close. He reached the Matriarch in a blink and snatched her up, tearing her in half with his bare claws.”

The Gnoll shook her head, lowering it in an expression of shame.

“I cannot even name her a fool,” remorse filled her voice. “It was beyond anyone’s imaginings; how could they have known? It was my fault – my words were insufficient to persuade them, and I lacked the strength to turn their course.”

Qrs looked at the top of her lowered head, at her wilted ears laid flat. Even bent forward, she was still standing at eye level. He scratched his own head, trying to think of something useful to say.

“Well, uh…the world has become pretty absurd for us all,” he said, “so all we can do is move forward and try to survive. Who is your Matriarch now?”

“It is I.”

“Well, that’s convenient – wait, that probably came out wrong.”

“No, it is convenient,” the Gnoll agreed. “Our people are of one mind now, and you are correct: we must proceed onwards.”

She turned to the north, watching the Gnolls who continued to emerge into the clearing. Their frontrunners had joined the throng at the Ford, where things had calmed down considerably with their arrival and that of the remaining defenders.

“Can you see what’s going on at the river?” Qrs asked.

“Yes,” she replied as she gazed over at the river. “Fiends are coming out of the river to attack the crossing. They are being held at bay now.”

“I see,” Qrs felt himself relax. “Then, if you’re done picking up here, we should get moving. I don’t know how far behind Jaldabaoth is, but my people are spent – we can’t hold against another attack like the one just now.”

“After our failure,” the Gnoll Matriarch told him, “Jaldabaoth stopped to call in more of his forces. He sent them out to scour the forest for prisoners...I sent a few packs to lead them in every direction, while the rest were instructed to conceal themselves and flee to the ford. Jaldabaoth’s commanders will know we have joined you here, but it should be some time before those pursuing us can regroup.”

At the ford, Qrs was greeted with the eerie sight of carefully packed supplies and belongings strewn over the shore and in the ford beyond. He stopped to speak to a weary-looking warrior, who was standing watch over the waterfront.

“What happened here?”

“Fiends, obviously,” she turned to him with a cross expression. “Oh, chief. Fiends popped out of the river to snatch people away while we were fighting out front.”

“What did they look like?”

“Tentacles. Mouths. Er…”

“I’ve seen them before,” Qrs told her. “What happened, then?”

“Right,” she cleared her throat. “I only got here about ten minutes ago, but the ones I fought…well, it wasn’t even fighting: more like chasing. They ignored us, just snatching whoever they could and running off. Most of the villagers couldn’t even resist. The rest of us went around trying to stop them, but their hides were tough, and they used the villagers they were carrying as shields. For every one we killed, four more would get away. The warriors eventually had the villagers make the crossing away from the north side of the ford where the fiends were popping out of the water, but then they started coming from the south, too.”

The defeated look of the warrior was shared by many of the others standing along the waterfront and the ford. Qrs scanned over the scenery of strewn belongings and fleeing villagers once again, then turned to the new Gnoll Matriarch.

“Look, um…” His voice trailed off.

“Ysvrith,” she offered.

“Ysvrith,” Qrs slowly repeated the strange name, “we have a lot of stuff lying around. Let your people know that they can take what they want – it’s no good to anyone sitting here, and I sure as hell don’t want to leave it for Jaldabaoth.”

Ysvrith nodded and turned to go on her own way, while Qrs and Rhag went up and down the shore, searching for Rholh and the girls. A seed of worry sprouted in the pit of his stomach when they could find neither sign of them or any other of their fellow villagers.

“Perhaps they have already made the crossing,” Rhag suggested, then looked up at him with a smirk. “You show great courage when facing our enemies, yet you start to fall apart at the first sign of trouble with your family. You need to stay strong; everyone else is relying on you – especially now.”

You need to stay strong.

Qrs shook his head at the unwelcome memory. He took a deep breath and nodded, continuing to scan the river. A part of him hoped the fiends would emerge from the churning waters once more, so they might be tracked back to wherever his people had been taken. The Gnolls kept rushing by, splashing down the shore towards the ford. Their yips filled the air, a sound with some meaning beyond his understanding.

There were many races that communicated in similar ways, often making it hard to discern what they were up to. The number of Gnolls rushing by increased, and Ysvrith shouted from where she was dashing towards him from upriver.

“Qrs! What are you doing?”

“What am I…watching over the crossing? It should be obv–”

"Do you not hear the warnings? Your people need to move faster!”

More yips filled the air. He still had no idea what it meant, but the nervousness of the passing Gnolls started to grow infectious.

“I hear the racket your people are making,” he told her, “but it means nothing to me.”

“That’s…” Ysvrith’s black nose glistened as it twitched, “The sound you hear is a warning – there is another attack coming.”

Qrs cursed, bellowing out his orders over the river. His people responded within seconds, making their way through the current as quickly as possible. He turned back to address Ysvrith.

“How long ago did the warnings start?”

“Ten minutes, at least,” Ysvrith told him. “I only noticed that you weren’t responding to the warnings when I came back this way.”

“Well, no time to gripe now. We’ll have to sort out how we communicate later. How far away is this attack? What are they?”

“The sentries placed upriver say there are fiends swimming down towards the ford.”

“…that can’t be all, can it?” Qrs asked, “With our combined forces, the same type of attack from the river won’t nearly be as effective.”

“That’s why we’re fleeing,” Ysvrith answered. “This attack is too weak; we care not to linger and find out what else comes.”

He knew of the extremely cautious and stealthy nature of Gnolls, but Qrs wasn’t willing to risk brushing it off as an overreaction. How would he position his defenders? Nearly a quarter of his people were still on the near shore or making the crossing.

“Then what was your own plan for the crossing?” He asked Ysvrith.

“Plan?” She looked down at him curiously, “We flee – that is the plan. The longer we tarry here, the more fiends will fall upon us."

Qrs looked over the terrain again, trying to find some way to alleviate the pressure that would come with another attack on the ford. The opposite shore was a break in the cliffs, where seasonal torrents would flow down into the river from the forest beyond. He stretched out his arm.

“Can you position archers all along the cliff overlooking the ford? They’ll be able to provide cover for both of our peoples as they come out of the crossing. I'll be putting a few hundred warriors in the rearguard, while the rest defend against attacks from the river.”

Ysvrith followed his gesture, gazing over at the opposite shore. After a moment, she nodded and replied with some hesitation.

“I will try to tell them…but I’m not confident that they’ll heed my words. The old Matriarch was much stronger and more well respected than I am right now.”

“You said that they recognize you as the new Matriarch, didn’t you? Most should listen to your instructions if that’s the case.”

As long as no one could challenge her authority...but Qrs decided to leave that unsaid. Ysvrith was most likely aware of how things worked, and simply needed some reassurance.

“I believe they will listen,” Ysvrith replied after some thought, “for now. We Gnolls are not the same as you, however. The packs are usually more independent and prone to following their own Alphas. I fear it will cause problems in the future, or they may simply leave after a time.”

“In the future, perhaps,” Qrs said. “For now, being able to work together is of clear benefit. I’m going ahead to coordinate my warriors.”

He left Ysvrith behind, and Rhag quietly followed beside him.

"This certainly feels odd,” the High Druid mused. “That Wind Wall tactic was originally devised to counter volleys of arrows from the Gnolls. We used it against those Imps instead, and the Gnolls now assist us with their archers.”

“I won’t complain about the result,” Qrs said. “Gnolls are extraordinarily good hunters, far better than our own. As long as we can continue to cooperate, this relationship will be a great boon.”

“As long as they don’t scatter into The Neck as soon as things quiet down,” Rhag released a cynical snort. “That new Matriarch knows her people: I wouldn’t count on all of them sticking around for long. As soon as our immediate dangers have passed, they’ll be looking to leave for new territories.”

“You haven’t been subjected to Jaldabaoth’s cruel attentions,” Qrs countered. “Their new Matriarch knows what is at stake; that they can’t stop to settle down any time soon. I’m confident she can hold them together, as long as she stays on top.”

Upon reaching the crossing, Qrs started organizing his forces. The ones who had stood to delay the scaled fiends were the worst off, and all of the mystics from the defensive line were depleted of mana. He started switching them out with those that had been at the river, who reportedly didn’t suffer any attacks to themselves at all. It was as close to a fresh group of defenders as he could get.

The sound of the Gnolls’ warning increased in intensity, and Qrs watched as many jumped into deeper water to wade or swim rather than wait to cross the shallows. He ordered the defenders to ready themselves, scanning the north for any sign of an incoming attack. When it arrived, it was not subtle at all.

An explosion of flame rose from the thick brush from the north, waves of heat rippling out into the air. Gnolls – or at least flaming chunks of Gnolls – flew out in a grisly wave towards them, blasted out by some inconceivable force. All across the line, over a hundred warriors were instantly felled by the sizzling projectiles. The dull thud of massive steps reverberated through the air, and a fiend unlike any that Qrs had seen emerged into the clearing.

Demon God…

Unlike the cool and sinister image of the Jaldabaoth he knew, what appeared before them was anything but. It was a gigantic fiend, visibly wreathed by flames that warped the air with shimmering heat. With every step, those he simply came close to screamed and fell over, skin steaming and curling back as their flesh charred away. The blistering bodies erupted within seconds, releasing blotches of gore over the landscape.

“「Protection Energy – Fire」.”

From behind, Rhag cast a spell, but Qrs shook his head wordlessly.

Impossible. We can’t fight this monster at all.

He turned around, casting his voice over the gathered defenders.

『Get out of here! RUN!』

Qrs didn’t care that fear seeped into the tone of his command. All bravery was foolishness before Jaldabaoth. Roughly half jolted at his command, immediately turning to flee. The other half remained rooted to the ground; even his reinforcing presence did not avail them of their terror. Screams came from the direction of the river ford and Qrs glanced back for a moment: the reported tentacled fiends were coming out of the water.

“Well, well…if it isn’t our volunteer.”

Like the groan of the earth itself, a basso voice filled the air, rattling the gravel over the shore. Qrs spun around to find Jaldabaoth facing him from ten metres away. The towering Demon God looked down at him with a wicked grin.

“You left us so abruptly. I was hurt – but it seems that you only wished for your people to partake in your wondrous hospitality.” Jaldabaoth turned his gaze towards the river and the thousands of fleeing people, “Word of mouth is surely a cornerstone of effective marketing.”

Jaldabaoth stepped forward, and Qrs raised his war club.

“I don’t think they’re interested in what you have to offer,” Qrs told him. “Why don’t you take what you’re selling to the Humans out west? The one we had with us was all too happy to act according to your hellish vision.”

“All in good time, my dear friend,” Jaldabaoth chuckled, “all in good time. Truly, you are one after my own heart – have you told all of your loyal followers how you so willingly sacrificed your own flesh and blood, by the way?”

“Shut up, you overgrown Imp!”

“How many months was it?” Jaldabaoth’s voice boomed over his own, “Have you even spared a thought for your son? I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten about you…”

Qrs dashed forward with a roar, brandishing his weapon at the Demon God. Jaldabaoth beat his wings a single time, and the tumultuous winds lifted Qrs off of his feet and threw him back head over heels. He landed back where he had started from, rolling back up to his feet. He shook away his disorientation and looked around. The frozen defenders who remained were blasted backwards towards the shore, though Rhag had managed to remain close to where she was.

“Still so defiant,” Jaldabaoth said. “Yet look where your struggles have led you! You have doomed them – all of your people; all of those fools who chose to follow you. It would have been better for you to stay in your cage, but I suppose that you selfish savages must learn the hard way.”

The fiend vanished from sight, and Qrs felt himself seized from behind. As he rose in the air, he twisted around, finding that Jaldabaoth had somehow appeared behind him. He punched at the clawed fingers wrapped around his torso, but they were no more affected than the bars of his old cage. A sulfurous breath filled the air with its stink as Jaldabaoth leaned his head in close to speak.

“Your tale will be held up as a lesson to the miserable meatlings of this world,” the fiend’s malevolent voice filled his ears. “A proverb will accompany the story of your heedless actions: out of the frying pan, into the fire.”

Flames rose, and a sharp gasp rose up from the ground below, and Qrs looked down to see Rhag rolling away. She rose to her feet, holding up arms scorched by the blistering heat.

“「Middle Cur–AHH!”

Jaldabaoth took a step forward, enveloping her in his fiery aura. She leapt away, scrambling to her feet again to run. With an amused noise, Jaldabaoth followed after her with shuddering steps.

“H-hey, stop that!” Qrs’ voice quavered, “Leave her alone, dammit! Leave my people alone!”

“My, so demanding,” Jaldabaoth’s steps stopped. “At least choose one or the other.”

Qrs glowered at his mocking words. He looked over towards where Rhag had disappeared into the brush – she was running south, leading Jaldabaoth away from the ford. Every second counted…

“Allow me to cure your indecision,” Jaldabaoth said.

“What–!”

Jaldabaoth stomped off after Rhag, and Qrs hated himself for feeling relieved that the fiend had chosen her. Within seconds of pursuit, she could be seen dashing through the bushes.

“Run away, little girl,” Jaldabaoth laughed. “Run away!”

Rhag only answered with a pained cry as he caught up once more. Jaldabaoth slowed just long enough for her to distance herself again. Qrs shut his eyes against the panicked sobs that rose from in front of him. His arms were bound tightly in Jaldabaoth’s grip, however, so he could not cover his ears. After a dozen seconds, Rhag screamed again. This time, Jaldabaoth kept moving forward, and the screams fell silent as the odour of charred flesh rose into the air.

Jaldabaoth inhaled deeply, releasing a satisfied sigh.

“Ah…I may have some talent as a chef myself, don’t you agree? The other prisoners will surely appreciate some roast pork. Come, let us go cook up some more, shall we?”

“W-wa–”

Jaldabaoth turned back north towards the ford, leaping powerfully into the people on the near shore. Wails of agony rose all around him as adults and children alike were abruptly smothered in searing heat.

“Wait, you said that the choice was one or the other!” Qrs protested through his tears.

“Choose?” Jaldabaoth’s voice rose over the symphony of anguish, “Don’t be silly. Haven’t you heard? Volunteers have no choice.”

The fiend held Qrs high up in the air as he made his way through the thickest part of the crowd towards the ford, offering a sweeping view of the carnage being unleashed. Hundreds of charred corpses lay in their wake, with more joining them as Jaldabaoth inevitably overran the desperate horde of people being driven before him.

Pain engulfed Qrs’ senses, and he left out a cry.

“Ah, it appears your fire protection has finally worn away,” Jaldabaoth said. “How about I help you cool down a bit?”

The world whirled, and Qrs was hurled over the crowd and into the river. He fell straight into the fleeing refugees, bowling over dozens before he rolled to a halt. The chilly waters of the river sizzled as they washed over his armour, and he rose to his hands and knees, feeling around for his weapon. Finding the hilt, he used his war club to prop himself back up on his feet. A Druid stopped to heal him and several of his people offered hands in support, but he slapped them away.

“Why are you stopping?” He screamed, “Leave me and RUN!”

On the shore, Jaldabaoth rose to his full height, looking down on Qrs with a sadistic leer. The fiend leaned forward, as if preparing to charge.

“「Flow Acceleration」.”

Qrs barely activated the Martial Art before Jaldabaoth lunged forward. Even though Flow Acceleration greatly enhanced his perception and reaction time, the Demon God was coming forward at an incredible rate. In Qrs’ sight, the crowd was trampled, thrown aside and burned in slow motion as Jaldabaoth closed the distance to him. The river boiled away at his feet into explosive clouds of steam.

Qrs raised his weapon, resolved to stop his charging adversary.

I will fight you for as long as I stand, Demon God!

“「Possibility Sense」.”

The looming form of Jaldabaoth remained unchanged. No weaknesses – none that Qrs could exploit, anyways. He idly wondered what his namesake might have done in his place as he formulated his moves. He would need to stop the fiend’s charge with a Defensive Art, then immediately launch into a powerful attack before his life was burned away.

Ten metres away, Jaldabaoth raised a clawed hand, sweeping it forward as he closed the remaining distance.

“「Invulnerable Fortress」!”

Qrs solidified his defence as the world was filled with searing pain, and Jaldabaoth sent him into the darkness.

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 15

Chapter 15

“Less than a kilometre away, southeast.”

The words drifted down through the canopy, and Falagrim Felhammer nodded in the direction of two scouts awaiting his instructions. The pair headed off in the direction indicated, their shrouded forms soon vanishing into the murky gloom of the undergrowth. The Dwarf that was reporting from above floated down, his boots scraping over the exposed roots and stone nearby.

“The watchers were right,” he said. “Demis’re getting started early this year. There’s more signs of raiding all over this side of The Neck.”

“What about you three?” Falagrim’s gaze turned to the others standing nearby.

“Weather’s been normal,” one adorned in a grey robe said, “plants and animals we’ve seen don’t look sick.”

“Nothing in the soil,” said another in platemail. “Doesn’t seem like anything’s changed at all.”

“Then why the hell are they so frisky out there?” Falagrim grumbled, “This is all out of season.”

“Good time to rebel,” the robed Dwarf ventured. “Bugbears’ll be swollen with their whelps about now, so the Gobs might have taken advantage of it.”

“Little shits are too cowardly for that.”

“Maybe a hero popped up?”

Falagrim spat noisily to the side. That was the last thing that they wanted.

“Should we scry ahead?” The robed Dwarf asked.

“No – let our scouts do their work,” he told him. “I don’t want anyone giving us away too soon.”

He turned away from the trio, crossing his arms as he tried to peer through the trees. With evening falling, two dozen of his people were working to break camp. If the tribes of The Neck were really up to something, they would have a long night ahead. Falagrim went around, making sure that everything was in order as things were packed up.

Roughly an hour later, the scouts returned. The senior between them – a Deepwarden who had worked in the company for over three decades – came up to Falagrim with their report.

“Place got ransacked pretty hard,” she said. “Looks like they tried nabbing everything they could in a hurry.”

“What got ‘em?” Falagrim asked, “You sure they didn’t just clear out of there on their own?”

“Looks like someone came in first,” the Deepwarden answered. “There’s signs of fighting, but it didn’t cover a wide area. Looks like whoever came just took over and the Gobs carried their own stuff out.”

“Bodies?”

“None. S’all nice and squeaky clean.”

“Damn it all.”

The scout mirrored his sentiment with a nod. All of the company veterans knew what it probably meant: Hobgoblins. Out of all the Goblinoids that could be found in the Abelion Wilderness, Hobgoblins were by far the most dangerous. Unlike their more feral and savage cousins, adult Hobgoblins tended to be intelligent, orderly and militant – capable of forging legions out of their lesser kin. They represented a risky, yet lucrative prospect; Falagrim and his followers would have to go about their approach carefully.

“Which way did they go?” Falagrim asked.

“East. I saw more of the same stretching pretty far out, but we might be able to catch up in a day or two.”

Falagrim nodded, waving the scout away with a grunt. As long as these Hobgoblins weren’t travelling in a direction that led them towards Dwarven strongholds, then it was an opportunity rather than a threat. The tribes of The Neck were limited to whatever they could fashion out of wood and stone, plus whatever old, tarnished weapons looted from gods knew where.

“Hurry it up!” He shouted over the camp, “Our profits are wandering off!”

Hopefully these Hobgoblins would take their sweet time. He didn’t feel like chasing them halfway to the Slane Theocracy.

Fifteen minutes later, they were ready to go. Two cargo beds were shouldered by four Dwarves each, while those remaining formed into an escort. There were a hundred thousand trails through the wilderness, but none were suited for wagons. There were certainly no roads. Everything was carried by foot, or flown if it was worth it. Falagrim nodded to the scouts in the front of their procession, and they slowly headed off.

After they were well on their way, Falagrim turned to speak to the Cleric walking beside him.

“Agni,” he asked, “when’s the last time we had Hobgoblins?”

“Twenty years ago?” She answered, “Baerwynn was able to put our haul to good use.”

“Could’ve been better,” Falagrim muttered. “Their idiot general thought it was a good idea to head south and end that pretty little bit of business.”

“That’s how it always ends,” Agni said. "They always get a big head after a couple hundred thousand.”

“Greedy Humans won’t even let us run salvage,” Falagrim grumbled.

“Well, we are basically arming their enemies…”

“Hmph,” Falagrim snorted dismissively. “It’s no different than anything else – sell a Beastman some tools and none of their neighbors complain that you’re helping out their enemy. It’s Humans that are all messed up in the head: they only whine at ya if they think they have something to lose from what you’re doing.”

Falagrim’s thoughts turned dark as he thought about the Humans in the nation to the south. They had strict laws, traded slaves and were fiercely protective of their borders, just like his own people. Despite these similarities, the Dark Dwarves had been branded as ‘evil’ by the Theocracy’s leadership some time in the past two centuries due to the Theocracy’s tendency to pick fights with their non-Human neighbors.

Since the Dwarves sold said neighbors with equipment, they had ended up at odds with one another. The Human nation had the penchant for directing their fervently religious nation against what their leadership saw as inconveniences at any particular time, turning popular support in favour of whatever their militant aspirations entailed. Rumor has it that it had recently happened to the nearby Elf nation in the Great Forest of Evansha – who had been the Theocracy’s long-time allies up to that point – and war had broken out. The insufferable knife-ears should have known better.

Untrustworthy, chaotic, short-sighted and selfish: the calling cards of a short-lived race. Falagrim considered Humans no better than the Demihumans of the wilderness, and often much worse.

They came upon the remains of the Goblin camp, and it looked exactly as the scouts had described. The loose ring of crude hovels was abandoned; everything useful stripped away. A conspicuously large gap in the undergrowth to the east marked where the former residents had been marched off towards. Falagrim wrinkled his nose at the lingering stench – that was the worst part of doing business in The Neck.

“Hey,” he called out to no one in particular, “how many Hobs was this?”

“By the prints,” someone answered, “at least four…no more than six. Most of the tracks are from Gobs.”

“Any sign of different raiding parties working in the area?”

“Hard to tell so far. We could fly someone up to take another look.”

“Do it,” Falagrim told him, then turned towards two scouts at the edge of the abandoned camp. “You and you: follow that fresh trail east. We’ll be right behind you.”

They moved according to his orders, and Falagrim watched one of the company’s mages send a scout up with a Fly spell. The Dwarves carrying the cargo litters set down their burdens, massaging their shoulders.

“There’s something big to the south,” the scout said after he floated back down, “twenty kilometres. Main body of the Goblin army, or one of them at least.”

“How many?”

“By the firesmoke,” the scout replied, “more than a few thousand. Depends what they’re made of. If it’s mostly Gobs like this group that came through here, could be up to fifty thousand.”

When did that even happen? It clearly didn’t start out in this part of The Neck, else the watchers would have reported it far earlier. Maybe a tribe had been pushed out of the hills in the west.

“Let’s stay clear of that for now,” Falagrim said. “We’ll catch up to these outriders and make sure they know we’re around.”

The Dwarves moved eastwards again. The trail had been trampled flat, and they made good time. These Hobgoblins were past the point of favouring stealth, which was a good sign for his company. The Dwarves traded frequently with the tribes of the wilderness, exchanging tools and equipment forged in their underground cities for slaves and salvage. Everyone knew who they were, and how things worked. Still, the Demis got a bit too frisky sometimes, so it was better to ensure that there would be no unwelcome surprises before approaching a large number of them.

“If this gets as good as the last time,” Agni said from beside him, “no one will be able to keep you from going back.”

“Hah!” Falagrim barked a mirthless laugh, “That ain’t how it works, and you know it.”

“I do,” Agni’s voice grated, “and everyone still knows it’s a sham. One good push and you’ll blow this entire farce apart.”

Falagrim snorted, the steel rings binding his braided beard glimmering in the fading light that slashed down through the trees. Agni was a devout Cleric that served the god of the forge, and stood steadfast in her beliefs. Unlike her sister Baerwynn, however, she was absolutely terrible when it came to politics and intrigue. She wasn’t exactly naive – it was more that she adamantly insisted on walking down her narrow path, and Falagrim supposed that was what a Cleric was supposed to do.

“All that matters is this tattoo,” he pointed at his scalp. “The other princes can make as big a deal out of it as they see fit to keep things as they are.”

“Baerwynn must have an answer for that after so long.”

“Baerwynn’s hands are probably full just keeping the clan running,” Falagrim replied. “We lost all of our mines and half of everything else besides.”

“Like I said,” Agni reasserted, “a sham. They can’t keep it up forever.”

“But that’s the beauty of our whole situation, ain’t it?” Falagrim said, “My being out here is the only thing keeping us solvent. Even if I force my way back onto the council, it won’t get back what we lost. Without the slaves and scrap that we bring in every year, Clan Felhammer will go under. That’s the whole point of stripping the mines away: I have to keep everything out here going, so I can’t influence things back in the capital.”

The tattoo on his scalp was the mark of a criminal; the crime severe enough to result in exile. Aside from a few loyal retainers that had chosen to follow him, Falagrim’s entire company was made up of the dregs of Dark Dwarven society, sentenced to a fate worse than capital punishment. It took a long time to whip them into shape, but time was something he had plenty of. For the last fifty years, he plied the wilderness to ensure his disgraced clan survived.

Beside him, Agni’s face held a sour expression. It was the same one she put on whenever they talked about going home.

“If they’re so damned adamant on keeping you out,” she muttered, “then maybe we should all just find a new–”

“Hey.”

“Apologies, my prince.”

Her outbursts, though still rare, were getting more frequent with the passing of years. She had been away from home for too long, and increasingly pushed for fresh order to be established – maybe he should send her back after this new Demihuman army met with its eventual fate.

Clerics rarely left their subterranean nation – the only reason they had Agni was because her sister had sent her along in her place. Unlike the other retainers of his clan, who could take turns working on the surface, replacing a powerful Cleric would be difficult. Dragging her around for decades with that same reason was even more unreasonable, however. Clerics held a revered place in Dark Dwarven society, and Falagrim understood that Agni should be living life in a position more appropriate to her power and experience in the capital instead of trudging around in the savage wilderness year after year.

They came to the next settlement: a large collection of crude hovels arranged around a low outcropping overlooking a small brook. There was a shallow cave – its entrance high above the water – making the location a highly contested site that could only be held by a strong tribe. Like the previous settlement, it was picked clean.

Falagrim wandered between the remains of the simple dwellings, watching his company overturn everything as they searched for anything of value. He eventually came to the sheltered rise marking the cavern entrance. Several Dwarves stood about, discussing quietly amongst themselves.

“Anything?” Falagrim asked.

“A whole lotta stink,” one answered. “Was a big group living here too.”

“The way this place came down was too clean,” said one of the Deepwardens. “Wasn’t ransacked by a raid – just dismantled. Next to no sign of fighting either. Just a bit of it inside the cave.”

Falagrim frowned and made his way inside. The overpowering odour of Bugbear assaulted his senses, so thick that he swore that he could taste it. He followed the incline, down through two dozen metres of tunnels scrawled with crude designs and images, until he found Agni standing between two grey robes.

The cave wall near to them was awash in dark stains that painted over what images were drawn there. At their feet lay clumps of wet sand.

“Hobs, then?” Falagrim said after a glance.

“That’s nearly for certain, now,” one of the robes nodded towards the stains on the wall. “It wasn’t a raid. Whoever came just walked in, offed whoever the biggest, baddest Bugbear was in here to show the rest who the new boss was, then marched everyone away.”

“They’re on the warpath,” Agni said. “This is a place that tribes usually fight to hold, but it looks like they left with no intention of returning.”

It was good news, but it also made things more dangerous. The Hobgoblins would welcome the opportunity to arm their best troops, trading some of their number away as slaves for Dwarf-forged equipment. That was only if they knew who they were dealing with, however; war-crazed goblinoids tended to be indiscriminate about their targets.

“How are we going to do this?” Agni asked, “The scouts said the trail splits from here: one group is continuing east, while the other headed south."

The ones going south were probably delivering their newly-acquired troops to the main body of their army, so this was probably Falagrim’s chance to catch up. Should things turn violent, they could handily deal with a smaller group.

“We’re headed east,” he said. “That bunch’ll be some of their regulars moving to ‘recruit’ the next tribe they find. Meeting with them should be enough to get the ear of their commander.”

Agni and one of the robes nodded in agreement. The other appeared uncertain.

“Should we scry ahead of us to make sure?” He asked.

Falagrim’s frown deepened, and the other grey robe cleared his throat.

“He just came on with us this season,” he explained. “The kid has some divination spells, and he’s been looking to earn his keep.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“A-apologies, my prince.”

Why they had been cast out, who their enemies were, and of what use they could be – Falagrim knew the circumstances of every single man and woman that came under his employ. One would have to be foolhardy beyond imagination to not possess that knowledge when leading a band of Dwarven exiles.

“You,” Falagrim turned to the other robe. “Do you have spells that prevent your scrying from being detected?”

“No?”

Falagrim narrowed his eyes. He of course knew exactly what the mage was capable of, but the mage himself seemed entirely oblivious to the purpose of his question. The fact that someone was a magic caster always added value to an individual, but Falagrim thought that he should maybe have this one killed before he did something terminally idiotic.

“There’s a couple million Gobs in The Neck,” Falagrim told him, “probably more. It’s pretty much guaranteed that there’s at least a few mystics out there that can look back if we scry them. If you’re extra lucky, one will have a spell that will blow up in your face. Keep that in mind, Peeper.”

“P-peeper?”

“How’d you think you got that?” Falagrim pointed to the brand on his forehead, “If you somehow haven’t figured it out yet, you went and saw something you shouldn’t have back home, and you were too stupid to cover your tracks.”

The young Dwarf looked down at the ground, unable to answer. Falagrim turned to address the other grey robe.

“Make sure his tent is outside of the camp from now on,” he told him, “just in case he decides to get himself killed anyways.”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Visions of tormented, burning souls drove Qrs out of his nightmares, and their screams clung to his waking mind. The woody scent of campfire smoke drifted through his tent flap, and his insides churned. He crawled out into the misty morning gloom, looking for a place to empty his stomach.

“Dad?”

Qrs looked up after retching painfully. Leela stood behind him, looking on worriedly.

“I-I’m fine,” he told her. “Go back to what you were doing. Dad’s going to take a walk.”

Leaning heavily against the tree he had ended up against, Qrs watched as his daughter returned to sit by the fire with several other villagers. She picked up what he thought was his chainmail armour and started scrubbing it.

When did she learn how to do that?

It had been charred and fused to his flesh from the battle at the ford, and he couldn’t bear the stench of it. Apparently his daughter was trying to make it wearable again. Suppressing a frown, he turned away and wandered off through the camp.

His memories were hazy after the battle, but he knew that they remained sealed within somewhere. Nightmares plagued him in his slumber, recollections of horror that scattered beyond his reach upon waking. Others told him what had happened; how he had defiantly stood against Jaldabaoth at the ford, strong and proud.

He didn’t feel strong or proud, however, and a nagging sensation quietly insisted that he was utterly powerless. But the others didn’t see it that way. Qrs had stood against the Demon God, buying time for those who managed to escape. Some Gnolls had found him in the woods, lying burnt and battered between the roots of an old, gnarled tree. It appeared that none of the survivors actually witnessed whatever happened at the end, but surmised that, since Jaldabaoth had not come after them, Qrs had done something worthy of legend.

Qrs himself couldn’t recall. He remembered fighting the scaled fiends and being mocked by Jaldabaoth. He remembered Rhag being tormented and run down, but he could not remember anything after that. A feat worthy of legend…no, it was impossible. If Qrs was a legendary figure, then Jaldabaoth was a Demon God who made the legends paltry by comparison. What insidious evil was he up to now?

According to all whom he had spoken to regarding the matter, the fiends had stopped pursuing them shortly after the battle, and were not seen since. The refugees kept running despite this, until a large group of them eventually stopped at the confluence of two small rivers somewhere across The Neck. Every day, more stragglers found them, or were found by the Gnolls patrolling and raiding the surrounding lands. Leela was the only member of his family present in the camp, and she had been separated from the rest of their family during the panicked flight into The Neck. Hopefully they would be amongst the survivors that were still trickling in.

So far, of the 7,000 of Qrs’ people present at the battle of the ford, only 2,000 remained. The Gnolls fared little better. Given the number of prisoners that had potentially been taken, the real reason Jaldabaoth had let them flee might have been that the minions he had brought with him were tied up moving their new acquisitions. They were just being driven forward, and the Demon’s Gods forces would move to collect them at their leisure…yet moving forward was all they could do.

“Qrs.”

Zrol’s voice sounded to his right, and Qrs turned from his brooding to see the Hobgoblin officer marching up smartly towards him with an attachment of troops in tow. The Goblin army had only grown ever since they left the ford, their teeming numbers now dwarfing the survivors from the west. Qrs slowed his pace, and Zrol fell into line beside him.

“It’s good to see you up and about,” he said. “How are you feeling now?”

“Like shit,” Qrs replied.

“That’s great,” Zrol nodded – was he even listening? “The council’s been waiting on you to make a few crucial decisions. We also have guests of a sort that showed up today.”

“Guests?”

“Dark Dwarves. It’s amazing how they just pop up whenever there’s profit to be made – some Gnolls escorted them in just now.”

Qrs supposed he should show himself. Despite all that had happened, he was still the leader of his own people and was treated as part of their strange alliance’s leadership. Even with the swelling numbers of the Goblin army, his personal strength was still one of the refugees’ greatest assets, and helped to ensure that his people’s needs and voices remained strong in the makeshift council that had formed in the past few days.

Nodding his thanks to Zrol, he split off and headed further into the camp, towards a large tent stitched out of hides roughly a hundred metres from the shore of one of the nearby rivers. In a clearing along the shore was the familiar sight of Dark Dwarves peddling their wares in the midst of several dozen of their customers: Hobgoblin officers and tribal representatives sent to bargain on their respective peoples’ behalf.

Upon closer inspection, he found a long line of slaves already chained to be led away. They were mostly made up of Bugbears, though there were quite a few Goblins as well. Despite Avod sharing with him the advantages that came with being part of a Goblin army, it was a strict and tough life for its members. Those who couldn’t maintain order and discipline ended up as fodder – or slaves, in this case. Any infighting and undesirable behaviour just resulted in more commodities to trade for valuable equipment.

Closer to the wares being displayed was a naked Dwarf, who was also chained. Qrs frowned down at the odd sight.

“What’s going on with this one?” He asked.

“Huh?” One of the Dwarves behind the tables looked up, “Oh, him. Just meat, I guess.”

“…how did that happen?”

“Magic caster that got too curious,” the Dwarf told him. “Scryed the wrong person, and whatever defensive spell he triggered turned him into a drooling invalid. Guess it could be worse – at least we can still sell him off as a meal, eh?”

The naked Dwarf on display didn’t even flinch at the words, empty eyes staring at some sight unseen to anyone else. Qrs had never tasted Dwarf before, but the squat and hairy thing looked rather unappetizing. He left the stands and entered the nearby pavilion. Within, several familiar faces greeted him.

“Qrs,” Avod said, “good timing.”

He scanned the spacious interior, which lacked any furnishings save for a central brazier. Around it, Ysvrith and several Gnoll Alphas were present, as was Avod and a few of her officers. Several of his own chiefs and elders nodded in greeting as his gaze passed over them.

“Zrol said you were trying to make up your minds about something,” Qrs said.

“More like a few somethings,” Avod replied. “Most importantly: how long we should stay here, and where to go when we finally move. These Dwarves popping up makes it tempting to stick around for a few shipments – we have a lot of troops to arm.”

‘A lot’ was decidedly an understatement. In the time since the battle with Jaldabaoth, the Goblin army had grown at an astonishing rate. The four Hobgoblins that had escaped with him had rallied an army of 75,000 in less than two weeks. Avod described it quite simply – that they were just going around collecting new recruits – but Qrs couldn’t quite wrap his head around how exactly they had found so many in such a short time.

As the Hobgoblin general – she had promoted herself after her burgeoning army had grown past a certain point – had promised, the troops were trained, churning out all manner of soldiers. Throngs of disorganized Goblins were transformed into agile bands of organized skirmishers, wolf-riders, and runners who formed the bulk of their supply train. Casters were sorted out into supporting attachments and the Bugbears were turned into shock troops. Even Barghests were incorporated somehow.

The Hobgoblins’ penchant for raising armies was on full display. Even the ones that they found occasionally mixed into the Goblin and Bugbear tribes somehow knew exactly what to do right away. It was uncanny and strange – they built their armies as naturally as bees constructed their hives.

Needless to say, arming them with anything better than clubs, wooden spears and crude bows was a challenge in their present circumstances. The remaining survivors of Qrs’ people could only do so much, so the arrival of the Dark Dwarves provided a compelling reason to stay put. Doing so would also allow more refugees out in the forest to make their way to the camp, increasing the possibility of Rholh and the rest of his family appearing.

He shook his head, as if he could dislodge the tantalizing thought. Jaldabaoth was still out there, and they had no idea when he would return for the rest of them. It was possible that his forces would be delayed by quite some time subjugating the sheer number of Goblinoids living in The Neck, but staying where they were was an unnecessary risk to impose on those in the camp. The further away from Jaldabaoth, the better.

“If they’re willing to trade all over the wilderness,” Qrs said, “it shouldn’t be a problem if we move, right? We’re a bit further away from the hills now, but it’s still too close for comfort.”

“I agree,” Ysvirth said. “These fiends can fly, and the forest impedes many. If Jaldabaoth strikes us here, those without the skills to traverse the terrain quickly will be unable to escape.”

“If we’re to arrange something with the Dwarves,” Avod said, “it would probably have to be at our next bit stop. We haven’t even decided where we’re going from here yet.”

“How far have we scouted?”

“About fifty kilometres in every eastward direction,” Ysvrith told him. “The river we’re camping on flows down to the southeast, and would be the most convenient way to follow.”

“It might sound nice,” Avod said, “but we have some tales from the locals that make it seem like a bad idea.

“Tales?” Qrs furrowed his brow.

Avod looked over to one of her captains, a Hobgoblin he didn’t recognize – it must have been one of the new ones that had joined in the past few days. Stepped forward, clearing his throat before speaking.

“To the southeast of the forests is a Human nation that calls itself the Slane Theocracy,” the Hobgoblin officer said. “They’re well-known to the tribes here – notorious, even.”

“I’ve heard a nation of Humans exists beyond The Neck,” Qrs said, “but what makes them worthy of mention? Is there something that makes them difficult to attack or raid?”

“Rather than us raiding them” the captain replied, “they raid us.”

Qrs’ expression twisted at the odd notion. He had never heard of Humans actively raiding before. Then again, Goblins were well-known to be a weaker race.

“How often does this happen?” He asked, “Will they be paying us a visit?”

“No,” the Hobgoblin shook his head, “This river that we’re on…it joins with another along the way that runs from east to west, and that’s the furthest extent of their regular raids. Once in a while, they’ll field powerful forces that cross the river to attack tribes that exceed a certain population, but they’ve never come this far north.”

“Do you know how strong they are? How do they fight?”

“They’re strong enough to keep the forests south of the river I mentioned almost entirely clear of tribes. As for how they fight…in addition to their regular soldiers, they have magic casters and summon beings of radiant light.”

“Angels,” Qrs spat. “They’re just as bad as fiends. The Humans of the wall to the west use them as well, but they’re no match for us.”

“Still,” Qrs’ words did not seem to affect the Hobgoblin either way, “the land beyond is an open plain: there are no forests to call home to speak of. It’s not a place for any of our peoples, so heading in that direction would only invite fruitless conflict. If this Jaldabaoth is as close as you newcomers say, stopping to fight here would only invite more problems.”

There didn’t seem to be anything to debate when it came to following the river. If it led to nowhere useful, then there was no reason to head in that direction.

“Then where’s the next source of water?” Qrs asked, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we had a hundred thousand goblins by the time we leave this place, so we’ll have to figure out where to go before we actually move.”

“Beyond The Neck to the east is an arid plain,” Ysvrith said. “My scouts have only viewed it from the forest, but it appears to run from north to south following a broad river valley.”

“Another plain,” Qrs blew out an annoyed breath, “don’t tell me there are even more Humans in that direction.”

“There is no sign of anyone there that we have seen,” Ysvrith said. “No buildings or any other sign of settlement. Animals roam the plain in small herds and, by all appearances, they are undisturbed by nomadic peoples.”

“That sounds…not right?” Qrs frowned, “There must be someone there – or something. What about magical beasts or monsters?”

“It’s possible the nearby mountains might have predators that fly down to feed there,” Ysvrith mused. “This would explain why the herds remain small with few visible predators. Giant Eagles…or Griffons, perhaps?”

He would take Giant Eagles or Griffons over Jaldabaoth any day. They were manageable with parties of experienced hunters, and would yield valuable materials.

“So a clear course to the next major river,” Qrs muttered, “this sounds too good to be true.”

“It is what it is,” Ysvrith shrugged. “On the opposite slope of the valley is a lush forest, leading a range of mountains that stretches along the plain. I doubt that such ideal territory would be left uninhabited.”

“It still sounds promising,” Qrs said, “but let’s hold that thought, for now. Is there anywhere else we can go?”

“All routes east lead to the same valley,” Ysvrith replied. “If this Human nation lies to the south, then we should distance ourselves from it by heading northeast. We can go follow the river here north for a time, then go east as far as the forest allows us.”

“What about just going north?”

“The border ranges continue eastward, barring our path. It’s possible that they intersect with the range to the east.”

“This sounds very much like we’re being cornered,” Avod said. “Mountains to the north; mountains to the east; this Slane Theocracy with its inhospitable lands to the south, and Jaldabaoth in the west, driving us before him.”

The groups of council members started to converse between themselves, speaking in low voices. Qrs, however, did not believe that there was much to discuss.

“We can continue running east,” Qrs told them, “head south and fight a war with Humans to no gain, or stay here and wait for Jaldabaoth to come and pick us up. Unless someone can offer us another option, these are what we have to choose from – whether we like them or not.”

“Then I say east,” Ysvrith yipped. “The way is clear and the lands ahead bountiful. The mountains in the east may not be as much of a hindrance as they appear. As we scout ahead, new ways forward will be made known to us.”

“As suspicious as it seems,” Avod said, “east appears to be the only way. It’ll take a few days for us to get all the Gobs organized and ready to move.”

“East it is, then,” Qrs nodded. “Let’s get our scouts out there while the rest of us prepare to move.”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Two days passed before preparations approached completion. Rather than moving en masse, the Hobgoblins had devised a scheme where the army was divided into groups that were staggered to reuse the camp locations of those moving ahead of them. It saved time for other activities and reduced the area required to support each camp. Since each location would be used for a week or more, it allowed the Dark Dwarves to continue reliably delivering their shipments of highly sought-after equipment.

In addition to sending scouts to see what lay far ahead of them, many were also deployed to trail behind. They served two purposes: to keep an eye out for Jaldabaoth’s forces should they move east again, and to point any additional stray refugees that they came across in the direction of the new camps.

They afforded themselves a conservative pace, allowing continued efforts to equip and train the army at each stop. After three days, the lead group found itself at the edge of the aforementioned eastern plain. Under clear, blue skies, the wind swept north through the expanse of tall grass. There was no sign of the herd animals that had been described, though this was most likely because they had sent hunters ahead to collect food before the main body of refugees scared it all away.

Qrs stood at the edge of the thinning woods with Ysvrith, gazing out across at the valley. He eyed the forests on the opposite slope, wondering what awaited them there.

“I knew there would be something like this in advance,” Qrs said, “but it looks terrible now that it’s in front of me. It’s too dry and exposed – if Jaldabaoth attacks us while we cross…”

“If we pick up our pace,” Ysvrith said, “we should be able to reach the river in a single day. The people will have plenty of time to rest in the forests beyond while we search for a way forward.”

“As long as nothing is waiting for us in that forest,” Qrs said. “How far have your scouts gone?”

“They’ve reached the river,” Ysvrith replied, “and are currently looking for a suitable ford. The waters in the southern half run wide and deep, so we’ve focused our efforts northwards. The scouts who have swum across to investigate the forests will take some time to return, but those who followed the river should be back by tonight.”

Qrs knew that hunters were quick, even when exploring, but Gnolls moved at a ridiculous pace. Their prowess as natural hunters gave them a tremendous advantage in their current circumstances. If it wasn’t for the need to band together for mutual survival, they’d have been hundreds of kilometres away already.

“One more day in the forest, then?”

“Yes,” Ysvrith nodded, “we can head north through the forest along the plain for that long, but I fear that going further north may draw us into unnecessary conflicts with those living in the border ranges.”

“Have you received any reports of what lives there?”

“I’ve instructed my scouts to stay out of the foothills to the north,” Ysvrith said, “but it appears similar to our old homes from a distance. I cannot imagine that no one lives there.”

He guessed it would be a waste of time and energy to investigate. Though three weeks had passed since the battle at the ford, they had only traveled a short distance – two or three days for an unimpeded raiding party, at most. They needed to put more space between themselves and Jaldabaoth, or he could potentially descend upon them with little time to prepare.

“As long as they don’t get in our way,” Qrs said, “I guess I really don’t care. I was afraid that we’d find more of Jaldabaoth’s minions throughout the wilderness, or maybe even another Demon God. It doesn’t seem like it now, so I’m just happy we’re getting further and further away from Jaldabaoth’s base.”

“This is true,” Ysvrith said, “but midsummer approaches. We will need to find a place where we can make preparations to overwinter.”

Qrs looked across the plain to the forests again. At last count, they numbered 95,000 in total, with 90,000 assorted Goblinoids and 2,000 Gnolls. Despite the unprecedented number – to Qrs, anyways – forests across the next river stretched all along the foothills, and seemed more than large enough to spread out in and spend the winter. Still, they would need to find out who lived there and whether they could be reasoned with…or whether they would need to be pushed out.

They parted ways to attend to their own tasks, and the day’s travel was unmarked by anything of note. The refugees looked less haggard now; the long rest without further attacks affording them the opportunity to regain themselves. Their lighter expressions as they made their way matched his own sentiments: the further away they got from Jaldabaoth and his ilk, the less there was to worry about.

Gnoll scouts started to arrive at their next campsite by the evening and, before dawn, the council met to discuss their findings.

“The forests show signs of old habitation,” Ysvrith told them from her place around the brazier. “Settlements sunken into the earth, rotted away by time. Broken stone towers; traces of old roads. Both on the opposite shore and within the forest.”

The gathering was silent for several moments, digesting the Matriarch’s report.

“…what happened to them?” Avod asked.

“My people have no sense for this unnatural construction,” Ysvrith replied. “What we could tell from them was that they were broken and burned. Also…Undead were seen stalking the ruins.”

“Great,” Qrs sighed. “Our nice little forest turned out to be a haunted forest. How bad is it?”

“The villages are sparse,” Ysvrith said, “and the Undead appear to stay near them. The scouts did not investigate closely, but the types of Undead reported were mostly weak: Skeletons, Zombies, Ghouls and several types of Undead Beasts.”

“Nothing we can’t handle then,” Avod said with a grunt. “We can make a sweep of the forest, then contain and suppress each of these ruins. My soldiers will benefit from the practise.”

He heard a few of the elders beside him sigh in relief. Despite violence and bloodshed being a common thing in the Abelion Hills, the Undead were an uncommon problem. Dealing with them was not something one usually looked forward to, regardless of how weak or strong they were.

“What about crossings?” Qrs asked, “We still have a river in the way.”

“Two smaller rivers form into the larger one in the upper third of the plain,” Ysvrith said, “but they cannot be crossed until further upstream. We’ll have to camp at one river crossing, then the other – the distance is too great for these groups to traverse in a single day.”

“At least we’ll be stopping by water,” Qrs said. “There’s still no sign of threats on the plains?”

“We’ve spotted grassland predators, but they are well within each camp’s ability to deal with should they grow brave enough to attack. It is more likely that they will be hunted down for food if they remain close to our path.”

The fact that Undead infested the forest explained why there appeared to be no inhabitants, but was it enough reason for the plains to be absent of inhabitants as well? The races represented in the council did not live in such open stretches of territory, but there were more than a few others that did. He had at least expected something like the Zoastia or some similar species to make the place their home. It was certainly plentiful enough to support many tribes.

“I don’t like this,” Avod said, “why is this territory unclaimed? Are you sure you didn’t see anything? What about tribes from the forests to the north coming out to hunt?”

“My people have been hunting out there,” Ysvrith replied, “so if they have, we have not seen them…it’s difficult to believe that they could be missed. We would be depleting their food supply; they would almost certainly appear to defend their hunting grounds.”

Several heads around the brazier nodded. The Matriarch’s reasoning was sound – having the herds you depended upon for food being poached by intruders would definitely elicit a response.

“Maybe they’re massing for an attack?” Avod offered a possibility, “We’ve grown quite strong through our ordeals – even the smaller hunting packs of Ysvrith’s Gnolls spread out over the plain would give most tribes pause.”

“Someone would at least try,” Ysvrith said, “much to their belated regret. It’s more likely that there’s some tangible reason to the locals why no one hunts the plains. Maybe there’s some old superstition related to those Undead or some monster that isn’t around all the time.”

“Maybe we’re just too paranoid now,” Qrs scratched his head. “Even if something did rear its ugly head, our current strength should be more than enough to handle it. Our experiences in the west shouldn’t be a common thing out in the world…right?”

“Probably not,” Avod snorted. “The world would be immolated in hellfire if more monstrosities like Jaldabaoth existed. I suppose we’ll find out for certain once we make our crossing.”

They adjourned their meeting, breaking camp and heading out in the unsettling expanse of the open plain. When the sun bore down directly overhead, the question behind the strangely uninhabited grassland was answered by the sound of several screams somewhere behind him. Qrs twisted around and craned his neck, trying to see what was going on. Eventually, he left the front of the procession, looking back and forth in an attempt to find whatever had caused the cry of alarm.

It wasn’t long until he found that everyone he passed was holding something over their head: shields; supplies; bundled up furs and blankets…all were half-half bent over and scuttling forward. A number of black flecks fell upon the procession further back, and cries rose into the air again.

Qrs rushed forward, finding several Hobgoblins standing around with steel shields held over their heads. Before he could ask what was going on, several dull thumps could be felt nearby. A Goblin passing by was impaled through the top of its head by a wicked black spike. The hide shield it was holding over its head was insufficient to resist the force of the impact.

He looked down at the dead Goblin. The spike had driven through its head and continued out and through its shoulder. Black splotches of skin around its wounds rapidly grew outward. Qrs held his arms over his head, squinting up to see what was attacking them with little success: whatever it was, it was using the glare of the sun to conceal itself.

『Something’s throwing attacks down at us! Spread out!』

The Hobgoblins repeated his orders up and down the column. They started to spread out, but not before the next attack fell upon them.

“Damn it!” Qrs cursed, “What the hell is this!?”

Qrs looked around for a Gnoll, figuring that they would be the most likely to know what was going on. He found one a short distance away, carefully wrapping one of the metre-long black spikes impaled into the ground in a ragged hide. With a grunt, it yanked it out.

“Do you know what that thing is?” Qrs asked the Gnoll.

“Manticore spine,” the Gnoll replied.

“You…you mean there’s a Manticore flying up there somewhere, hurling these things down at us?”

“Yes?”

Why was this Gnoll so calm when death was raining down on them? Actually, rather than calm, he looked quite pleased with his new Manticore spine. Looking around, Qrs found several other Gnolls around the field, looking similarly pleased with prizes of their own. Muttering darkly, Qrs turned and jogged back up to the head of the column. Along the way, yet another volley of spikes fell upon them.

“Ysvrith!” He said when he found the Gnoll Matriarch, “Why the hell are your people so damn happy about being attacked by a Manticore?”

Ysvrith tilted her head at him, seemingly surprised at his question.

“This is a fortunate thing, no?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, hmm…it is troubling to be attacked unawares by a Manticore, yes,” Ysvrith explained, “but they only have two dozen spines. After four volleys, they run out. It takes a full day for them to grow back.”

Qrs counted the number of attacks that they had endured in his head, then looked back over the column. It appeared that nothing more had befallen the refugees.

“Okay,” Qrs looked back forward, “so we won’t get attacked again. That still doesn’t explain why your people look like treasure just rained down on them.”

“Because it has?” Ysvrith yipped, “Manticore spines are as hard as iron, and they are inundated with venom as they grow out. Fifty arrowheads can be fashioned out of each one. They are useless for hunting, but excellent for warfare…”

The Gnoll Matriarch looked down excitedly as she spoke, but her words trailed off as Qrs’ frown deepened.

“The spines are powerful when hurled down from such a height,” she said, “but inaccurate. Now that we’re aware of them and have spread out, less than one in ten should harm someone. It is not even guaranteed to be deadly, as long as a healer is on hand.”

“We still have children and noncombatants with us,” Qrs told her. “Being struck by a spine would be fatal for them. Isn’t there a way to defend against these spines?”

“Hmm…layered shields and supplies being held overhead might work,” Ysvrith mused, “the litters of baggage can be arranged in such a way that their contents can absorb the force of the attacks. The weak and frail should be able to walk beneath them…maybe the Hobgoblins have even better ideas?”

Qrs’ feelings of helplessness subsided as he was offered a potential solution to their problem.

“I guess we’ll have to warn the other groups coming up behind us to prepare,” he said, then paused for a moment. “By the way, did you know that this was Manticore territory?”

“You worry too much,” Ysvrith smirked. “Manticores make their lairs in high places, and take their prey back with them to feed. With how plentiful the game is here, it would probably be able to bring back a week’s worth of food in a day. That is why we did not spot it, and that is why we noted nothing amiss. The grasses here are tall enough to conceal any spines stuck in the ground, and the chance of accidentally stumbling upon them in this vast plain is tremendously low. I’m sure the scouts will be sniffing around for them now, though, in hopes that they find materials for arrowheads.”

“I don’t understand how your people can take this sort of thing in stride like this.”

“Unlike Jaldabaoth and his fiends,” Ysvrith told him, “Manticores are a natural part of our world. We understand that our place may go from hunter to hunted and back again, and accept what that means. They have long existed in the mountains above our homes, and to see a familiar old enemy is as good as seeing an old friend in these times – especially when they come bearing such valuable gifts.”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Two days and one river crossing later, a hunting band of Gnolls brought in the corpse of a Manticore. It was five metres long from the tip of its spiked tail to the front of its strange, Human-like face. Reptilian wings that Qrs imagined what a Dragon might have spanned as wide as it was long. The beast’s black tongue lolled out from between rows of serrated teeth.

“What was that about old enemies and old friends again?” Qrs asked Ysvrith.

“It occurred to a few of us that if we became too resilient to its attacks,” Ysvrith replied, “it would simply give up and hunt elsewhere. This felt like a wasted opportunity, so we crafted an ambush: one of us took a spine and pretended to be felled out on the field. The Manticore came down to retrieve its ‘kill’ at night, and became the hunted instead.”

The corpse of the Manticore was set down near the shore of the river, where the gathered Gnolls set about dismantling their kill. Qrs wrinkled his nose as an atrocious stench filled the air.

“Manticores are highly poisonous,” Ysvrith continued, “so our friend here will not be useful for food. Its hide will be fashioned into several sets of leather armour, and the poison can be extracted from its body. We will see how Jaldabaoth’s minions enjoy the taste of our poisoned arrows the next time they come our way!”

“There’ve been no further sightings of Jaldabaoth or his minions since the ford, by your reports…”

“This is true,” Ysvrith nodded. “But we will be spending the winter around here somewhere. He may finish with the tribes in The Neck during that time and continue eastward.”

“I’d rather he head south and play with that Slane Theocracy.”

“A hopeful thought, but we must make ourselves ready should he move in our direction instead.”

Qrs looked up from watching the Gnolls work on the Manticore corpse, sweeping his gaze out across the grassland. After their crossing, he knew it to not be very wide, but it was still far enough that the forests of The Neck could not be seen.

“I know that the last of us are on our way out of there,” Qrs said, “but could we leave some sentries back in The Neck to keep watch?”

“That is my intent, yes,” Ysvrith told him. “Throughout the winter, our packs will be roving around as they usually do. We’ll have ample warning should new movement be spotted to the east.”

“What about the west?” Qrs asked, “Have you found a way over the mountains yet? We effectively have our backs to, well, a mountain until then.”

“I’ve sent several dozen bands of scouts to search for the best passes. Avod has sent her armies to scour the forests on this side of the Undead. We should know what we need to know within a few days.”

“I see,” Qrs breathed. “Then I guess all there is to do is wait.”

Ysvrith nodded and went on her own way, and Qrs was quickly accosted by several of his tribal elders, who had been waiting nearby.

“Does that mean we should delay our preparations?” One of them asked.

“We’ll still be here for at least a few days yet,” Qrs answered, “so we can at least get a few things done. We’ve still got plenty of people on their way, so places need to be made for them…have there been any problems with what we talked about earlier?”

“All understand the necessity of consolidating the tribes,” the elder replied. “We’ve selected three sites for our winter villages, and the people are quite pleased with the locations. This forest is lush with nature’s bounty; once the Undead have been cleared away, we should be able to sustain ourselves easily.”

Qrs slowly nodded his head in agreement. With all that had happened, this rich forest with its few threats was a welcome reprieve for the weary refugees…though they still couldn’t figure out what had happened to its former inhabitants.

He had personally led a warband to one of the ruined villages near one of the locations for their new settlements, easily sweeping away the weak undead within. The buildings were constructed from some combination of wood and stone, crumbled and burnt away like the scouting reports had initially described. There were distinct markings carved on the stone here and there, but he had no idea what any of it meant.

Time had worn away what belongings remained, leaving the few unburnt rooms with nothing left but dust and decay. So far, the scouts had reported many villages in a similar condition, as well as several stone towers that also lay broken and ruined. Judging by the size of the structures, Qrs decided that those who once dwelled here were around his own height, or perhaps a bit shorter.

The presence of the Undead in this otherwise vibrant land suggested that the people here were subjected to some event that destroyed them in their entirety. War or plague were likely candidates, leaving behind a miasma of violence, suffering and anguish in its wake to create areas steeped in the curse of undeath. The lack of Undead anywhere but within these settlements meant that their fate had befallen them before they even had a chance to flee.

Qrs thought it a shame. Without the unsettling idea that something might appear to take them in the same way as the forest’s former inhabitants had mysteriously vanished – and the idea that Jaldabaoth might appear to attack them at any moment – he thought that he might have been happy to call the beautiful place home.

Several days passed uneventfully, with more and more of the refugees making the journey across the grasslands. They had been divided into their separate races to minimize incidents along the way, though slaves were still made out of the most problematic to fuel the Dwarven trade. The grouchy merchants always seemed to find reasons to drive up their prices and devalue the slaves that were offered in exchange, yet they reliably came regardless, always selling their entire inventory.

The Hobgoblin army appeared to have hit its stride, its many detachments moving to systematically exterminate the Undead. They had even located and overwhelmed some sort of Undead caster lairing in one of the old towers, finding a small trove of magic items and various curiosities. The Gnolls, too, started returning with their reports. A usable pass had been located – conveniently located at the top of the valley where they were camped – and additional scouts had been sent to investigate the other side. They would hear of what awaited them soon.

That evening, Qrs made his way to the pavilion to meet with the council and discuss their most recent findings. Within stood Ysvrith and Avod at their customary places around the brazier, but only a few of their subordinates were present. Qrs’ elders, too, had declined to attend what they considered an unimportant meeting in favour of organizing their growing settlements. He assumed that the others were missing as well for related reasons – their time in the forest had been peaceful, and the idea that they would need to start planning for the coming winter was on everyone’s minds.

“I guess this will be quick,” Qrs said, “unless we’ve gotten a good idea of what’s on the other side of these mountains.”

“We have,” Avod said. “We’ve got some good news, and some bad news.”

“Which ‘news’ will we have to deal with first?” Qrs asked.

“The good news, I guess,” Avod answered. “The area on the other side is a large, highland basin between the range here and another one further east. The land’s even better than the forests on this side, and we found a bunch of tribes living there like you’d expect. It’s highly defensible: protected by mountains and ridges on all sides.”

“Alright, this bad news has to be extremely bad if you’re putting it alongside this…”

“It is,” Avod said. “Every way out of the basin is into Human territory.”

Qrs tamped down the simmering anger at the mere mention of the disgusting race. Everything was going so well; why did they have to appear now?

“I thought this basin was supposed to be large,” Qrs said. “How did you find out about Humans so quickly?”

“We’ve only started poking our noses in,” Avod told him, “the information about Humans is from the handful of Goblin tribes we’ve run into so far. The only ways out of the basin are this pass above us, over the ridge into the plains to the south, or north along the river flowing out of the highlands.”

“What about the range further east?”

“They say that they’re impassable,” Avod replied, “and just looking at the other side from the pass up here seems to support that idea. Maybe if we had some winged Goblins…”

“There’s winged Goblins?”

“It was a joke.”

Qrs crossed his arms, sighing in consternation over the ideal location with its less-than-ideal Human neighbors. If there were tribes in the basin…

“How long have these tribes been living in this basin?” He asked.

“As long as they can remember,” Avod answered, “out of those that my officers have asked.”

If that was the case, it was possible that they could still winter in the basin, then strike out afterwards. Both the Humans of the wall and those of the Slane Theocracy appeared to only go as far as their immediate borders when it came to their conflicts with the wilderness tribes.

“What do they say about these Humans?” Qrs asked, “Do they behave like the ones we know of? What of walls and fortifications? Our attacks might not be stopped by them, but they’ll get in the way of everyone else when we decide to move on.”

“There’s no mention of any fortifications, and there’s no need; the terrain itself is barrier after natural barrier. Rivers and falls; cliffs and canyons; ridges and mountains. The locals appear to divide the Humans into northern and southern groups. For either direction, however, they consider incursion into Human lands tantamount to suicide…”

Avod’s voice trailed off, and she pursed her lips.

“What?” Qrs frowned at the rare expression.

“These Humans – both groups reportedly worship the Six Great Gods. The same gods as the Humans of the Slane Theocracy…actually, they claim that the Humans to the south are the Slane Theocracy, if you can believe that.”

That wasn’t possible, was it? The Slane Theocracy was the Human nation south of The Neck. If they were also south of this basin over the mountains, that would make this Human nation at least as large as the Abelion wilderness itself. Such a weak race shouldn’t be able to hold onto such a vast amount of territory. It appeared that they were everywhere, for that matter: behind the wall to the west, the cursed Chef was mentioned to be from the north of the Hills, the Elven lands of Evansha and the Theocracy were to the south, and now this…it seemed that Humans and their ilk were more plentiful than even Goblins.

“Is there any truth to what they’re saying?” Qrs asked.

“We have only their accounts to go on,” Avod answered, “but their tales were taken by different officers in different places, and they all match. There’s one thing that stands out, too: the Humans in the south share the same practice of conducting raids against the tribes as the Humans near The Neck. It could simply be due to having a shared religion, though. According to some of the people we’ve picked up along the way, these gods of theirs put Humans above all others, and demand our deaths.”

“Then what about the Humans in the north? Are you saying that they worship the same gods, yet don’t raid the tribes?”

“According to my scouts,” Ysvrith told him, “the way north is more difficult to traverse. Aside from the floor of the deep canyon that the river follows, only a few narrow passes offer a way through.”

That was something, at least. If they entered the basin, it was likely that they would be able to defend their position as long as they could deal with attacks from the Humans to the south. While doing so, they could strike at the northern Humans until they had been softened up enough to break through and continue their flight. If there were plenty of Human settlements to raid, they wouldn’t even need to gather food for the winter – they could just raid their way north.

“I bet you’re thinking about hitting those Humans in the north,” Avod smirked.

“I am,” Qrs looked up from his thoughts. “What of it?”

“Maybe it’s nothing, but I should warn you of at least one other thing: the tribes we’ve spoken to have offered a sort of puzzle.”

“A puzzle?”

“Yep,” she nodded. “The lands in the south have been turned into fields and farms; teeming with Humans and their settlements. The lands in the North remain mostly wild, as far as the tribes know, so the numbers of Humans dwelling there should be sparse by comparison. Yet the tribes here don’t consider trying to push them out for their territories.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Qrs frowned. “If the Human presence in the north is weak, why wouldn’t they?”

“I don’t know for certain,” Avod said. “But the thought borders on taboo amongst the locals. According to them, raids – even small scouting parties – don’t return. There are cunning traps laid all over the border, and the inhabitants are said to be absolutely ruthless. Once you enter these Humans’ territory, they will relentlessly hunt you down. They don’t sound like the Humans west of our old home at all, who cower behind their fortifications and break so easily.”

Qrs scoffed, trying to imagine a puny Human capable of what the Hobgoblin general had described.

“It sounds like an overblown rumor,” he said. “A fanciful tale, even. Are they even sure that those are Humans? Sounds more like some sort of monster living there.”

“That’s just what we’ve heard,” Avod shrugged. “I just thought I’d mention it. The reason why the south is considered a threat is easy enough to understand, but the north is decidedly strange…well, we’ll find out for ourselves soon enough.”

“That’s my thinking,” Qrs nodded. “The question is when we should start to occupy this basin. How many can we move through this pass in a day?”

“It’s a pretty wide pass that goes through a gap between high peaks,” Avod told him. “If we need to, we can probably move everyone in a few days. Since it looks like we have some leeway, I’d like to do this properly with the Goblin army: we’ll move through and set up base camps, subjugating the area piece by piece and adding to our forces. We can keep our noncombatants on this side so they can keep working in safety and deal with the Dark Dwarves. Our Gobs can keep a supply train going between here and the bases on the other side..”

The plan seemed solid – Qrs couldn’t find any faults with it, at least. The Hobgoblin general’s mind for logistics and planning was far better than his own. The benefits for all were clear, and if Jaldabaoth was spotted in The Neck, they could pack up and cross into the basin in good time.

“I don’t see any problems with it for now,” Qrs said. “Ysvrith?”

The Gnoll Matriarch shook her head, and Qrs looked back at Avod.

“Looks like your army is finally getting its chance to shine,” he told her. “Once you’re all done, we’ll put this absurd tale of these locals to the test.”

Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Paul Milo scrubbed away the afternoon’s grime, savouring the sensation of cool water over his skin. After a long day out in the fields, he was looking forward to a relaxing evening with the neighbors, enjoying a hot meal with cool drink in the refreshing breeze outside. The door to his house opened. He finished wiping himself off, putting on a fresh change of clothing. Pouring out two cups of water, he walked out of the kitchen.

Along the way, he heard the familiar clatter of their Skeleton helper and stepped over to one side. The Undead labourer walked by without a look or a word, placing the baskets it was carrying onto the kitchen counter before heading to the corner to await new instructions. Paul paid it little mind, though a small part of him wondered how he had gotten used to the strange new life they had here.

To call it strange was probably a colossal understatement. He and his wife were originally farmers displaced by the chaos following the Kingdom of Re-Estize’s defeat at Katze Plains. They had become refugees, their village ruined by the fleeing wave of survivors from that disastrous battle. Even the fact that they had been so thoroughly beaten didn’t stop the levied men – most of them farmers themselves – from stripping the rural villages bare of food and valuables before continuing on their way. The local authorities had either fled, or were powerless to stop them.

He and his wife managed to make it to E-Rantel, finding a single cheap room in the city to shelter them, though the rent quickly drained away what little they had. Even with provisions being freely distributed by the new government, the situation was becoming untenable. His wife was with child, and there was no work in a city frozen by fear of the Undead. There were some who were sent to the new king’s lands in the northeast, but priority went to those displaced by the renovation of the pauper’s district, and Paul’s family wasn’t one of the others chosen to go.

Out of desperation, they had taken an offer of tenancy mentioned by the city cathedral. Actually, it had been one he had immediately refused upon hearing of it. The terms and conditions could best be described as ‘honest’, for the liege making the offer made no attempt to make it sound any better than it was: an undeveloped frontier land on the dangerous southwestern border. It was so remote that they needed to get there by boat. There were no priests; no markets; no tradesmen to service them, and the lord controlled everything that went in and out of the territory.

Housing; tools; food; everything was under the lord’s control and they would be bound to that lord for the next ten years. There were few people living there and the lord’s share was 9/10ths of the harvest. The harshest of taxes he had ever heard of allowed tenants to keep double that amount, and even that meant slow starvation in almost every case.

Yet, Paul had no choice. He had to take the contract, or perish in the city – it felt like they were selling themselves into a life of misery. And so, they were shipped upriver with a group of similarly-desperate looking people, to some far-off place in the mountains that sounded more like some sort of cruel prison camp for an evil aristocrat than anything else.

Now, one season later, he felt a bit silly for not taking the offer in the first place. The description of the land, its conditions, and the terms of their tenancy was entirely accurate, yet it was not as someone like Paul would have imagined just from listening to the temple staff.

The land was undeveloped and surrounded in untamed highlands and mountains, but it was also clean and cool and beautiful. Any concerns about their safety against wandering bandits and savage Demihuman raiders were put to rest by the presence of powerful Undead sentries both on land and in the skies above. There were still no priests, but places for markets and other services were built after their arrival, and medicines crafted by apothecaries from the city were provided. The local lord did control everything, but the young Baroness appeared to be nothing but a genuine and benevolent border noble: one who conducted herself in the way that the scriptures would demand out of the aristocracy, yet you would never see practiced in earnest.

Rather than being miserly, she was generous when it came to upholding her side of their contract. Tools, food and medicine were provided for the period up to the first harvest. Though the population was small, Undead farmhands were provided. She even travelled from village to village to hold court, and the villagers saw her quite frequently. It was unlike other places where the only sign of the lord you’d see was the tax collector, or maybe some Adventurers hired to deal with a problem that was worth paying them for.

Housing was particularly ridiculous. Their previous home had been a cottage of wattle-and-daub with a thatched roof. Like most rural cottages, it was a single combined living space: you slept, cooked, ate and worked all in the same small area. This new home, however…he doubted that any farmer had seen the like before. In the place of wattle-and-daub walls were walls fashioned from solid granite. Rather than thatch, clay tiles were used for the rooftops.

The house itself was large, as well – larger than most homes in the city. It was larger than even the lady’s manor, which didn’t make much sense. They had a yard around them too. He had the opportunity to ask Baroness Zahradnik why everything was so big – maybe he shouldn’t have requested an audience just for that – and her answer was ‘so that Fireballs cannot hit more than one home at once’. Paul had no idea what to think about that. Did they actually have that problem? He spent the rest of that day in the field, occasionally glancing up to the sky to make sure that death wasn’t about to come raining down on his head.

The kitchen and dining room were divided into their own sections, and there was an even larger space that someone called a ‘living room’. There was an upstairs – an upstairs! – with three bedrooms, while a cellar with the same area as the main floor could be gotten into from inside the house. In the cellar was a hatch where they could escape into the sewer in the event that the village was attacked.

Oh yeah, they had a sewer, too. The place had all the comforts of a fancy city home, and was far larger and more luxurious in construction. There was a bit of a wait for it, but his wife had fainted dead away on the street when he finally walked her up to their new home.

“You there, ma?”

He called out to his wife, Elaine, who had not made a sound since entering. She was expecting in a month or two, so Paul figured she had taken a seat to rest after going out to market. That was another nice thing about the Skeleton helper, it allowed his wife to continue with most of her daily business even when heavy with child.

She didn’t reply, and Paul furrowed his brow as he came around the corner. Only the sound of rustling parchment in the air let him know that she was there at all. He found her seated at the dining room table, with a small booklet and a pile of papers in hand.

Ah that’s right, shares are being handed out today…

The final sticking point in their tenant contract – the ten percent share of their crops – would finally show itself. Working through the season, Paul had a good long time to think about why the rate sounded so terrible compared to their experiences so far. Elaine, however, was still twisting herself into knots over it.

He went over to the dining room table where his wife was seated, placing a cup of water in front of her. She absently lifted it to her lips, then the cup fell and clattered against the table, spilling its contents over its surface. Paul frowned.

“Baroness up and die again?” He muttered.

That was another thing about this place. The noble in charge died from time to time. It wasn’t a kid taking over after their relatives, afterwards – it was the same Baroness Zahradnik, dying over and over again. With those deaths came a vague feeling of uncertainty and unease. Mishaps happened more often, people lost their usual level-headedness and several other minor things occurred as well. Then it would all vanish the moment she came back to life again.

It had caused an unbridled panic at first, but, after a certain point, some of the villagers jokingly – at least he thought it was a joke – suggested they should start a betting pool for how long the Baroness would last until it happened again.

Elaine turned her head at his voice, eyes wide and fearful. Her arm came out and clutched at his shirt.

“W-we…we need to run,” she said.

“Run?” He wrinkled his nose in confusion, “Why’d we need to–”

She pushed the papers straight into his face. Paul flinched and he stumbled backwards. After a moment, he leaned forward, scanning the page…not that he could read. Nor could Elaine, for that matter. They could make out numbers and a few words, but that was about it.

“The number, Paul! The number!”

Elaine shook the page as he tried to make sense out of the jumble of letters. Scowling, he snatched it out her hand so he could look at it properly. It was laid out like a merchant’s invoice, listing numbers in fields with what he assumed to be the sum at the end.

“One four one…” He squinted at the numbers, looking for any marks stuck between them, “141 gold, 2 silver, 9 copper?”

Elaine nodded her head, cradling her swollen belly as she looked up at him tearfully.

“We’re…we’re in trouble, aren’t we?” She asked through quickening breaths, “This number isn’t right! We need to get out of here before a Death Knight breaks down the door to take us away!”

Paul looked around his panicking wife at the table behind her. There was nothing aside from the booklet there.

“Did you put the gold somewhere?” He asked.

Elaine shook her head.

“Wait, if you didn’t get the gold, then why are we running? You think they’ll take us away for having a piece of paper with a number on it? Where do you think we can go anyways? The harbour is the only way in or out.”

It was an absurd amount, honestly. Enough to make anyone think you were guilty of something. A family of three in the city could live comfortably on three gold a month – those living in rural areas could stretch it out even further.

“Then what do we do?” Elaine asked him, “What can we do? We didn’t do anything wrong – this is horrible, Paul!”

“Uh…we just keep doing what we’re doing?” He answered, “I said how big the harvest was before, didn’t I?”

“But–”

“Look – how much did we pull in last year?”

“T-twenty-five? That was for both seasons, though…”

“Right,” Paul nodded. “That was us workin’ one hide of land. We got four of those Skeleton farmhands, and each one of ‘em can work about a hide of land. We’ve been granted 200 acres of land to tend to for our contract…you get where I’m going with this?”

“But that still doesn’t seem right: doesn’t that mean we should be making four times as much for the year? It’s going to be over tenfold at this rate…”

“More than that: our old share was three-tenths – the share here is only one-tenth. They’re using Druid magic on the land, and yield’s gone from seven bushels an acre to thirty. We still use the same number of bushels to seed the next crop, so there’s that much more that goes into what we make for the harvest.”

He wasn’t actually sure if that was quite right…no, it should be. For the first season, Lady Zahradnik had included everything into their terms. They’d get their one-tenth share, free of any other costs.

“That means…we’re rich?” Elaine said, “We can buy everything we ever wanted and still have coin to spare! W-we could live like nobles, and…and–”

“Woah!” Paul shouted at her sudden reversal in attitude, “Just hold on a second there. Did they say anything when you went to the lichtower?”

“Um…something about an a-advisory? It’s part of all those papers they gave us.”

That didn’t help when neither of them could read. Paul furrowed his brow, flipping through the pages: it was all words and no pictures.

“Nothin’ else?” He said, “I need to walk over there and ask before you try buying a lordship. It busy when you left?”

Elaine shook her head.

“Line was short.”

Paul walked out onto the porch and pulled on his boots, heading out of his yard and up the street. He entered the market square, which was much busier than usual. A small crowd was gathered on the western side. There, a woman in a black dress was speaking to them while holding up something in her hand.

He entered the lichtower, taking his place at the end of a small group of people – all holding what appeared to be the same batch of papers in their hands. At the counter was the Elder Lich charged with seeing to the running of the village, staring out at the line. The villagers at the front walked back out after talking with it for a few seconds. Paul’s turn came within a minute or so.

The Elder Lich cleared its nonexistent throat, glancing down at the papers in Paul’s hand.

“I assume that your illiteracy has led you here,” it said in a thin and nasally voice.

“That’s, uh…that’s right, I guess?”

Compared to Baroness Zahradnik’s right-hand Lich, the new one that had come to their village had a few rough edges. It looked him in the eye and sighed before speaking.

“The pages included with your record are an advisory concerning downwards fluctuations in commodity prices – particularly those for agricultural produce. The booklet is for use with the post office.”

He had no idea about the last bit, but the other part caused him to start in alarm.

“The prices are going down?” Worry crept into Paul’s voice, “Why’s that?”

“It would stand to reason that, with the increase in supply, demand – and thus prices – will fall, yes?”

“Uh…”

“It is put simply, for your understanding…well, the important thing for you to note is that, due to this fall in prices, an advisory has been issued addressing how your earnings should be put to use.”

“You’re telling us what to buy now?”

“It is ultimately for your long-term benefit, and will save on your living costs in the long run.”

Paul supposed that he could at least listen to what the Elder Lich had to say.

“I’m listening…” He leaned forward.

“Take your listening outside,” the Elder Lich leaned back. “A representative from the magical atelier is currently holding a presentation. Next.”

Paul wandered away and out of the lichtower. Maybe the Elder Lich didn’t have a few rough edges – it had a lotta jagged ones.

Back in the market square, he made his way around to join the crowd in front of the stand. The woman in the black dress was a pleasant-looking girl who had moved in several weeks previous to work in some sort of magical workshop connected to the lichtower. In her hand was a gleaming crystal sphere that drove away the shadows of the evening with its radiant light.

“Can’t we just leave it on a table?” A man raised his voice over the murmur of the crowd.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” the woman replied in a patient tone. “It is a magic item, after all, so you’ll want to protect your investment with something sturdy and not prone to falling over and breaking.”

“But it’s already expensive enough! Why is it so fragile? Might as well buy something cheaper that won’t break so easily.”

“If you take care of it,” the woman said, “it’ll last forever. Think of what you’ll save on candles, torches and firewood! There’ll be no smoke or soot, no heat, and no fuss!”

The man did not look convinced. ‘No heat’ was hardly a selling point, either: especially with autumn coming in a couple months’ time. Paul looked around the crowd, searching for a familiar face. He found his neighbor – a fellow farmer – not too far away and edged through the crowd towards him.

“Psst,” he lightly elbowed the man, “what’s going on here?”

“Lady’s selling magic lights,” his neighbor replied. “Says they’ll make our homes as bright as day.”

“Magic lights…” Paul looked up at the gleaming sphere, “so like the ones that they use to light the streets in E-Rantel?”

“Could be,” the man shrugged. “They’re expensive, though – four gold coins each, plus whatever you stick ‘em in.”

That was no doubt expensive. The woman continued unfazed by the dull reception, extolling the virtues of the magical light. Though her reasoning about saving on lighting costs did make a sort of sense, its value depended on who was using it. A farmer like Paul had little need: he couldn’t read, and most of his work was outdoors. He didn’t spend much on candles, torches or firewood in the first place.

A weaver, carpenter, or some other craftsman, however, would clearly benefit from being able to work well into the evening and night. It was an item that meant clear profit for some, but parting anyone else with their gold would be difficult. The idea that it could break added to his own hesitation, and it probably wasn’t just him. Somewhere along the way, she added the fact that Lady Zahradnik endorsed the use of magical lighting in her demesne, and intended on using them to light the streets – just like they did in the city – which further lowered Paul’s already low interest. If the streets and gardens were lit, then they could just go out and use those instead if they needed to.

As expected, only craftsmen came forward to purchase the magical lights. It was enough to empty the woman’s inventory, though, and her assistant – who Paul hadn't noticed up until that point – removed the empty crate and replaced it with another. The woman lifted the lid and withdrew a long black sheet of something.

“Now our next wondrous item here is–”

“Your attention is required.”

The thin, nasal voice of the Elder Lich boomed over the market square, and the crowd turned their attention away from the woman and up to the top of the lichtower.

“A Class B Advisory has been issued for Zahradnik Barony and its surrounding environs,” the Elder Lich droned down over the village. “His Majesty’s subjects are restricted to their respective villages. All road travel is prohibited. Those found outside of their designated areas will be deposited at the nearest safe location by local security. Activity within population centres will not be restricted – you may go about your regular business within their bounds.”

With that, the Undead office worker vanished back into the lichtower.

Another advisory. Paul was still trying to figure out what the previous advisory was.

“Hey Paul, what’s a ‘Class B Advisory’?”

“I got no idea,” he muttered.

“Hey Isabella,” someone shouted up to the woman on the stand, “what was the Lich talking about?”

Over the air, the sounds of the village gates being closed and barred echoed over the rooftops.

“That’s uh…it means that we’re under threat of invasion,” Isabella replied, then flashed a brilliant smile. “Well, now that you’re all stuck in here with me, I’d like to bring your attention back to the next handy little magic item we got here…”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“That will be all – you may leave.”

The party of Iron-rank Adventurers quietly filed out of the room, leaving Ludmila to complete her reports for their Training Area session. Overall, they had done well, and she offered several constructive points where she thought the greatest improvements could be made in the near future. The Fighter and Ranger in the group appeared to be ready for Martial Arts drills as well, so she made the recommendation that they should do so in the time between their scheduled group sessions.

“Woo…we survived,” a voice drifted up the stairwell and through the open door of her office.

“My heart almost stopped when I saw her in the room.”

“No kidding – I was praying for Ainzach on the way back.”

Ludmila’s pen stopped, and a furrow appeared over her brow.

“I-is she always like that? I thought we nailed it, but then she just ripped us apart!”

“Maybe she’s just trying to be helpful? She’s one of the first new Platinum-ranks in the Guild, after all – she probably knows what we’ll be facing in the future.”

“Or maybe she just loves cracking the whip.”

Someone made a whipping sound, and the rest of the party laughed.

“I dunno about the rest of you guys, but she can whip me any day~ That whole feeling she gives off is just mmm…”

“Oh gods, don’t you start now. Might as well aim for Nabe instead.”

“Nonono, you don’t get it. We got no chance with Nabe, but Ludmila is a noble. She’s the head of her own house, so eventually she’s going to start thinking about having kids.”

“She doesn’t ever give off that feeling. Training, work, duty – that woman’s just a big blob of boring.”

“That’s because she worships The Six, yeah? Those zealots don’t consider themselves adults until twenty, so they act like prudes until bam: the shackles come out. If you can line yourself up nicely beforehand, you’ve got yourself a rich and powerful wife. I bet you she’ll basically stop Adventuring around that time to pop out kids, and you could be the lucky one that helps her out with that. She’ll be wild after holding out for over five years…”

“Hmm…”

“Hmm…”

“Hmm…”

“Hsst! What if she hears you? You’re gonna get sniped the second you step out onto the street.”

Too late, Ludmila thought.

Not that she’d actually loose arrows at them from the office window. Possessing the enhanced senses of a Ranger, which grew keener as she gained in strength, Ludmila heard a great many things when people thought her out of earshot. Not all of it was so frivolous, of course, but it at least appeared that Isabella’s assessment of Ludmila’s ‘image’ was more accurate than she cared to admit.

The door to the Adventurer Guild office opened, and the sounds of the central district drifted up the stairwell along with the continuation to their conversation.

“You have to admit I’m right.”

“Maybe. She might be all that, but that’ll also mean she’s super picky about cultivating strong bloodlines. You better train hard – she probably won’t even give you the time of day unless you can beat her. Also, she doesn’t have those curves, so she’s just no match for Nabe.”

“Yeah, but she’s tall – those skirts of hers are probably hiding some amazing legs. Put some heels on her and who cares about the rest~”

“Ah, step on me, please!”

Ludmila stood up from her desk and walked over to the office window, peering down to see if she could pick out whoever had just spoken. One of the departing Adventurers glanced up at the office window, but he somehow didn’t notice her standing there. She watched them disappear down the promenade and out the southern gate with a frown. A note should probably be added that they became oblivious to potential threats when they thought themselves safe.

She turned back to review her report and pack her things, deactivating the magic lighting before locking the door. A sense of curiosity tugged at her, and she went to the room at the end of the hall. Lord Mare looked up at her approach.

“Ah, thank you for your hard work.”

“It’s the least I can do to return the favour that you’ve shown me, Lord Mare,” she smiled. “Has anything interesting happened?”

Ludmila walked up to where Lord Mare was seated, turning to examine the half-dozen Mirrors of Remote Viewing set up in the room. He was using them to keep track of various parts of the Adventurer Expedition headed north to the Azerlisia Mountains.

“They’re still making their way through Tob Forest,” he told her. “It’s all under the Sorcerous Kingdom’s control, so they’re basically doing survey work for the proposed highway.”

“What about those caves that are rumored to lead below the forest?” She asked.

“None of the entrances are around where they are right now,” Lord Mare answered. “The closest one is further north, near the border with the Empire. Hmm…”

Lord Mare’s voice trailed off in an uncertain way, and Ludmila looked away from the scenes presented by the mirrors.

“My lord?”

“N-no, it’s just something I heard from someone once – about a big underground system of caverns that spans the entire continent. I was thinking that maybe those are a part of it?”

“I’ve never heard of the like,” Ludmila said. “The caves below Tob are only mentioned as a part of the forest. If what you say is true, wouldn’t that potentially mean that there could be a whole empire under the Empire that we don’t know about?”

“Really? That sounds like trouble…”

“Well, if no one’s heard about this subterranean world, it either doesn’t exist or they simply have no way or desire to come to the surface. If nothing has happened in our recorded history, then there shouldn’t be any imminent worries.”

“What about the Adventurer Training Area?” Lord Mare’s worried voice rose, “I keep wondering if I’ll accidentally dig into something that might cause problems now.”

“You could just cover it right back up again if it happens, couldn’t you, my lord?”

“Maybe. We have no idea what’s down there, so it doesn’t hurt to be careful? A-anyways, things look like they’re going okay for now – the Adventurers aren’t randomly attacking the locals that they come across, and everyone is pretty helpful…what?”

Ludmila looked down at Lord Mare, wiping the growing frown that she belatedly realized had appeared on her face.

“I understand that they’re still essentially in training for the expedition system, my lord,” she said, “but isn’t this a bit too nice? I wouldn’t expect this warm welcome from most of these Demihuman and Heteromorph tribes – or any sort of diplomacy, for that matter – unless they were either allied with the Sorcerous Kingdom or faced with clear and overwhelming strength.”

Now it was Lord Mare’s turn to frown. He scratched his nose lightly as he appeared to ponder her words.

“Maybe we should set up some ambushes for them…I could go out and organize something, maybe…”

“I’m not suggesting that we have our citizens attack them,” Ludmila said. “It’s just that this experience so far might set an incomplete precedent. If everyone is friendly, or at least neutral, to their presence, the Adventurers’ expectations will be similarly twisted. All these people that they’re encountering would most likely be hostile to intrusion upon the lands that they depend on to live, if not for being subjects of the Sorcerous Kingdom. There will also be those that will attack them because, well, Humans are edible.”

“The Azerlisia Mountains haven’t been subjugated yet,” Lord Mare offered, “so maybe they’ll be able to experience that once they leave the forest…”

“I have every expectation that they will, my lord,” Ludmila said. “I’m just worried that it will come in the form of something that is far too powerful for them to fight directly, and they’ll be caught entirely unprepared since they’ll have just left the forest with that mindset. It sets the stage for a catastrophe, as far as the Adventurer Guild is concerned.”

“Hm…I’ll remind the veterans leading the expedition, then they can convey what they understand from experience.”

“That does seem like a more natural way to do things,” Ludmila agreed. “They can work on what they know, which will give them a sense of ownership in their methods. It probably won’t prevent disaster from befalling them if they encounter powerful opponents, but it should at least speed up the development of the appropriate procedures.”

“I think so too. We’ll be able to recover all the pieces even if the worst happens, so it’ll be a good learning experience.”

“Guildmaster Ainzach is going to cry tears of blood.”

“Shalltear is actually sponsoring the expedition,” Lord Mare told her. “Well, the Ministry of Transportation is. A bunch of us are in favour of her proposal for the northern highway, and Shalltear really wants to see it succeed.”

“I wasn’t aware of that, my lord,” Ludmila wondered if her taxes were being used for that. “Anyways, it’s about time for dinner – I can send one of my maids here with some food, if you’d like.”

“Ah, someone’s already gone to pick up dinner for me. Thanks, though.”

“In that case,” Ludmila lowered her head, “I’ll be heading down to hand over these reports with the guildmaster. Have a pleasant evening, my lord.”

“Un.”

Ludmila gave the mirrors one last glance. The Adventurers being monitored really did look like they were on some relaxed excursion rather than exploring a potentially lethal environment.

She made her way back down the hall, then down the flight of stairs to the first floor. Stepping outside, she turned north up the sidewalk and peered into the newly renovated training hall. The space was entirely exposed to street traffic, and several pedestrians could be seen observing the Adventurers going through their drills within.

Near one of the corners of the building, she found the guildmaster. He was tapping the point of a practice longsword lightly on the floor as he gazed out over the dozen or so Iron and Silver-ranked Adventurers. She fished out her written assessments on the Training Area sessions for the afternoon as she approached.

“Here are the reports for the afternoon, Guildmaster Ainzach.”

“Good job,” the guildmaster said as he took the reports in hand. “Seeing that they only walked out like whipped dogs, I assume that everything went pretty well.”

“That’s–they did do well, Guildmaster,” Ludmila thought they certainly didn’t sound like that. “I have no idea why walking out like ‘whipped dogs’ would be any sort of indicator of that, though.”

“Well, I figure that if they didn’t, you’d just dump their ashes out of the office window.”

Ludmila restrained a sigh. Since her administrative duties kept her at home and around the city in the weeks surrounding the summer harvest, she couldn’t join the ongoing expedition. Instead, she decided to help out a bit with the Adventurer Guild, as there were no teams for her to train with in the time she usually set aside for her regular Adventurer activities. The other proctors were out on the expedition, so she and the guildmaster were taking turns assessing the performance of the lower-ranked members undergoing training during that period.

With the additional time freed up by the Ring of Sustenance, she saw to House Zahradnik’s business in the morning and the evening, assessed Adventurer teams in the afternoon, and spent time training and reading up on promising subjects for development at night. It had barely been a week since she started, but the Adventurers-in-training already appeared to view her as some sort of harsh taskmistress.

“It’s not as if I shout at them,” Ludmila said. “I have no idea why you all see me that way.”

“Hmm…” the guildmaster raised a hand to stroke his moustache, “I think it’s more that you only focus on what they should be addressing, and you don’t mince words when they do. You pretty much never compliment them on anything that they do right, so it sounds like you’re constantly attacking them for everything. Come to think of it, your father was the same way as well – trying to get a compliment or anything beyond basic pleasantries out of him was like trying to socialize with Nabe…‘cept he was a lot uglier than Nabe.”

“It’s not hard to speak with Nabe,” she frowned.

“It’s not?” The guildmaster frowned back.

“Of course not,” she told him. “I think we get along just fine – some people just don’t like frivolous communication.”

“Uh…if you say so. Most people do like ‘frivolous communication’, though, so it wouldn’t hurt for you to stroke their egos a bit.”

“When it comes to Adventuring or any other dangerous vocation,” Ludmila replied, “that sounds like a good way to get people killed. They learn new things, gain confidence in their abilities, and receive their promotions. I find a life of honoured service gratifying enough.”

The guildmaster barked out a short laugh, shaking his head with a bemused expression on his face.

“Aura said something like that too,” he told her. “I guess some people just have a different approach. Well, as long as they continue to improve, I’m more than happy with my rising popularity since everyone’s so damn scared of ya. When they see me walking into the office, their faces look like an Angel just came down to save ‘em.”

Guildmaster Ainzach stopped stroking his moustache, and his lips turned up into a sly smile.

“Since you’re here,” he said, “how about you spar with the newbies for a bit? We don’t have any other polearm users, so they could use the practice against one.”

Four of the Adventurers practising nearby wavered and stopped, stealing glances towards where Ludmila was speaking with the guildmaster. She eyed their equipment, then looked over at the others in the hall. Eight out of the twelve present used swords of various types, then there were three warhammers and a battleaxe. She supposed it was to be expected. The most common polearms that could be seen in the region were spears, which were viewed as the weapon of impoverished smallfolk and unskilled militia by the vast majority of Adventurers.

Though much had changed in the past few months, culture and common perceptions remained very much the same as generations went by with nothing to forcibly alter them. Never mind that the Empire reportedly used it as the primary battlefield weapon for Legions, and the Adventurers that she sparred with could barely touch her, never mind best her, the nonsensical idea remained entrenched in their minds. Rather than demonstrating the benefits that came with using a polearm, all the results ever amounted to was another facet of her entirely undeserved reputation as a proctor and trainer – or perhaps a higher-ranked Adventurer who would bully trainees that were so weak that she could do it in a dress.

“I’d love to lend my assistance,” Ludmila told the guildmaster, “but I have an appointment in the scented quarter this evening.”

“I didn’t know you were one for perfume,” Guildmaster Ainzach raised an eyebrow. “I guess you’re trying to soften that image of yours, after all.”

“Actually, it’s an order for alchemical oils,” Ludmila told him. “The Alchemist said she would be done filling a shipment of glass arrows this evening, so I need to go over and pick them up.”

She patted the Infinite Haversack strapped over her left hip, and the guildmaster sighed.

“Figures. Well, you go ahead and have fun with that, I guess.”

“Thank you,” she inclined her head slightly, “have a good evening, guildmaster.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After stopping by her city manor to check if any urgent matters from Warden’s Vale required her attention, Ludmila strolled out of the north gate of the central district and into the common area of E-Rantel. She was accompanied by a new hire who went by the name of Lisette – an orphan raised in the city under the auspices of the cathedral – who now worked under Terah as a chambermaid.

Ludmila could almost feel the nervousness coming off of the young woman behind her, though she guessed it was probably due to her being unaccustomed to her new position. Then again, she was hired under the recommendation of the cathedral, and most of the temple staff there treated Ludmila with a strange sort of reverence that she thought more appropriately directed towards a saint rather than a noble. Sooner or later, however, she figured that Lisette would come to understand how plain and unassuming the lady of House Zahradnik was, and settle into a sense of normalcy.

If Lisette was determined to be a trustworthy and capable household servant, Ludmila would send her to the temple to follow in Aemilia’s footsteps as a maid with divine magic. After a month of study, her lady’s maid reported that she was beginning to grasp basic orisons, though the temple staff noted that it still meant that she was at least months away from harnessing first tier magic. Even so, Ludmila took it as promising news and an avenue to earnestly explore and promote in her household for the long term.

They came to the intersection leading to the Demihuman quarter, and Ludmila felt Lisette draw closer to her as an Ogre with a handcart suited to its hulking form came out onto the street leading out towards the northern gate of the city. More and more nonhuman races were moving into the repurposed pauper’s quarter of E-Rantel, but simply having them appear was not enough to acclimate the Human citizens to their presence. As with many other long standing customs and perceptions, only time would probably accustom the residents to radical change.

Strangely enough, she thought that her own people, and those who worshipped The Six in the duchy at large, were faring better in respect to the rapidly realigning realities of the Sorcerous Kingdom. They were a religious minority here in the first place, and had a long history of needing to ignore or put up with many things. Be it heathens, heretics, or nonhuman beings altogether, it practically amounted to the same thing when it came to their daily lives in the Duchy of E-Rantel. As long as their faithful weren’t being actively persecuted – and as long as something wasn’t trying to eat them – they had grown to be a fairly tolerant lot over the generations.

Ludmila and Lisette turned off of the northern street – and out from behind the odoriferous Ogre and its cart – into the western sections of the city. Five minutes later, they walked up to the front of LeNez, and Lisette came forward to open the door to the sound of brass chimes.

Much like the first time she had come to the shop, a wave of heat sweltering heat accompanied the cacophony of scents that billowed out of the entrance. If anything, summer made the experience three times worse. Within was the slovenly figure of Germaine LeNez, who very much looked like she had melted into a puddle over her countertop.

“Welcome…” The perfumer half-spoke into the glass, “Oh, hey Baroness.”

“What happened with those cooling boxes that you bought?” Ludmila asked, fanning herself as the prickle of sweat spread over her skin.

“I had ‘em for a while, but…”

“…but?”

“I wanted to figure out how they made them,” Germaine said, “so I tried taking one apart.”

“I see,” Ludmila frowned, “so it broke?”

“It blew up!” The perfumer sat up in her seat with a pout, “The assholes that made it took measures against others copying their work by making sure the thing would destroy itself if anyone tinkered around with it!”

Ludmila blinked at her outburst. Was that even legal? What if children tried tampering with the magical item?

“Wait,” she said, “how large was this explosion? Were you hurt?”

“Nothing a potion or two didn’t fix,” Germaine said as she stood up to walk around the counter. “Problem was that it took out half of my warehouse out back. Ugh…I’m so behind now.”

“I can’t believe they’re allowed to sell something like that here,” Ludmila said. “Does the Empire allow this…protection being used in their markets as well?”

“They sure do. I hear the Imperial Ministry of Magic and their affiliates use the same protections for their own stuff, or at least something similar. ‘Buyer beware’ indeed.”

She wondered if every magic item was like that. Would all of the streetlamps in E-Rantel explode if someone fiddled around with them? For that matter, she had set the newly-migrated members of Zurrernorn to task creating magic items for the everyday use of her own subjects. Hopefully there wasn’t anything absurd attached to them…

“Your stuff’s in the back,” the jingle of keys accompanied Germaine’s words, “just come around the counter – the warehouse door is wrecked, anyways.”

They followed the perfumer through a door at the back of the shop, and Ludmila eyed the row of alchemical burners adding to the summer heat trapped within the store. Efforts to turn her own demesne into a more cosmopolitan form that would turn it into a place of note on the map were proceeding apace, but it was often such a vague and colossal undertaking that she just couldn’t hold even a fraction of the pieces together in her head.

Under the illumination of a row of magical lamps, Germaine led them through a cluttered row of broken shelves and half-swept debris. On the far side lay her order: hundreds of hollow glass arrows, filled with various alchemical oils. She stopped at the edge of the shelves where they were placed.

“Luckily, I started on your order after I blew myself up,” the perfumer let out a nervous laugh, “else the entire block might have gone up in elemental splendour and pieces of yours truly would still be raining down on the street. You can start stowing ‘em away; if you have any questions, I’ll be more than happy to answer.”

Ludmila took a step forward, then stopped. She had handled the arrows before, but, now that they were filled with volatile alchemical oils, everything seemed just that much more dangerous.

“How much force is required to break these now?” She asked.

“Hasn’t changed from when you’ve dropped ‘em off,” the perfumer answered. “I get how ya feel, though. Glass is inert, as far as almost all other materials go, so you won’t have problems like acid eating through it while it’s sitting in storage. Hm…have you used any of these before?”

“I’ve used a vial of Alchemists’ Fire to kill some Cockroaches, once.”

“Uh, Cockroaches?”

“They were blocking the entire passage that we were trying to get through.”

Germaine peered at her suspiciously, but in the end said nothing. Ludmila lifted the first arrow from the padded surface of the shelf and held it up at eye level. The hollow point was filled with a clear liquid, and it occurred to her that she had no idea how to distinguish one arrow from another. She went up and down the shelves, taking a few arrows randomly and placing them into her Infinite Haversack. Returning to the front of the aisle, she stuck her fingers into the magical container, bringing a particular type of arrow to mind.

Ludmila felt a shaft brush against her fingers, and she withdrew it from the Infinite Haversack and held the point up between herself and the perfumer.

“Is this filled with Alchemist’s Fire?” She asked.

Rather than look at the head, Germaine bent forward and eyed the fletching on the other end.

“Hmm, yeah, that’s right,” she said. “I was gonna say that you should have figured out a way to distinguish one arrow from the other. Usually, people tint the glass, but I ended up marking the fletching to tell you which one is which.”

Ludmila flipped the arrow over. One of the feathers was marked with a bright red line.

“Blue is for frost,” Germaine offered helpfully. “Light green is acid; purple is lightning and white is holy water. Yellow is for signal arrows, dark greens are tanglefoot and black ones are thunderclap. The ones with more volume follow the same scheme, but the effects are, well, bigger.”

Replacing the arrow in her bag, Ludmila went through drawing different arrows until she was satisfied that the Infinite Haversack worked the way that Lady Shalltear had described to her. Bringing to mind the arrow type or the colour of its fletching called the appropriate one to her fingers, but she decided that drawing them by their content would result in a lower risk of retrieving the wrong arrow.

“That bag of yours is really something,” the perfumer said. “Containers like that are one of the big goals of every enchanter.”

“I take it that they’re not very common.”

“Ahaha…yeah, right. If they could be so easily made, economies would be turned upside-down. An enchanter of sufficient skill has to also have access to fifth-tier magic to make them. I’ve just started learning how to enchant things this year, but, well, my research has been pretty catastrophic, as you can see.”

The perfumer made a sweeping motion behind her, to the broken shelves, ruined equipment and shattered glass. Ludmila still couldn’t figure out how such severe security measures could possibly be legal.

“Was Re-Estize aware that all these magical items being imported from the Empire had the potential to be violently explosive?”

“Re-Estize?” Germaine scoffed, “Maybe one in a hundred nobles in Re-Estize could tell you the difference between a Magic Arrow and a Fireball. Even fewer care for anything beyond a loose description. It’s just parlour tricks or a convenience to them: something that either saves them coin, provides entertainment, heals their ouchies, or makes expensive things that they can tax. That’s as far as magic laws go in Re-Estize.”

Ludmila briefly reviewed her knowledge of Re-Estize law, deciding that the perfumer’s statement was not far off of the mark. Utility magic was at the forefront of what could be considered common knowledge of magic in Re-Estize, and few laws were in place for anything beyond how magical goods and services were taxed. The fees for divine magic were entirely out of the hands of the administration, being one of the sole rights held by the temples.

She couldn’t decide what led to this prevailing attitude amongst the nobility of her former nation. Even after a few months of study as a noble of the Sorcerous Kingdom, it felt like terminally fatal ignorance in hindsight. Her prevailing notion was that the lack of acceptance and institutions that promoted magic were probably the true culprits – if you didn’t know, then you didn’t know, and the collective mindset of your peers, entrenched by generations of ignorance, turned into a giant roadblock on the path of knowledge for the entire nation.

Breaking this chain of ignorance was central to her fief’s policies, as it was the first problem that needed to be remedied if she wanted to promote magical development in her demesne.

Germaine’s tired sigh drew Ludmila’s attention away from collecting her arrows, and she saw the perfumer frowning out at the ruined half of her warehouse.

“…if you don’t mind my asking,” Ludmila said, “are you alright? I mean, your business and all.”

“I’ll survive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Germaine replied. “Arcane vocations make a handy amount at my degree of expertise, so it’s not as if I’m going to go out of business and starve. What’s really bugging me is that this ‘accident’ is like having three or four years of my work go up in smoke.”

“Did your purchase come with any sort of warning?”

“Nope, not a peep. Just ‘thank you for your patronage, ma’am’ and off I went. Maybe it’s actually on purpose: the ‘feature’ only triggers if you take it apart in a way that another enchanter would if they’re studying it. It’s built to destroy their competition – literally.”

Ludmila frowned. Everyday magical items were looking more and more like malicious attempts to undermine rival industries.

“How do you know that?” She asked.

“Well,” Germaine answered, “after the damn thing blew up on me, I was hoppin’ mad. I didn’t want any more explosions, so I took the other two boxes, flew up and dropped ‘em into a rocky field outside of the city. Things just busted apart like normal, with no explosions. After that, I smashed ‘em up really good just in case, but nothing happened. Now maybe I’m just sour over everything, but I think it clearly proves that it was done that way on purpose.”

“I see,” Ludmila said. “Maybe there should be an advisory for this…did you let anyone know?”

“I went to the Alchemist Guild to see if they could do anything about my losses – they couldn’t – then I went to the Merchant Guild to bitch. Not that they could do anything: they didn’t make the things in the first place, and the Empire has a vested interest in protecting their magic item industry.”

“They probably also have a vested interest in not blowing up the property of their Suzerain.”

“Maybe. Stuff like that is out of us merchants’ reach, though. Maybe you could put in a grievance for me, eh, my lady?”

“Actually…have you given any thought to my proposal from back then?”

“…you’re really evil, you know?”

Ludmila turned away from Germaine’s glower and resumed gathering arrows from the shelves. She had made her offer before the perfumer suffered her setback – several times, in fact. The vision for her demesne grew in depth and complexity as time passed, which in turn allowed her to go into further detail into what she was looking for and what she could offer, yet she was always met with flat refusal.

She didn’t really believe that she was exploiting her in a moment of weakness. Far from it, she believed that they both had much to gain from the relationship, and would be better off in the long run for it. Still, it probably didn’t sound that way from someone in Germaine’s current circumstances.

The last of the arrows on the shelves were gathered, then Ludmila tried retrieving a few from her Infinite Haversack again.

“So what was your offer again?” Germaine asked quietly.

Ludmila returned the arrow and mentally fumbled around for an answer to the unexpected question. Dealing with business arrangements was really not her thing; she received a great deal of help from her friends when figuring out how she would structure her proposals.

“I would like to acquire your business,” she said after a moment of silence, “and your services as a talented arcane craftsman. Your shop and warehouse will be retained as a storefront in the city, and you may hire shopkeepers to manage sales and marketing. A new, larger facility will be constructed in my demesne to manufacture your products, and you’ll move in with a number of apprentices of your choosing. Accommodations will be provided as a part of the terms of your tenure.”

“Tenure…so I’ll be your vassal?”

“Well, technically every citizen in the demesne is my subject, but yes – you’ll have a formal contract of tenure in the form of an honour…i-if it’s not to your liking, I can lower your position to that of a company employee…”

It was something her friends warned her about. Talented and powerful individuals tended to enjoy their independence, so being formally inducted into a noble house’s rigid structure was something that might turn them off from an otherwise attractive proposal. Still, Ludmila was uncomfortable with the workings of a company, so she at least wanted the heads of the various ventures as her vassals.

“An honour…so I’ll be a member of the gentry? Dame LeNez – or something like that.”

“Actually, one of my longer-term goals is to promote a thriving community of magic casters in my territory. While the temples have their own organizational structure, arcane casters have nothing to speak of here. I haven’t given much thought to the actual titles themselves, but the title would be independent of your position within the institution that you work for.”

“Y’know, creating a ‘community’ of magic casters might be just a bit harder than you think.”

“A few others have mentioned that to me as well,” Ludmila replied, “even the Magician Guild says that the number of magic casters capable of performing second tier magic is extremely low. With so many mages fleeing after the annexation of the duchy, we’ve been left in dire straits – the tally made at the beginning of the new administration indicated that there are barely three dozen Human mages capable of casting second tier magic or better in the entire Sorcerous Kingdom. This includes Adventurers and crafters like yourself.”

“Okay, so you know…but you make it sound like you’ve got some sort of trick to deal with that.”

“It may seem like a trick to some,” Ludmila smiled slightly. “But I’m just doing it in the only ways I know how. We’ll be attracting as many as we can from elsewhere and identifying children who qualify to be raised as Apprentices. They’re not exactly novel ideas – the temples have been raising Acolytes using the latter method for centuries. I believe that the low rate of professional mages is not due to the inability to rise above the first tier of magic, but the lack of opportunity. It is difficult to make a living wage with low tier magic due to its oversupply in most places. This, in turn, makes magic casters pursue other professions instead to survive. They never advance because they cannot afford to.”

“So…what, you just plan on paying for all of them?”

“Yes?”

“That’s crazy,” Germaine laughed.

“It’s not,” Ludmila said. “The changes brought about by the Sorcerous Kingdom – the effects of Undead labour in particular – create a scenario where I can do exactly that. It doesn’t even strain my revenues due to the situation of my demesne.”

“I’d have to see that with my own two eyes – I hear most of the nobles are in a bind when it comes to implementing Undead labour. They got too many tenants and not enough land to adopt the new systems properly.”

“Does that mean you’ll be coming to Warden’s Vale?” Ludmila asked hopefully.

Germaine’s smile vanished, replaced by an uncertain frown.

“What about my research?” She asked, “That’s the entire purpose of this shop – to fund all the things that I wanted to learn in the future.”

“I actually wanted you more for that than anything else,” Ludmila said. “Once you get your new manufactory up and running, you may propose new projects that you’d like to pursue. You might even be able to lead entire teams of researchers, if things go well.”

“Everything I come up with will belong to the company?”

“Yes. You’ll be credited for your achievements, of course. I don’t know too many mages yet, but the freedom to pursue their craft and the recognition of their peers seems to be more valuable than mere material wealth.”

“I guess that sums it up pretty well,” Germaine admitted. “I’ll be up front and say that what you’ve been offering me this entire time has been a pretty good deal – too good, actually – but entering the service of a noble means giving up your freedom. I started from scratch: working hard as an apprentice since I was eight, then buying this place and building up my dreams…and then the work that meant the most to me went kaboom. I probably don’t have to tell you how much it hurts. Then, an opportunistic noble walks in and offers the chance to get it all back…uh, that’s what you’re offering, right?”

“I don’t know precisely what it is that you’ve lost, but if it can be replaced by new purchases from somewhere, then yes. As for the idea of freedom, well, my current subjects would say that there are plenty of benefits to being under the protection of a noble…and personally, I have different views on the subject.”

“Oh yeah?” Germaine raised an eyebrow, “Then if I’m to be your vassal, I’d at least like to know what they are.”

Ludmila met her look, wondering what she could say to a talented and independent individual like Germaine LeNez. They lived in the same world – the same duchy, even – yet it seemed that they also lived a world apart.

“Then...as a liege to a promising new vassal,” she said. “I would tell them that the idea of pure freedom is a childish notion. Though one might not be a literal slave, no one is truly ‘free’. All actions have consequences; all things are bound to one another in some way, and the world does not care how you feel about it or if you are even aware of the fact. Those who insist on ignoring this basic truth are some of the most dangerous individuals that can exist. The whimsical notion of freedom that so many feel that they have the right to has no inherent value. It is the price that the world exacts upon you, or what others have paid on your behalf, that ultimately determine what your measure of ‘freedom’ is worth.”

『Baroness Zahradnik, a Class B Advisory has been issued for Warden’s Vale.』

Ludmila froze for a heartbeat, then placed a hand over her ear to indicate that she was receiving a Message before turning away.

『How long ago was this?』

『The Bone Vultures on extended patrol reported in less than a minute ago.』

『Has the advisory been issued to the territory at large?』

『We are awaiting your confirmation.』

『Then what is it, how far away, and how long have they been there for?』

『A large force of Demihumans was spotted entering the upper reaches from the wilderness to the west. The Bone Vultures aren’t intelligent enough to make a comprehensive report, but it is at least enough to fill the main pass.』

According to the maps provided to her by Lady Aura, the main pass into the upper reaches was actually the vestige of an ancient highway, built by some civilization lost to time. If the entire pass was filled, then there would be thousands of Demihumans. It was a fair distance away from her borders, but swift raiders with Ranger skills could potentially make the trek in mere hours.

『Then go ahead and issue the advisory. It’s well into the evening, but make sure there aren’t any loose people out there before you close things up. Send an escort to the logging camp to get the woodcutters working out there home safely.』

『It will be done. Will you be commanding the defence?』

『Yes, of course. I will contact Lady Shalltear before anything else. For now, redeploy the Bone Vultures and Death Knights working for the villages – keep the fields and harbour safe.』

『Understood.』

The Message spell abruptly cut off. Ludmila turned back to face Lisette and Germaine.

“The price of freedom?” The perfumer asked.

Every generation of her family had sacrificed their entire lives, paying that price on behalf of so many that barely spared a thought for them...and now her turn had come. Understanding that only those who shared the same history could probably empathize, Ludmila could only respond with a mirthless smile.

“Something like that.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Lady Shalltear appeared in the centre of the garden gazebo, wearing her customary black ballroom gown. Her crimson eyes scanned the garden briefly before falling over Ludmila, who was standing slightly down the way.

“Good evening, Lady Shalltear,” Ludmila lowered her head in a curtsey.

“Good evening, Lady Zahradnik,” Lady Shalltear replied.

“I apologize for the interruption to your busy schedule,” Ludmila straightened to address her liege, “but I thought I should head over to see what was going on as quickly as possible.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Lady Shalltear told her. “You’re conducting yourself in a manner appropriate to your duties. I’d be remiss in my own if I failed to answer your call.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“I told you, it–”

“I feel that I must say this, my lady,” Ludmila said. “If this was Re-Estize, it would have taken days to deliver news of this to E-Rantel, then a week or more of deliberations while we did what we could to keep these invaders at bay. In the end, if they thought the threat significant enough, the Provost might have thrown some coins our way and told us to hire Adventurers…then we would have to make a posting and hope that an appropriately-ranked team could be hired in time.”

Ludmila sniffed, wiping the imagined frustrations gathering in her eyes.

“I cannot express enough how much it means to me to have a liege that shares the same priorities and responds appropriately, my lady. I hope you will forgive me for my insistence in doing so.”

Lady Shalltear looked up at her with a furrow on her brow, the light from the nearby streetlamp glinting off of her crimson irises.

“Well, that just makes me angry just hearing about it,” she said. “Rest assured, nothing of the sort will happen with us – the very idea that our defensive response would be subjected to such a delay is unthinkable. Still…it would have been nice if these Demihumans had waited just one more day.”

Her words reminded Ludmila that the Lizardmen migrants would be arriving from the Great Lake in the morning. Though Lord Mare’s alterations to the Vale were still ongoing, they were to consult with him on the areas where they would dwell and prepare the components for their homes in advance. The timing of the incursion into the upper reaches was quite annoying; it overshadowed the success of the harvest, and the sense that a hopeful new life awaited her subjects.

“If one could move Demihumans around the wilderness at will like that,” Ludmila said, “I think it would be trouble for a whole lot of people.”

The dark portal of Lady Shalltear’s Gate spell appeared in the Gazebo, and Ludmila made a last minute review in her head.

“Will you not be coming, my lady?” Ludmila asked. “I half-thought you might happily fly off at the opportunity to perform your more familiar duties.”

“There is a proper order to things,” Lady Shalltear answered. “The individuals who manage specific parts of my territory are also responsible for its defence. I won’t ‘fly off’ and rob them of their duties, and so it is the same for you. Besides, I’ll be there tomorrow due to the other thing. The report you delivered to me sounded quite vague, so I’m sure you have a lot of information to gather between now and then.”

“Yes my lady,” Ludmila nodded. “I should get started on that right away. Have a good evening.”

Lady Shalltear silently waved her away with a smile, and Ludmila stepped through the Gate. She appeared not far from where Lord Mare had placed his potted tree and startled Mrs. Linum, who was tending to it. The Elf woman fell back, staring at Ludmila with a face full of consternation.

“Good evening, Mrs. Linum.”

Ludmila offered a warm smile with her greeting, but, as usual, Mrs. Linum did not respond in kind. Well, at least she was moving around beyond the immediate area of her home now.

At some point, one of her daughters mentioned that Lord Mare had left the tree there. From that moment onwards, Mrs. Linum tended to it during every possible waking hour. At least the tree seemed to respond well to her care. Ludmila wondered if she would ever figure out what was going on with the beleaguered Elf woman. She hadn’t worked up the resolve to ask Merry about Lady Aura and Lord Mare yet, so the entire relationship between all of the Elves that she knew of remained a mystery. Ludmila turned and walked away from Mrs. Linum before putting away her smile, and the Elf woman returned to incessant vigil over Lord Mare’s potted tree.

Ludmila's gaze traveled over the village and its surroundings as she made the short distance to her manor. Despite having the advisory issued to them, the villagers continued working outside – though things were notably subdued compared to how they were normally. The Death Knights stationed at the manor, the warehouse and the village entrance remained at their posts, while pairs of Bone Vultures circled overhead in greater numbers. The Undead helpers assigned to each household now stood outside of their respective homes, armed with the weapons and shields that they had first arrived with.

With a good sense of how strong the various Undead servitors in her demesne were, and their various weaknesses and strengths, Ludmila thought that the village’s defensive arrangement was more than sufficient for the small Demihuman raids that the villagers of Warden’s Vale patrolled against in the past. This did not include the Death Knights, Elder Lich, and the flock of Bone Vultures, of course. The situation now was anything but normal, however, and various worries slowly mounted as she ran through various scenarios in her head.

“Welcome home, my lady.”

Wiluvien set down her work in the back, coming up to the hall to greet her. She lowered her head respectfully – Ludmila made the Linum sisters stop trying to perform the elegant curtseys they were trained to do out of worries for their health – then looked back up at her with a glowing expression. The idea that Demihumans were gathering in the south did not appear to worry her in the slightest.

“Aemilia didn’t accompany you?” She asked.

“I did not want to interfere with her studies with this sudden change in schedule,” Ludmila answered, “and there will be little for her to do here anyways. How have things been at home, Wiluvien?”

“Up until about twenty minutes ago,” Wiluvien replied, “normal, I suppose? Nonna went about informing the villagers, but she made it sound as if she were announcing it was going to rain in a few days. There’s something to be said for that flat delivery of hers.”

“I am just glad that no one appears to be panicking,” Ludmila said. “Nearly everyone here is from the inland territories – I feared that they would jump into the river and try to swim to Corelyn Harbour at the first whiff of Demihumans.”

Ludmila produced a pen and a stack of papers from her Infinite Haversack, placing them onto the nearby desk. Wiluvien came around behind her to remove her mantle.

“It isn’t the first they’ve seen of Demihumans here, my lady,” she said. “There’s the two races of the Krkonoše, then the Lizardmen that have been poking around the floodplain for the last few weeks.”

“…I suppose you are correct. They are my subjects now, so I seem to have set them apart from the rest. From your perspective, how have the Human villagers been handling their presence?”

“Aside from being aware of the occasional Krkonoše that wanders through,” Wiluvien replied, “I don’t believe they spend much time thinking about Demihumans at all. That’s just the way rural villages are, isn’t it? The little bit of land that they work on is all that matters. When I was still living in Fassett County, it seemed that Human villages didn’t receive much attention from the others unless they’d been set on fire by bandits.”

Wiluven had a point – one that Ludmila would need to address. The communities within a frontier territory needed to be well connected and communicate with one another to collectively respond to threats…or at least that was how it once was. With His Majesty’s Undead servitors comprising nearly the entirety of the realm’s defence, it was no longer as crucial. Still, she thought it important that every subject considered themselves a part of her demesne, rather than solely a member of their respective villages.

Heading over to the dinner table, she unfurled the map of the upper reach over its surface. The old oil lamps of her manor had been replaced by magical lighting, making the interior as bright as day. Not that it mattered to her, or to the Linum sisters, or Nonna…well, it did help Aemilia, who was the only member of her household in the Vale lacking in Darkvision or something better. She would have purchased them regardless, as a gesture of support for sales of their newest magical item.

“Wiluvien,” she said, “would you like to help keep track of things like you did in Fassett County?”

“In Fassett County…? Ah, you mean gathering information and marking it down on the map here?”

“Yes,” Ludmila nodded. “We do not have any Shadow Demons this time around, but we do have dozens of Bone Vultures.”

“Are Bone Vultures even capable of speech, my lady?” Wiluvien asked.

“They report to the Elder Liches somehow, but no, I haven’t heard them speak at all…maybe you’ll have to coordinate things with Nonna.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” Wiluvien said. “Will you be having Lluluvien keeping track of things at night?”

“Yes – you have already divided yourselves into night and day duties since I received this Ring of Sustenance, so it should give the two of you more to do. I feel like I barely give the two of you any work.”

“You don’t do a lot of the things that other nobles usually do, my lady,” Wiluvien said, “so I guess that’s where the lack of work comes from. We’ve got these Undead helpers to speed everything up, too. Hmm…”

Wiluvien wandered over to the hall, rummaging through one of the crates stacked along the wall. After finding what she was looking for, she held it up in her hand.

“May I use the pieces from these as markers, my lady?”

“That is a good idea. Go ahead and commission a large enough set of real markers from Kovalev – we will have to put those ones back at some point.”

What her maid held in hand was a game board, fashioned into a box that contained its pieces. Warden’s Vale had no lack of outdoor activities that her subjects could enjoy, but it was decidedly lacking in recreation for the indoors. With magical lighting slowly being introduced to the villages and each household, she had imported various things for her people to try out.

She had brought in a great deal of books as well, with the idea that the children learning how to read would find them useful and entertaining, but most books sold in the city were utilitarian in nature, or contained other subjects that were decidedly unpopular with most. It was vaguely disappointing – Ludmila devoured any and all books when she was a child, and continued to do so when she had the opportunity, so she thought others might share the same enjoyment.

Nonna entered the hall while Wiluvien was arranging the dozens of game pieces along the edge of the map.

“Report.”

“The advisory has been issued to all of the villages,” Nonna said, “and your other orders have been carried out.”

“Were there any problems along the way?”

“With the Human population, no. The Lizardmen were confused, and the Krkonoše have absolutely no idea what a Class B Advisory is.”

The Lizardmen were in the safest position out of all of her subjects, and she was fairly certain that the Krkonoše would utterly annihilate any sort of Demihuman incursion that tried to scale the eastern range. She would inform them of any developments relevant to them once she had a clearer picture of what was going on in the upper reaches.

“I will speak to them,” Ludmila told her. “Have you received any additional reports from the Bone Vultures?”

“They have been instructed to deliver information from the pass on an hourly basis,” Nonna told her. “Units on standby will be assigned to monitor known groups as they are identified.”

“Are they actually capable of that?” Ludmila frowned.

“You question the efficacy of His Majesty’s summons?”

“The Bone Vultures cannot even detect me when I am sneaking around in the woods,” Ludmila told the Elder Lich. “There are plenty of Demihumans much better at it than I am. His Majesty’s servants do what they are supposed to; I am under no illusion that they are capable of anything otherwise until it has been determined directly. As far as I know, this is the first time the Sorcerous Kingdom’s border defences are being earnestly tested: I do not fancy the idea of our performance being riddled with failure because we choose to turn a blind eye to our shortfalls.”

Nonna remained silent for several moments, and Ludmila turned her attention back to the map while the Elder Lich digested her words.

“Then what is your proposal?” Nonna asked.

“The only proposal I have regarding this is going out there myself,” Ludmila answered. “Almost everything better at reconnaissance in the Sorcerous Kingdom has been reserved for keeping an eye on major population centres, sent to the new army, or is an Adventurer.”

“What of the Krkonoše? Many of the feline-type Beastmen are superior to you in terms of Ranger skills.”

“They will have their paws full with what I intend for them,” she motioned for the Elder Lich closer to the table before pointing out the eastern range on the map. “The eastern range is imposing, but it is not impassable. There are many Demihumans superior to Humans when it comes to rugged and mountainous terrain. If they manage to break through there, they will spill into Corelyn County, putting nearly a quarter of the duchy’s total Human population at risk. The ideal defensive arrangement will be for the Krkonoše to hold the range, as it is already their territory. This is as close to a guarantee that we have for eliminating the most problematic avenue that these Demihumans may use, allowing us to focus on other areas.”

“I see,” Nonna said. “Then you intend to have His Majesty’s forces defend the remaining stretch of the border.”

“Yes,” Ludmila nodded, “but in order to figure out the best way to deploy what we have on hand, I need a better idea of what is going on out there – that is why I have settled on taking a look myself.”

“If this Area loses its commander, defence will be affected as a whole.”

“I believe I have a way to minimize the risk,” Ludmila said. “Have the Bone Vultures reported any flying Demihumans or Monsters amongst this group that came in?”

“We have only the initial report to make inferences from,” Nonna said, “but it does not seem to be the case thus far.”

“Then in that case,” Ludmila said, “We’ll be going on a little flight.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“I will say again that this is highly irregular.”

“This is a highly irregular situation – I am sure the most flexible Elder Lich I know of will be able to adapt.”

“…”

Ludmila stood upon the pier facing Nonna, who she could swear had an expression of dismay on her face.

After some thought, she decided to wait for two more hours before heading out, just in case flying Demihumans that could foil her plan were discovered in subsequent reports. During that wait, however, she grew increasingly restless as more and more markers indicating movements were added to the map on the dining room table. The flow of intruders entering the upper reach had not ceased coming through the pass, and Ludmila wondered how many tens of thousands were now gathered in the southern end of the basin.

The slow progress of the markers did ease her fears about raiding forces entering the Sorcerous Kingdom shortly after her appearance, yet at the same time added to another set of worries about what sort of Demihuman species would advance in such a manner.

Ludmila called in the Elder Lich working with the Lizardmen to take over for Nonna’s role in conveying the Bone Vulture reports to the Linum sisters – who were now both awake and working on the map – and increased the frequency of reports to fifteen minutes. In addition, she dispatched several dozen Bone Vultures to sweep over various areas in the upper reaches in an attempt to gain as much information as possible and fill in as many blanks as she could.

Between waiting for reports, she sent a preliminary warning to the Krkonoše across the river, spoke to Chief Esess, then went to the shrine at the top of the hill to pray for guidance. An invasion of this magnitude was nearly unheard of in the history of Warden’s Vale, and the sheer breadth of things that she needed to keep track of and think about was overwhelming her. It was as if the statement she made to Lady Shalltear about the inherent weaknesses of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s various Undead servitors had reached the ear of some evil being, and this invasion had occurred as a result to breathe life into her worries.

“If you are so hesitant about this,” Ludmila said, “then perhaps you could provide us with a better option? Wait – by any chance…are you embarrassed?”

“…”

Nonna sighed the biggest sigh that Ludmila had ever heard an Elder Lich sigh. It was her final protest, however, and Nonna floated into the air shortly after, hovering out over the water just below the pier. Ludmila gingerly got onto Nonna’s shoulders, placing one hand onto the Elder Lich’s hooded head to steady herself.

“Hm…your robe feels really nice, despite how tattered it look–WAH!”

Ludmila jerked violently at the sensation of her inner thighs being sharply prodded. The floating pair wobbled over the water for half a minute before finding equilibrium again. She looked down to see what had happened.

“I am really sensitive there, you know!”

“I do not.”

“Well, now you do,” she scowled down at the back of Nonna’s hood. “There is no need to grab me so roughly. Even if you do not fancy this idea, stabbing me with those bony fingers of yours is entirely out of line.”

“I did not stab you…”

Nonna adjusted her grip, and Ludmila had to resist the urge to wriggle uncomfortably. She should have worn two more layers of pants. Crossing her boots at the ankles, she tried to figure out how to brace herself more securely. The Elder Lich’s neck was nothing but a bare spine, and the rest of her was similarly thin and bony. She squeezed her legs together lightly.

“Does that hurt?” Ludmila asked.

“It is not causing any damage.”

“Alright, then we should get going.”

Ludmila adjusted the scarf over her head as they slowly rose into the twilight. Recalling how cold it was when she had flown with Lord Mare, she dressed herself in layers of winter clothing, hoping that it would be sufficient to stay warm at higher altitudes.

In what others would most likely tell her was a bird-brained scheme, Ludmila decided that the safest way to personally scout the incoming army was to fly over and take a look from out of harm’s reach. When they came closer, Nonna would cast Invisibility over the both of them, after which they would silently assess the situation firsthand. Unfortunately, Nonna could not maintain the cost of two Fly spells simultaneously, and a second Elder Lich would be far out of range maintaining a second enchantment in a situation where any number of things might go wrong – such as losing your Fly spell.

What resulted was their ridiculous-looking arrangement, with Ludmila riding on Nonna’s shoulders. A half-dozen Bone Vultures rose with them as a makeshift escort, just in case some flying opponent showed itself. The spell’s rate of acceleration was cut in half – and so was their maneuverability – but they would be able to achieve the maximum velocity after an extended period of time. At that speed, it would take them over three hours to reach the pass where the Demihumans were making their entrance. Along the way, she peered down intently at the landscape below, trying to spot any scouting or raiding parties sent in advance of the main body of the invading forces.

When they reached an altitude where she thought they wouldn’t be overheard by anyone below, Ludmila asked a question.

“How come you do not possess any accelerated flight spells?”

“If that is a complaint…”

“No, not at all,” Ludmila said. “I have read that Human mages are capable of casting them, so I figured that a powerful Elder Lich should as well.”

“Enhanced flight exists,” Nonna replied, “but it is not in my repertoire of spells.”

The arbitrary nature of the Undead servitors of the Sorcerer King manifested in all sorts of ways, and Ludmila supposed that this was one of them. Never mind those possessing lesser intellect – or none at all – even the powerful Death Knights and Elder Liches could not learn new spells, abilities, Martial Arts or Skills – they were forever stuck with what they had been created with, and could only work within those constraints. Thus, Lord Cocytus was actively seeking new means to improve them in his new army, and Ludmila was caught in the same quandary.

The servitors leased out to those who desired security forces were undeniably powerful when one thought of them as direct combatants. Unfortunately, the majority of the security in her demesne revolved around maintaining a presence on the border and having suitable reconnaissance to pinpoint potential threats. Death Knights, while supposedly capable of destroying small nations on their own, could be sent into the untamed forests of the borderlands and never find a thing unless they happened to trip right over it.

Roughly speaking, vocations with high stealth capabilities – Rogues, Rangers, Monks, and Bards – became problematic to detect by even Death Knights at around Platinum rank. In an environment with excellent cover, like the forests around Warden’s Vale, you could essentially hide forever from one. A Ranger specialized in combating Undead, like Merry, could probably destroy a Death Knight with enough time, simply due to the fact that it would never be able to find her as she chipped it down to nothing from afar.

Servitors like Death Knights made excellent sentries in the open streets of E-Rantel, but they were utterly dismal at patrolling places like the Great Forest of Tob or the southern frontier. The clear solution was to have those capable of reconnaissance working together with the powerful Undead forces of the Sorcerous Kingdom, which was one of the reasons why Ludmila envisioned training a Ranger corps for the nation. That would be a long time in the making, however, and so she found herself flying through the sky on the shoulders of an Elder Lich as a one-woman reconnaissance force.

About an hour into their flight, Ludmila spotted the first signs of the invading Demihumans. From their altitude, which was roughly level with the surrounding peaks, she could see a clearing in the forest being made. They were too far to make out any specific details, but it occupied a stretch of the river below the pass roughly 500 metres long.

“Do you see that?” Ludmila stretched her arm over Nona’s head to point in the direction of the clearing.

“No.”

“In the valley coming out below the pass, there is a clearing along the river.”

Nonna leaned forward, and Ludmila shifted her weight to counterbalance the change in posture.

“I still do not see what you are referring to.”

That was strange. Even from their distance, it should be nearly impossible to miss such a large hole in the forest. Perhaps Nonna did not recognize what she was seeing, or perhaps they had camouflaged their work in a way that required classes with scouting abilities to detect from a distance. She issued orders to one of the Bone Vultures escorting them, sending it back to deliver the information to Lluluvien in Warden’s Vale.

“What about the Bone Vultures,” she asked, “do they see it?”

“No,” Nonna said after a moment’s pause.

“Well, keep an eye out,” Ludmila said. “Check with the Bone Vultures once in a while too. Since Undead have Darkvision, I figured you would be able to easily see such an obvious clearing.”

“Darkvision has limited range, though it varies by the type of being that possesses it. If anything, it is your own ability that is anomalous – few beings possess natural optical traits that extend beyond one hundred metres.”

Ludmila wondered what Nonna would say if she told her that her Truesight extended as far as she could physically see. She had always assumed that other similar abilities worked the same way…apparently not.

“Would that mean if I attacked a target two hundred metres away in the dark, and they only had Darkvision that allowed them to see up to one hundred metres away, they would practically have no chance of returning the favour at that range?”

“These traits are only a baseline that individuals work off of,” Nonna replied. “Various classes confer additional feats or improvements that work in conjunction with natural sensory abilities. You yourself have conveyed this notion in the study of your own capabilities: your sensory acuity degrades and improves when you lose and gain levels.”

“Yes, you’re right – the application of this idea has just never occurred to me before now. You said ‘natural’ – does that mean that the arbitrary definitions of tier magic apply much like how they do for area effect spells or flight magic?”

“For spells cast directly, it should work as you describe. If a caster, for instance, casts a Darkvision spell on a target, that target should only gain the benefits of Darkvision up to twenty metres. Beyond that, they should see as they normally do.”

“What about magic items?”

“That is a matter still under study, as the enchantments of this region have a degree of flexibility, offering a non-standardized selection of magic items. The rules should still apply to each individual item, however; if a magic item confers Darkvision of 100 metres, then the user will only benefit from 100 metres of Darkvision.”

Didn’t that mean that Elven Rangers would always inherently be better at low-light combat than Human Rangers? For that matter, many races naturally possessed Darkvision and other sensory abilities that Humans did not have. It was no small wonder that Humanity only tended to thrive in lands where the sun could drive away the darkness. It was an unexpectedly serious consideration for her future Ranger corps that she had taken for granted; she had believed that supplying them with magic items would balance out their natural shortcomings.

“The Bone Vultures have noted light sources indicating fires in the area ahead,” Nonna reported after several minutes.

“And you?” Ludmila asked.

“Nothing yet,” Nonna answered.

“How does the vision of a Death Knight compare?”

“Both Elder Liches and Death Knights have no advanced skills at detection,” Nonna said, “so, presumably, it should have the base detection radius attributed to its raw level. It is possible that it may be better due to being a superior servitor summoned by His Majesty, but no testing has been conducted for this specifically.”

“I guess we’ll need to find out when we get back,” Ludmila said. “Our defences are sounding more and more porous as we discuss them.”

They continued their flight wordlessly, and Ludmila spotted two additional camps being raised, spaced at roughly five kilometre intervals from the first. The Demihumans appeared to be moving completely in darkness, betraying no sign of their presence outside of the camps with torches or smoke through the forest canopy.

She ordered Nonna to hover high above the first camp. Below, orderly rows of tents were laid inside, and a sinking feeling developed in the pit of her stomach. Since she could only see their shoulders and the tops of their heads, it was difficult to directly identify what the Demihumans were, but she felt that she already knew.

Looking around the campfires spread throughout the tents, she found several figures lounging around. Within a few minutes, another figure appeared, shouting and shaking its fist. The lounging Demihumans scattered at its approach.

“This is bad,” Ludmila frowned. “Head over to the pass.”

“Were we detected?” Nonna asked.

“They are not acting as if we have been noticed,” Ludmila answered. “But there are Hobgoblins, Goblins and Bugbears down there – it is a Goblin army. If they came from the west, we might be buried in them soon.”

“I fail to understand why this is ‘bad’,” Nonna said. “Reports of local Goblinoid populations indicate them to be a minimal threat.”

“In regular circumstances,” Ludmila said, “the reports would be correct. Goblins are fairly benign as far as Demihumans go…well, they’re generally weak and they know it, so maybe they just act that way when they’re alone or in small tribes in order to avoid drawing attention to themselves. They usually don’t bother anyone when they’re like that, and they’re not worth chasing around.”

As they ascended up the pass and the vegetation grew sparse, the teeming column of Goblinoids was made plain to see. There was no break in the stream going over the pass.

“When they start gaining in number,” she said as they observed the Demihumans passing far below, “they become more…confident? Or perhaps suicidally aggressive is a more apt way to describe it. Numbers like this will have no qualms swarming over the border for whatever reason they get into their heads. The presence of Hobgoblins make it an order of magnitude worse, as they will train their fellows, turning them into a disciplined and well-organized army with troops that are far more dangerous than the average Goblin. Every time this has happened in the past, we worked together with the Theocracy to clean them out, but that was with smaller armies formed out of the limited number of tribes in the upper reaches. This army is from elsewhere; it’s not unreasonable that we might be dealing with hundreds of thousands of Goblins.”

“How strong will the Goblins in this type of scenario become?”

“It depends how long this army has existed for, and where else it has been. There are nightmarish tales of Goblin armies numbering in the millions, overrunning entire nations. They become stronger as they raid and pillage and improve their equipment, so it rapidly spirals into a threat that nations must band together to exterminate. Fortunately, there has not been any news from the Theocracy or Re-Estize about this Goblin army, so it is likely they have just formed in the wilderness to the west with whatever crude equipment that they have managed to put together for themselves.”

Ludmila fell silent as they approached the top of the pass, trying to estimate the number of Demihumans flowing through. The column coming out of the forest on the western side of the pass seemed endless, and they floated there until the first traces of dawn outlined mountains across the basin. Not wanting to be spotted in the morning light, she ordered Nonna to take them back to Warden’s Vale. On the way, they found that five more Demihuman camps were being raised.

She wasn’t sure whether the fact that they were taking the time to establish bases was a good or bad sign. It would give her time to organize her defence, should they decide to move north. At the same time, however, they would most likely be adding the local Demihumans to their number as they encountered the numerous tribes living in the basin. There was also the possibility that they would move south, as well…perhaps she should send word to the Theocracy, in the unlikely case that they did not know what was happening along their northern border.

When they were far away from the growing number of camps, Nonna broke the silence.

“Will you be informing the administration of the developments here?” She asked.

“Of course,” Ludmila replied. “It will be included in my request for temporary forces to help deal with this potential incursion.”

“You believe reinforcements are necessary?” Nonna’s voice was incredulous, “There are eleven Death Knights currently stationed in your fief.”

“They are stationed to defend their respective village areas,” Ludmila told the Elder Lich. “If I take one from each fortified village, then use the two on standby since logging activities are suspended for the time being, I’ll have five to work with. This is nowhere near enough to conduct an adequate defence of the border – the administration will understand the rationale that accompanies my request.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The dark surface of the Gate spell widened over the gravelly flats, between the yards piled high with timber and the now conspicuously-drained marshes of the floodplain. It hovered there silently for a full minute, and Ludmila furrowed her brow as she waited for something – for anything – to come out. Her finger tapped impatiently against her arm: with everything that was going on, the delay felt like it stretched on for an inordinate period of time.

A snout eventually poked out, its olive scales glistening in the sunlight, nostrils testing the air. Then it stopped, remaining where it was: a single Lizardman snout, just floating in the air. Ludmila’s frown deepened. What would happen if the Gate closed right then and there?

She didn’t get her chance to find out, however, as several vibrant green streaks shot out of the portal. Excited squeals filled the air as they darted about, and the hovering snout finally pushed through.

“Wait!” A woman’s voice cried out

Several other Lizardmen spilled through, chasing after the green streaks. One of the streaks collided into Ludmila’s leg. A miniature Lizardman – a lizardling? – bounced off and went sprawling to the ground. The Lizardman chasing it froze not two metres away, glancing up at Ludmila, down to the figure lying at her feet and back again. The parent…probably?

Ludmila leaned over and reached down, stretching her hand out towards the Lizardman child.

“Noooooo!”

Ludmila looked back up at the woman’s sorrowful cry. The Lizardman – Lizardwoman? – held out some sort of object in front of her. Ludmila frowned. What did it mean? Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a carved amulet; somewhat similar to the emblem found on the flag of the Sorcerous Kingdom.

“…is that supposed to do something?” Ludmila asked.

The mother’s jaw fell open upon hearing Ludmila’s reply. She glanced down one more time at her child, then threw herself flat to the ground.

“M-mercy!” She cried, “Mercy, please! She’s only six months old – she didn’t mean anything!”

The Lizardmen exiting the Gate gathered some distance away, their attention riveted on the unfolding scene. A few spoke quietly between themselves worriedly, while others held their hands before their half-opened mouths. A few covered their eyes, as if some great tragedy was imminent.

“Well, you’ve certainly wasted no time instilling fear into your new subjects.”

Ludmila turned her attention in the direction of the new voice. Lady Shalltear approached from the direction of the still-open portal, black parasol idly twirling over her left shoulder.

“Good Afternoon, Lady–”

As she went to curtsey, she found the Lizardman child at her feet still, looking up at her with its huge eyes. She supposed that they were a bit cute in their own way.

『I think your mother wants you back.』

It blinked once before it got back up and tottered off. The mother snatched it once it got close enough and scurried away.

“Good Afternoon, Lady Shalltear,” Ludmila was finally able to make a proper greeting.

“Good Afternoon, Lady Zahradnik,” Lady Shalltear smiled as she went to stand beside her. “You seem to be off to a wonderful start with these immigrants.”

“I’m not sure just what it is that I did,” Ludmila’s gaze followed the fearful mother as she rejoined the other families that were arriving through the Gate. “She held up some sort of icon in my direction – do you know what that was all about?”

“Maybe she was trying to turn you?”

“I’m reasonably certain that I cannot be turned, my lady – do Lizardmen even have Clerics?”

“They have those who hold the title of priest,” Lady Shalltear said, “but it seems that they’re actually the druidic sort. If your objective wasn’t to scare them witless, then perhaps you should stop looking like you’re about to bite their heads off.”

Ludmila sighed, massaging her face with her fingers in an effort to clear away whatever expression she had on her face. Ever since her return to Warden’s Vale, the events of the morning caused her worries to sharply mount. She took several deep breaths to calm down, yet her agitation remained.

As they watched the Lizardmen continue passing through the Gate with their belongings, a small frown appeared on Lady Shalltear’s face.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Ludmila asked.

“I’m fine,” Lady Shalltear answered. “It’s just that they’re taking their sweet time. I was thinking that summoning some Undead to carry all of their luggage would have been more mana efficient than holding the Gate open for so long. I’ll just have to keep it in mind next time I have to move people around.”

“Thank you for your help with this,” Ludmila said. “I wasn’t sure how they were supposed to make their way over here all the way from the north.”

“Moving things around is usually my job, anyways,” Lady Shalltear waved her hand dismissively. “I just hope no one catches on to the fact that I can move grain around like the other day. I don’t mind helping you out, but if I had to do it for the entire duchy, I would be tied down for months.”

“Well, I don’t wish to impose on you anymore then I absolutely need to. I don’t think we’ll have anything resembling proper shipyards for the next year or so, though. Maybe I should get to rebuilding the old bridge and laying down those new roads that Liane and Clara have been working on with the Dwarves.”

Chief Esess appeared out of the group of Lizardmen gathering on the dried-out shore, walking up to stand before them. He dipped his head several times before speaking.

“Lady Shalltear,” he said, “Lady Zahradnik. We have completed moving all of our belongings.”

The Gate closed, and Ludmila looked past the Lizardman Chieftain at her new subjects. After some negotiation, the new Chief Esess had persuaded Lord Cocytus to allow 160 of the villagers from the Great Lake in Tob Forest to make the move.

“Are there any outstanding issues that require my attention, Chief Esess?” Ludmila asked.

“No, my lady,” he replied. “Well…they are mostly unsettled at the sight of the dry floodplain, though I explained what was going on in advance. I will put them to work right away.”

“I will be in my manor this afternoon, should you need anything further,” Ludmila told him.

Kesstris bobbed his head towards them one last time before turning around to see to his duties. Out of the corner of her eye, Ludmila saw Lady Shalltear smiling slightly.

“Does something amuse you, my lady?” Ludmila asked.

“He’s picking up your accent,” the smile widened.

“My acc–well, I suppose he would,” Ludmila said. “I’ve been training him for weeks on everything he needs to know. Reading and writing were the first of it…though I’m not sure how he’d pick up my accent from learning Re-Estize script.”

Ludmila motioned for Lady Shalltear to accompany her to the manor, her need to be with her liege in private pressing her to the edge of what she would consider improper. Not that rushing would help her – the issues brewing to the south needed to be worked out thoroughly.

“What are your immediate plans for them?” Lady Shalltear asked as they made their way to the harbour village.

“The marsh is still undergoing Lord Mare’s alterations,” Ludmila replied, “so Chief Esess is having the construction of their homes done in advance. They should be in place before water is redirected onto its new course to refill the new lake and marsh. The ones not doing anything will be collecting the exposed bog ore all around the floodplain.”

Though there was still one last farming village that needed to have its landscaping done, the remaining water in the floodplain had flowed into the new lake that Lord Mare had dug out in the north of the Vale. He was scheduled to finish his work over the next two weeks, including all of the changes they had discussed for the valley floor and the harbour town. With the Goblin army flowing into the upper reaches, it felt decidedly odd to be under imminent attack yet still have land development proceeding apace.

“Mare’s alterations, hm…” Lady Shalltear looked towards the empty marsh, “This entire thing seems quite ambitious. My heart would explode if I were to even think about any alterations to my demesne, yet here you are doing all this at once.”

“It’s essentially the foundation for all development along the valley floor, my lady,” Ludmila said. “Nothing will be able to begin down here until it is completed.”

“Hrn. Well, you know better than me when it comes to these things.”

Ludmila snorted derisively.

“I wonder about that,” she said. “The more I learn, the more ignorant I feel. There are too many missing pieces that I require for future development. I think that I’ll have to travel at some point to see how other nations do things. The Empire will probably be the first stop once things settle down here.”

“If you’re planning on heading there,” Lady Shalltear told her, “maybe you can kill two birds with one stone. Though they’ve become subordinate to us, there is an astonishing amount of resistance to the idea of Undead labour. Perhaps adding a Human touch would help – you’re probably the best acquainted with the use of His Majesty’s servitors when it comes to their various applications.”

“I would be glad to help in any way I can, my lady,” Ludmila replied, “but difficulties in adopting Undead labour in the Empire are most likely less due to its practicality and more due to the stance of their temples.”

“This again, huh,” Lady Shalltear muttered. “The temples of the Four Great Gods in the Sorcerous Kingdom are still clammed up after all this time – we’re not even doing anything to them! You’d think that not being flattened despite their bigoted views would have them returning to regular operations after four months.”

“Perceptions rooted in faith are hard to turn,” Ludmila said. “The northern kingdoms are strongholds of The Four – it will take more than a handful of months of not being squashed by His Majesty’s might to change their minds about a great many things. To sway the heart of the Empire – or even worse, Roble – would take a miracle of legendary proportions.”

Ludmila felt Lady Shalltear fall behind, and she turned to see what was wrong. Lady Shalltear was standing on the village lane, looking up at her with a furrow on her brow. After a moment, she shook her head and resumed their ascent to the manor.

“There are no worries about low-tier Undead,” Lady Shalltear told her, “It’s the mid-tier Undead – the Death-series servitors, in particular – that are collecting dust. Neighboring nations just uniformly balk at our offer.”

Collecting dust.

Her liege’s words fanned the embers of anger that she had been trying to stifle until they returned to her manor. She cleared her throat before speaking, just in case any of it leaked out.

“I’m not surprised, my lady,” Ludmila said. “Death series summons and Soul Eaters would be an untenable risk to nearly every nation. They are fundamentally His Majesty’s creations, so a country must consider what would occur if they were turned against them for any reason.”

“Preposterous,” Lady Shalltear sniffed. “If we wanted to use our forces against them, we wouldn’t be wasting time trying to lease them out.”

“I suppose it’s the principle of it. A dependency on foreign security carries substantial risks, while also being a blow to national pride.”

“Well, I still think it’s worth the attempt,” Lady Shalltear told her. “You have a certain way about you that inspires the confidence of others – it’s quite insidious.”

Ludmila did not believe that she was doing anything insidious. If anything, she was just putting her best effort into things and trying to be as genuine as she could while she clumsily felt her way forward.

Lady Shalltear’s parasol vanished before they entered the manor, and they made their way to the table in the living area. Wiluvien and Nonna lowered their heads at her approach.

“Welcome, Lady Shalltear,” Wiluvien said.

Lady Shalltear acknowledged their greeting before turning her attention to the map on the table.

“Oh…so this is our invasion…”

“To be honest, my lady, I’d rather it be someone else’s invasion at the moment.”

“Come now, Ludmila,” Lady Shalltear smiled, “this is right up your alley, yes? Take it from me: things can get too quiet, and it can become quite unbearable. You just sit there – twiddling your thumbs and praying for a chance to prove your worth as a defender of the realm.”

“That might be the case if I felt I was ready to be tested,” Ludmila admitted, “but this timing is simply obnoxious. It’s as if they were waiting for just this point in time to rear their ugly heads.”

Such was the crux of her frustrations. At the urging of Lady Shalltear, Lady Aura and Lord Mare, she had taken up the management of the entire southwestern border – the former holdings of the other Frontier Lords. The change was so recent that all she had was a map from Lady Aura and a few ideas about how to defend it tumbling about in her imagination. She certainly did not have anything that resembled a comprehensive defensive scheme for the entire border.

The only saving grace was that Aura’s maps reassured her that the only way north into the duchy was a series of passes that crossed the gap between the range to her east and the rest of the southern border ranges. Unfortunately, that gap was also nearly eighty kilometres across.

“You know,” Lady Shalltear murmured, “I’ve seen these pieces from somewhere before…”

“Really?” Ludmila said, “Well, it is a fairly widespread game. The pieces just ended up being used for the map since I don’t have any proper markers yet. I originally imported a bunch of things in an attempt to provide some sort of quiet recreation for my subjects. There are things to do aplenty outdoors, but we’re far from the city in terms of this sort of thing.”

“So you don’t play?”

“It’s a popular game amongst the inner nobility,” Ludmila replied, “but I’m not much for it.”

“That’s surprising, I figured a militant noble would love this sort of thing.”

“A militant noble would be too busy doing the real thing. The inland nobility – at least those with fanciful aspirations to militancy – are the ones that love it. They believe that being able to best others at this game reflects their tactical and strategic acumen. They especially loved to play against my father or my brothers, since it apparently proved them superior to us in a field that we were supposed to be experts in.”

“Then why did you bring this game in if you hate it so much?”

“It’s not that I hate it,” Ludmila said, “I just don’t think it’s in any way an accurate representation of even the lightest skirmish. The real world is not a perfectly flat board with perfectly fashioned spaces. We never see everything our opponents do – or our allies, for that matter. People don’t always move exactly as you want or expect them to, and the results between combatants are never so arbitrary. There are barely any logistical elements to this game, and…well, it’s just idle entertainment, at best.”

There was a tapping noise, and Nonna went to retrieve the Bone Vulture that was pecking away at the door. She and Wiluvien set about updating the map. During the course of the morning, seven new Goblin encampments had appeared, and Ludmila wondered if it would slow down any time soon. After updating the map, Nonna left to attend to matters around the village, bringing the Bone Vulture with her.

After the door quietly closed, Ludmila broached the pressing topic that she wanted to address.

“My lady,” Ludmila said, “is my perception of His Majesty’s Undead forces skewed in some way?”

“How do you mean?”

“After taking a look at what was entering the basin last night, I had a form requesting additional forces submitted to the administration in E-Rantel. It was rejected within the hour, saying that what I possessed was already more than sufficient to deal with what was described in the report I attached to the request.”

“I believe you have eleven Death Knights here,” Lady Shalltear tapped her chin lightly. “That should be more than sufficient, no?”

“Nonna said much the same thing,” Ludmila replied. “Even after going over my rationale with her, I’m not sure if she agrees. It’s said that Death Knights can destroy a small country, but I feel that this idea is used as an arbitrary and irrational measure of what is required for any given situation.”

Lady Shalltear took a sip from the tea that Wiluvien had laid out for them, looking down at the map for several moments before speaking.

“You realize that you’re possibly the only Human that has come up to the administration and stated that nearly a dozen Death Knights are insufficient for your purposes, yes? I can imagine one of those Elder Liches choking on its own dust as it reviewed your request.”

“It was a frank assessment of the situation,” Ludmila said. “I am duty-bound to do so…have you read the report?”

“No, I was in Feoh Berkana earlier this morning,” Lady Shalltear replied, “then I went to deliver the Lizardmen after that. Just looking at what you have here, however, I do not see any issues. Your family has defended this place for generations: why do you believe that there will be any problems now?”

“It’s because we’ve been conducting our defence in a particular way since the establishment of our house,” Ludmila said, “but in the present circumstances, this strategy will fail.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Lady Shalltear furrowed her brow, looking down at the map as if to discern why such a statement had been made. When her gaze returned to Ludmila, the confusion over her features only grew.

“I won’t pretend to have any great knowledge of strategy,” she said, “but what you claim doesn’t make much sense to me. Actually, I believe that it wouldn’t, to most. The forces at your disposal are far beyond what your family has worked with in the past, so you should have an easier time of it, no?”

Ludmila felt her mouth twitch at her liege’s words, and she pressed her lips into a thin line. It was a mode of thinking reminiscent of times past, when her family petitioned E-Rantel for assistance in dealing with outstanding threats. Beyond her own memories, it was something that previous generations of her house had also been subjected to.

If they could defend the frontier with a few dozen villagers, then surely offering funds to refurbish equipment or maybe even hire Adventurers would ‘solve’ the problem. Sometimes, they just offered vagrants picked up off of the street to replace their losses, thinking that the inhabitants of the Vale were no different than any other of the smallfolk of the interior. It was a fundamental difference in their respective realities: the safe and secure lords well away from the threats of the frontier were incapable of grasping even the smallest fragment of what was involved in maintaining the security of the border.

Like the games that had them fancy themselves masters of warfare, they saw the world as a board where their ‘mastery’ could be exercised the exact same way. A few of the more brash nobles even suggested that they could take over House Zahradnik’s duties, since her family was obviously full of incompetents. In response, her parents quietly took the offerings of material and manpower with thanks, understanding that it was better than nothing. They never, however, entertained any overblown aspirations to command the border.

Feeling that she and Lady Shalltear shared many similar attitudes, she assumed that her new liege would also understand her dilemma – at least in part – so it was somewhat disappointing to hear that very same line of thinking from her.

Ludmila lightly tapped her fingers on the table, wondering what she could say. Perhaps Lady Shalltear did not see the issue because she was unfathomably powerful in her own right, and she probably had much more powerful forces protecting her demesne as well. A difference in perception due to an unbridgeable gap in strength.

Shaking herself out of the mire of bitter memories, she decided that she should at least communicate her point of view.

“My lady,” Ludmila said, “you once told me that there is an irreconcilable chasm that exists between a faithful vassal that stands in her eternal vigil at the edge of the realm, and one who sits comfortably at the right hand of her sovereign. That, even if everything functions as expected, sometimes it is simply not enough, and that plans drawn from raw intellect may be mercilessly scattered to the wind.”

“I recall saying something like that, yes.”

“Then, if I may, I would like to address what appears to be a chasm of its own that currently lies between us. Though we are both faithful defenders of His Majesty’s realm, the sheer difference in strength, or perhaps the nature of our respective territories, results in a difference in perception. I also hear and see it in how His Majesty’s servants conduct themselves, and I sense that these differences are present at all levels of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s administration and military thinking: from the missives and policies of the royal court, to the commentary of the Elder Liches. I even see it in the official forms for requesting military assets.”

“You have no need to step around so lightly with me,” Lady Shalltear told her. “You did swear to provide me with honest counsel, after all.”

“Yes, my lady,” Ludmila lowered her head. “Then–”

“Actually,” her liege held up a hand, “I will rephrase that: explain your thoughts to me in a way that I will be able to understand. I’ve had it about up to here with others in the Royal Court speaking in references and roundabout ways that fly right over my head.”

They actually did that? It didn’t seem like a good way for the executive offices of the government to communicate at all. What if it resulted in miscommunication or someone didn’t get what was going on at all? At the least, it was an ongoing problem for Lady Shalltear, by her own admission.

“There are some more straightforward ideas that shouldn’t require further elaboration,” Ludmila said. “For one, there’s never been a Goblin army this large before in the history of the upper reaches. Much smaller armies have appeared in the past, but our cooperative relationship with the Theocracy on the other side of the basin has always resulted in us collaborating with their forces when threats beyond a certain degree in severity appeared.”

She paused in her explanation to wait for any questions Lady Shalltear might have. Her liege pulled out her green notepad and started writing. After a minute, she nodded slowly and gestured for her to continue.

“For the long-term strategy House Zahradnik has employed in our everyday defence of the border, I suppose a story might convey the general sense of the idea.”

“A story?”

“Yes, a story,” Ludmila replied. “A centuries-old tale, related to us when we were young. It’s actually from a nation deep in the great desert far to the south: a place even more distant than my family’s ancestral home.”

“I know I asked for something easy to understand,” a dubious expression painted over Lady Shalltear’s face, “but I feel that the bar you’ve set for me has been lowered further than where I intended if you’re resorting to children’s tales.”

“Well, it was meant to be instructional – both of my parents knew a version of it.”

“Fine. But if it ends with ‘and they lived happily ever after’, I’m going to bite you.”

Ludmila couldn’t figure out whether Lady Shalltear was joking or not. She was probably joking. When was the last time she refilled that bottle of blood? She took a sip of her own tea, trying to figure out how to relate the old tale.

“There was once a great commander,” Ludmila began, “who was respected and feared for his cunning tactics and intricate stratagems far and wide. On a certain campaign, he found himself positioned poorly in a fortress city against an enemy army thirty times the size of his own. Rather than giving in to despair, or doing his best to organize a hopeless defence, he devised a daring scheme. He hid his soldiers and told the citizens to go about their daily business inside the city. When the enemy army sent its scouts to gather information on the city, they only noted this great commander standing on top of the gatehouse, singing a silly children’s song.”

“…I don’t get it.” Lady Shalltear frowned.

Ludmila’s lips turned up in a smile, recalling her father’s own when she said the exact same thing.

“Neither did the scouts,” she said, “but they returned to their own generals and reported their findings, as was their duty. The generals conferred with one another, each as confused as the other. In the end, they decided it was some unfathomable ploy laid by this famously devious enemy commander, so they bypassed the city.”

“So this great commander survived, just like that?”

“He did.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lady Shalltear scoffed.

“When the enemy generals eventually found out,” Ludila said, “they were understandably furious, but it was too late.”

Ludmila looked down at the map before them, gesturing broadly at the northern passes.

“The defence of Warden’s Vale over the generations puts into practice the principles put forward by this tale. Our activity on the border is purposely and painstakingly maintained. All intruders who enter, perish. No one is permitted to escape. We are an unfathomable, unknowable threat that no enemy survives, and our lush and inviting land lends to the idea that it is an insidious trap where only death awaits those that succumb to its allure.”

Ludmila reached out and picked up a game piece from the side of the table.

“That is why this,” she held it up in front of her, “is child’s play. Even our day to day routines are more intricate. Every patrol, warning, trap, ambush or lack thereof is part of a grand illusion that manipulates their preconceptions of the wilderness tribes, and inexorably binds them to a construct composed of their own fears. For that very same reason, we do not attack the tribes to the south unless we must, to avoid giving our neighbors any sense of our true nature. To maintain this illusion, we kill what we must, and we sacrifice what we must.”

She put the piece back down on the map again, where she predicted that the next encampment would be discovered. They were creeping out like vines, embracing the rivers and ravines at predictable intervals. At this rate, they would occupy the majority of the basin in a few days.

“Rather than directly pitting strength against strength like so many would-be ‘commanders’,” Ludmila said, “we leveraged what strength we had in a way that provided the most effective results. As a result, we have raised a wall that is far more cost effective in terms of lives and resources than the Great Wall of Roble. Like any wall, however, holes will appear when sufficient force is brought to bear against it.”

“So,” Lady Shalltear looked up from writing, “you’re saying that this Goblin army will not be deterred by this ‘wall’ that you’ve relied upon for generations.”

“That is a part of it, yes,” Ludmila nodded. “Since they are newcomers, they will not possess the same history as the tribes of the upper reaches…and I doubt that the fears of the local tribes will much affect the decisions of the Hobgoblins commanding an army so large. In the past, newcomers would occasionally do the same thing, but we possessed sufficient strength to intercept and destroy them, thus enforcing the shadow of dread we cast over the rest.”

“And you can’t do that with the Undead forces at your disposal?” Lady Shalltear asked.

Ludmila reached out and picked up some white-coloured game pieces from the side of the map, placing them in their defensive positions.

“Of the strong Undead servitors at my disposal,” she said, “I have eleven Death Knights. Of those forces, I can free up five Death Knights at most. The golems are for civilian construction, and the Death Warrior is busy operating the ship. The Elder Liches are an option, but I am loath to use them: the ones that came after Nonna are much weaker than she is – I can probably destroy one myself, or at least come close to doing so in this sort of environment. They would be best used defending the villages along with the Skeletal Undead placed on the walls, but I would consider it a failure of my duties if intruders were allowed to get that far.”

“Why would that be a failure of your duties?” Lady Shalltear frowned. “As long as your enemies are vanquished, this would be considered a success, yes?”

“…is that how it works in your personal demesne?”

“Of course. Intruders can run around all they wish – the defensive layout of my territory is designed specifically for just that. As long as I get them all in the end, it’s my win.”

Ludmila frowned. She was really starting to become curious about Lady Shalltear’s territory. She had heard of defences that were designed in such a way that breaches were both expected and anticipated, but never had she heard of any schemes that allowed invaders to run rampant over vast amounts of important territory.

“But what if they get past you?” She asked, “Won’t the territories further inland be at risk? What about your duties?”

“They would have to step over my dead body to advance into the next territory,” Lady Shalltear answered. “If they did, well, they would be in for a long swim through the Underground Lake. Gargantua would be dealing with them then.”

“…this doesn’t happen often, does it?”

“There’s only been one major incursion in the past. An army of invaders managed to get through myself, Gargantua, Cocytus, Aura, Mare and Demiurge.”

“Just how in the…did they take some route that circumvented your territories?”

“Oh, no – there’s no way around, so they just fought their way through…but then the forces commanded by Aureole annihilated them.”

Her statement beggared the imagination. Just who were the Sorcerous Kingdom’s enemies? Considering the age of Lady Aura and Lord Mare, the invasion Lady Shalltear described should have been recent, but such a calamitous conflict would have surely been known the world over. Even the tale of the Eight Greed Kings was still widespread after nearly five centuries, and she thought that the Sorcerer King’s servants might be as strong as they.

“Aureole…the Human commander you mentioned back then?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Lady Shalltear smiled, “it’s my hope that you’ll become something like her in the future.”

“That’s, uh…this feels like a very lofty goal, my lady.”

“Well, keep at it. In the future, I’m sure you’ll laugh at the memory of your worries here. At any rate, we’ve digressed – what was it that you wanted to say?”

Ludmila blinked, trying to figure out where they had left off.

“The expectations that accompany your defensive duties appear to be a bit different from my own,” she said. “The foremost duty of a Frontier Noble is to keep the border secure against external threats. Nobles in general are granted land by their liege with the expectation that they will develop it into productive territory and contribute to the growth of the realm. Having Demihuman invaders freely running around my territory or even striking off inland is decidedly counter to those duties.”

“Hm…that’s understandable enough, I think. These Human territories are so terribly fragile compared to our own.”

“I’ve made the effort to mitigate that somewhat,” Ludmila said, “but the best option is to not allow the chance for harm at all. There’s also another problem, which might be unique to my own demesne.”

“What’s that?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“Nearly all of the Humans here,” Ludmila answered, “including myself, are followers of the Six Great Gods. We might have grown to become more tolerant than our brothers and sisters in the faith to the south, but, by and large, we do not possess a generally positive outlook when it comes to non-Humans. I’ve been tasked to integrate the Lizardmen into my demesne, and more Demihumans may move into the territory. This is already a monumental challenge; having other Demihumans running around causing mayhem will cripple any efforts to fulfill His Majesty’s desire to promote good relations between the peoples that will come to live here.”

“So invasion by this army is something you cannot risk at all…how about adding the Skeletal labourers and Bone Vultures to your border defences? They are still essentially fighting forces, even if they’re not being used for other things.”

“There are so few that they cannot be used as a reliable force. From what I’ve seen of them, the Skeletal labourers are somewhere around the strength of a lightly-armed Gold-rank Adventurer, while the Bone Vultures are a bit stronger than that.”

Looking back down to the map, Ludmila pointed to the growing number of markers indicating Goblin encampments.

“Hobgoblins are some of the most unwelcome of threats that can befall a border territory,” she said. “They don’t just gather other Goblinoids to them: they train them as well, turning them into soldiers that can be just as strong as Imperial Legionnaires. My baseline assumption is that everything out there is equivalent to a Silver-rank Adventurer or better. Though their equipment is most likely crude, they will still have rudimentary Martial Arts, quite a number of magic casters, and a mix of irregular forces made out of the other races that they’ve managed to pick up along the way.”

“I see,” Lady Shalltear nodded lightly. “So you’re saying that the other Undead forces in your demesne are too close to these Goblins in strength, so they can easily be overwhelmed by the sheer number of them.”

“That’s right – the best I can hope for when it comes to them is to form a single contingent out of the Skeletal labourers and set them to defend some position. The Bone Vultures are being used for limited reconnaissance, and can be organized into groups that harry loose enemy forces, if need be. There’s also the chance that they have some flying monsters like Manticores or Griffons that they’ve tamed and turned into aerial forces, so I need to hold a few dozen in reserve. Death Knights are the only reliable defenders I have in this situation, and having only five means that I cannot hold the border properly.”

“Why do you say that?” Lady Shalltear asked.

Ludmila gestured to the stretch of territory bordering the vale that the Demihumans were most likely to approach.

“Because I have an 80 kilometre stretch of mountain passes that I need to defend along this border,” Ludmila answered, “assuming they don’t somehow crawl over the mountains further west. As powerful as our Death Knights are, they can only be in one place at any one time. Our opponents won’t be conveniently queueing up for the Death Knights to kill them – tens of thousands of them might be coming through passes five to ten kilometres across. Most will make it in, and once they get into the forests on the other side, the Death Knights won’t be able to find them. Seeing my fortified villages, they may also just decide to move on to raid the territories further inland, which would be an absolute debacle.”

“Hm…I’ll admit that this isn’t a problem that I have with my own realm,” Lady Shalltear said. “Any way in is narrow and clear enough that something like a Death Knight would have no issues holding any of the routes against these Goblins. With the knowledge that the administration has rejected your request for additional forces, what was your plan?”

Ludmila pointed down to the markers placed in the middle of each pass.

“This, pretty much,” she said. “I doubt they’ll come through the canyon, but I can’t risk it…this effectively leaves me with four Death Knights for four passes. Since His Majesty has explicitly prohibited us from performing acts of unwarranted aggression against our neighbors, all I can do is wait and see if they’ll give me an excuse to retaliate.”

“…retaliate?”

“Yes,” Ludmila replied. “Retaliate. I cannot afford to wait for them to swarm in, but I also cannot preemptively attack them due to our national policy, which I am obliged to uphold. The next best option is to go on the offensive after I am provided with justification to do so.”

“Meaning you’ll lead your forces out into the wilderness and attack the Goblin army…to be honest, it’s not something that we would normally consider. Unless we’re performing some duty for His Majesty, or we perceive that some great danger has befallen him beyond our borders, defence of the realm is the order of the day.”

“I didn’t note any amendments to the crown laws that state this,” Ludmila said. “Is it some sort of unspoken rule or custom?”

“A custom, perhaps?” Lady Shalltear replied, “Our realm is defensive in nature, and leaving it to go on the offensive against potential invaders is unheard of.”

“How would this apply to me?”

“As long as you do not run afoul of the laws laid out for His Majesty’s subjects, I suppose that you’re free to enact whatever measures you wish. This wilderness is unclaimed by any nation, so your actions will be unrestricted out there.”

Ludmila crossed her arms, trying to figure out the best course of action as she stared down at the map of the upper reaches. Her entire plan hinged on the Goblin army sending something to scout out the passes. Undead were reviled almost universally, so the chance was nearly guaranteed that at least one skirmish on the border would occur before they realized just how tough Death Knights were and opted to evade them instead.

She would need to keep as many scouting parties from returning to report as possible, then stop any small warbands that attempted to cross the pass after something eventually made it back to their commanders. In that small window of opportunity, her retaliation would have to disorder the nearest Goblin encampments enough to arrest their momentum.

With the forces on hand, however, the main avenue she had to accomplish this would be to silence the encampments one at a time, and she doubted that it would be effective enough to suit her purposes. Maybe there were alternatives…

“What about the Goblin army that’s stationed around Carne village?” Ludmila said, “Would diplomacy be possible through them?”

“They’re an entirely different population,” Lady Shalltear said. “Do Humans all get along just because they’re all Humans?”

She figured that would be the case. Demihumans warred between one another just as much – no, probably more – than they did with Humans. Since the buildup in the upper reaches represented a threat to the Theocracy as well, perhaps she could coordinate something with them…

“The more I think about it,” Lady Shalltear’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “the more I fancy this idea of going out and making a mess out of these Goblins.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “but I won’t deprive you of your duty. I have a better idea of your position now, but I still can’t override the administration’s decision…how about I lend you a few of my own vassals?”

Ludmila turned her attention away from the map, looking to Lady Shalltear beside her.

“You would do this for me, my lady?”

“It is within the bounds of our contract, is it not?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Then, hm…well, nothing too strong. Below Death Knights in strength. No Dragons.”

The idea that Dragons may have been an option hadn’t even crossed Ludmila’s mind. One would certainly wreak havoc if they had no way to answer being attacked from the air…

“Then,” Ludmila said, “if you don’t mind, the three Shadow Demons that worked with us in Fassett County.”

“I did say a few,” Lady Shalltear frowned, “but is that enough? You were panicking over not having more than a dozen Death Knights on top of everything else.”

“Yes,” Ludmila replied with a smile. “The Death Knights were the best option presented by the request forms, so I required a great number of them to conduct an appropriate defence in a place that suited their strengths. I will, of course, accept any additional assistance you would be willing to offer, but, with a few Shadow Demons, the scope of what I can accomplish will broaden immeasurably...”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“You’re up, kiddo.”

“But–”

A fist came in and bashed Nob on the arm. Nob let out a pained yelp, stumbling forward. As Nob nursed what would probably be a bruise in a few minutes, Nob glanced back and realized that Nob was dead.

Dead. Big dead. Stupid Hob – deading Nob.

If only they had never come.

With the back of one hand, Nob scrubbed a tear off of Nob’s cheek, glowering down at the driven stake that Nob had just stumbled past. Piled around it were skulls: Goblins, Hobgoblins, Bugbears, Ogres, Gnolls, Trolls…all types of skulls, one for each of the races that lived – or once lived – in the basin. It was one of many markers that warned the tribes living in the area that beyond lay a grim fate. If you crossed the threshold, and were one of the races in the pile, you were marked for death.

Nob told them. Nob warned them. Stupid Hobs.

They came from the west, with their big army and big weapons and big, stupid heads. They killed the old boss and told Nob and Nob’s tribe to join. Nob had fun for a few days, but then the Hobs told Nob that they were going north – north! Many others told them that going north was stupid, but stupid Hobs were stupid.

Humans were weak, they said. Humans weren’t civilized enough to mark their borders like that, they said. The Hobs had their big everything, so of course they became stupid. The Hobs took Nob north with them, saying that they valued what Nob knew about the land.

They wanted Nob for what Nob knew, but they didn’t listen to what Nob knew? Stupid Hobs. Now, Nob was dead.

“Hey kid – what are you standing there for?”

Nob looked up at the rough voice prodding Nob forward. It was a big Hob named Zrol: one of the army bosses. Zrol and Zrol’s soldiers stood on the other side of the marker, looking at Nob expectantly. Nob swallowed. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Once in a while, hunters would chase a rabbit across the markers a little bit and come back safe and sound.

“Nob not want.”

“Hah?”

“No go!”

“You’ve got a job to do, soldier,” Zrol told him. “Just head up that pass, then come back and tell us what you saw.”

The Hob boss cranked a mean-looking crossbow even as the Hob spoke in a nice voice. It made a soft click, and Zrol’s hand moved to fetch a bolt from the bag at Zrol’s waist. They used nice big words to impress Nob; make Nob feel important, but Nob knew Nob was just fodder.

Nob darted uphill towards the pass before Zrol raised the weapon.

Dead dead dead dead dead dead dead.

The words in Nob’s mind sounded in time with the patter of frantic footsteps. Wait – Nob shouldn’t be walking out in the open. Nob scuttled into the trees.

Dead dead dead dead dead dead dead.

Nob’s steps slowed. The higher Nob went, the more sparse the trees and bushes became. Nob raised Nob’s nose and sniffed at the air. Humans. Yup, they were still there; their scent carried by the winds from the north. The scent was much stronger now – were there more? Why did the Hobs have to kill Nob?

Dead dead dead dead dead dead dead.

Nob went forward, trying to find a way with more trees up the pass. Nob didn’t want to die yet. Maybe Nob could hide inside a bush and wait until Zrol went away. Maybe the Humans wouldn’t find Nob.

Dead dead dead dead dead dead dead.

Nob looked around. Nob was far past the marker. Eyes darting around, Nob looked down at the bald stones of the pass. Nearer to Nob, the leaves of the bushes moved silently in the wind.

Something hit Nob. Nob went flying into the trunk of a tree, hitting Nob’s head. Through blurred vision, Nob thought Nob saw a shadow approach, shifting through the brush. Nob’s sight cleared and the shadow became a tall thing.

A Forest Giant? No, the Humans deaded them all long ago…the Humans...Human?

Nob stared over at the shadow in the trees. It was a Human. At least it smelled like the Human smell on the wind. Why was it so huge?

As it stalked forward, Nob looked around for Nob’s spear, but Nob must have dropped it. Nob’s bow…was broken – Nob’s rear had landed on it. Nob felt around the strip of leather tied around Nob’s waist and found an old friend. It was Nob’s rock. A trusty weapon Nob had used to kill many birds, rats and squirrels. Also, it was a rock made out of stone. With the stone rock, Nob might be able to win.

The Human reached down. Nob moved to get up and surprise the Human, but it was faster than Nob had expected. A cold, cruel hand wrapped itself around Nob’s scrawny neck, and Nob found himself lifted high up in the air.

Humans weak? Stupid Hob was stupid – Humans were stupid strong! The Human was holding Nob up so high with just a single hand! Nob hit the Human with all of Nob’s might, but the stone rock only glanced off. There was a dull metal shell over the Human’s arm. That wasn’t fair! Nob kicked and flailed away, but the choking grasp only tightened around Nob’s neck.

Out of breath, Nob hung limply in the air. The stone rock fell out of Nob’s shaking hand. Nob was dead. Stupid Hobs – deading Nob. If only they had never come.

The world whirled. Nob was flying through the air again. Was this death? No, it was fluffy. Fluffy like the old boss’ bear hide blanket. Maybe death was fluffy. Nob looked up and saw a giant feline head looking back down with flaring, crimson eyes.

Nob’s mouth fell open in a terrified shriek. It was only then that Nob realized that there was no sound.

As the days went by, Ludmila quietly tracked the progress of the Goblin army as it spread across the upper reaches. As expected of the disciplined and militant nature of their Hobgoblin commanders, they advanced in an orderly and predictable way while they carried out what was probably their established routine. Encampments were placed roughly five kilometres apart from one another, following sources of water. At each new camp, they would dispatch Goblin scouts to investigate the surrounding area before sending soldiers forward to start the next.

Local Demihuman tribes were either pressed into service or turned into food. Many fled east, ahead of the advancing army, causing all manner of chaos in the basin. So far, none had attempted crossing over the northern passes.

At home, she was not idle either. Immediately after Lady Shalltear departed she had a warning scribed to be delivered to the cathedral in E-Rantel, who would in turn pass the information on to the Slane Theocracy. She wasn’t sure how long the south would take to mobilize, but any relief from that side would be welcome. Warnings were also sent directly to Count Völkchenheim, Countess Jezne and Countess Corelyn, as their territories were at risk should the advancing Goblin army break through in their direction.

The Royal Court was, of course, provided updates, but there was no hint of any action being taken by the administration yet. Several orders to the various businesses in E-Rantel were also sent out, including a request for additional alchemical supplies from Germaine LeNez.

While the Goblin army was initially making its way into the upper reaches, she also took the time to visit each of the farming villages in turn. Rather than offering empty reassurances, she told them exactly what was going on in the upper reaches and what her expectations were. Hopefully, letting them know would cement the idea that staying within the safety of their villages was in their own best interests. On a more positive note, the magical ateliers run by the newly-arrived Zurrernorn members reported that their products were being sold as quickly as they were being made.

Isabella suggested that it was mostly due to the villagers being trapped within their respective walls and looking for curiosities to satisfy their boredom. Since their logistics were being handled entirely by Undead servitors, movement of supplies between the harbour and the villages remained uninterrupted. Overall, it seemed that her subjects were treating it as a sort of holiday where they spent their harvest earnings on items and furniture for their homes, as well as socializing with their fellow villagers. One of Ludmila’s concerns before the Demihumans started to arrive in the upper reaches was that the Farmers might hoard their earnings, so it was a relief to her that money was starting to circulate in her demesne.

Ludmila supposed things could have been much worse. She had half expected mass panic from the mix of city folk and other denizens of the inlands, but perhaps they were so detached from the threats of the border that they were essentially oblivious to them. Another part of her wondered if it was due to the subtle influence that she had over her subjects at large: it was a rather reckless attitude to take for purely civilian villagers. If it were Re-Estize, it would have been decidedly suicidal. Looking back, she thought it was perhaps the core of what made the villagers of Warden’s Vale so stoic in the first place, and the breakdown of that state due to the loss of her father and her refusal at the time to take up the mantle of lordship.

During her overall preparations, one troublesome issue was the matter of the third village, which was still undergoing construction. Though the village buildings were mostly complete, the walls were not even started yet. In the end, she divided its population between the two completed villages, having them either share living space with smaller families or stay in the as-of-yet unoccupied service buildings around the market square. Doing so freed up the pair of Death Knights assigned to the third village, bringing her total available number up to seven.

Lady Shalltear’s promised vassals arrived the same night she left, as well: six Shadow Demons. Her liege had sent her the three that had assisted in Fassett County, plus three more for the Linum sisters to train in the same manner as the first set. She was uncertain what she would ever need six Shadow Demons for, but maybe they were to be used elsewhere. Wiluvien and Lluluvien happily went to work, providing her with intelligence on the Goblin army’s composition, the way their camps were arranged, and even some of their movements.

In the time that she had taken to make her own preparations, the Goblin army had split into two, separate arms – each following one of the rivers flowing down from the west. The southern arm had already occupied the southern half of the central valley, while the northern arm was behind due to their later start. Ludmila felt that it was an ideal time to strike: the northern arm would be in an overextended position until they came around to meet with what appeared to be the main body of the Goblin army in the central valley.

Surmising that the Hobgoblins would continue with their orderly routine, she sent a dozen Bone Vultures to monitor the string of camps that appeared to be creeping their way up to the western passes. She set additional Bone Vultures just in case new encampments were being made in the direction of the eastern passes, then others to see if the army continued to progress towards the Katze River and back down the central valley to complete their logistical loop.

Now, all she needed to do was wait for the Goblins to come to her.

After waiting in a sheltered crag above the western passes for eighteen hours, a Bone Vulture arrived to deliver the report she was hoping for: a small group of Hobgoblins and Goblins leaving the closest encampment, heading north towards the westernmost pass. She stretched her cramped muscles and hopped onto Nonna’s shoulders, and together they flew off to see what the evening would bring them.

Two hours later, Ludmila spotted movement in the trees below. She ordered the two Death Knights at the top of the pass to pull back and out of sight.

“It looks like our first guest has arrived,” she told Nonna. “Cast Invisibility on us and descend to about a hundred metres over the ground.”

The Elder Lich complied with her orders, and a ghostly film superimposed itself over the both of them. Ludmila held up her hand to study it, then looked down at Nonna.

“If someone has an Invisibility effect on them,” she asked, “can they see other invisible people?”

“It would still require something that confers the ability to see invisible persons.”

That seemed annoying. She scanned the surroundings as they descended, looking for any other scouts.

『I am keeping track of this one. Fly us over the pass and see if there are any others.』

After an hour flying back and forth, Ludmila decided that the lone Goblin was the only one: a sacrifice to test the rumors that the invading Hobgoblins had undoubtedly heard about Warden’s Vale from the locals.

『There does not appear to be anything. Time to head back and see where our little Goblin friend has gone.』

They found it not far from where they had left it, carefully picking its way up the slope. It went from bush to bush, searching for groups of trees to advance between. Every few minutes, it stopped to look around nervously. Judging from its appearance, it was not a very important Goblin. It held a wooden spear in one hand and a crude shortbow in the other. Aside from that, it only had a loincloth that was practically a tattered leather rag.

Ludmila tapped her chin as they followed the Goblin on its meandering journey up the pass. Of the Goblin forces observed, the Hobgoblins appeared to have some semblance of proper equipment. The rest were divided between haves and have-nots. Stronger looking Bugbears and Goblins appeared to be decently equipped by tribal standards, while the weaker ones were armed like the one below. If it was one of the ones native to the upper reaches, there was a chance that she could make use out of it.

She looked ahead, trying to predict the Goblin’s future course.

『Head over above that group of pines, about five metres from the ground. Silent Cast Silence on me when the Goblin gets there. Leave the spell with its default radius; I will be dropping down after you cast it.』

The Elder Lich flew over to the place that Ludmila indicated, and she checked the ground below. It seemed safe enough to land on. The Goblin eventually made its way forward, and the world suddenly became silent. Ludmila leaned backwards off of Nonna’s shoulders. She tumbled over in the air before landing on her feet.

Sneaking up behind the Goblin, she reached out to grasp the end of its spear, then lashed out with her foot. It was a basic Strike Art that drove an opponent back more than anything else, but it was enough to send the Goblin flying headfirst into a nearby tree. Ludmila tossed the crude spear aside, walking up to the Goblin who lay there in a daze.

The Demihuman looked up at her with unfocused eyes, and she leaned over to pick it up. It tried to move as she did so, but she grabbed it by the neck before it got too far. Ludmila held it out at arm’s length, wrinkling her nose at the smell as it kicked and flailed and doggedly struck her bracer with a rock.

Ludmila looked up in the direction of the pass.

『Send your Squire Zombie over here.』

After some time, the Krkonoše Squire Zombie appeared. The Goblin had ceased its struggles by then, and she tossed it over to the Squire Zombie.

『Hold onto this guy – don’t let him escape.』

The Goblin came to shortly after being caught, and Ludmila thought its eyes would come out of its sockets as it screamed up at the sight of the Undead Krkonoše Zombie. No sound issued from the Goblin – nor any other sounds, for that matter – due to the Silence spell blanketing the area around Ludmila, but it kept screaming nonetheless. Eventually, the Goblin fainted again and lay still.

Ludmila gestured up towards Nonna, and sound returned to the world.

“We’re going back to the far side of the pass,” she said. “Time to find out what we can do with this guy.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Ludmila wanted to pinch her nose as the smell of Goblin wafted through the air. Presumably, they smelled that way for the same reason that she herself avoided using perfume or picking up any other strong scents whenever she could: to prevent being detected out in the wilderness. Goblins, however, never ever seemed to wash, for fear of losing the odour they had accumulated. She could smell them from quite a distance away if she was downwind. It was not pleasant, if she were to be pleasant about it. This one had added to the already-noxious odour by soiling himself.

She produced a length of twine to bind the unconscious Goblin’s wrists in front of him, then sniffed her hands gingerly. Blech. She would probably have the Squire Zombie scrubbed clean and left out to dry in the wind after this.

Instructing the Squire Zombie to pick up their new captive, she led them to the other side of the pass and below into the trees. She tied the Goblin’s bindings to a tall sapling, then frowned down at him as she prodded his leg with a boot. The diminutive Demihuman did not stir.

“Is there some magic that will wake him up?” She asked.

“None in my repertoire,” Nonna answered, “though I believe that there is a spell developed in this region called Alarm that serves a related function.”

“I thought that one just drew attention to whoever tripped it…well, I suppose that is neither here nor there.”

Ludmila reached into the Infinite Haversack on her right hip, withdrawing a flask. She removed the cap and poured a thin trickle of water onto the Goblin’s greasy scalp. Again, the Demihuman showed no reaction.

Fine, be that way.

She put the flask away, drawing out an enchanted one. A glob of steaming village stew spattered onto its head.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

The Goblin shrieked, shaking his head violently. A trickle of stew rab down his cheek, and he abruptly stopped to start awkwardly lapping at it.

“Hey, you. You’re fina–”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

He shot to his feet abruptly, then jerked and fell over when his tether went taut. The Goblin rolled around for a bit before finally getting back onto his knees.

“No dead!” He squealed as he tried to get away, “No dead! No dead! No dead!”

Was he frightened by the presence of the Undead? Ludmila looked up at Nonna. The Elder Lich returned her look, as if to refute her unspoken assertion.

“This is obviously your doing,” Nonna said as she floated down to stand beside her.

Ludmila looked back at the Goblin, who continued to pant ‘no dead!’ as he attempted to break free of his bindings. She put away the enchanted flask, then stepped away from Nonna. The Goblin’s bloodshot eyes followed her. She took a step towards him, and he shrieked again, resuming his desperate attempts to free itself.

How is he more scared of me than an Elder Lich? I’m not even Undead, for Surshana’s sake!

“Look,” she said, “I am not going to hur–”

Well, no – she would hurt him if she had to. For whatever reason, the stupid Goblin caught on to what she was going to say and panicked even more. The sapling quivered violently as the Goblin ran this way and that, seemingly unable to comprehend that he was tied to the tree.

“Stop that!”

The Goblin stopped.

“Name?” She asked, trying to look friendly.

“No–”

The Goblin stopped partway, peering at Ludmila suspiciously. Her frown returned.

“Nob!” It squealed in a panic, “No dead!”

“Alright, Nob,” Ludmila said, “where are you from?”

“You?”

“No, you.”

“No, you.”

She wanted to reach out and slap the thing. Instead, she tried settling herself with a deep breath, which she instantly regretted.

“Where is Nob from?” Ludmila tried again.

“Nob from there,” it used its chin to point south, over the pass.

“How far?”

“Not know,” Nob’s eyes widened after the words left his mouth. “No dead! No dead!”

It would have been much better if they had sent a Hobgoblin instead. Unfortunately, time was precious now that they were starting to poke their noses north.

“Does Nob’s tribe live over there as well?”

Nob nodded.

“What about this new tribe that’s appeared?”

“New tribe…new tribe not from there.”

She would need to keep her words simple, but Ludmila thought she could get what she needed out of the Goblin.

“So, this new tribe–”

“Army.”

This little…

Ludmila cleared her throat and the Goblin backed away, tripping over its tether. It fell into a panic again. Ludmila sighed.

“Nob.”

The Goblin stopped and looked up at her again.

“Where did this army come from?”

“From other side – where sun goes.”

“Why did the army come here?”

“Army big – can go where army wants.”

“So there is no reason why the army came here?”

He stared at her blankly for a moment, then shook his head.

“Nob not know. Hob take Gob…to be big big? Take all.”

She supposed that it was what it boiled down to, which was what she already knew. Gleaning any in-depth information from a Goblin was just an exercise in frustration. Her immediate priority was to figure out what their plans were, then move according to what she could discover. She examined the scrawny little Demihuman, wondering how she could loosen its tongue. Even the slightest move made him panic, but firm words seemed to grab his attention.

Ludmila withdrew another enchanted flask, this one filled with icy cold water. She took a long, refreshing draught, watching Nob out of the corner of her eye. The Goblin swallowed audibly.

“Is Nob thirsty?” She asked.

Nob nodded. Ludmila knelt down, placing a wooden cup on a large stone and filled it halfway to the brim. The Goblin eyed the cup for a long moment before moving forward. He jerked to a stop about half a metre away, once again reaching the limit of his tether. Nob shot her a betrayed look. She lifted the cup from the stone.

“Does Nob know why Nob is here?”

“Hobs send Nob.”

Ludmila remained silent at the answer. Nob looked at the cup in her hand, licking his lips.

“Nob go look, but Hobs deaded Nob. Said no go, but no! Stupid Hobs.”

She leaned forward and placed the cup of water in Nob’s hands. The Goblin raised it to his mouth and drank in greedy swallows that sent rivulets off of his cheeks and down his neck. When he finished, he looked around before throwing the cup at the rock it had been placed on. The cup bounced off and went skittering into a bush. Ludmila ordered the nearby Squire Zombie to retrieve the cup, and she filled it again.

“Look where?” She asked, holding up the cup out towards the Goblin.

“Look where Hobs want go?” Nob answered, looking past Ludmila’s shoulder to the north, “Nob say no – Nob say no! But Hob say no, so Nob go. Nob deaded…Nob not deaded?”

He looked across at her hopefully.

“If Nob continues to work with me,” Ludmila handed over the cup again, “I will forgive Nob just this once. Now, why does the army want to go north?”

“Home…home no good. Skies turn bad.”

“Skies turn bad…”

“Sun always,” Nob shook his head. “Water shrinks. Plants turn brown. Animals go away. Skies turn bad – no good. Tribes fight for springs; for food, then army comes. Army…belly big. Take all. Eat all. Drink all.”

Aside from the part about the army, everything he described sounded like it was actually the Sorcerous Kingdom’s doing. While the Krkonoše corrected the weather in their own stretch of territory, she hadn’t dispatched them to work along the rest of the southwestern border yet. The two months of ‘perfect’ weather provided for the farmlands for the Sorcerous Kingdom resulted in decidedly imperfect weather south of them. It was sunny unless Lord Mare had it rain, and the rain was only enough for the areas where he wanted it to rain. The Katze river was two metres lower as a result, and she could only imagine how dry the upper reaches had become.

The implications of being able to control the weather at will were both promising and terrifying at the same time. It could mean freedom from the whims of weather, providing great plenty for an entire nation, or it could ruin one by forcing drought and turning fertile fields and forests into parched wasteland. Ludmila wasn’t sure if the Royal Court only intended to manipulate the weather to compensate for the delayed sowing season this last spring, but, if it continued, vast swathes of the Theocracy would probably be devastated.

Shelving her thoughts on the matter for later, Ludmila turned her attention back to the Goblin quietly waiting for her to say something. She reached into her Infinite Haversack again, drawing out several strips of venison jerky. Nob’s eyes latched onto them, and drool started leaking out of the corner of his mouth.

“It sounds as if Nob does not like this army much,” she said, handing a piece of meat over to him. “Nob was forced to come into my territory, and the army is taking everything for themselves.”

Nob nodded his head empathetically as he chewed on the tough strip of meat.

“In that case,” she smiled, “There is something I would like for Nob to do…”

Leaning in the shade of a withered birch tree, Zrol watched a dozen Goblins carry the newest shipment of supplies into his camp. Their skinny green forms glistened with sweat, and just looking at them increased his own discomfort. It was hot – damn hot. Every single day, the sun beat down on them without a single cloud in the sky, and the night brought little in the way of a reprieve. His Dwarf-forged plate mail felt like that damn Human chef’s infernal grill, and he could only remove it when he was off duty.

Damn Gnolls – this basin is more like a cauldron.

Well, he supposed he couldn’t rightly blame them. The landscape was as they had described, and no one realized that there was some sort of drought going on at first. The weather on the western side of the pass was exactly the same, except that the river basin on the other side was much larger. A dry spell was a dry spell – it wasn’t as if anyone could control the weather, so there was really no one to hold responsible.

Things were going slower than everyone would have liked. The local tribes were uncooperative, food was scarce, and water could only be found in the streams and rivers fed by underground springs. With so many dried conifers everywhere, he felt like they were walking into a giant pyre. General Avod shared his concerns, as did all of the other captains, so he had volunteered to lead an advance contingent north to locate greener lands.

“Captain,” one of his lieutenants walked up and saluted, “scout’s returned.”

“…really?”

“Ayup. Scampered in to report just now.”

“Bring him over here, then,” Zrod told the Lieutenant.

“Yes, sir.”

The Hobgoblin saluted smartly, then marched off in the direction from which he had come.

Zrol honestly hadn’t expected the first scout he sent off to return. The first reconnaissance forces they sent were weak Goblins that hadn’t been extensively trained, with the idea that they’d most likely fall prey to whatever was out there. A detachment had been left at the impressive-looking territorial marker to await its return – or observe whatever it riled up. The Goblin hadn’t returned for over two days, so he figured something got him along the way. It wasn’t uncommon, and they’d have sent a real scouting force since nothing ridiculous had reared its ugly head.

Every local tribe in the area had the same basic fears: that the Humans to the south were too strong to fight, and the Humans to the north…they couldn’t even tell you anything substantial about the ones to the north. Only that they were supposedly there, and that death awaited anyone that dared to cross the markers. As the officer in charge of leading the foray north, he entertained these fears that bordered on superstition, but only to a point. Armies that fell prey to rampant, unsubstantiated rumors did not remain armies for long.

The lieutenant returned with the Goblin in question. It was as skinny as the rest, though it actually looked better than when it had parted with them, though quite a bit dirtier, if that was possible. Zrol frowned at the stains that ran down its chin and chest.

“Let’s hear it,” he said.

The Goblin looked up at him hesitantly, and Zrol grew impatient. He straightened to his full height, glaring down at him.

“Report!”

“Nob…Nob back.”

Nob smiled up at him. The average Goblin was dumb, but this one seemed especially idiotic.

“Okay…now that Nob is back, what did Nob see?”

“Nob see…Nob see trees, bushes, rocks, stones, stone rocks…”

Zrol sighed as Nob listed every possible thing that he saw, noting the rocky pass and the forests on the other side.

“…Nob see pond and stream – water from ground. Nob come back. Nob see–”

“That’s enough,” Zrol held up a hand. “So there weren’t any traps or anything?”

Probably not. A Gob this weak wouldn’t have returned if he set one off. As expected, Nob shook his head.

“So none of these Humans you’re all so scared of popped up to kill Nob?”

Nob flinched at the word Human, frantically looking everywhere as if one would appear upon mention. Zrol sneered at his reaction. Pathetic.

“Human…Human no kill Nob,” Nob replied. “B-but Human smell everywhere!”

Zrol scowled down at the Goblin. Was he still trying to justify his obviously nonexistent fears? He exchanged a glance with the other officer, who shrugged in return.

“One last question,” Zrol said. “What are all those stains on the front of Nob?”

There was obviously blood mixed in with the mud, but Zrol wondered if the little scamp would try and lie to his face.

“Nob find rabbit. Eat. Drink good water from pond. Find bird. Eat.”

Nob patted his belly with a satisfied look on his face. At least he didn’t lie to him – maybe there was hope for the guy, after all.

“Return him to the training camps in the back,” Zrol told his lieutenant. “Thirty strikes with an iron rod when he gets there.”

Nob made a strangled sound upon hearing his punishment.

“W-why?!” He cried, “Nob did job! Nob good Nob!”

“Nob did a good job,” Zrol nodded, “but Nob still broke the rules. Everything scrounged up is to be brought back to the quartermaster for redistribution – can’t just eat it all yourself. Tell you what: since Nob did good, we’ll take five off the top.”

Zrol started walking off, then looked over his shoulder at the lieutenant.

“Tie him up good and throw him on the next litter out. Twenty-five strikes with an iron rod when he arrives – the trip’ll give him some time to reflect on what he did.”

“Yes sir.”

The lieutenant dragged the screaming Goblin away. Zrol smiled grimly to himself as he made his way through the camp. A good water source; food just out there for the taking. The path that was taken back and forth was clear of obstacles, and, judging by the Goblin’s time away, it couldn’t be more distant than a day’s march. Probably less, if he had been sneaking around and getting sidetracked. He looked up to the evening sky – the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

Zrol returned to his command tent, where several of his aides awaited. He looked at each before speaking.

“Our canary came back,” Zrol told them. “There’s clean water; food; everything we need. I want two contingents formed: one to hold the pass, and another to set up camp on the other side. There’s Human territory somewhere beyond, so let’s make good use of the night while we can.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 9

Chapter 9

As night fell upon the camp, Zrol’s two contingents – composed of 120 soldiers each – departed north towards the pass. The cool winds coming down from the rocky slopes were a refreshing change from the sweltering heat at the bottom of the dried-out valleys, and they struck a brisk march with a vanguard of Goblin skirmishers running ahead of the two columns.

With Zrol were the best of his forces, each consisting of thirty-six Goblin skirmishers, twelve Bugbear shock troops and sixty Hobgoblin infantry. Six officers presided over each column, and six mystics were included for support. Barring the Goblins, who mostly served as expendable scouts, they were the tip of the spear: trained soldiers who had been with him since the early days of The Neck. Adorned in Dwarven arms and armour, they had helped clear the haunted forest, destroying the forces of the Elder Lich that ruled one of the broken towers, then the Elder Lich itself.

They had slain many monsters and subjugated hundreds of tribes throughout their long journey, and now they would be the first to cross into the north. He looked forward to raiding the sleepy Human lands with them, once his other forces occupied the new camp.

At a certain point, the Goblins in the vanguard stopped. Zrol thought he recognized the surroundings and, sure enough, the old territorial marker stood in their path.

“What are you waiting for?” He told them, “We’ve already checked ahead – there’s nothing out there to stop us.”

He kicked the marker over and hurled a nearby Goblin forward. Several others stared at the broken post with its scattered skulls for a long moment before resuming their advance towards the pass. Zrol snorted dismissively as he strode by, slowing the columns’ pace so their skirmishers could get a suitable distance ahead of the main body again.

As they continued their ascent, the trees thinned out and gave way to widespread patches of windswept brush. The skies remained as clear as the day, and silvery moonlight flooded the night. This was good, as it gave them a view of the surroundings beyond the range of their Darkvision, but Zrol would have preferred it to be a moonless night, or at least overcast. Humans relied entirely upon light to see, and a lightless environment would give them a decisive advantage when they started their raids.

The lieutenant leading the other column angled over, a question plainly on her face.

“We’re packed pretty tightly here,” she said, “and this pass is huge. You think we should spread ourselves out a bit? The Gobs around here never shut up about how this place is a deathtrap – it’s possible that these Humans might try dumping a piece of the mountain on us.”

Zrol looked up to the two peaks looming on either side of the pass. What the lieutenant said wasn’t absolutely impossible, but what she had also said about the width of the passage made it difficult to pull off. It was a risk easily avoided, however.

“We can go through the centre instead,” he told her, “anything like that won’t be able to reach us all the way from the edges of the pass. I don’t want to spread out our column any more than I need to…you ever fought Humans before?”

The lieutenant shook her head, and Zrol grunted.

“I’ve been on some modest raids against the Humans of the wall in the past few years,” he said, “and in a big, clear place like this, they’re likely to use cavalry.”

“Cavalry…you mean like wolf riders?”

“Heh, kinda,” Zrol said. “They use Horses instead.”

“Ah…you mean those beasts that look like Centaurs without the top half.”

“Yeah, those,” Zrol nodded. “They’re good in a sprint and pretty big, so getting caught alone can be trouble. Gobs’ll get run down in droves unless they have somewhere to hide – like behind us. If we’re packed tightly, we’ll be able to stop any charge that they try to make…well, if they even show up.”

The lieutenant returned to her column, bringing it closer to his own. Over time, the uneventful ascent started to draw his suspicions…there were no walls or forts, or even any sign of patrols. Save for the faint scents of Human habitation and the marker where their territory supposedly started, there was nothing. Surely someone would have noticed their procession under the light of a full moon, up a wide pass without any cover. It was a pass for crying out loud – you were supposed to defend them, or at least set watches. He idly cranked his crossbow and loaded it, just in case…

Zrol gave his head a shake as more and more paranoid thoughts crept out of the shadows of his mind. Maybe he had become infected by the incessant fears of the local tribes: a disease that stoked irrational thoughts…or a curse.

Ahead, it appeared that the Goblins in the vanguard had stopped again. Scowling, Zrol wondered if they had come across another marker. As the columns caught up with them however, they, too, came to a halt.

At the crest of the pass, a single figure stood under the streams of silver moonlight that filtered down from above. It stood about as tall as a Hobgoblin, though not as broad. In one hand, it held a long spear, from which a long silken banner fluttered and snapped in the wind: a vermillion standard upon which rested an unknown emblem emblazoned in shimmering gold.

Before Zrol could raise his voice and demand why it stood in their path, a clear, female voice washed over them.

“You have crossed into the sovereign realm of Ainz Ooal Gown, the Sorcerer King,” she said. “To you, who approach with arms brandished, I will ask but once: what is your business with the Sorcerous Kingdom?”

By the voice and scent that carried over the pass, it was a Human female. Zrol remained silent, studying her carefully. Where had she appeared from? Was she a Hunter from the lands beyond, belatedly tracking their Goblin scout? Her equipment was inferior to the Humans of the wall, and certainly far beneath Zrol’s own Dwarven plate mail. Though her spear gleamed in the moonlight, it did not appear to be magical, nor was there any obvious sign of magical items upon her person.

A single Human against over two hundred trained Hobgoblins, Bugbears and Goblins. What could she possibly do? Recalling his thoughts from before, Zrol glanced from side to side, registering the details of the wide pass. There were no other Humans in sight, and the field of bare stones, short grass and sparse shrubs provided no cover to conceal oneself behind.

Were there traps between them? Even if there were, the Goblins that they sent in first would spring them all. Based on their relative positions, more Humans might be concealed behind the top of the pass, but the odours carried on the wind were weak and did not indicate any other Humans – or anything else – nearby.

It didn’t make any sense. What was her ploy? She mentioned the ‘Sorcerous Kingdom’ – did that mean she was a magic caster? Humans were skinny compared to most other races, but she did not give the sense of being a mage or mystic. By her equipment, she was a single warrior standing in the middle of a very wide pass, which made for a rather ludicrous image.

Did she think that she could just block them all by herself? He did not have the senses of a scout, so he only had a vague idea of her strength, but she was clearly weaker than he. Even with what he thought should be a sizable difference, however, she still radiated a keen sense of danger that caused his much weaker Goblin vanguard to cringe back.

“Captain?”

The uncertain voice of one of his lieutenants prodded Zrol from behind. He was being needlessly hesitant in front of his own subordinates. He had been through Jaldabaoth’s hell and marched hundreds of kilometres to reach this point, and he would certainly not be turning back. They were headed north – whether these Humans liked it or not. The lone female before them was clearly challenging their advance, and there was only one answer for such heedless fools.

He raised his crossbow and pulled the trigger. The heavy wooden bolt streaked out towards its target. A hand’s breadth from the centre of her torso, the projectile stopped in midair.

Protection from Arrows? Zrol frowned, I guess this Human’s a magic caster, after all.

The bolt remained suspended in front of her for a second before clattering to the stones.

“I see,” she said.

Fiery light glinted off of the Human’s eyes. A flash filled the pass, and an explosion rocked the column somewhere behind. Zrol threw himself forward as dancing shadows were cast over the barren slope. Cries of panic and pain filled the air. He looked back up to see the Human still standing there, dispassionately gazing right past him as the light of flickering flames played over her face.

Zrol rose to his feet, turning around to see what had happened to his soldiers. A line had been blasted through the back of the column, and scores of dead lay scattered and scorched over the stones. Shouts and screams continued to issue from the rear, but Zrol couldn’t see anything through the curtain of thick smoke from the dried grass and shrubs that were set aflame. He ran around to the side, trying to get a view of what was going on.

Orbs of flame streaked down from behind the smoke, blasting another series of holes into the column. Screaming Goblins were incinerated, while Hobgoblins and Bugbears fell back from the blaze. They were being attacked from behind, but how did their enemies get there? It looked like magic casters of some sort were hitting them, so probably Invisibility or the like.

“Shield wall!” He shouted, “Harden yourselves against magic! The rest of you – spread out!”

Zrol’s core of well-trained veterans assumed stances that raised their resistance against magic. His officers repeated his orders, and the Hobgoblin infantry formed up into shield walls that would block any more incoming Fireballs. Everyone else started to scatter to avoid becoming ideal targets for further bombardment.

The moans of horrifically burned soldiers were joined by the dull, metallic tread of heavy boots, reverberating off of the slopes of the pass. An unsettling wave of intangible dread washed over him.

Through the wall of billowing smoke, a figure emerged, encased in wicked, spiked armour. Crimson lines that traced over its dark form like pulsing veins glowed through the haze. From behind the huge tower shield that covered most of its body, a weapon flashed out, cleaving through a half dozen Goblins that were still reacting to the orders being shouted out. Zrol blanked out for a moment as his gaze followed its sudden appearance.

What the hell is that thing?!

It was far more intimidating than the single Human female ‘blocking’ the pass. Chaos erupted as it charged into their ranks, crushing slower Goblins underfoot while striking down others with an undulating blade of unreasonable length in one hand. Crossbow bolts splintered against its armour, and even javelins glanced off to no effect. Though it was not much larger than a Bugbear, and shorter than an Ogre, it seemed an inexorable juggernaut as it plowed a bloody furrow through the shattered Goblin ranks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another dark figure emerge from the smoke.

So this was it, then. This was the answer to all of his rising questions that culminated in the appearance of the Human at the top of the pass. He had to admire how well the ambush had been executed. A single Human had stopped their entire column – which had absolutely no need to stop in the first place – allowing the unseen magic casters to disorder their rear with area effect spells. They hit them with magic again just to shift them into a more vulnerable stance before sending these strong troops through the smoke and into the fray.

But that was where it would end. They had a practically limitless pool of Goblins to replace their losses from, and the elites of Zrol’s unit were too well-trained to be overwhelmed with just this. Now that battle was joined, he was confident that hard-earned discipline would carry them to victory.

“Tighten it up!” Zrol’s voice rose over the din of violence, “Defensive stances! Pin that thing down!”

Unlike the Goblins, who were already caught up in a panicked retreat around the advancing enemy to disappear into the smoke, his Hobgoblins remained stalwart. As they tightened into a densely packed defensive formation, Zrol stepped closer, keen to discover the true mettle of this new enemy. It smashed into the line like a savage beast clad in gleaming black plate. The wall of Dwarven steel was pushed back slightly, but did not buckle.

“Bugbears!”

Zrol clenched his fist in anticipation as the dozen Bugbears waiting behind the defensive line came around to assail their opponent from both sides. Judging from its charge into the Hobgoblin defenders, it appeared to be a bit stronger than elite Hobgoblin officers like himself. The Bugbears would be able to overwhelm it with brute force.

To its credit, their enemy caught the first three massive war mauls descending towards it with its shield, then parried two others with its blade. Brutal blows rained down on its helmet and shoulders, and Zrol allowed himself a satisfied smirk. No matter how hard its armour might be, whoever was inside would still suffer grievous damage from the merciless hammering. He relaxed slightly as he awaited the inevitable result…

…and then he waited some more. After nearly a minute, the smirk slid off of Zrol’s face. The rise and fall of the Bugbears’ war mauls slowed, then stopped. Half of his shock troops could no longer be seen, and the remainder eventually sunk out of sight in front of the shield wall. With barely a pause, the enemy warrior let out a bestial howl and reared back before slamming its massive shield into the line.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

The air seemed to shudder with every strike, and the formation was pushed back, step by step. The defenders were stacked four deep, yet it continued driving forward in its relentless assault. How could it continue? The toll of its exertions should be visible by now, yet it ignored mace and hammer; axe and spear, its armour unyielding before any and all attempts to injure it by the other formations that closed in on its flanks.

Zrol came forward, hefting his warhammer. He was a good deal stronger than his soldiers – he could settle his side of the fight by breaking this ridiculous stalemate. As he approached, the unsettling feeling in the air grew, though it had nothing to do with their enemy’s looming figure. There were plenty of Bugbears in the army that were around the same size, and a number of Ogres had been recruited as well. He finally realized just what that feeling was when he came close enough to recognize the features that could be seen from between the gaps in its helmet.

Twin points of crimson flared from within, casting lurid light over its ruined features. What it used to be, he could not tell…but it could only be one thing now.

Undead. These damned Humans!

His realization unraveled the mystery of their opponent’s unlimited stamina, but how did the Humans manage to bind such a powerful Undead creature to their will? Why hadn’t the officers reported this? Perhaps their dauntless mindset gave them the resolve to face down whatever their enemy might be.

“Close in!” He barked out over the bang and screech of metal, “It’s not as strong as it is tough! Seal its movements and get to work – as long as you hit an exposed piece of it, it’ll take a bit of damage!”

Spurred by his orders, the flanking formations pressed in to carry out his commands. The Undead monstrosity ground to a halt, eventually becoming so restricted that it resorted to bashing the shields in front of it with short, overhand blows. Zrol looked over to the other side of the battle, where the officers were imitating his maneuver with the one on their end. Now that the situation was under control, they could chip these Undead warriors down until the dark energies fueling their unnatural forms were depleted.

His ears pricked up at a new sound, and his eyes widened when he recognized the rhythmic steps.

Damn it!

“More enemies,” he shouted, “coming from the back!”

Metallic stomping filled the air, and two more of the Undead warriors broke through the curtain of black smoke. To Zrol’s mounting horror, the mutilated remains of his own soldiers emerged in their wake, surging forward in a wave of Undeath.

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Standing out to the side of the ongoing battle, Ludmila rolled the banner of the Sorcerous Kingdom up around the spear it was attached to before putting it away. As with nearly everyone, she had heard the tales of brave bannermen and inspiring female knights charging into battle with flags attached to their spears and lances, but, after trying to practice fighting in such a fashion, she decided that it was too unwieldy in practice. Doing so would also result in the nation’s banner being shredded to tatters, so, even symbolically, it seemed like a bad idea in general.

Instead, she retrieved her longbow and nocked it with an envenomed steel bodkin arrow, just in case her intervention was required for something. She would otherwise refrain from participating directly in combat; instead observing and learning as much as she could of both her enemies and the Undead servitors at her disposal. Several concepts and ideas were being proven or disproven as things progressed, and there were a few that went beyond her expectations or ability to comprehend from simple descriptions.

After securing Nob’s cooperation, Ludmila led him to the other side of the pass and to the nearest spring so he could report his discovery of a new campsite in suitable detail upon his return. She then found a rabbit and a duck for him to devour, hoping his messy eating habits would conceal any traces of their interaction. After he set off, she sent one of the two Shadow Demons guarding her to retrieve the three Elder Liches back in the Vale, along with the remaining Bone Vultures on standby. She sent the other to bring additional two Death Knights from the two nearest passes to where she would craft her ambush.

The Bone Vultures set to watch over the camp reported a flurry of activity shortly after Nob entered. As she had hoped, the Hobgoblins enacted the usual routines that had been observed all throughout their spread into the basin, sending a small contingent of soldiers to secure the location for the next encampment after receiving a favourable report. Ludmila and Nonna, cloaked in invisibility, followed them from high above, returning to the top of the pass to make their final preparations once she believed she had sufficient information on the approaching intruders.

The ambush was about as simple as she thought would suit her purposes. A pair of Death Knights and Elder Liches would quietly wait on each side using Invisibility to conceal themselves, and Ludmila would stand at the top of the pass. She figured the Hobgoblins wouldn’t take too long to make up their minds and attack her, but she still ended up having enough time to ask them what they were up to. She cringed internally even as she played her part in the scheme, and thinking about how silly she must have looked up there progressively made it worse in retrospect. They didn’t even answer her properly in the end, and her verbal response to that felt even more lacking.

‘I see’, she thought derisively. I should be thankful some Bard wasn’t out there to relate how utterly uninspiring I was to all and sundry.

The two Shadow Demons accompanied her when she stood before the columns, just in case they all tried charging her at once. Nonna’s Protection from Arrows enchantment was the only thing she required, however, as the largest Hobgoblin in the group casually brought up his crossbow and loosed a bolt at her. Gaining full justification to retaliate, she set the awaiting Undead to work.

The first set of Fireball spells cut off the rear quarter of the columns, setting the dry grass and shrubs nearby aflame. The four Death Knights advanced while cloaked in their Invisibility. The spell did not block sound, but, with the chaos suddenly erupting before them, the Goblins – who looked to be carrying supplies – were probably taken by surprise when the Undead warriors attacked out of their concealment.

When a suitable line of Squire Zombies was raised, Nonna signaled her by laying down another line of Fireball spells with the other Elder Liches. Ludmila ordered two of the Death Knights forward, having them leave their Squire Zombies behind to catch anyone trying to flee back down the pass. It was then she finally had her first real look at how the stalwart sentries that tirelessly watched over E-Rantel and its duchy carried themselves in battle.

Most notably – at least to her – was not a Death Knight’s durability or limitless endurance, but its Skill that drew the attention of those around it. According to Nonna, any individual affected by its unsettling presence could be subjected to an effect similar to the Martial Arts commonly used by warriors to force the attention of an adversary upon themselves. She wondered if the Hobgoblins even realized what was happening to them.

All attention in the Goblinoid column turned to one of the two Death Knights that charged through the veil of smoke, and Ludmila was able to blithely stroll over from the top of the pass to where she currently stood without anyone paying any attention to her whatsoever. She noted that the Skill did not actually provoke those affected into attacking it single-mindedly, and the commands barked out by the Hobgoblin officers that involved fighting against the Death Knight were still effective in directing their subordinates.

She wasn’t sure if anyone so affected could willfully shake free from the Death Knight’s Skill, but the Goblins that succumbed to their fear appeared to be able to at least flee. They were either slain by the two Death Knights waiting for them on the other side of the screen of smoke, incapacitated by Sleep and spells of holding, or otherwise collected by the Squire Zombies and Bone Vultures that worked together to keep any enemies from returning down into the basin.

From her position, she watched the two separate battles play out on either side of the burning line of vegetation. On the south end, the fighting was dying down, with Bone Vultures occasionally swooping down to knock over loose Goblins still trying to flee. Squire Zombies would then drag them back to the awaiting Death Knights to be sorted out. On the north end, the fighting had settled into an odd sort of stalemate, with formations of Hobgoblins working together to pin down and restrain the two Death Knights there.

The Death Knights’ tremendous durability was made plain to see, but, at the same time, Ludmila worried that they might be closer to expiring than their unflinching behaviour let on. Undead fought tirelessly until they perished, with no in-betweens unless they started losing pieces of themselves.

Nonna separated herself from the other Elder Liches, flying over to settle down beside her.

“Tell me nothing got away,” Ludmila said.

“Nothing got away,” Nonna replied.

“Did nothing get away?” Ludmila frowned.

“Based on your assessment of the enemy force before the battle,” Nonna said, “none present are high enough in levels to escape notice by the Bone Vultures in this terrain. You requested that I report to you when ‘things died down’.”

Ludmila nodded silently, then gestured to the Hobgoblins still fighting their battle. Their formations remained intact as they continued to chip away at the Death Knight.

“Do you understand what’s going on there?” She asked the Elder Lich.

Nonna peered down at the blob of Hobgoblins surrounding the Death Knight.

“There is no precedent for this,” Nonna said after several moments. “The Goblinoids native to this region have not displayed the same degree of resilience as these.”

“These ones are not from around here, as you well know. Not only are they incredibly well-trained, but these Hobgoblins’ disciplined reaction to the Death Knights suggests that they are blooded and experienced combatants. I do not know if they have raided some place or are being supplied somehow, but their equipment is exquisitely crafted.”

Hobgoblins were about as tall as Humans, but their proportions were different. Judging by the uniform quality and look of the Hobgoblins’ arms and armour, it was more likely that they were being supplied. That was, of course, unless their raiding had come up with an impressive amount of conveniently Hobgoblin and Bugbear-sized equipment somehow…

Shouts echoed up the sides of the pass, and a surge of activity rose from the Hobgoblin formations. They pressed in ever more tightly, and the Death Knight was caught with its shield arm trapped against its side. It still worked its flamberge in a continued attempt to batter its enemies, but its range of motion was severely restricted. Seeing that the enemy commander had fully committed to the effort to destroy the Death Knights, Ludmila ordered the rest of her ground forces through the smoke, focusing their strength on the nearest group.

Due to the beleaguered Death Knight’s continued use of its Skill, the Hobgoblins couldn’t even turn to face the incoming threat. The two fresh Death Knights charged – well ahead of the much slower Squire Zombies – and upended the first few Hobgoblins that they smashed into from the rear. After a dozen seconds of the Death Knights working their way through the ranks to their trapped comrade, the Squire Zombies caught up and washed over the formation. Attention still caught by the first Death Knight, the Hobgoblins didn’t even react to defend themselves when the Squire Zombies set upon them.

The encirclement of Hobgoblins buckled on one side, then broke. Not a hundred metres away, the second encirclement didn’t even spare them a glance.

“That Skill is ridiculous,” Ludmila frowned. “There must be limits.”

“The conditions are quite clear,” Nonna told her. “Those that are mentally shaken by the Death Knight are affected by the Skill.”

“I understand that,” Ludmila said, “but what about the range? You couldn’t just send one of these across the wilderness and have it attract a long line of all the Demihumans that it runs by between here and Roble, could you?”

Nonna turned her head and stared at her for a moment.

“Was that an attempt at humor?” The Elder Lich asked.

“No, I was perfectly serious,” Ludmila answered, “the conditions you have described are so broad that too many things can potentially work.”

The way that the Death Knights forced the Hobgoblin formations to focus their attention on it had implications that threw much of the knowledge Ludmila had gained about maneuvering formations and employing various tactics straight out the window. Even this ambush had been calculated and timed based on the weaknesses and traits she could exploit, yet all of that was effectively for naught since the Death Knight could make an army vulnerable to flanking attacks by turning the army’s attention to itself.

These Hobgoblins were clearly well trained and disciplined soldiers, yet all their experience and effort had been cast to the wind by the Death Knight using a single Skill. If it happened, all you could do was hope you could defeat it before some other force was brought to bear against you.

“The Skill has a radius of roughly thirty metres,” Nonna told her. “It works only on shaken individuals, so it is not as ridiculous as you suggest.”

“If other members of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s armies were to work together with Death Knights,” Ludmila said, “how would I prevent them from being affected?”

“Our allies have nothing to fear from them, so they should not have the Shaken status.”

“Status?” She furrowed her brow at the unfamiliar term.

“Indeed. Much like being diseased, poisoned, feared or charmed, Shaken is a specific status.”

“What if they are ‘shaken’ by events that they have witnessed on the battlefield?”

“The status must originate from the Death Knight or come from the results of its actions.”

“Then it can still happen,” Ludmila said, “even if unintended. Is there some way to prevent it entirely?”

“Spells that provide emotional stability or harden one against fear-type effects would work,” Nonna told her. “Certain beings lack emotions entirely, such as the Golems currently in your employ, so they are similarly immune. Undead are also immune, as they are generally immune to mind affecting effects and abilities. Also, the Feared status overrides Shaken: those so affected will enjoy a sort of immunity as well.”

In short, the Skill was still something that could turn the tide of battle in a small area if one’s opponents did not prepare countermeasures. A thought occurred to her, and Ludmila pulled off a gauntlet, holding up her Ring of Mental Fortitude.

“My ring is not glowing,” she said.

“You do not fear Death Knights in the first place.”

“I suppose…but that means that anyone that can overcome their trepidation over the Death Knight is immune to this Skill.”

“Correct.”

While it was not impossible, it was probably easier said than done. Most people directly subjected to the aggression of a Death Knight wouldn’t be able to shrug off their initial reaction so easily. Exploiting the mental state of her opponents in combat was something Ludmila was well versed in, so she believed she could put the Death Knights and their powerful Skill to good use in the future.

The noise from the first set of Hobgoblin formations gradually faded. After sending her Undead forces to the other encirclement, where the other Death Knight appeared to be no more worse for wear than before, Ludmila came forward to examine the aftermath more closely. Most of the Hobgoblins had been transformed into the Undead, though a number of corpses lay on the ground for some reason. There were many charred Goblins near to where the Fireballs fell, so those had been most likely slain by the Elder Liches, but none of the Bugbears had been reanimated. She could not recall anything special about them that might result in being immune to being raised as a Squire Zombie.

Looking down more closely at the bodies, her speculation over the origin of the invaders’ equipment appeared to be validated. They fit too well to not have been crafted for at least Bugbears and Hobgoblins in general, and they did not follow the style of any Human equipment that she knew of. The armour was thick, angular and almost blocky in appearance. It had not been polished to a bright finish like Humans tended to do: instead dull, unreflective and probably treated to give it a dark grey colour.

Was it possible that these Hobgoblins actually crafted their own equipment? The Demihumans that dwelled in the Abelion Wilderness were reportedly composed of primitive tribal groups, with nothing resembling the civilizations of other Demihuman nations out in the wider world.

She looked over at the next corpse, and realized it was the large Hobgoblin who had attacked her with its crossbow at the beginning of the battle. Her head snapped up, and she ran over to the other group of Hobgoblins who were in the process of being overwhelmed. Scanning the milling mass of bodies, she tried to sort through the Demihumans that remained.

『Leave those three alive. Subdue them and drag them out of that mess.』

The orders would have been woefully insufficient if she was issuing them to Humans, but the Undead servitors appeared to understand her perfectly. The three Hobgoblins she had in mind were dragged out and forced to the ground. Since the opening attack of the battle, a mere fifteen minutes had passed: resulting in 237 dead Goblinoids – most repurposed into Undead servitors – and three prisoners. Ludmila fervently hoped that one of them possessed some useful information.

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 11

Chapter 11

“Just sacrifice me to your cursed gods, Human,” the Hobgoblin spat, “you’ll get nothing from me.”

“Sacrifice…”

“Hah! Don’t even try to put on that act,” the Hobgoblin pointedly ran her gaze over the nearby Undead and gave Ludmila a knowing look. “The Gobs here told us all about it. Your people worship those thrice-damned gods of the Slane Theocracy – and you’re clearly in bed with that evil god of death.”

“He is not–”

Ludmila stilled her tongue as soon as the heated words started to leave her mouth.

He’s not evil, she was going to say. Surshana was the god of death, judgement, justice and mercy. The greatest of The Six, who weighed the souls of humanity and welcomed the righteous to His blessed eternity when they passed beyond the veil of life. But there was no point in correcting a Demihuman who would never know His divine grace.

It was a taunt – a sacrilegious statement spoken to incite her into ending the Hobgoblin’s wretched life on the spot. On a better day, she might have entertained the notion, but she currently needed information.

“Nonna.”

The Elder Lich glided forward on light steps. The Hobgoblin’s defiant sneer faltered as Nonna stretched out her pale hand.

“「Charm Person」.”

The Hobgoblin’s cheek twitched. Its eyes dilated for a moment, and then the sneer returned.

Nonna’s hand shot forward, grabbing the Hobgoblin by the throat. It issued a choking cough, sending flecks of spittle onto the stone. Gasping weakly, it’s ochre complexion turned ashen grey, and discoloured marks grew from where it was being held. After several seconds Nonna flicked it away, sending it tumbling onto the ground.

“「Charm Person」.”

Once again, Nonna cast the spell. A weak laugh issued where the Hobgoblin lay.

“What did you do?” Ludmila asked.

“A touch attack,” Nonna answered. “I infused negative energy into the subject. Testing has indicated that physically and mentally weakening a target may influence its overall resistance.”

If it did, it wasn’t enough. Ludmila looked down at the form sprawled before them. She sensed that this Hobgoblin was a good deal stronger than she was – perhaps around the strength of Merry. Nonna was stronger still, yet had still failed.

Since they were an army, she thought there might be a general or some other commander influencing them all as a whole, much like how Ludmila fortified her own vassals and subordinates. The Hobgoblins had briefly used a magic resistance stance during the battle as well, and they might be maintaining it now.

Her gaze went from the fallen Hobgoblin to the one seated next to her, then the next. The last one in the row was slightly weaker than Ludmila was.

“That one should be the weakest between them,” she pointed at the Hobgoblin. “It looks pretty beaten up, though – make sure you do not kill it.”

“「Charm Person」.”

The Hobgoblin blinked twice, then looked up at them with a slight smile. The one beside it glanced at its fellow nervously.

“…did it work?” Ludmila asked.

“No,” the smiling Hobgoblin answered.

The Hobgoblin lying on the ground let out a snort, and the other two burst out in uproarious laughter. Ludmila turned around and walked away.

“I propose that they be sent to a specialist,” Nonna said when she caught up to her.

“Do we have these problems when testimonies are being taken for criminal investigations?”

“Attempts to resist charm spells for the purposes of collecting statements is a violation of the law,” Nonna said. “We have no problems in this regard.”

Then what was a ‘specialist’ for? Well, she supposed it was none of her business. If they were willing to help extract any useful information out of these insolent Hobgoblins, she had no qualms handing them over.

“Then go ahead and make the arrangements once we are done here,” Ludmila told Nonna. “I was hoping we would get at least some information from these Hobgoblins right away, but we will just have to take things as they come.”

Now that the initiative was hers to seize, she would need to act decisively. The nearest encampment was probably expecting some sort of report within the day from the column she had just destroyed. She would need to silence that camp before they suspected that something had befallen their advance contingent and relayed those suspicions deeper into the Goblin army.

She walked over to the lines of Undead that had been raised over the course of the battle, examining the rows of Hobgoblins in their nearly uniform equipment. The quality of their arms and armour, as well as the high degree of training and discipline they possessed, forced her to reconsider just how quickly she could move and how far she could go before alerting the Goblin army’s commanders. She had higher expectations as to their opponents’ strength than Nonna going into the battle, but even those were overshadowed by just how well they did against the two Death Knights she had initially sent to get a feel for their capabilities.

The ambush had taken almost half a day to prepare, and the battle had lasted fifteen minutes. It had cost her enemies 240 of their number, out of what must be over a hundred thousand and growing in the basin. Demihumans were still being reported moving through the ancient pass, and the possibility that they were all just as well equipped and trained as the ones she had just fought was worrisome, to say the least.

“Does raising Squire Zombies make the Death Knights weaker?” She asked Nonna.

“No. The ability activates at no additional cost once conditions are met.”

The opening move of the ambush was to facilitate those conditions cleanly. For a Squire Zombie to be raised, the killing blow had to come from a Death Knight. The Bone Vultures and existing Squire Zombies worked together to subdue individual Goblins, then dragged them back to the Death Knight to be repurposed into more Squire Zombies. The method resulted in better quality Squire Zombies, as every one had its limbs and head intact rather than losing them or being outright chopped in half by the Death Knight.

“They were attacking at full strength, then? There was no magic or anything else being used to weaken them?”

“I did not identify any spells of that nature,” Nonna replied, “and it is likely that the magic casters present were resisted if such an attempt was made. It is not impossible that Skills or Martial Arts were used to produce a similar result, but the Death Knights have reported no detrimental effects.”

Looking over her shoulder at the Hobgoblin captives, she gauged their strength again. Was it possible that all of the Hobgoblins in the army were just that strong?

“If that is the case,” Ludmila said, “this is going to be a much harder fight than expected. Merry said that Death Knights were around Difficulty Rating 105…that would be Level 35 in your terms, correct?”

“That is correct.”

“And these Death Knights are defensive servitors, who sacrifice offensive power for greater defensive capability?”

“Yes,” Nonna nodded. “They display the defensive strength of a Level 40 Undead of its type, while possessing the offence of a Level 25.”

“They have three Skills, as far as I know of…are there any more?”

“No.”

Ludmila sighed. Therein lay the crux of the problem. Lord Mare mentioned that summons were generally inferior compared to a ‘real’ creature, and the summoner chose what they summoned based on the specific traits that were advantageous in their situation rather than their all-around usefulness or strength. She could feel it during Adventurer training with the various opponents set against them, and the Death Knights were a prime example of this practice at work. They were spectacularly tough, could draw the attention of belligerents, create their own minions, and their offensive strength was sufficient for the day-to-day work that they were intended for when leased out.

“After observing the battle,” Ludmila asked, “do you understand what was happening when the first two Death Knights were stopped?”

“I observed the outcomes,” Nonna answered, “but any coherent conjectures elude me thus far.”

“The contingent had two columns: each divided into a handful of identical components,” she said. “The Goblins were further divided into a vanguard and a baggage train. Both were armed lightly, like skirmishers. There were a dozen Bugbears equipped to in a way advantageous their strengths, and they were used as shock troops that flanked the Death Knight. The Hobgoblins fought in formation and are all armed as defensive warriors, while there were six magic casters and six commanders providing support and issuing orders.”

Ludmila waited to see if Nonna had anything to add or ask about her explanation. When the Elder Lich remained silent, she continued.

“Two of the Hobgoblins there are around my strength – one is slightly weaker, while the other is slightly stronger. The one that you tried charming at first was about halfway between you and me. Based on my experience with the Adventurers I have trained with, many warrior-types actually begin to display the same sort of focus on defence of offence that you see with the Death Knights. My recent promotion to Platinum-rank should put me slightly above Difficulty Rating 45 – Level 15 in your terms – so let’s say that I’m around Level 16.”

“You are suggesting that, in defensive terms, these Hobgoblins are closer to level 20?”

“That is correct,” Ludmila nodded. “Their equipment seems to have held up well enough, so we can assume that they did not suffer from shortfalls in that area. In addition, they were using a defensive stance, working in a formation and benefitting from their commander. Put that all together, and these Hobgoblins could be anywhere in the low twenties in terms of defensive capability. Throw Martial Arts on top of that, and they can withstand the offensive power of a Death Knight – even one created by His Majesty. All they needed to do to stand up to a Death Knight was to bounce it between themselves, so to speak…and that is exactly what they appeared to be doing.”

Nonna looked over to the Hobgoblins. Maybe the Elder Lich was finally putting some serious thought into what she was saying. By her own words, Nonna had some influence with the other Elder Liches in the Sorcerous Kingdom, and she also reported to Lady Albedo. Ludmila wasn’t sure how far Nonna would go in speaking her mind to a superior, but even a report that mentioned their discussion might help.

“When we returned on the first night of this army’s arrival,” Nonna said, “you immediately drew up a request for additional forces. Did you predict all this simply from observing them for a few hours?”

“No,” Ludmila frowned. “This is already beyond my expectations. What I sent for was what I thought would be suitable for half the number out there, and the best of their number at the equivalent of Gold rank. I also wasn’t aware of this equipment of theirs…there are just too many oddities. Have there been any reports to the administration about activity in the Abelion Wilderness? Even if they are being led by Hobgoblins, an army of this calibre does not just pop up out of nowhere.”

“There have been no advisories issued by the administration concerning activity in the Abelion Wilderness. Also, the large population of Goblinoids in the Great Forest of Tob does indicate that this number can indeed ‘pop up out of nowhere’.”

“Next, you are going to tell me that this Goblin army that appeared in Carne Village just popped up out of nowhere as well, fully trained and equipped.”

“This is also true.”

Ludmila stopped in her tracks, casting a critical eye in Nonna’s direction. Did Elder Lich administrators lie? It didn’t seem like a joke, either; in their time working together, Nonna offered little humor to speak of, if any at all.

“At any rate,” her steps resumed, deciding to press ahead in their conversation, “we still have the camp reports from the Shadow Demons performing reconnaissance. The vast majority of this army is still Goblins, and the Goblins in this contingent were in line with my expectations. We will just also have to expect that a strong core force of Hobgoblins may be present in any of these camps. We will also have to be very careful about the first few camps that we remove. Once enough Squire Zombies are raised…”

Ludmila’s voice trailed off when she reached the line of Goblins. As she examined its crude equipment, then the Undead Goblin itself, she suddenly realized that something was wrong.

“Nonna,” she asked, “Why are so many of these Hobgoblins weaker than the Goblins?”

“Because the Hobgoblins are mostly Zombies,” Nonna answered.

“Zombies…not Squire Zombies?”

“A Death Knight is limited in the number of Squire Zombies it can raise at once,” Nonna told her. “Twenty-four is the maximum one may have at any one time.”

Ludmila glanced back at the Bugbear, now realizing why they hadn’t been raised. The two Death Knights sent forward had reached their limit of Squire Zombies. She quickly counted up the strongest Zombies lined up in the ranks and, surely enough, there were 96 Squire Zombies between the four Death Knights. Annoyingly, a third of the Squire Zombies had been made from the poorly-equipped Goblins, while nearly all of her Zombies were Hobgoblins in their finely crafted plate mail.

She suppressed a sigh. Another complication – this time resulting from her lack of thoroughness when it came to understanding what she had under her command. Vaguely speaking, her initial plan was to carefully build up an army of Squire Zombies until she could reverse the Goblin army’s advance. The reason why she had requested more Death Knights was to speed up that process to a degree that the Goblin army would not be able to respond appropriately.

“Is there a limit to the number of Zombies that a Squire Zombie can raise?”

“No,” Nonna replied. “A Squire Zombie does not share the same limit as a Death Knight. They will continue to raise Zombies so long as they land the killing blow.”

There was that, at least, as little as it appeared to be worth. A level 17 Squire Zombie might be able to stand up to a Hobgoblin or a Bugbear, but the Level 1 Zombies could be killed by even Goblins.

“Will this affect our current plans?” Nonna asked.

“It will,” Ludmila’s voice was grim, “but we cannot afford to squander this opportunity. We at least have to silence the first camp, as planned for tonight. Let the Linum sisters know that they can begin with their disruptions as well. We’ll exchange the Death Knights here with new ones so we can continue to build up our forces – the Squire Zombies and Zombies here will remain part of the attacking force. Make sure any of these remaining fires are put out; I don’t want any smoke spotted from the basin when dawn comes around.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 12

Chapter 12

『Another one here.』

Ludmila stepped back from the Goblin lying unconscious on the dried leaves of the forest floor. After a brief examination, she decided that it wasn’t Nob – the one that she had wrangled into collaborating with her. Before sending him on his way, she had strongly advised him to take the first opportunity to flee the Goblin army and hide somewhere, encouraging the other natives of the upper reaches to desert as well. There was no guarantee that he did or was even able to do so, but it was the best that she thought he could probably manage.

A Shadow Demon slipped out of a nearby tree to scoop the fallen Goblin up in its arms. With a flap of its translucent wings, it darted away through the undergrowth.

She took a deep breath and relaxed for a moment before stalking onwards to track down her next target.

In the half hour after the battle of the western pass, adjustments were made to her ongoing plans based on what she had learned there. She instructed the Elder Lich assigned to the Lizardmen to remain at the pass to coordinate movement between the upper reaches and the Vale, while sending the two administering the fortified villages to return to their respective posts. While she thought them too vulnerable for direct combat against the surprisingly strong Hobgoblin forces, they could still assist in rearguard duties and made for excellent defenders when placed in a fortified position.

In addition, they were capable of summoning Undead of their own, so she was able to add twelve Skeleton Archer variants – each roughly as strong as a Gold-ranked Adventurer – in an attempt to balance out her decidedly melee-heavy contingent. Nonna, who was stronger than the other Elder Liches, added four Wraiths. The incorporeal Undead would be problematic for the Goblin army to deal with, for, while the Hobgoblins at least appeared to possess fine equipment, it did not have the look of being enchanted.

Nonna, along with her Death Knights and their mix of Zombie forces, were hidden in the forest a fair distance away from the encampment. For the past hour, Ludmila and her two Shadow Demons had been carefully moving around and knocking out the Goblin skirmishers set as pickets in the forests around it. Each one was delivered to the awaiting Death Knights to be converted into Squire Zombies. After two rounds around the encampment, however, they appeared to have run out of Goblins, so she returned to the dry gulch where she had positioned her Undead contingent out of sight.

“How many new Squire Zombies did we end up with?”

“Fifty-two,” Nonna replied. “Will we be proceeding to the next phase of the attack?”

“Have there been any problems here?” Ludmila asked.

“None,” the Elder Lich answered.

“Then yes,” Ludmila said. “But we will have to move our main force closer before we begin.”

She led them out of the gulch, then winced at the stomp, shuffle, and clank of the painfully unstealthy Zombies and Death Knights.

“Pack these guys in closer,” she told the Death Knights, then turned to speak to Nonna. “Can we cover them with a Silence spell?”

Nonna eyed the tightening column.

“Three casts of Silence should be able to cover them all.”

“How much mana will you have after that?”

“Plenty,” the Elder Lich snorted derisively. “Two Fireballs, three first tier charm spells, a few minutes of Fly and a single Summon Undead V barely makes a dent. Skeletal Mage-types have a far superior mana pool to that of your Human casters, and nearly half of what was used has already recovered during the wait.”

“Then do it,” she said. “The way around should be shorter than the duration of the enchantments, but let them expire on their own anyways.”

The sounds of the forest around them abruptly ceased, and Ludmila went ahead to check if any noise was leaking out as they continued to advance. Satisfied at the result, she led them through the dense woods behind several ridges and eventually arrived at the southern end of the camp.

『Hold.』

Ludmila held up a hand. The column stopped. Ahead, something was moving through the trees. She snuck forwards, eventually making out a dozen Goblins walking north towards the distant encampment. They were divided into pairs, hefting litters over their heads that carried what looked like food and various odds and ends. The procession proceeded single file, up a winding game trail that had widened with frequent use.

『Wraiths and Shadow Demons, get above them and wait for my attack.』

On the way back to the column, she reached into her quiver, pulling out two arrows: one broadhead, the other bodkin. She held up the bodkin arrow.

『Nonna, can you enchant this with silence? Normal radius.』

The Elder Lich pointed a finger at the arrowhead, then nodded. Ludmila crept away again, closing on the Goblins and their cargo. From a hundred metres away, she fired an arcing shot that planted the Silence-enchanted bodkin point into a sack sitting on the litter. She waited for the Goblins to react, but they continued on their way, seemingly unaware of what had happened. With a frown, she crept closer. Fifty metres from the trail, she nocked the broadhead arrow and drew its fletching to her cheek.

Her attack found the calf of the leading Goblin, and it tumbled silently to the dirt of the trail. The Goblin holding the other end of the litter stumbled forward, and the procession stopped. Another broadhead arrow found the Goblin at the back as the four Wraiths and two Shadow Demons descended on the group.

Ludmila continued releasing arrows into the silent melee, downing two of the Goblins that looked like they were attempting to flee. Since her arrows were unenchanted, they passed straight through the attacking Wraiths and Shadow Demons in the way to find their targets. Within half a minute, the dying and incapacitated Goblins were delivered to the column to be converted into Squire Zombies, and Ludmila made a brief pass over the area to see if there was anything else on the way.

Finding nothing, she returned to the dropped litters and marveled over the stroke of good fortune. If these Goblins had arrived while the main attack was under way, they would have probably fled. It was likely that at least one of them would have returned to the previous camp and reported what was going on. Instead, they had provided a dozen additional Squire Zombies and an interesting opportunity.

She instructed the Death Knights to order their lines for their attack, then turned to the Wraiths and Shadow Demons overhead. After having Nonna cast a small sphere of Silence over each of them, she issued her orders.

『Start with the ones sleeping inside tents and under blankets, then those that have obscured themselves from the others. Do not try for the ones resting in plain sight unless you think you can kill them without being noticed.』

Ludmila motioned for one of the Shadow Demons to come down to her. Reaching into her Infinite Haversack, she produced a single glass arrow.

『This arrow is filled with Alchemist’s Fire. Once you’re just about done killing all of the resting troops, find a pile of supplies near one of their fires. Break the arrow and spill the contents over the supplies – after exposing the contents, a handful of seconds will pass before it ignites.』

She placed the glass arrow into the Shadow Demon’s outstretched hand, then turned her attention back to the group.

『Once the fire starts, cease your attacks and withdraw to the perimeter of the camp. I want all of their attention on the fire. Once you are out in your new positions, kill anything that makes it out of the encirclement during the battle.』

The Linum sisters would begin doing something similar with Alchemist’s Fire during the day. Most of her glass arrows containing the substance were gone, redistributed to the Shadow Demons working under Wiluvien and Lluluvien’s direction. In addition to their continued work scouting the Goblin army, they would occasionally start fires in stockpiles of supplies. The Shadow Demons were instructed to have the fires appear as the result of negligence in the hot, dry weather that was plaguing the upper reaches.

In E-Rantel, Germaine LeNez was tasked to keep up production of Alchemist’s Fire – though the new batches would be delivered in vials rather than glass arrows. They would be able to continue sabotaging the enemy’s camps for as long as she had materials to make more.

With her instructions fully issued, she sent the Wraiths and Shadow Demons on their way and turned her gaze back down at the fallen cargo litters. Following up on the opportunity that had occurred to her, she went and picked out the dozen new Squire Zombies and returned them to their places. They went and picked up their old cargo at Ludmila’s orders, and she examined their overall appearance.

“What do you think?” She asked Nonna.

“What are you asking?” Nonna asked back.

“These supplies are expected, so we might be able to sneak them into the middle of the camp just before we attack with the Death Knights. These Hobgoblins rely on the order and discipline that they have cultivated, so creating as much chaos as possible should help us in general.”

“And if they are caught prematurely?”

“Then it will be our signal to attack with the main force,” Ludmila said. “They will not be going in until the fire starts, so hopefully they will make it inside the camp with no one paying close attention to them. If they are caught early, they will probably be overwhelmed, but the Death Knights will already be on their way to raise more.”

“There appears to be few downsides to this amendment of the plan,” Nonna said. “Though I question if it is truly necessary at this point. Each encampment is reported to have roughly 1000 Goblinoids stationed within, and we’ve already removed 292 of them through the battle at the pass and the removal of the picket forces guarding this camp. After the resting individuals are dealt with, we should be close to parity by numbers alone.”

The Hobgoblins divided their watches into thirds, meaning that roughly one third of the encampment’s forces was probably resting. If they could get them all, Nonna’s assertion would be close to what she said. Between everything at her disposal for this battle, they had roughly 300 Undead, plus Nonna, the Shadow Demons, and herself.

“About one-third of our number consists of weak Zombies,” Ludmila told the Elder Lich, “one good whack and they die. The armour they were raised in might help, but I would not count on them much. This first encampment is crucial: they’ve already made moves against us and can report the information back, plus we are using them to fill out our numbers. I am creating as many advantages in our favour as possible, and they do not cost us any additional time.”

Rather than racing against time, her new strategy was to turn time into her ally. An army marched on its stomach, and the pressure exerted on the Goblin army’s supplies would grow beyond the parched basin’s capability to sustain. She was certain the enemy commanders would notice their situation, but they would not be aware that things were being purposely exacerbated. In the best case scenario, it would catch up to them before they could react appropriately and they would turn on one another in desperation.

In the worst case scenario, the enemy commanders might decide to uproot themselves all at once and march north into the Sorcerous Kingdom. Ludmila’s current efforts were to dissuade them from doing so for as long as she thought she could.

Silencing the encampment that had sent forces north was the first step. Though their advance was most likely reported, a follow-up report to their superiors was probably not expected for at least two days. Deliberations over the lack of a report might last another day, and a request for information to the silenced camp might take another one or two days – not that any courier would survive the journey north. Crippling their ability to communicate and gain any information would in turn slow down their ability to react to developments, and every day that passed was another day that their supplies dwindled.

A pillar of black smoke started rising in the night sky, though Ludmila supposed that she was the only one who could see it from a distance. She set her ‘Goblin’ supply train in motion, then started issuing instructions to her Undead forces.

“Will there be any issues with those orders?” She asked Nonna after issuing her orders.

“They are fairly close to standard Death Knight tactics,” Nonna replied. “As long as its opponents are shaken by it, the Death Knights will have their attention drawn when it uses its Skill. Therefore, the Death Knight will prioritize targets that have been overcome by their fear, as it has effectively lost control of them.”

“That is good to hear,” Ludmila said. “Remember to stay airborne at maximum range, using the trees as cover when you begin your bombardment.”

“They will know where I am the moment they see a Fireball streaking down at them.”

“They will know that a Fireball came from your location,” Ludmila told her. “They will not know what is casting them, or where you are if you relocate between spells beyond the range of their Darkvision. There is no need to launch streams of Fireballs at them anyways – they are more for dissuading our opponents from getting too close to the edges of the encampment, so you will need to remain mobile.”

Ludmila went to her place at the head of the Undead lines, then moved closer to the encampment. Past the barricade of sharpened stakes along its edges, she could see hundreds of Goblinoids milling about. They worked to throw soil onto the flames, but the measure was not very effective. The dried earth flew up in clouds of dust that were scattered by the wind, or large chunks that failed to smother the growing fires.

She took note of which Hobgoblins appeared to be in charge – mostly by the amount of shouting they did and how many others listened – as well as identifying what appeared to be several magic casters. After about half a minute, it appeared that they had given up on the fire and started moving the supplies away instead.

Frowning, she tried to gauge how much damage had been done. Goblins were not very bright, and would have probably kept trying to put the fire out, but the Hobgoblins appeared to be much more level-headed and could think of alternative solutions. After one or two Shadow Demon-induced supply fires, they would most likely work out the best way to save their burning stockpiles, and that procedure would become rote behavior. The Shadow Demons would have to make their sabotage harder to deal with.

The Squire Zombies delivering the supplies came into view, and a Hobgoblin approached them. It spoke while gesturing, redirecting them to place their load in another location. Alarmed, Ludmila issued new orders to maintain their facade.

『Move to where he just directed you.』

They were not very far away, so they should have received her orders, but they didn’t move. The Hobgoblin scowled at them and stepped forward with fist raised.

Uh oh.

Ludmila ordered the Squire Zombies to attack, and they thankfully carried out her command. Her makeshift infiltrators dropped their cargo and set upon the unexpecting Demihumans in their surroundings. She turned around and ordered the Death Knights to begin their assault. A Fireball streaked down, exploding in the middle of the safely-relocated supplies. Maybe Nonna had a sense of humor – albeit twisted – after all.

Panicked Goblin voices filled the air as the four Death Knights smashed through the encampment’s wooden barricade. She called out to the last one that punched through.

『Hold on, flatten that section so the Zombies can get through more easily.』

It stopped and turned around, spending a moment to stomp down the sharpened stakes. Ludmila turned her attention upwards, ordering the Bone Vultures overhead to a lower altitude. Another Fireball streaked in, destroying a cluster of tents on the western edge of the camp. So far, she hadn’t noticed anyone leaving their resting places, so the efforts of the Wraiths and Shadow Demons appeared to be successful. With the section of barricade cleared, the various Zombies shuffled into the camp en masse, taking their places to encircle the interior.

Another Fireball fell on the north side, turning a group of Goblins attempting to flee in that direction into piles of char. Bone Vultures swooped down elsewhere to herd other Goblins back into the forming encirclement. Once in a while, a Wraith or Shadow Demon made itself known to kill an escapee outright.

Within five minutes, the ring of Zombies had shuffled into place, leaving the surviving Demihumans trapped inside with the four Death Knights. Ludmila made her way around the outside of the encampment, checking for any sign of unnoticed escape. Nonna floated down beside her.

“We are entering the final phase of the attack,” the Elder Lich said. “Did you have any additional orders?”

A shriek sounded from nearby as a Goblin attempted to get past the ring of Zombies. A new Zombie rose and took its place in the line. Ludmila examined what was left of the camp.

『Shrink the encirclement. Two paces forward.』

As one, the Zombies shuffled in. She had expected the crisp sound of hundreds of steps in unison, so it was vaguely dissatisfying. There were also a number of problems that came with the command.

The Zombies had moved according to her orders, straight into any obstacles that barred their path. Squire Zombies tore down or tossed aside any tents or objects in the way, but the weaker Zombies were incapable of doing so. They became entangled in the tents, or tripped over bags and other articles.

A Goblin dashed towards a nearby opening caused by the clumsy maneuver, ducking under the grasping arms of the Zombies nearby. As it hopped over a fallen Zombie and through the opening that it made, Ludmila stepped forward and kicked it back into the ring. Bone Vultures started swooping down all around the encampment, attacking others who were attempting a similar escape.

After she fixed the encirclement, Ludmila glowered at the Zombies in front of her.

“That was such a basic problem that this result was unexpected,” she muttered.

“The regular Zombies are mindless,” Nonna told her, “while the Squire Zombies have the barest of what might be called intelligence. They all followed your orders exactly, but you did not provide them with supplementary instruction for obstacles. Therefore, only the Squire Zombies carried out your command in what you would consider an acceptable manner.”

“I see,” Ludmila said. “How would one control entire armies of mindless Undead at a time, then?”

“With broad instructions,” Nonna replied. “Aim for collective results, or set them to tasks where precision and independent thought is not required.”

“Are these Squire Zombies capable of controlling them?”

“It would be strange if they could not – they are the ones raising them, after all.”

She ordered several Squire Zombies into the encirclement to begin cleaning up the scattered Goblins and organizing the aftermath. After each new Zombie rose, it moved to join the others. Eventually, there were enough Goblin Zombies to close the line on their own, and she ordered the rest of the Squire Zombies to get to work. In the end, there were five dozen Hobgoblins packed together in the centre of the camp.

Unlike the Hobgoblins that entered the pass, they could only face outwards in the direction of each Death Knight. Not only that, they were more along the her initial expectations for a well-trained Hobgoblin’s average strength. If it came down to brute force, the Death Knights would probably take only a minute to crush their formation.

Ludmila ordered a single Death Knight forward to test their defense. The first, experimental swipe of its tower shield knocked two Hobgoblins to the ground. The commander within the formation barked out orders, and the glow of healing magic washed over the fallen soldiers. They rose to their feet again. As if to mock their efforts, the Death Knight took another swipe at them, knocking down not only the two who had just recovered, but four more besides.

They possessed discipline, but lacked strength. She imagined that the rank-and-file Imperial Legionnaires her father often described would suffer the same outcome. The question that remained was whether these Hobgoblins were an actual representation of the Goblin army’s strength rather than the ones who had come up the pass. She ordered the Death Knights to stop using their Skill and entered the ring of Zombies.

“I would speak to your commander,” she called out to them.

The Hobgoblins started at her voice, as if noticing her for the first time.

“What the hell…” One of the ones she had marked out earlier spoke, “What the hell is a Human doing here?! How are these things not attacking you! Wait – you’re Undead? Y-you must be!”

Ludmila frowned at the unexpected accusation. In a way, she could understand why the Hobgoblin commander might have come to this conclusion, but she certainly didn’t look like any of the Undead that might commonly be seen outside of the Sorcerous Kingdom.

“I am a Human of the Sorcerous Kingdom,” she explained. “These Undead are under my command.”

“Liar!” The commander shouted, “These Undead monsters would never submit to a weak Human!”

Ludmila walked around to the north side of the formation, and dozens of eyes followed her.

“Do I smell like one of the Undead?”

She knew she had been out for over a day, but she was fairly certain that she did not smell like a corpse. The Hobgoblins sniffed the air in unison. She had never had so many Demihumans – or anyone, for that matter – sniff at her before. A part of her itched to start loosing arrows at them.

“You do smell like a Human…no, NO – this is a trick! You’re just some Undead creature imitating a Human!”

Why did he insist on her being Undead? She didn’t even have the ivory skin of the more Human-like Undead that she knew of. Ludmila met the gaze of another Hobgoblin standing beside the commander.

“Surely you have heard from the locals that Humans live north of here.”

“It’s a rumor with no proof,” the Hobgoblin answered. “A tale spread in fearful whispers, as if warning of a curse.”

“Even if you’re really Human,” another added, “they say that the Humans here worship the Six Great Gods of the Shane Theocracy. If that’s the case, you must be a follower of their evil god of death.”

“Enough of this,” Ludmila snapped. “You have two options: surrender or die.”

“What,” the commander snorted, “so you can have an easier time sacrificing us to your evil god? We know we’re dead, but if you think we’ll just meekly let you do your thing, you’re dead wrong.”

“Look–”

“No, you look,” the commander cut her off. “Undead, Human, whatever you are – the outcome is clear enough to us.”

The commander bellowed out his orders, and the Hobgoblins charged towards her. Two Death Knights interposed themselves between the Hobgoblins and Ludmila.

『Fill out your Squire Zombie formations if you still need to. Let the Squire Zombies have the rest.』

The Death Knights and the Squire Zombies surged forward. It didn’t even take the minute that she had expected.

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“What do you think?”

Nonna turned from where she was standing in the middle of the Goblin encampment. The crimson points of her eyes came to rest on Ludmila, who had just returned from another sweep of the surroundings.

“Of what are you referring to?” Nonna asked.

Ludmila gestured loosely over the camp around them.

“The camp has this whole spooky feeling to it now, doesn’t it?” Ludmila smiled, “I thought that this sort of atmosphere might make you feel right at home.”

“You Humans have strange ideas about Undead preferences,” the Elder Lich snorted. “A blasted, empty cluster of tents in the middle of nowhere is hardly the image of an ideal domicile.”

Ludmila frowned. That was where people usually found Undead, didn’t they? Lonely battlefields where unmarked graves lay beneath rolling mists. Haunted ruins hidden away from the living. Dungeons and labyrinths steeped in darkness. At least that’s where one usually found the Undead. Why would they frequent those sorts of places if they didn’t like them? It wasn’t as if they couldn’t go elsewhere if they did not. She thought she had done a good job of it, as well.

There were still a few hours until dawn when the last Hobgoblin fell, and Ludmila set about ensuring that no sign of the encampment’s demise could be recognized from a distance. Fires were stamped out, burnt tents and supplies were cleaned up, and the rest was reorganized to give it an undamaged appearance.

Rather than stew over the Hobgoblin commander's impression of her as one of the Undead, she decided that playing along with the fears surrounding the Undead would suit her purposes just as well, if not better. It was a notion she could reinforce more easily than some idea that there were Humans ready to slay any intruders the moment they strayed too far north: she was only one Human, but she had plenty of one hundred percent genuine Undead.

The corpses of the Demihumans slain in their sleep were replaced by Zombies, and she arranged the Squire Zombies in a way that made things still look active from afar. A single Death Knight was left in the camp and loosely disguised as a Bugbear. The other three were sent to switch places with the last of her Death Knights that had not yet raised any Squire Zombies.

Overall, she thought that any approaching Goblins from the south would not expect anything until they came inside, and then it would be too late. Just in case, she assigned her two Shadow Demons to eliminate anyone that attempted to flee back the way they came. Keeping the invading Goblin army in the dark about what was going on would buy her at least a few days where she could enact sabotage with the Shadow Demons, reevaluate her plans and explore potential options. In the worst case scenario, a scout might escape and report that the encampment had been haunted, but a suitable response on the Hobgoblins’ part would still take time.

At least she thought it looked haunted – just the sort of thing you might expect out of a piece of land frequented by the Undead. Nonna, however, begged to differ. Ludmila hadn’t expected that her thoughts on the matter would be that far off. She thought that Lady Shalltear’s home would have at least some Undead ‘flavour’ to it as well, but, based on Nonna's response, it appeared that she had erred in her assumptions. Maybe it was just a normal manor surrounded by a nice, pastoral vista.

After making a few last minute checks, Ludmila returned back up to the pass with Nonna, leaving the hundreds of Undead to ‘haunt’ the vanquished encampment. When they reached the top of the pass, a Bone Vulture flew down to land before them with a roll of parchment in its beak. She reached out to retrieve it, unfurling the paper and frowning down at its contents.

“Lady Shalltear will be here in the morning,” she murmured, “but it doesn’t say why. Take your time coming back if you need to regenerate mana, Nonna: I will be going on ahead.”

Ludmila darted off down the other side of the pass. Two hours later, she walked up the village lane and entered her manor.

“Welcome back, my lady,” Lluluvien said. “I’ve taken the liberty of drawing a bath for you. A change of clothing is being prepared, as well.”

“I’ve been out there for so long that the Hobgoblins are starting to mistake me for one of the Undead,” Ludmila said as she started to work off the buckles of her armour. “How have things been going back here?”

“The village is mostly the same,” Lluluvien replied as she set up a divider made out of thin wooden panels to block the view from the hall, “though Smith Kovalev has become curious about all this equipment that’s returning from the border.”

“Oh,” she looked up, “what did he have to say about it?”

“He clearly admires the craftsmanship, my lady, but he’s unfamiliar with the style. It’s not Human or Elvish or even any of the Demihuman work that he’s seen. His best guess is that it’s vaguely Dwarven, but there are many notable differences.”

Dwarven? The Dwarf Kingdom in the Azerlisia Mountains was far too removed from the Abelion Wilderness to have any contact with the Demihumans there. Were there other Dwarves in the region? She couldn’t imagine that the Azerlisia Dwarves were the only Dwarves, yet she had never heard of any such thing near her own little corner of the world. It would certainly explain who they got their equipment from, but the how of it was still a mystery. Tribal Demihumans were not much for any manner of commerce, though Florine and Liane had recently made a small project out of the possibility.

“Was there anything else?” Ludmila asked as she discarded the last of her garments.

“On the village end, no,” Lluluvien replied. “Everyone is staying within their respective fortifications, except for the Lizardmen, I suppose. They’re still working to fashion their new homes. On the, um, war side, I’ve already sent out the Shadow Demons with their gifts…would it be right to call it a war, my lady?”

“I have a feeling that there will be far more casualties in this conflict than all of the ‘wars’ fought between Re-Estize and Baharuth combined – save for the one this year, of course. If they can call all those past years a war, then I suppose we might call what we are having here a war as well. Have the new Shadow Demons given you any trouble?”

“Not at all, my lady,” Lluluvien smiled. “They always seem very happy to work with me and my sister. It’s quite a pleasant experience, and the results are very gratifying.”

“Is that so?” Ludmila said as she dipped a toe into the basin of hot water prepared for her, “I am glad you are all getting along then. How soon until you think that your work will start to strain these Goblin camps?”

Finding the water amenable, Ludmila slipped into the basin. She closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation and awaited Lluluvien’s response.

“Hm…well,” Lluluvien said after a few moments, “we’re starting with random locations at higher elevations, whenever a decent opportunity presents itself. There are Goblins in each camp that send supplies to the next camp three times a day, and a good fire might destroy two or three days’ worth of food. What’s left to be seen is how they react to it.”

That was indeed the question. They weren’t sure how quickly the Goblin army could make up for their lost supplies – only that they relied on regular replenishment from previous camps. The plan was to attack one stockpile, then move on to others until the destroyed ones were nearly replenished, then attack them again. If their resources were already stretched thin, the situation would quickly become dire. If they had huge stockpiles being delivered from wherever they came from, they could simply increase the number of Goblins moving supplies to counteract the disruptions.

“Ah, speaking of reactions,” Ludmila said, “I had one of the Shadow Demons attack a supply stockpile. They were able to save a good amount of their supplies by moving them away in time, so we will have to be more liberal with our usage of Alchemist’s Fire to ensure supplies are thoroughly destroyed.”

“I see…I’ll update them when they come in from their first set of attacks. Should we use two arrows or three from now on?”

“Two for now. We should have vials of the stuff ready in a day or two for pickup, so there will be at least that many to spare. Make sure they get it on as much of those supplies as possible, rather than just a single spot.”

“It will be done, my lady.”

The gleam in Lluluvien’s flecked granite eyes gave Ludmila pause.

“You seem quite excited about all this yourself,” she noted.

“The both of us are, my lady,” Lluluvien replied. “When we first started doing this sort of thing over in Fassett County, I thought the feeling might be like you suggested: the chance to help see House Fassett finally get their comeuppance. As the days went by however, we saw what you were trying to do and our desire for vengeance just seemed…petty by comparison.”

“Even with what little I know of what the Fassetts subjected your family to,” Ludmila looked up at Lluluvien with a furrow on her brow, “I would not call your desire to play a part in their fall ‘petty’.”

“We know you wouldn’t, my lady,” Lluluvien replied, “but we consider it as such all the same. As maids, we see much of what goes on in a noble household – we’re exposed to the life and work and thoughts that outsiders can only imagine or speculate upon.”

Lluluvien finished checking over Ludmila’s dress, laying it over her bed and returning to pick up a sponge from beside the basin.

“Did anyone ever tell you how long we were slaves of House Fassett, my lady?”

“I have not asked anyone about it, actually.”

“We have mentioned this before,” Lluluvien squeezed the sponge tightly in her fist, “but my sister and I were born into slavery. We’re turning seventy-eight this autumn. My mother…I’ve heard from the Fassetts that she was with them since before they became a cadet branch of their old family. A-anyways, what’s important is that we’ve seen several generations of the Fassetts and their ilk. For all of our lives, we’ve seen how greedy, petty and small nobles can be.”

Ludmila wondered how the Linum sisters saw her when they first entered her household, and what they thought of her rigid views in the time leading up to their journey to Fassett County. While she never thought herself wrong for having them – she still held onto them, in fact – she quickly came to understand that the world that she had been raised to expect was far more varied and nuanced in reality. Even now, she heavily relied on her friends for their knowledge and understanding of life beyond the borders of her demesne.

“That is why we swore our family to your service, my lady,” Lluluvien continued. “It wasn’t only because you showed us charity, or because you rescued our mother, or because you helped put an end to the house that visited all of its evils upon us. It was because, after being mired for what amounts to a Human lifetime with some of the worst of what Humanity has to offer, we understand what you represent: a life of honoured service, in pursuit of goals high above that of petty desire and selfish gain. When measured against your actions and the lives that have turned for the better as a result, our lust for personal vengeance does feel petty indeed.

“In the end, this small desire to bring vengeance upon a small and petty noble house was only something that lashed out against the past, and spoke nothing of our future. No matter how wealthy or powerful, we have seen the lives of people who pursue their small, petty paths – it is infinitely better to serve in a place where our legacy will create a future for many.”

The crackle of the fire under the kettle was the only thing that accompanied the awkward silence that followed. Ludmila shifted slightly in the basin, she really wasn’t suited for having these heartfelt outpourings directed at her.

“One day I will figure out what it is that makes you all place me on such impossibly lofty pedestals,” she muttered.

A knock issued from the door, and the both of them froze. They had become engrossed in their conversation, and not a step of progress in getting ready for Lady Shalltear’s impending visit had been made since then. Ludmila silently motioned for Lluluvien to answer the door, and started to scrub herself as she sat in a basin of now-lukewarm water.

“Welcome, Lady Shalltear,” Lluluvien’s greeting floated over the divider.

“Is Lady Zahradnik in yet?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“Yes, my lady,” Lluluvien answered. “She’s just arrived from the border, so…”

Lluluvien’s voice trailed off. The silken sound of Lady Shalltear’s gown came closer, and Ludmila could see her shadow, cast by the light from the window, stretching from the hall.

“Ludmila?” Her liege’s voice chimed through the opening.

“You have my apologies, my lady,” Ludmila replied as she pressed herself to the edge of the basin, “I’ll be out in a few minutes…in the meantime, please feel free to entertain yourself with something in the hall…”

“I believe that there’s entertainment aplenty back here…”

Ludmila could hear the teasing smile through her liege’s silvery voice. She stood up and glanced about for her towel amidst the dripping sound of water. Lady Shalltear’s silhouette drew closer yet again, then stopped.

“Uwah…did Yuri teach you that look as a part of your maid training?” Lady Shalltear’s voice was no longer directed through the opening, “I can feel her adjusting her spectacles all the way in E-Rantel.”

Lady Shalltear’s shadow receded just as Ludmila located her towel. Her liege’s voice drifted through the opening again, in amused tones.

“Please do take your time, Ludmila,” she said. “There’s no need for us to be hasty.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Lluluvien returned to the living area, helping Ludmila to prepare as quickly as possible. As she slipped into a light summer one-piece, she glanced down at her chambermaid.

“What sort of look did you give Lady Shalltear?” Ludmila whispered.

“I wonder,” Lluluvien lightly replied.

The door to the manor opened again.

“Sister,” Wiluvien’s voice called out. “There are two Bone Vultures waiting outside. What–oh, good morning, Lady Shalltear.”

“Good morning.”

Wiluvien appeared around the divider, glancing quickly over what was going on before stepping in to help out. After a final, hurried check, Ludmila stepped out into the hall. Lady Shalltear was seated at the window with a game board on the desk. Three Vampire Brides stood silently along the wall.

“Good morning, Lady Shalltear,” Ludmila said as she walked into the Hall.

“Good morning, Lady Zahradnik,” Lady Shalltear replied.

“I’ve not seen you with your Vampire Brides in some time,” Ludmila noted. “Have we finished staffing all of the new post offices?”

“Almost,” Lady Shalltear replied. “These children will be working in the one you eventually build for your harbour.”

Ludmila examined each of the office workers in turn. Lady Shalltear tended to use ‘children’ to refer to members of her household, regardless of their appearance. Possessed of dark hair, elfin features and jealousy-inducing figures, no one else would ever refer to these exotic women as ‘children’. She eyed their diaphanous, alabaster garb, wondering if their extended presence would be a threat to public order and productivity.

“I understand that Warden’s Vale is to be a node in the transportation network,” Ludmila said, “but there won’t be much for them to do at the moment. At most, we have the Bone Vultures delivering parcels around the fief.”

“They have additional tasks as well,” Lady Shalltear told her. “For one, I’ve instructed them to begin learning about land and water transportation within the Sorcerous Kingdom. We’ve built up quite a bit of experience with it by managing the logistics of the Dwarven migration, and now we’ll put that to work here.”

It appeared that her liege was beginning to pursue her extended ambitions, beginning by solidifying her role as the Minister of Transportation. She could understand the part about water transportation, but…

“If it’s land transport,” Ludmila said, “wouldn’t the others be more suited to teach them?”

“Corelyn, Gagnier and Wagner all have three Vampire Brides assigned to them now,” Lady Shalltear told her. “My resources are not so limited that choosing one would preclude the others.”

“I see,” Ludmila lowered her head, “I apologize for making unwarranted assumptions, my lady.”

“There are a few other things that they have to do here,” Lady Shalltear said. “Mare is going to be finished with his alterations to your fief some time in the next week or so, is he not? You’ll be laying out buildings for the harbour town after that, so they’ll be here to consult over the design of the post office with.”

Lady Shalltear set down the game piece she had been fiddling with onto the board. Ludmila glanced down. Did her liege wish to play?

“I didn’t know that you played this game,” Ludmila said.

“I am aware of the rules,” Lady Shalltear replied, “though I can’t say that I’m very good at playing the game.”

It did seem like a very noble-like thing to do: discussing business over lunch, tea or a game. Ludmila reached down and made her own move.

“Lord Mare is scheduled to come finish his work here by early next week, yes,” Ludmila said. “With the Goblin army in the south, however, construction may be delayed. I have also suspended work at the villages out of concerns for their safety, at least as far as tasks outside of their walls are concerned.”

“Hmm…” Lady Shalltear moved another piece, “so both productivity and development are being affected by what is going on beyond the border.”

“It’s a reasonable delay,” Ludmila said. “A short term measure to preserve my long term outlook. Encouraging the immigration of new tenants has been a long and slow process – I cannot afford to lose the ones that have made their way here. Is it not the same with your own demesne?”

Ludmila made her next move, then frowned when Lady Shalltear did something peculiar with one of her own pieces.

“It is not,” she said. “My territory operates under the assumption that it will be attacked, and everything functions as intended when it is. We do not have the same problems as you have here.”

She wasn’t sure what to say about that. How was that sort of arrangement even possible? Ludmila absently reached down to make her move, but stopped when she looked across the board.

“Is something the matter?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“That last move you made,” Ludmila answered. “It’s not a legal move.”

“It is,” Lady Shalltear said lightly, “according to the rules that I know.”

Ludmila frowned at the unreasonable reply, then moved a piece to keep the game going before returning to the business at hand.

“Once I’m reasonably certain that the Goblin army is preoccupied with defending their position in the upper reaches, I can lift the restrictions. The work for the harbour town may begin even sooner than that, given how difficult it is to approach this place without being detected.”

“The Lizardmen appear to be free of these restrictions,” Lady Shalltear noted, moving another piece.

“The Lizardmen don’t even have permanent homes to stay in yet,” Ludmila replied. “The risk for them will decrease drastically once they have constructed their villages and the new lake and marsh are filled. They are not in the same situation as those in the farming villages, who may be attacked from the forests surrounding the valley. The villages and the harbour make it difficult to reach the interior of the Vale, as they effectively serve the same function as castles that project power over their respective surroundings.”

Once again, Lady Shalltear moved a piece in a way that it shouldn’t have been able to. When Ludmila responded to eliminate the offender, she was thwarted by another illegal move. Leaning back from the board, she chased away a mounting sigh, and pressed her lips together to keep the frown off of her face. How could anyone play a game when there were two different sets of rules? That was assuming Lady Shalltear was playing by any rules at all: everything she did appeared to be largely advantageous to her.

Across the desk, Lady Shalltear smiled slightly.

“Is there a problem?” She asked.

Ludmila could only answer with silence and her barely restrained expression of annoyance.

“This is quite amusing,” Lady Shalltear said.

“I am not finding this game amusing, my lady,” Ludmila replied.

“Rather than this game being amusing,” Lady Shalltear said, “I was more referring to you.”

Ludmila looked up from the desk, at the twin appearances of Lady Shalltear. Her chin rested against the knuckles of her right hand; thumb and index finger stretched out to cradle her cheek.

“The other day,” she said, “you expressed your disdain over this game: about how it in no way reflected the realities of war, but your former peers would treat it as such. Yet, even when you’re exposed to my rules, you still play by theirs.”

“A game is defined by its rules, my lady. Playing like this seems pointless.”

“That would depend on who is playing it, yes?” Lady Shalltear told her, “Putting aside this game, life is full of games – life is a game, of sorts. I have watched you for months, now, Ludmila. I have heard the tales of your family and seen how you play the games of life. How many times have you suffered at the hands of someone else’s rules? How many times have you carried on, unaware that there were other rules at all? Or that a game was even being played? Why is it that your own rules only dominate the field when you believe that you are playing the game you were meant to play?”

“I cannot force others to play according to my rules in everything,” Ludmila said.

“You do not need to.”

Lady Shalltear gestured to the board, which had long lost any sense of being a proper game to Ludmila.

“I am not forcing you to play by my rules,” Lady Shalltear said. “Yet you are being subjected to their results. You may play according to whatever rules you wish, but, in the end, you cannot stop me. By the same token, do you think any lesser being can stop you? I have claimed you as my own, Ludmila. By becoming one of mine, you have become an agent of His Majesty’s Will. Once, your conviction was so strong that you were willing to cast aside all of the games that others played. Yet now, as your life has settled into something more familiar, you, too, have settled into playing a familiar game.”

“I don’t think everything is exactly as it once was,” Ludmila replied. “If anything, things have greatly changed. Life in the Sorcerous Kingdom is already on the course of becoming so far removed from the world around us that I would hardly call it ‘familiar’ any more.”

“These are mostly transient, material changes,” Lady Shalltear told her. “Perhaps, to someone who only measures the world in such a way, it may seem like great changes have come to pass. You, however, should understand what I mean.”

Ludmila looked out of the window. Certainly, there were many transient, material changes going on in the Sorcerous Kingdom. Like Lady Shalltear asserted, she understood that other, more substantial changes would need to occur to truly set the Sorcerous Kingdom apart from the nations around it – changes that superseded all of the superficial ones that dominated the territories of the realm today.

“I believe your intuition is already leading you on the right path,” Lady Shalltear drew her attention back from the view outside, “but your mind cannot make sense of where your heart leads you. As a result, your world is still framed within the bounds of that limited understanding, even as you already hold the answer in your hands. This is a problem that I am well acquainted with, as I suffer from it as well. There is a distinct advantage that I hold over you in this regard, however.”

“What might that be?” Ludmila asked.

“I know the rules,” Lady Shalltear answered. “The rules that matter. The games that matter. The score that matters. If you are to continue growing as my vassal, you must know what matters as well. You have taken but a single step on the journey to understanding what it truly means to serve His Majesty, yet it appears that you’ve stopped to sit down after that first step. It’s high time that you take the next.”

Lady Shalltear rose from her seat, making her way over to the living area to stand over the map of the upper reaches. Ludmila followed, taking a place adjacent to her liege. The advance of the enemy encampments continued from the previous day, but she was hopeful that the disruptions that had already started would produce their desired effects.

“How about we use this to learn, hm?” Lady Shalltear motioned loosely over the map, “It is something you appear to already be quite adept at. Tell me: have you put the Death Knights into play yet?”

“I have.”

“What do you think of them?”

“They are quite useful if you can force the opponent into a conventional battle on unobstructed terrain,” Ludmila said. “Their ability to create Squire Zombies offers various possibilities, but only a limited number of them are available per Death Knight. The Squire Zombies can create regular Zombies, but they are only Zombies in the end. In a battle between proper armies, they might have a place in some auxiliary role that takes advantage of the sheer number that can be raised, but it’s the Death Knights and Squire Zombies that matter the most.”

She supposed that was how Death Knights could destroy small countries: forming masses of Zombies that overwhelmed an undefended countryside while the Death Knight and its Squire Zombies removed any real threats to their endeavour. Lady Shalltear pointed down to the marker indicating the recently-conquered encampment.

“You’ve already made your first move here, I think?” She said, “What is your plan going forward?”

“It would depend on how they react to the disruptions we’re inflicting upon them with the Shadow Demons,” Ludmila said. “We’re targeting the supplies that accumulate in the encampments with the idea that we can strain the army. As time passes, we can start isolating and eliminating camps that begin to suffer from attrition and fall into disorder. If we’re lucky, they’ll do most of our work for us in the end.”

“As time passes…yet work in your demesne suffers as long as this threat remains.”

“It shouldn’t take overly long,” Ludmila replied. “A week or two, at most, assuming that their supplies are reasonably limited. Doing it this way is also safer for my subjects – without a clear target to strike out against, this Goblin army will be too concerned with itself. Weakening the overall strength of the enemy will also have the effect of making the regular Zombies more effective.”

“You took this camp without incident,” Lady Shalltear said, “why not just rampage through the rest?”

“It wasn’t in a single move. I had to draw out a quarter of their forces, then strip away the troops stationed around their perimeter. After that, we killed their resting soldiers with Shadow Demons and Wraiths before moving in for the final assault.”

“You can’t do the same to these other camps?”

“I intend to whittle them down in any way possible,” Ludmila said, “but I don’t expect such favourable results every time. Even with this camp, we encountered some unexpectedly strong Hobgoblins – strong enough to delay Death Knights when working together. ‘Rampaging’ through the upper reaches with my limited forces may result in an organized response that can actually counter them. If they figure out that they aren’t unstoppable, they figure out what sort of moves I currently have no answer against.”

“Hmph. You might be a Human, but you may as well be Undead with the way that you fight. Preying on the weaknesses of the living; coldly acting with the full intent of driving tens of thousands into desperation and despair. You possess the patience of the grave: extending death’s embrace to your enemies.”

“…I suppose you could put it that way,” Ludmila frowned, “but I wasn’t actually considering things that way when I came up with all this. I am simply leveraging what I have at my disposal to the greatest effect that I can conceive of. Patiently awaiting for the results is simply a part of that.”

“I meant it as a compliment,” Lady Shalltear twisted her lip, “but at the same time, you are not considering a few potential solutions to the limitations that have been imposed upon you.”

“I’m not?”

“What I mentioned earlier applies even here,” Lady Shalltear told her. “You’ve imposed certain rules upon yourself without considering that there may be other rules that you could follow. You clearly understand the limitations of the Death Knights in this sort of environment, but you are not the only one that has considered their limitations in the Sorcerous Kingdom. This Goblin army represents a unique opportunity – one currently available to only you…hmm, maybe that was too big of a hint.”

“I see,” Ludmila sighed. “What of the administration?”

“The administration of the Sorcerous Kingdom exists to serve the Sorcerer King. They will not move against those who act in His Majesty’s service, unless they find some fault in it…ah, I see that you’ve figured it out already.”

She had. Ludmila had approached the problem of her limited forces in the entirely wrong fashion, using the wrong avenues. By doing so, she had not only caused trouble for herself and her people, but withheld opportunities for others as well. She had gone to the administration with what amounted to a personal problem, and they determined that she already had everything she needed to deal with that problem.

Though she had gone about it in a roundabout manner, Lady Shalltear had already provided several hints to her in the time they had been together. As her liege had mentioned, her intuition had already led her to the correct solution on multiple occasions, but her mind could not make sense of where her heart had led her. She already had the answer in her hands, but she did not apply the proper rules to them. If service to the Sorcerer King was paramount, then she would have to reframe her motives and actions to consider how the greatest service could be rendered.

“Do you think that Lord Cocytus is available to hold an audience?” Ludmila asked.

A Gate appeared in the way between the living area and the hall, and Lady Shalltear smiled.

“Why don’t we go and find out?”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 15

Chapter 15

“Should I wear something more presentable?” Ludmila asked as she eyed the Gate.

“It’s a bit different from your usual image,” Lady Shalltear eyed her up and down, “but I think you still look good. Besides, you understand that Cocytus is always naked, yes?”

Ludmila frowned at her liege's words, then her frown grew as Lady Shalltear continued lightly.

“You could just point that out if he voices any criticisms about your manner of dress.”

“I…don’t think that would be appropriate, my lady.”

“It would depend on the situation, yes?” Lady Shalltear told her, “You have almost the same sense of decorum as Cocytus, so I would say how you carry yourself in any situation would be in line with his own tolerances. From your interactions with the others, you should know that we’re not all rigid and inflexible in more casual situations. For that matter, I wouldn’t mind if you become a bit more friendly with me…”

Lady Shalltear turned her crimson gaze up at her, and her lips turned up in a small smile. It was quite enchanting, but the expression did not translate very well to her other appearance.

Personally, Ludmila thought it best to maintain a degree of separation between liege and vassal, and the old forms of Re-Estize that were ingrained into her made it a matter of course. She had no idea how to respond if Lady Shalltear herself expressed a desire to become closer. Sharing the same degree of intimacy with Lady Shalltear as she did with Clara felt too far off: they had grown up as childhood friends of effectively the same rank. Well, that wasn’t the case any more, as Clara was now a countess, but the fact had already been established beforehand.

She and Clara shared many connections and values, and they were as close to family to one another without actually being so. Imagining Lady Shalltear in the same relationship seemed out of place, yet it felt lonely to refuse her at the same time. If a minor noble like herself was so far removed from the hundreds of thousands of people below her station, then how much more isolated was Lady Shalltear? True friends would be few and far between, and it certainly appeared that way from what Ludmila had seen of her so far.

“I…I think I could manage that, my lady,” Ludmila said carefully, “but maybe not all at once. We have time, yes?”

“Hmph,” Lady Shalltear’s smile turned into a smirk. “For someone who’s happily offering a Vampire her blood, you’re strangely hesitant about everything else in between.”

Lady Shalltear’s hand disappeared into her inventory, withdrawing a familiar crystal decanter. She raised it in front of her face, eyeing the depleted contents with a frown.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be asking for more right now,” she muttered. “Gah, these stupid Goblins are keeping me from my pleasures. Let’s head on over: the faster you annihilate these insolent Demihumans, the faster I can get a refill.”

“Shall we accompany you, my lady?” Lluluvien asked from where she was attending to them from the side.

“No,” Ludmila said, “it’s more important to stay apprised of what’s going on out there. Wiluvien is here to take over, so go ahead and get some rest – we shouldn’t take long, anyways.”

She stepped towards the Gate, then slowed as she felt Lady Shalltear’s fingers press lightly against the small of her back.

“「Protection Energy – Ice」.”

“Where we’re headed is quite a bit colder than here,” Lady Shalltear explained. “You’re good to go now.”

With one final glance at the map, Ludmila stepped through the Gate and into a different world…or at least it felt like a different world.

Her ears popped, as if she were scaling the heights around her own home, or flying around in the sky. At the same time, an oppressive feeling bore down from overhead. She had arrived in the central dais of a grand promenade, surrounded by exquisite stonework of the likes she had never seen before. Statues and monuments lined the way, and rows of titanic columns stretched up into the cavernous ceiling high above. Stately buildings filled the scenery, putting to shame what she up to that point had thought were excellent dwellings provided for her own villages.

She was in a city of stone, yet the stone itself was fashioned so well that everything seemed to exude a life of its own. Framed by the picturesque cityscape was a magnificent palace, awash in cool light that flowed over it like waves of icy water. Several squat figures moved in and out of the gate, and she looked again at the statues along the promenade.

“A Dwarf city…” Ludmila said. “Where are we, my lady?”

“Feoh Berkana,” Lady Shalltear said. “Capital of the Dwarf Kingdom.”

Ludmila marveled at the vast city stretching beyond her sight, recalling Lord Mare’s notion about an underground world that existed below the notice of surface dwellers. The idea no longer seemed so distant and unknowable to her. The world is vast, as people might sometimes say when visiting E-Rantel from their towns and villages in the duchy, yet saying so now seemed like a sort of hubris in itself. The world was immeasurably more vast than the thoughts that accompanied such statements implied, beyond the meagre imaginations of those who had lived in one place for their entire lives.

As they passed through the gate on the way to the palace, they crossed between a set of Dwarf guards. They did not move to challenge them, but Ludmila examined them intently all the same.

“I didn’t know you fancied that type,” Lady Shalltear quipped from the side.

The Dwarf Ludmila was looking at started coughing, and Ludmila shot Lady Shalltear a look.

“I was examining their equipment,” Ludmila said. “Smith Kovalev made a comparison of the Hobgoblins’ equipment to Dwarven work, and I was seeing how closely they matched.”

Seeing the Dwarven metropolis in person, Ludmila realized that a large, underground kingdom might be found anywhere. It probably didn’t even have to be Dwarves. Whoever was supplying the Goblin army could be anywhere under the Southern Border Ranges, or even beneath the wilderness itself.

At the entrance to the palace proper, they came upon an insectoid being that Ludmila thought she had seen before at the Great Lake.

“Lady Shalltear,” it straightened to salute. “Welcome. Is there something we can help you with today?”

“We’re here to see Cocytus,” Lady Shalltear said. “He should be in, yes?”

“Lord Cocytus is in the war room,” the insectoid being nodded. “Follow me, please.”

The insectoid being snapped to attention again and spun on its...heels? It marched off into the depths of the palace, through the cavernous halls of carved marble. They were led to a large chamber – everything just appeared inordinately large in this place, especially considering who it was supposed to accommodate – where they found Lord Cocytus standing at a long table with several retainers, a row of important-looking Dwarves, and what appeared to be their aides.

“Shalltear,” he nodded. “Baroness Zahradnik. Welcome.”

“Cocytus,” Lady Shalltear returned his greeting. “I’ve brought Lady Zahradnik to discuss a certain matter with you.”

“A…certain matter?”

Lord Cocytus cast his gaze in Ludmila's direction, and she lowered her head in a curtsey.

“Good morning, Lord Cocytus,” she said, “I hope the day finds you well.”

He responded to her greeting with a brusque grunt, and Ludmila felt a warm smile creep onto her face at the fond memories that it evoked.

“I hope I've not interrupted anything urgent,” she said. “How goes the organization of the army?”

A blast of cold air washed over the table, causing the maps and reports laid upon it to flutter under the various weights placed upon them. It looked like Lord Cocytus was consulting over something with the Dwarves - markers were placed over much of the Azerlisia Mountain Range, with a row of pieces lined along the Dwarven highway leading down into the Baharuth Empire.

“Organization,” Lord Cocytus said, “requires data. Conflict. To test ideas. It is quiet here...so far. Hm…these: Commander-in-Chief of the Dwarf Kingdom military; Guildmaster of the Merchant Guild.”

She lowered her head respectfully towards the two Dwarves who were indicated by Lord Cocytus’ gestures, then looked down at the map around the highway again. Lord Cocytus had stationed a portion of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s army in the Dwarven passes, presumably so they could both display their quality to prospective clients in the Dwarf Kingdom. There was also the chance to gain some experience fighting the tribes that were tempted to raid merchant traffic. Based on Lord Cocytus’ statement and the placement of the pieces, however, it looked like they were locked in a giant staring contest instead.

“I suppose it’s to be expected, my lord,” Ludmila said. “If their objective is raiding, Demihumans will tend to only go after suitably soft targets. The only ones that will attack what you’ve set up here are those who seek a challenge.”

“Aye,” the Commander-in-Chief said, “and that’s just fine with us. We’re trying to get our Kingdom back on its feet – picking a fight with the entire neighborhood is an unnecessary detour.”

She glanced at Lord Cocytus to see how he reacted to the Dwarf’s words, but she still had no idea how to read him. Was he looking for a chance to put his soldiers to the test, or was he satisfied that they were ensuring that the highway remained secure? She supposed that the impasse here would provide the Adventurer Guild time to complete their expedition without the entire mountain range erupting into war.

“If that is the case,” Ludmila said, “I should make my visit here quick so you can return your attention to matters of security. My Lord, I would like to offer my assistance in the training of your soldiers.”

Lord Cocytus’ head shifted imperceptibly in her direction.

“Explain.”

“You have received my report on the Demihuman army amassing in the upper reaches?” Ludmila asked.

“Yes.”

“As of last night, they have attacked the Sorcerous Kingdom. With this attack comes full justification to retaliate against their forces beyond our borders. After the first two battles, however, it occurred to me that it is actually a rare opportunity for the Sorcerous Kingdom’s army.”

“I see,” Lord Cocytus said. “An opportunity. Training for the army. But is this allowed? You…are Shalltear’s vassal. This responsibility – this duty – is yours. Theft of rightful duty…distasteful.”

“We’ve an interest in settling the matter quickly,” Ludmila said. “While I am reasonably confident that I will be able to resolve the conflict with what I have available to me in due time, the delays it is incurring against development and production in my demesne is undesirable. Lady Shalltear, too, has a…vested interest in a return to regular life there. As a noble of the Sorcerous Kingdom, I must consider how the greatest service to His Majesty may be rendered, and I should not squander this opportunity by excluding others who might benefit.”

Lord Cocytus remained silent for a long while, and her inability to gauge his reaction made her want to fidget nervously. Had she expressed herself in the correct manner? To the side Lady Shalltear betrayed no hint in either direction.

To Ludmila, the most prominent aspect of the Sorcerer King’s servants was that they were chivalrous beyond human measure. Duty was coveted, and chances to prove fealty through action and accomplishment were priceless. Land, wealth, influence and personal glory were insignificant in comparison to the prestige and recognition that came with feal service to their liege.

After what felt like several minutes, Lord Cocytus reached into his inventory and withdrew a thin, leather-bound booklet. It slapped down onto the table to slide in front of her, and she picked it up to peruse its content. Within were lists of formations and various proposals for their use.

“Choose,” Lord Cocytus said.

She continued leafing through the pages until she came upon what appeared to be a standard-looking infantry troop: two Death Warriors, ten Death Knights, and a single Elder Lich commander. Well, it would almost certainly spell doom for another nation, but it was a regular infantry troop by the standards of the Sorcerous Kingdom. The description at the top of the page even labeled it as a ‘Standard Formation’.

“Death Knights appear to be the most plentiful,” she closed the small book, “and they’ll be able to come away with more than just training.”

“Er, wait,” the Guildmaster said, “aren’t they being used here?”

Both Lord Cocytus and Ludmila looked at the Dwarf. He shut his mouth and swallowed behind the banded braids of his beard, face growing pale. Ludmila winced internally. They were supposed to be promoting good relations with the Dwarf Kingdom, not unintentionally cowing them into silence.

“We should have quite a number of them, yes?” She reached for an answer to the Dwarf’s concerns.

“Yes,” Lord Cocytus nodded. “They will be dispatched. How many?”

“Send as many as you’d like,” Ludmila said. “I will rotate as many as I can through the ongoing conflict.”

“Rotate?” Lord Cocytus tilted his head.

“Each group that I use will participate in two attacks each,” Ludmila explained, “after which they will be sent back with a full contingent of Squire Zombies. There are over a hundred thousand enemy soldiers to get through, so you’ll end up with the requisite number of Squire Zombies per Death Knight at your disposal once everything is said and done. I’ll have to figure out what to do with the rest of the corpses that pile up, but that can wait until later.”

The Dwarves stared at her, expressions aghast. Why were they doing that? She had gone out of her way to assuage their concerns, too.

“I see,” Lord Cocytus nodded. “Elimination of intruders. Army training. Expansion of forces. Restoration of productivity. Shalltear…hm…what did she want?”

Ludmila exchanged a look with Lady Shalltear, who seemed to be silently trying to will her to come up with something.

“Erm…she wanted my demesne to return to normal as well. I am her sole contributor, after all.”

Lady Shalltear offered a brilliant smile at Ludmila’s words and nodded in agreement. She probably couldn’t tell Lord Cocytus that Lady Shalltear wanted an entire army snuffed out so just she could get a bottle of her blood.

“To render the greatest overall service,” Lord Cocytus mused, “in Lord Ainz’s name…personal recognition; thirst for acclaim, set aside.”

“House Zahradnik has never pursued such things, my lord,” Ludmila said. “We’ve always faithfully fulfilled our duties to our liege, regardless of how little recognition we received. For a defender of the realm, the realm comes foremost.”

“Devotion to service,” Lord Cocytus said. “Laudable. To have others – serving like this – would be good. Your results, anticipated. Keep the book: for future use.”

With that, Lord Cocytus released them. On the way back out through the promenade, Ludmila finally let out a breath of relief.

“Does Cocytus really make you that nervous?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“…it’s not my being fearful of Lord Cocytus, my lady.” Ludmila answered, “You may perhaps find this strange, but he carries himself in a manner that is similar enough to my father that I can’t help but act a certain way around him.”

“It will cause a great deal of confusion if you start calling him ‘my lord father’.”

Ludmila let out a laugh despite herself.

“He is a bit too big and blue for that,” Ludmila said. “But you might not be too far off the mark, in a way. Lord Cocytus’ mannerisms are quite comforting to me, and a bit sad at the same time.”

“If Lord Cocytus is like your father, then is there anyone that resembles your mother?”

“People say that I resemble my mother quite a bit.”

“Well, I’m not sure if that pairing can work,” Lady Shalltear said as they approached the platform upon which they had arrived. “Was there anything else you were interested in here before we return?”

Ludmila swept her gaze over their refined surroundings. She was curious about what she might be able to see in Feoh Berkana, but another thought crossed her mind as she watched the Dwarves head up and down the city streets.

“There are most likely a great many things of interest to me in this city,” she said, “but for some reason the Dwarves with Lord Cocytus reacted quite strangely. I’ve come to understand that Demihumans are fearful of me for some reason, but why would Dwarves act that way?”

“That should have been your discussion with Cocytus, no?” Lady Shalltear replied, “Even if we have engaged in amiable relations with the Dwarf Kingdom, most are still generally wary of His Majesty’s servants. You, on the other hand, just strode in and spoke with him without flinching – you even smiled quite nicely at one point – and then you proposed that the massacre of an army a hundred thousand strong be the subject of a training exercise…of which many would be turned into Undead.”

Ah–

“The population of the entire Dwarf Kingdom is just over a hundred thousand as well,” Lady Shalltear added, “so I’m sure some interesting parallels must have been running through their minds.”

Ludmila sighed. So much for being friendly with the Sorcerous Kingdom’s diplomatic partners.

“I’m beginning to believe that I’m just doomed to having everyone fear me.”

“When it comes to strangers,” Lady Shalltear said as her Gate opened before them, “it is better to be feared than loved, yes? Considering your duties, I would consider it an advantage.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Back in Warden’s Vale, they found Wiluvien gathered around the dining table with the three newly-arrived Vampire Brides. The Half-Elf chambermaid appeared to be explaining what everything on the map meant, and they rose to greet Lady Shalltear and Ludmila when they entered the hall.

“Welcome back, Lady Shalltear, Lady Zahradnik.”

Wiluvien lowered her head, as did the three Vampire Brides. With six people inside, the manor was feeling noticeably cramped.

“Did anything happen while I was away?” Ludmila asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Wiluvien replied. “We’ve set about eight stockpiles on fire since last night, and now we’re seeing how they respond. There hasn’t been a new shipment of supplies to the encampment we took over yet, either.”

Barely four hours had passed since the last shipment, so that was to be expected.

“What about activity in the western pass?”

“Demihumans continue coming in, my lady,” Wiluvien replied. “The information is from Bone Vulture reports, but they haven’t noted anything distinctly different.”

Ludmila wondered when it would end. Even after so many had spilled into the upper reaches, they just appeared to keep coming. She frowned down at the map: two new camps had been made along the northern branch, following the river, while what appeared to be the main body of the army had grown even further in the central valley. The numbers there grew ever more threatening, as the valley was far more navigable than the higher elevations of the upper reaches. Cover was far more abundant as well: Bone Vultures could spot any weak Goblin scouts being sent up to investigate the passes, but they probably couldn’t detect the ones moving through the dense vegetation of the valley.

It was entirely possible that the Demihumans had already discovered the entrance to the canyon, though they wouldn’t be able to enter the narrow passage without being spotted first. They would definitely know it was there if the northern arm advanced all the way to the Katze River, and it would make massed advances up the eastern pass more likely as well. With this in mind, she had already planned to use the next night to move down from the encampment where her forces were currently stationed. They would move south to arrest the progress of the northern arm entirely, then sweep eastward.

With what she now understood of her own Undead contingent, cleaning up the isolated Demihuman camps in a single night was barely doable. All she could think of was speeding up what she had done the previous night: whittling down a camp before overwhelming it, then repeating the process. She could only hope that there wasn’t a Goblin that was sneaky enough to elude her forces and report what was going on. The arrival of Lord Cocytus’ promised Death Knights would simplify things immensely, but, at the same time, she wasn’t sure if she could properly command more than a handful at once.

“Straight into commander mode, I see,” Lady Shalltear said lightly to the side.

Ludmila looked up from the map, blinking the dryness out of her eyes.

“Apologies, my lady,” she said. “The defence of my territory just seems to override everything once I start thinking about it.”

“Don’t worry,” Lady Shalltear smirked, “if my own demesne was being invaded, I would feel the same way. Why don’t we step away and go over to your desk?”

Nodding silently, she followed Lady Shalltear over to the hall. It had barely been thirty minutes since they left to speak to Lord Cocytus, but the time away felt like hours. She turned her head to look out the window and up the valley, but then the cool touch of Lady Shalltear’s slender fingers gently turned her head back to face her. Her liege looked up with the small smile that she so often bestowed upon her.

“We’ve just returned, Ludmila,” she lowered her hand. “Even if Cocytus sent out those Death Knights the moment we left Feoh Berkana, they’d still be an hour or two away if they ran all the way over. You seem to have fully embraced all of the benefits that the Ring of Sustenance confers to you, but you are not immune to becoming mentally weary. Despite how much mental endurance you naturally possess, it will catch up to you eventually.”

“I suppose I’ll never be able to match the Undead on that front,” Ludmila exhaled lightly, “no matter how much others mistake me for one.”

“People are mistaking you for Undead?” Shalltear asked curiously.

“A few have made comparisons,” Ludmila answered. “Most recently, it was a straight misidentification from the Hobgoblins in the first camp I took. They just refused to believe I was Human.”

“Interesting…well, what I was going to say was that even if we do not need to sleep, Undead can still get mentally weary – take it from me.”

“I wasn’t aware of that, my lady,” Ludmila said.

“To be one of the Undead is a wondrous blessing,” Lady Shalltear told her, “but it is not all moonlight and lilies. We have many strengths, but they also come with weaknesses – even one such as myself, who can grasp all of the pleasures that life and undeath have to offer. Beyond my purely physical traits, I can laugh and love, but I can also feel worry and regret. Like all intelligent Undead, I can feel stressed and overwhelmed by my own mental burdens. Even His Majesty tells me that I must allow myself to rest and recover, no matter how much I feel I can continue with my duties.”

Before she had met Lady Shalltear, Ludmila had never met an Undead being who could claim that – or even communicate, for that matter. Aside from perhaps Ghosts, Bohdan’s mention of an Elder Lich was the first she had heard of Undead who could even think. How her perception had changed was bemusing: she was now a noble of a nation ruled by an Undead Sovereign, worked with the Undead every day, and swore herself to an Undead liege that she had grown quite fond of.

“A change of pace, then,” Ludmila said. “What about the Vampire Brides that you’ve assigned to the Vale? I know we went over it briefly back when we were planning out the transportation network, but that was for a single Vampire Bride.”

“Work again?” Lady Shalltear frowned, “Well, I suppose this is more of an idle conversation. The harbour town you’re building here…actually, you showed me those plans: it looks more like a fortress city – larger than E-Rantel, even.”

“Unless things advance faster than anticipated,” Ludmila said, “it’s something for the far future. E-Rantel is also bound to grow with this tremendous surplus of necessities. By the time the harbour here gets to that point, E-Rantel will be larger than the capitals of our surrounding nations. Due to requirements for security, I’ll be putting up the first two walls, but the inside will be mostly vacant. It will look rather sparse to begin with, but we’ll eventually grow into it.”

“That means that we can build as nice of a post office as we’d like, doesn’t it?”

“If that is your desire,” Ludmila smirked. “But it might be a little embarrassing if it was far too grandiose-looking for its intended function.”

“Yes, well, like you said, we must plan for the far future. Warden’s Vale should end up as a major hub for both air and water transport due to its placement in the southwest.”

“I anticipate some local growth,” Ludmila said, “but it sounds like your expectations are far greater.”

“You’ve placed quite a bit of territory under your management, have you not?” Lady Shalltear asked, “You’re nearly the size of Corelyn County now.”

“If you only account for land area, yes,” Ludmila answered, “but unlike Corelyn County, the vast majority of my territory is undeveloped and will stay that way, save for a few select locations.”

“What about the upper reaches?”

“The upper reaches…?”

“It’s unclaimed by any nation, yes?” Lady Shalltear said, “Everyone in there is going to be scared silly of you once you mop up that army. You’re no longer part of a nation composed solely of Humans, so it shouldn’t be an issue bringing all those tribes to the south under your rule.”

Her liege was correct, though Ludmila didn’t really fancy the idea of having even more Demihumans under her. Any and all previous attempts by both Re-Estize and the Slane Theocracy to permanently drive out the Demihuman tribes in the southern reaches had eventually ended in failure, but if they were simply brought under the Sorcerous Kingdom’s governance like the Great Forest of Tob, there probably wouldn’t be any issue on the Sorcerous Kingdom’s side. There was another problem, though…

“It would put us right up against the border of the Slane Theocracy…”

“Clara is right up against the border of the Slane Theocracy already.”

“Clara’s demesne is one hundred percent Human,” Ludmila said. “If it simply came down to brute force, I believe I could easily keep these Demihumans well-behaved. If the goal is integration, however, I’ll have to put a lot of thought into how to go about it.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Lady Shalltear said. “Florine is doing wonderfully up north. Oh, speaking of integration, I’ll be sending someone your way soon.”

“Erm, when? Who?”

“A promising individual who I’ve identified recently: she’s currently studying in the city, but those studies are decidedly lacking in several aspects that you excel in. Proper conduct, law, duty – that sort of thing.”

Did Lady Shalltear decide to send her this new protégé because she was currently mentoring Chieftain Esess? Maybe it was another Demihuman. Those things weren’t something one could simply pick up overnight. It sounded like she would have this new student for the indeterminate future.

“If she’s in the city,” Ludmila said, “why not refer her to Liane of Florine? I know that they’re not your vassals, but they are still proper nobles.”

“Ah, no – a firm hand works best with this one, so training her is right up your alley. That reminds me…”

Lady Shalltear held out her arm, and her hand closed to grasp a long object that shimmered into existence before her. Ludmila’s eyes widened as she took in its details and realized what it was.

“My lady,” she breathed, “this is…”

“I’ve been carrying this around for months,” Lady Shalltear said. “I keep forgetting to give it to you, but now that I’m sending that one your way, you might need it. If she misbehaves, just give her a good poke.”

A poke?

She eyed the object with a furrow on her brow. It was a glaive with what appeared to be a polished white haft of some unknown material. The blade of the weapon was wreathed in a dark aura that slowly pulsed over its long edge. It was clearly a magical weapon, and, if it was as powerful as it looked, ‘poking’ someone with it wouldn’t end very well.

“Don’t make me hold this out forever,” Lady Shalltear prompted.

Ludmila reached out, hesitantly taking the weapon into her hand. After she did so, it grew to match the proportions that it once had relative to Lady Shalltear. The weapon now stood at over two-and-a-half metres, with the blade over a half metre long. Though it was slightly longer than the spear that she was used to wielding, it was roughly the same weight and felt comfortable in her grip.

“A-are you sure about this, my lady?” Ludmila said, “You did mention something about some equipment back then, but this is…”

“You needn’t worry about it being something of mine,” Lady Shalltear told her. “It is a replica of the one bestowed upon me by Lord Peroroncino. I took the liberty of altering a few of its properties to be more suited for your use.”

Examining the glaive again, Ludmila hadn’t a clue about what it did at all. Having never wielded a magic weapon in her life, she had no idea what to expect.

“The first feature I’m not certain will work for you,” Lady Shalltear said, “so let’s try that out. Do you recall how you retrieve specific items from your Infinite Haversack?”

Ludmila nodded.

“It’s a bit of a similar feeling. Will the weapon into your bag.”

Frowning, she did as her liege asked. The weapon vanished from her hand, and her arm jerked upwards slightly with the sudden absence of its weight.

“Ooh, it does work. Now–never mind.”

After sending it into her bag and back into her hand several times, she held the weapon in hand again.

“What else does it do?” Ludmila asked.

“There’s nothing too fancy on it,” Lady Shalltear told her, “but it does have quite a bit of dat–er, it has a decent enchantment on it, so the power of your attacks will be similarly affected. In addition, it inflicts negative energy damage to whatever you hit. The effect on the blade is just cosmetic – any attack you make with any part of the weapon will deliver the effect of the enchantment. This means you should be careful not to bump into anyone with it when the effect is active, and if you drop it on your foot…well, try to avoid that.”

Ludmila’s gaze on the exquisite weapon turned wary as it started to feel more and more like a deadly hazard.

“…so if this person coming to learn from me misbehaves, I ‘give her a poke’. Are you sure she won’t instantly die from that?”

“Not a poke, no. She’s quite resilient. Also, don’t hesitate to use it in a fight – just like with any of the magical items and equipment you receive from us, we’ll have to chase down whoever kills you and runs off with your stuff.”

“I will try to avoid that,” Ludmila said, “but I’ll need to practice using this weapon. You mentioned that I shouldn’t bump into anyone with it when the effect is active: does that mean that it can be disabled somehow?”

“That’s right,” Lady Shalltear nodded. “Many magic items have effects that you can activate and deactivate through various conditions, so you should get used to that. This one in particular can be willed to do so, but it will still be a powerful weapon even when the effects are deactivated. Like your other weapons, you’ll have to mind how you move it around.”

Nodding as Lady Shalltear spoke, she tried to disable the weapon. It felt strange at first, but it was no more difficult than moving it back and forth between her Infinite Haversack and her hand.

“Hm…you’re deactivating everything at once,” Lady Shalltear told her.

“There’s more than one effect?”

“Yes,” Lady Shalltear nodded, “there are several effects built into it. The first is the Quickswap enchantment that lets you equip and unequip it like you’ve just learned. Second is a weapon enhancement that increases the effectiveness of your attacks. The third is a Keen Edge enchantment that makes it easier to score critical hits. Finally, there’s the negative energy effect, which has several components: the dark aura you see on the blade, the negative energy damage itself, and the ability damage it inflicts.”

“I only have cursory knowledge on how the whole negative energy thing works,” Ludmila eyed the dark blade of the glaive, “could you provide an explanation on that part please?”

“Negative energy is the opposite of positive energy…” Lady Shalltear frowned at her own words, “I-I suppose you might consider it the ‘element’ delivered by healing spells. Creatures that are healed by positive energy take damage from negative energy and vice versa, which also means that the negative energy component of your weapon will not harm creatures fueled by negative energy, like the Undead.”

“Shouldn’t that mean that touching Undead servitors with this weapon will heal them, since Undead are healed by negative energy?”

“I’ve heard it worked that way at some point in the past, but, unfortunately, His Majesty said it was patched out.”

“Pa…what?”

“T-the important thing is that it doesn’t,” Lady Shalltear waved her hand dismissively. “Negative energy from spells and abilities that are supposed to heal the Undead will do so, while all other sources of negative energy do not – so don’t go around poking your Death Knights thinking that it might work.”

“I see,” Ludmila replied. “After the first battle last night, Nonna used some sort of…touch attack? Is this weapon’s effect something like that?”

“Yes, that’s right. I adjusted the power downwards from the original weapon to lower the chance of unfortunate accidents, adding the attribute damage in its place. Overall it’s still far superior to even the best magic weapons you’ll find around here. I’ve configured this glaive to be perfectly in line with your personal fighting style.”

Lady Shalltear was right on the mark with her assessment. Guildmaster Ainzach and Merry sometimes called it the technique of a soldier: defensive, fast, and maneuverable – exploiting the leverage, speed and raw power of a spear. Once she became accustomed to the glaive, it would be perfect for her.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew how I fought,” Ludmila said.

“I drop by the Adventurer Guild sometimes,” Lady Shalltear replied, “and Mare lets me examine your assessments.”

“So this is for more than just ‘poking’ a problematic student…isn’t it a bit much for someone like me?”

“‘Someone like you’,” her liege snorted. “A vassal who is talented and ambitious, yet loyal, is a treasure in themselves. Any liege would be a fool to not invest in measures to retain them. As long as you continue to provide feal service, more will surely come your way. I sincerely doubt that this will not be the case, so you had better get used to it.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 17

Chapter 17

After Lady Shalltear departed to attend to other business, Ludmila left the village, walking out onto an isolated part of the northern flats to practice with the new glaive. She was in no way so giddy at the prospect of the wonderful new weapon that she absolutely had to try it out right away – she was just taking her liege’s advice to distance herself from the current situation. Her reasons were entirely reasonable.

It took her over an hour to gain a cursory feel for the weapon. The different shape and weight of the blade compared to her usual spear altered its balance and handling, but time and training would allow her to adapt to its use. The point of the glaive remained in line with the haft of the weapon, allowing her to perform the same attacks as she could with a spear, but the curved edge of the long blade also facilitated arcing slashes and cuts. When used in that fashion, the polearm flowed gracefully from one form to the next – or at least it probably would once she got used to it.

As Ludmila continued to practice, distant figures appeared on the sandbar that led north. Their images shimmered through the waves of heat rising off of the valley floor. She unequipped her weapon before they came too close. At the head of a long column of Death Knights were two young women that she thought were around Liane or Florine’s age: dressed in somewhat matching black-and-white garb. One had long pink hair with green eyes that matched her scarf. Her face bore no real expression. The second had purple hair and red eyes; her face was similarly expressionless.

The two women were quite lovely in appearance, contrasting with the two lines of Death Knights marching behind them. At regular intervals, she could see an Elder Lich flying above the column. They came to a stop before her, and the pink-haired woman spoke.

“Ah – Woodlouse.”

Ludmila furrowed her brow.

“Eh?” The other woman said, “That’s the Woodlouse?”

“Mm.”

Why were they calling her that? The name tickled her memory, but she couldn’t quite recall where the appellation was from…

“Delivery,” the pink-haired woman said.

“Delivery~” the purple-haired woman repeated.

“Erm…yes,” Ludmila said, “thank you. Was this everything Lord Cocytus intended to send over?”

There appeared to be 40 Death Knights total in the column, with an Elder Lich per set of ten: the ‘standard formation’ listed in the booklet Lord Cocytus gave to her, minus Death Warriors. With 24 Squire Zombies per Death Knight, she would still have a massive surplus of corpses for the section of the Goblin army that she intended to clear out that night.

“More tomorrow,” the pink-haired woman said. “Not enough?”

“If all goes well,” Ludmila replied, “I’ll be going through perhaps 15,000 Goblinoids tonight. The forces you have delivered are more than adequate, but it’s a lot of potential Squire Zombies that will just end up as Zombies or corpses.”

The pink-haired woman frowned at her words.

“Hehh…” the purple-haired woman said. “As expected of Lady Shalltear’s vassal: this whole river’s going to be red with blood by the time you’re done!”

Was that even possible? Her words painted an image that was more suited to some fantastical tale. The land in the upper reaches was so parched that any blood would probably be soaked up by the ground.

“I will go ahead and work with this group,” Ludmila said. “I am not sure if he is satisfied with just this number, but please let Lord Cocytus know that there will be plenty of potential Squire Zombies available…”

Her voice trailed off as the pink-haired woman walked past her. Ludmila turned to follow her movement, and found that she was walking towards a Krkonoše grazing moss from the damn stones along the riverbank.

“Oh…”

The Krkonoše raised its head and bleated at the woman, who held up her gloved hands while making grasping motions.

『Don’t hurt her, she’s one of His Majesty’s servants.』

The fluffy Demihuman cast a dubious three-eyed look in Ludmila’s direction. By the time it turned its attention back to the advancing woman, it was too late. She picked up the bleating Krkonoše and started to thoroughly cuddle it, rubbing her face into its side.

“「Fly」.”

It started to rise into the air, but the woman only continued to cling tightly onto it, wrapping her legs around its body. Together, they slowly rose into the air and over the river.

“Hey!” The purple-haired woman said, “Gimme back my little sister!”

“No,” the pink-haired woman said, “you’re the little sister.”

“Muu…”

The pink-haired woman looked down on her sister with a smug look as she continued floating away. In a flurry of motion, a thick white strand of…something shot out from the purple-haired woman and stuck onto the floating woman’s leg.

That…that didn’t come out from under her skirts, did it?

“Let go of my little sister!” The purple woman shouted up at the floating Krkonoše.

No, your sister is obviously the one that is not letting go.

“You’re the little sister.”

“Ei!”

The purple-haired woman dug in her heels and started pulling, and the poor Krkonoše slowly started floating back. After several moments, there was a click and the pink-haired woman’s leg fell off at the knee. It snapped back with the strand and hit the purple-haired woman full in the chest.

“Ough!”

The woman was knocked flat onto her back. Ludmila thought she saw her face shift out of place, but it was back to normal when she blinked. The pink-haired sister continued staring down smugly at her sibling as she floated away, with no discernable signs of distress over her lost leg.

“There,” she said. “Have a little of your big sister.”

Ludmila went over to the woman on the gravel, looking down worriedly. She wasn’t sure if she was worried over her being injured or the fact that a person’s leg had just popped off right in front of her. There wasn’t even the slightest trace of blood from the leg, and she couldn’t make anything out from the purple-haired woman’s expressionless face.

“Are you alright, miss, erm…”

“Gah!” The woman sat up with a shout, “I hope you don’t want this back any time soon!”

She brandished the leg and shook it in the direction of her sister, who was quickly turning into a dot against the cliffs on the other side of the river. The woman stuffed the leg into a hole in the air that looked identical to how Lady Shalltear accessed her inventory before standing up and dusting herself off.

“Hah,” she let out a breath. “That was a long walk. So hungry…”

The woman raised her hand, concealed by her long sleeve, to rub her stomach as if famished. She looked up at Ludmila.

“Woodlouse.”

“Why do you two call me that?” Ludmila asked.

“Woodlouse is Woodlouse,” she answered as if it were self-evident. “I’m hungry, Woodlouse. Urgh, that name is making me even hungrier…”

After a time observing the two, they were decidedly not Human. She wasn’t sure if she even had anything that would serve as food.

“What do you eat?”

“Meat.”

Ludmila reached into her Infinite Haversack and offered the woman a strip of venison. Rather than sticking it into her mouth, she held it up under her chin. The strip of meat disappeared to the sound of messy nibbling. Flecks of meat fell onto her apron. After she finished, the woman brushed it off and looked up at Ludmila again.

“Hungry.”

“Is there any sort of meat that you prefer?” Ludmila wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

“Hm…any sort of meat is fine, but…do you have any men?”

Men? Was she speaking metaphorically? Probably not. She wasn’t referring to Humans, was she? Maybe any male would work.

“We have the dead from the battle late last night,” Ludmila told her. “There should be a few hundred to choose from, if that works for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Ludmila nodded. “I am heading up that way right now, if you would like to come with us.”

“Wai~” The woman threw up her hands with a cheer, “Meat~ Meat~ Man~ Meat~”

She kept singing her disconcerting little tune, and Ludmila kept looking around to see if anyone took notice. They went south with the procession of Undead forces and, as they approached the pier, she cleared her throat.

“Welcome to Warden’s Vale, by the way,” she said. “I am Ludmila Zahradnik.”

“Oh, you’re welcoming me? I don’t get that often…I’m Entoma, by the way.”

“Entoma…the same Entoma in Corelyn County when we were transferring the harvest? Does that make your sister Shizu?”

“Hehe, that’s right~”

“I see,” Ludmila said. “In that case, I am pleased to finally meet you, Miss Entoma. Please send my regards to Miss Shizu the next time you see her as well.”

“Sure~”

They continued on their way, up into the passes and to the slope where the corpses from the previous night’s attack were being temporarily stored. Entoma skipped forward lightly through the rows of Goblinoid bodies.

“Oh~” She said, “So many, so many~ I can pick any one I like?”

“Please feel free to choose, Miss Entoma,” Ludmila replied. “We are stripping them of their armour and weapons, but, after that, I am not even sure what we are going to do with all of them.”

“We usually drop off spare corpses at Lord Cocytus’ place,” Entoma told her. “Even the Humans that die are moved there after they’re done with their funeral stuff.”

Come to think of it, the Sorcerous Kingdom did take all corpses left by their citizens now. Funerary rites were even paid for by the treasury to secure the bodies. Lady Shalltear informed her that the corpses would then be turned into productive Undead labour or security forces like Death Knights.

“If it is possible,” Ludmila said, “could you ask Lord Cocytus if…”

Ludmila’s voice stilled as four large limbs emerged from Entoma’s back. She picked up a few Bugbear bodies and turned back to face her, tilting her head.

“Hm?”

“Um, right. If it is possible, could you ask Lord Cocytus if the storage of corpses from these battles can be arranged?”

“Sure thing~” Entoma moved forward nimbly, “I’ll see you tomorrow…can I grab a few of these every day?”

“Of course, Miss Entoma,” she replied. “Thank you for your help.”

Entoma nimbly scaled her way down the slope, disappearing into the trees below.

Ludmila continued along the rows of bodies, leading the newly arrived Undead forces to the west. They came across Nonna, who appeared to be going from corpse to corpse, taking down notes.

“I have something to report,” the Elder Lich said.

“Is it something to do with these bodies?” Ludmila asked.

“Not the bodies themselves,” Nonna answered, “but the equipment that they bear. After comparing the Hobgoblins that fought in the pass to those that were left in the encampment, I’ve discovered that those from the pass had magical items upon their person.”

Ludmila frowned at the idea that these Hobgoblins were found using magical equipment. Their fine arms and armour were already troubling enough.

“What sort of magical items?” She asked.

“These magical items are not of the same, uniform, nature as their other equipment,” Nonna said, holding out a sheet of paper. “You may peruse the findings if you wish, but the point I wanted to bring to your attention is that the Hobgoblin corpses delivered from the encampment did not possess any magical items whatsoever.”

She quickly read over the list of Nonna’s findings. Many of them appeared to be low level items, like Ring of Protection, Ring of Resistance, or other resistance and attribute-boosting accessories, but several looked unique and she had no idea of their function. The items were collected from the catalogued corpses and delivered to her manor, with notable sets being discovered on certain individuals.

“Are you suggesting that there is something like an equipment scheme within the ranks of the Goblin army?”

“Indeed,” Nonna nodded. “The anomalous strength of the forces destroyed at the pass, combined with the presence of their magical equipment, may indeed be an indication that it is ordered by some rank or status. The fact that the Hobgoblins at the camp, though also equipped with high-quality equipment, were a degree weaker than their counterparts in the pass also points to this possibility.”

If that was true, then the first battle might have been against the elites of the Goblin army, or at least a large number of their elites. Given the resilience of their prisoners against Nonna’s attempts to charm them, their General was still probably down in the basin somewhere. She would have to assume that that General would have some sort of bodyguard made up of at least a similarly strong cadre of soldiers.

Not that it mattered now. With more Undead forces flowing in to participate in training, they would have absolutely no chance. Her overall plan hadn’t changed, however – things would go faster, but what was important was that her enemies were tidied up in an efficient and controlled manner to prevent them from scattering everywhere.

“I suppose we will find out if this is true tonight,” Ludmila said. “If so, we can accelerate our plans and have life return to normal in the Vale within a week. I bet you miss compiling all those statistics already.”

“All service to His Majesty holds value,” Nonna said. “Falling behind our development schedule is untenable, however.”

Ludmila nodded in agreement. As well as things appeared to be going in the upper reaches, she wanted these Demihumans dead and gone so she could return to her domestic duties in Warden’s Vale. At this early stage in her demesne’s growth, every day felt crucial to long term development.

“Is this list just from the corpses here?” Ludmila asked. “What about the Zombified Demihumans down in our encampment?”

“They still require investigation,” Nonna replied. “The probability is high that more items will be uncovered there.”

“Then take command of these fellows here,” Ludmila told her. “Have the Elder Liches help you finish cataloging these bodies, then head down to the encampment to sort things out there. I will be headed back to the manor to see how things are developing down south…maybe I can work out a set of magic items from all these recovered ones. If you have the time later, feel free to brief the other Elder Liches on what you’ve learned so far out here. I will arrive in the evening to make our final preparations for tonight.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Floating high in the night sky above the first encampment in their path, Ludmila went over her attack plan with the four Elder Lich commanders. They were entirely silent during the entire meeting, leaving her wondering whether they were actually heeding her instructions or not. Based on her experience with the Elder Liches assigned to administer Warden’s Vale, they would efficiently carry out her directives and policies, but the vague sense that they looked down on the regular subjects of the Sorcerous Kingdom didn’t lend to that idea.

The plan was straightforward, consisting of procedures meant to be repeated over the course of the night as the Elder Liches directed their respective attacks. The commanders would work in pairs, taking turns to attack each enemy position with their forces. Unlike the previous night, she would leave the clearing of each camp’s picket to the Shadow Demons – they were much faster at it, anyways – while she observed things from overhead. The rest was similar to the previous night’s actions: one Elder Lich would oversee the encirclement of the target encampment, while the other would direct half of its Death Knights to clear the interior.

Since there were only four commanders, each would be able to accrue substantial experience from all of the positions they would be clearing. The first three encampments, which stretched out from the northern branch of the Goblin army, were awkwardly placed due to the extremely rugged terrain, so they would be taken out one at a time. Ludmila would lead the first attack to provide an example for the Elder Liches to study, then each pair of commanders would make their own attacks on the other two. If all went well, they would move down into the valley where the rest of the night’s targets awaited them.

A Shadow Demon flew up before her, yellow light leering from its eyes and mouth as it reported in.

“Preparations are complete,” its voice was a whisper. “The sleeping lie slain.”

“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary down there?” Ludmila asked.

The Shadow Demon tilted its head, falling silent for several moments before answering.

“There are more Demihumans than the camp we attacked yesterday. They do not appear to be aware of our actions.”

“Good work,” Ludmila decided that it meant nothing was amiss. “Head down and get in position for the main assault.”

It descended again, and Ludmila twisted around to look down at the west bank of the gorge below the encampment, where their ground forces awaited. She ordered them across the bare trickle of a creek at the bottom, directing them to encircle the encampment before closing in. As they did so, she directed Nonna and the other Elder Liches down to a position directly over the camp.

After some thought about how flying casters could be best positioned to support forces on the ground, she had decided to test a more open approach. Since the range of a Demihuman’s natural Darkvision was limited, they might not even need the cover of trees or other obstacles to hamper retaliation against attacks at night. All they needed to do was figure out the range of the enemy’s Darkvision, then stay above their ability to clearly see them at night. An Elder Lich flying high above in black robes with the night as a backdrop would be extremely difficult to detect without the senses of an advanced scout.

As the ring of Undead closed in, several Goblins below raised their heads to sniff at the wind.

『Looks like they’re starting to notice that something is wrong. Once the Death Knights enter the camp, cast Darkness on their central bonfires.』

Ludmila ordered the Death Knights waiting to the west to begin their assault, and they crashed through the brush between the trees. Several Hobgoblins at a campfire near the perimeter rose to their feet in alarm at the noise, and were subsequently cut down by an explosion of splinters as the Death Knights smashed through the barricade.

『Bring in the encirclement – do not try to cross the perimeter.』

She looked down in satisfaction as she repeated her orders to each quarter of the encirclement, and the ring of Zombies moved forward in unison. The orders were issued to the Squire Zombies, who in turn could manage the Zombies near to them. Once they had completed their task, Ludmila ordered the Squire Zombies to enter the encirclement and begin clearing away the Demihumans milling about in confusion around the edges of the camp. She had more than enough regular Zombies now to provide a barrier against panicking individuals, but they needed a second group to work with the other team that would eventually split off and work their own route.

The large, central bonfire was blotted out by Nonna’s Darkness spell, and Ludmila looked down. She felt that they were fairly low over the ground, but it appeared that no one had noticed them yet. It probably helped that the Undead forces were wreaking havoc all over the place.

Over the next few minutes, the number of Demihumans in the camp diminished rapidly. Only the core force of Hobgoblins remained in the end. Instead of surrounding them this time, she had the Death Knights array themselves across the centre of the camp from the Demihuman formation.

“How did we do for Squire Zombies?” She asked Nonna.

“The participants have achieved their quotas,” the Elder Lich replied.

“In that case, drop down over there,” she indicated a place to the side of the formation. “I’m going over to speak to them.”

“This hardly seems necessary,” Nonna said as they drifted towards the ground. “We should trample them and move on.”

“Even if they are Demihumans,” Ludmila said, “it does not mean that we must stoop to their level. Besides, fear and respect are not mutually exclusive. The Sorcerous Kingdom is to become a bastion of civilization, so basic etiquette should at least be extended. I will offer them a single chance to surrender, like the other camp. Who knows; they might actually capitulate and provide us with some useful information.”

She got off of Nonna’s shoulders and made her way around to the line of Death Knights. En route, she called her new glaive into her hand, activating its enchantments. Dark energy pulsed over the blade, and Ludmila nodded. It was quite impressive looking – perhaps impressive enough to lend some weight to her words.

Coming to a stop in front of the four Death Knights, she ordered them to stop using their Skill.

“I would speak to your commander,” she called out to them.

“Hiiieee!”

“Hiiieee?”

The sound was very nearly a squeal, and whimpers rose from the ranks of Hobgoblins. What sort of commander acted so shamefully in front of their soldiers? She eyed the group before her – maybe they weren’t as disciplined as the previous ones? She couldn’t sense any that were as strong as those in the pass, reinforcing the notion that the first battle had been one with elites.

“…you do have a commander, yes?” She prompted.

“I-I’m the commander,” one of the taller Hobgoblins spoke. “What do you want, Undead?!”

Ludmila sighed. This again. Next, they would be insulting Surshana.

“I am not…” she scowled, “you know what, forget it – what you think I am does not change what I have to say. I am formally demanding your surrender.”

“Surrender?” The Hobgoblin commander laughed, “Thanks, but no thanks, Miss Undead. We’d rather our deaths be quick.”

“Death comes for everyone,” Ludmila said, “but why do you believe that a quick death is preferable to surrender in this case?”

The commander gave her an incredulous look, eyeing the various Undead standing around the camp.

“That should be pretty self-explanatory, don’t you think?” He said, “Those brutes of yours were just playing around with my troops, then…well, maybe you’ll get most of us, but some of us will still be able to die proper.”

“And if I said that you would simply be taken prisoner?” Ludmila asked.

“Then I would say that you’re a liar,” the commander answered.

“I see,” Ludmila said. “Is that your final decision?”

The commander swallowed and nodded. His trembling soldiers raised their shields, tightening their ranks.

“Your misguided resolve for a quick death is regrettable,” she told the Hobgoblin commander, “but I will respect it nonetheless.”

『Nonna.』

“「Twin Maximize Magic – Lightning」.”

Nonna’s spell tore into the side of the Hobgoblin formation. Crackling blue arcs of electricity danced their way across the entire line, jolting the Hobgoblins briefly before they fell to the ground in unison. An eerie silence filled the night air as an acrid stench rose from the two hundred Demihuman corpses. Ludmila looked up at the Elder Liches observing from above.

“Whose Death Knights were these?” She asked.

One of the Elder Liches raised a hand, and Ludmila gestured to it and one other.

“You and you,” she said. “The next camp is yours. Clear the pickets, kill off the resting Demihumans and approach with your forces from the west. I will catch up with you before you start the main assault.”

The Elder Liches lowered their heads in her direction before flying off to the southwest with their troops. Ludmila ordered the remaining Squire Zombies to begin delivering the corpses left over from her attack to the first camp. Over at the formation of fallen Hobgoblins, Nonna was slowly making her way from one end to the other with clipboard in hand.

“Investigating your theory?” Ludmila asked as she walked up to join the Elder Lich.

“Indeed,” Nonna answered. “By your estimation, what level were these Hobgoblins?”

“The commander was somewhere around Gold,” Ludmila said. “The rest of these Hobgoblins were Silver at most – some even lower…they probably ranged between Level 5 and 10, with the commander between Level 12 to 14.”

Nonna walked over to the corpse of the Hobgoblin commander and extended a hand.

“「All Appraisal Magic Item」.”

Ludmila waited for the Elder Lich’s assessment. Nonna looked up and shook her head.

“I believe the theory stands,” Nonna told her, “the equipment of this formation also appears to reflect your assessment.”

She looked down at the row of corpses. While some sported the finely-crafted plate mail armour, most of the others wore equipment which was far more crude – consisting of what one might expect out of primitive tribal Demihumans.

“I believe we will find that lower level Demihumans will come with lower quality equipment,” Nonna said.

“Rather than them ‘coming with lower quality equipment’,” Ludmila replied, “they’re sensibly allocating the best equipment to their strongest soldiers. I have the feeling that your theory is correct, but we will know for sure by the end of tonight – unless different parts of this army use different equipment schemes.”

Ludmila took one last look around the camp before getting back onto Nonna’s shoulders. As they rose into the air and headed off to catch up with the other Elder Liches, she mulled over what their findings so far might mean.

The first, most obvious, implication was that the Shadow Demons performing reconnaissance and supply disruption would be able to make an account of each camp’s equipment, which would in turn effectively let them know how strong and important the occupants were. They would know where the most vulnerable points in the Goblin army were, where their senior officers were most likely stationed, and what sort of resistance to expect before they attacked each camp. The reliable order and discipline of the Goblin army had become a weakness that she could exploit.

The second point that came with Nonna’s theory was more of a matter related to her demesne. Her ongoing conflict in the basin would mean an influx of not only corpses, but the equipment and supplies stored in each camp. The finely crafted arms and armour were made from excellent steel that could be reforged into useful tools. While Humans didn’t eat Goblinoid flesh, it could still be stripped off and turned into animal feed or – as she discovered recently – important feed for the fish farms that the Lizardmen would be tending to in the future. If Lord Cocytus allowed use of his demesne for storage, she could use the meat over a long period of time and leave the Skeletons for use as Undead Servitors.

Related to the second point was the discovery of magic items in the enemy army. Personally, she couldn’t use any of the rings that they found due to already wearing the Ring of Mental Fortitude and the Ring of Sustenance, but there were a number of other useful items in the collection that had been built up so far. The Hobgoblin that had loosed its crossbow at her had a set of magic items she had taken for herself. They included an Amulet of Health, which improved resistance against poison and disease, Gauntlets of Lesser Dexterity, a Belt of Lesser Strength, a Lesser Amulet of Natural Armour and a Mantle of Elemental Protection.

Of the items she didn’t use from the officer’s set were a Lesser Ring of Resistance and a Ring of Protection. There were also a pair of earrings that she couldn’t use, as her ears weren’t pierced. She didn’t like the idea of poking holes in herself, but it now appeared that she would have to for the sake of utility. Nonna noted that the set of magical items appeared ‘standard for her level’ when it came to what one could wear for magical accessories, but it seemed exorbitantly luxurious to her.

Amongst the rest of their current findings, she picked out a pair of Boots of Striding, which enabled her to move more quickly over land. Like all magical equipment, it adjusted to her size once she put them on. None of the armour recovered so far was magical, which was decidedly strange.

There were quite a few magic items left over, the majority of which were decidedly tribal in nature: being formed of bones and feathers and such. She supposed so many magical accessories could have simply been swept up as they made their way east, subjugating all of the tribes in their way and taking their treasures. They would all be stored for the future, where she would see if they could be used in magic item research.

In all, the invasion seemed to have become a great boon for her demesne. The colder, more calculating side of her noted just how profitable war could be – especially if one’s forces were composed of Undead with negligible maintenance costs in comparison to what had been gained. The Sorcerous Kingdom openly offered to lease its Undead servitors to all of their neighbors…would some warlord or expansionist power eventually come to take them up on that offer to the woe of their victims?

Nonna’s flight slowed as they approached the pair of Elder Lich commanders over the next camp.

“How are we doing here?” Ludmila asked.

“All is prepared,” one of them replied in a gravelly voice. “We await your permission to proceed with the assault.”

“Granted,” Ludmila nodded. “I look forward to your performance.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 19

Chapter 19

『Hey! Be more careful when you do that!』

Amidst the chaos and screaming of the Goblin army camp, the Death Knight stopped in its tracks and looked up at Ludmila.

『Your task right now is to raise Squire Zombies – look at what you did to that one.』

The Death Knight turned its gaze back down at its most recent victim – which was now a Squire Zombie awkwardly clawing its way over the ground. It was originally a Bugbear, bisected just below its ribcage by a swing of the Death Knight’s flamberge. Its entrails caught on a tent peg…and now it was stuck.

『Lord Cocytus is expecting fully-functional soldiers for the army, so kill in a way that leaves them intact! Also, do not look up at your commander when you are being addressed in combat: enemies might see that and follow your gaze to locate and identify them. Now, try again.』

With a casual swing of its weapon, the Death Knight destroyed its botched Squire Zombie. It looked around for a bit before pointing at a different Bugbear that was starting to inch away. Three Squire Zombies walked up to it, reaching out to hold onto its arms and legs. The Bugbear struggled in vain as the Death Knight approached, blade brandished before it. A wail of terror and despair rose as the Bugbear helplessly watched the point of the flamberge slowly slip between its ribs.

It made one last, brief attempt to free itself before its head sagged forward and its limbs went limp. After several moments, the Squire Zombies let go. The new Squire Zombie now stood on its own, looking around for fresh victims. The Death Knight stomped off towards its next target.

『You will not always have the luxury to do that, so try to be faster about things. Just knocking them down and running them through is fine.』

Ludmila shook her head as the Death Knight continued with the exercise. Two hours had passed after her initial demonstration, and they were now on their sixth Goblin army encampment. The four Elder Liches were split into two contingents, each following their respective sides of the river trickling down into the central valley. Ludmila flew back and forth with Nonna, observing their progress, making corrections, and offering recommendations.

Broadly speaking, the Elder Lich commanders were capable of successfully fulfilling their objectives for each camp. After the first two assaults, however, Ludmila had identified some worrisome trends. Even now, she was working to correct the problematic behaviours demonstrated once in a while.

If she were to describe the sense of it, it was that the overall behaviours of the Undead contingents were more careless…or perhaps savage would be more apt. Well, no, she probably didn’t need to mince words: they acted like Undead. If a common person were to think about Skeletons and Zombies tirelessly pursuing and tearing apart their victims with a zealous hatred of the living, then the initial displays from the Undead forces under the Elder Lich commanders would be exactly that.

It cast a different light on how Undead servitors were said to carry out orders according to the perceived intent of those ordering them around. In the two attacks that Ludmila had personally directed so far, the Death Knights carried out their attacks in a way that favoured precise tactics which methodically flowed together to achieve greater objectives. There was little flair or spectacle involved. It was the way that she thought battles should be conducted, and thus the Undead carried out her commands according to that intent.

With the Elder Liches, they took on the Undead ‘flavour’ that was on clear display below. The assault was conducted with the force of sheer brutality; attacks carried out in a way that prioritized chaos, terror and despair. Demihumans and parts of Demihumans tended to fly into the air far more often, and there was a lot more noise and destruction. One could almost feel every possible drop of fear being wrung out of their enemies. The Death Knights appeared to revel in every second of it. If the Elder Liches were not slated for a full night of this training, Ludmila thought they would have been more flamboyant in their use of spells, as well.

This wasn’t to say that the Death Knights didn’t have ‘fun’ performing their tasks under her command, but the difference in their stance as to how the enemies of the Sorcerous Kingdom should be handled set different bounds for their overall conduct. To Ludmila, they were belligerents to be exterminated post-haste. To the Elder Liches, they were made to regret every remaining second of their wretched lives for the very idea that they had made themselves the enemies of His Majesty’s realm.

As to which was more effective, she couldn’t really be sure. Her own methods were methodical and efficient, allowing for a quick cleanup of each camp once things got started. The brutality of the Elder Liches had a swiftness of its own, but things became quite messy as each camp turned into a carnival of carnage that ended up drawing things out. In the end, it came out to about the same time per target encampment, so she only moved to make corrections when specific behaviours affected their outlined objectives. Lord Cocytus would ultimately decide what methods would be employed.

The sounds of battle died down, and the Elder Lich conducting the assault floated down to face the remnants of the encampment’s defenders. It cleared its nonexistent throat loudly, drawing their attention. Ludmila leaned forward, wondering if they might finally gain a different result.

“E-Elder Lich…” the Hobgoblin, surrounded by its soldiers, breathed.

Ludmila frowned. She hadn’t known what an Elder Lich was until recently. The idea that she might be more ignorant than primitive, tribal Demihumans didn’t sit very well with her.

“Indeed,” the Elder Lich said in a deep, raspy voice. “You are being presented with an offer.”

The Hobgoblin’s brow furrowed, and it exchanged glances with several of its fellows.

“What…what offer?” It asked.

“Surrender,” the Elder Lich answered, “and become our captives. Otherwise, you shall be slain where you stand.”

The Hobgoblin officer set its jaw. In the end, the answer was the same as every camp previous.

In the aftermath of the battle, the newly-raised Zombies – which were now in excess of what they needed for encirclement – were marched back up to the passes, each transporting a corpse with it. Ludmila figured that, even if she didn’t have suitable advanced scouts to patrol the border, she could just stuff the passes with tens of thousands of Zombies: making them impossible to get through without running into one.

The Death Knights lined up their Squire Zombies for inspection while a Shadow Demon was sent ahead to scout the next camp. The Elder Lich commander marked out Squire Zombies that failed to meet standards, ordering their destruction. It then flew up to speak to her.

“Negotiations have once again failed,” it said. “Would it not be better to subdue them if the purpose is to secure prisoners?”

“The purpose is not to secure prisoners,” Ludmila replied, “we have many methods to do so, should we desire them. Our purpose is to offer them a choice, as civilized nations would do. I admit that the response might always be a bit skewed due to perceptions of the Undead in the world at large, but it is still something that should be practised. Many of our nation’s policies are aimed towards encouraging its acceptance in the world, and an army must consider that it must often serve to uphold both foreign and domestic policy. Arbitrarily butchering everything would have the effect of tearing down the goodwill built up by the efforts of His Majesty and His Majesty’s government.”

The Elder Lich remained silent as it appeared to digest her words. Did it really understand what she was saying? They, too, were servitors who had their own interpretations of their master’s will. Everyone had their own interpretation, for that matter. Still, Ludmila believed that, when it came to establishing favourable relations with neighboring nations, it was Humans who possessed the best sense of how to go about things.

“I believe that fear of His Majesty’s might is sufficient to secure the cooperation of others,” the Elder Lich said after several seconds.

“Fear on its own is insufficient,” Ludmila told the Elder Lich. “For fear to sway the decisions of others, there must be meaningful alternatives to what they are being dissuaded from. Threats lose effectiveness when one feels that there is nothing they can do otherwise. They will just develop close-minded views and prepare themselves to fight, or decide that everything is meaningless and go on to live out some shallow and pointless life. As you can see, they may decide to do this on their own anyways, but we should always at least make the effort.”

Be it in warfare, dealing with one’s subjects, or anything else, it was a piece of wisdom that she and her friends held in common. They each applied it in their own, unique ways, but the fundamental idea remained the same.

Leaving the Elder Lich to continue with its training, she had Nonna bring them over to the other side, where the other contingent was conducting their next attack. From their vantage, a flash could be seen from between the trees as a Fireball exploded within the Goblin army camp. The rising wisps of smoke made her turn her head to scan the basin.

Between the attacks on the northern arm of the Goblin army and the sabotage efforts of the Shadow Demons, a thin haze was starting to form over the upper reaches. It had the benefit of masking their nighttime assaults: the smell of smoke filled the air and only more haze would be seen the morning after. The ongoing sabotage would also be harder to detect. A part of her wondered if it was too much, however. Her opponents might instead be alerted to the idea that something else was going on beyond their notice.

Over the next few hours the training forces continued to make their way west, following the mountain valley. An hour before dawn, they arrived at the head of the northern arm’s advance. She looked northwest towards her home: it was a bit over 10 Kilometres to the Katze River, and 20 Kilometres to the canyon. The Goblin army had advanced within 30 Kilometres of the harbour town. She would have to scour the area just outside of her territory during the day to ensure that no scouts or other forces lingered.

To the south, she could see what they had identified as the main body of the Goblin army, with its many camps clustered in the central valley. It had advanced slightly as well, just over 20 Kilometres from the canyon leading into the Vale. Her original strategy was to arrest their advance by sabotaging their logistics, but just seeing them so close to her home made her want to act immediately to drive them back.

A Shadow Demon flew up from below, coming to a hover before them.

“Is something the matter,” Ludmila asked.

“A difference in equipment,” the Shadow Demon answered. “Similar to the first encampment destroyed.”

“On both sides of the river?”

The Shadow Demon shook its head, gesturing downwards.

“Only the north. Shall we proceed?”

Ludmila looked out to the east. She wanted to wait for the contingent on the south side of the river to complete their last camp and join them for the final attack of the night, but it was too close to dawn.

“I’ll come down with you,” she said. “Did you notice anything else about this camp?”

The Shadow Demon shook its head again, and led them down to where the two Elder Liches commanding the northern bank awaited.

“It looks like we’ve finally found another of their stronger camps,” she said. “Since this is the last chance for you to fill out your Squire Zombie ranks, bring all of your Death Knights into the fight.”

The Elder Liches nodded in affirmative and flew off to organize their forces. Ludmila scanned the camp from where she and Nonna hovered overhead, trying to make out any strangeness that might indicate an unwelcome surprise.

“Say, Nonna,” she asked, “do we have any records of extraordinarily strong Goblinoids up north in Tob Forest?”

“We have nothing approaching an official census,” Nonna said, “and it is difficult to gain an accurate measure of how strong an individual is without another individual close to their level that can sense their strength. Why do you ask?”

“With so many Goblins in the upper reaches,” Ludmila said, “I am wondering if there is something like a Goblin Hero lurking out there somewhere. I suppose it is more likely to be a Hobgoblin or Bugbear Hero, as Goblins are fairly weak as a whole. The bunch at the pass was already an unwelcome enough surprise as it is.”

“I stand by my statement that there was no precedent for the existence of such a force,” Nonna told her. “Statistically speaking, of the nine million subjects of Re-Estize, only 600 are Platinum-ranked Adventurers or better. If Hobgoblins follow the same ratios of strength as Humans, there is no logic in there being so many in this force.”

“That is a flawed way of looking at things,” Ludmila said. “It assumes that any person capable of being an Adventurer becomes one. In reality, it is Adventurers that are extraordinarily rare, as it is a risky and unstable vocation. Based on what I have come to learn about levels, all people possess them, regardless of their lifestyle. The majority of Humanity engages in civilian vocations, of which it is difficult to measure levels in without concrete benchmarks. There are priests in temples capable of casting tier three and four magic, yet only serve their congregations. Arcane craftsmen are another example. If there is a correlation between crafter levels and materials, then any smith or tailor capable of fashioning those goods would be the equivalent to Platinum rank purely in terms of levels.”

“Even factoring this in,” Nonna said, “the ratio is still out of place for a force of this size.”

“It is not the only factor,” Ludmila explained. “The main driver here is the nature of tribal Demihumans and this Goblin army. Unlike Humans that live safely within the borders of Re-Estize, the Abelion Wilderness is a highly competitive environment where only the strong can thrive. All individuals pursue martial or mystical professions to survive, and conflicts occur on a regular basis between them. They are driven to be strong, in perhaps a similar way that our Adventurer Guild undergoes combat training. Out here, however, the weak die, but they can afford that.”

Below, the huge encirclement of Squire Zombies and Zombies could be seen closing in on the perimeter of the camp. Occasionally, she spotted a Shadow Demon flickering between tents.

“This Goblin army will have collected strong individuals throughout its migration from wherever it came from,” she continued, “so the ratio will be much higher than a peaceful, sedentary population. It is not a population of a hundred thousand that you can apply the ratios of mostly civilian populations to – it is an army of a hundred thousand that has potentially fought its way through millions, drawing the strongest from those populations.”

“In that case,” Nonna said, “the idea is not so far-fetched. Would that not mean that civilization has a weakening effect on individuals?”

“Well, inlanders are often considered ‘soft’ for a reason. The tenets of my faith are strict when it comes to the pursuit of one’s vocation, but in safe places where religion and culture do not counteract the lack of urgency in personal development, it would most likely end up like you say. I do not plan on letting that happen in my demesne.”

The Death Knights below advanced across the encampment barricades, and Ludmila turned her attention to the fight. With twenty Death Knights in the fray, it went as poorly as expected for the Demihumans. Even if they were part of the elite forces of the Goblin army, it was an utterly overwhelming assault. The Death Knights, acting with what seemed like greed over their last chance to net themselves high-quality Squire Zombies, started picking the camp apart like crazed city folk trying to secure scarce goods in a market plaza.

Alarmed by their rapid progress, Ludmila made a quick scan of the camp, locating what appeared to be the strongest Hobgoblin.

『Do not kill that one – we will be taking it as a prisoner.』

The Death Knight that was rearing back for a massive swing at the Hobgoblin abruptly stopped and turned away to take down another one nearby. After a moment, the Hobgoblin peeked out from behind its shield in confusion.

From beginning to end, the final attack of the night lasted two minutes. Ludmila shook her head, wondering if the Elder Lich commanders had also been caught off guard by the ferocity of the assault. There wasn’t even a chance for them to demand a surrender.

The coming dawn was starting to frame the eastern ranges in dim light, and she rubbed her chin as she examined the hundreds of corpses below. In all, 17 Goblin army encampments had been destroyed overnight – roughly one-sixth of the estimated forces that had encroached upon the upper reaches.

『Start transporting all these corpses. You can send them up to the nearest pass. Good work tonight, everyone – I hope that you will put what you have learned here to good use in the future.』

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 20

Chapter 20

“Ah…ah…ACHOO!”

Two rows of heads watched intently as Avod released a tremendous sneeze. The open flap fluttered loosely on the opposite side of the tent. Painfully aware of the attention of her officers, she tried to restrain her sniffling, but failed.

I know they’re just being attentive to their commanding officer, but do they have to just stare at me like that?

She sniffled again, trying to clear her sinuses. The source of her woes was the haze that clung to the bottom of the basin. The light winds that blew through from the north were insufficient to drive it away, and the high summer heat made it all the worse. It hadn’t once rained on their camps since they had occupied the area, making the entire place feel like a giant pile of kindling awaiting that one spark to set it all ablaze.

“Have we fixed our fire problem yet?” She asked.

“We’ve cut down on the number of fires allowed in each camp,” one of her officers replied, “and we’ve ordered everything easily flammable placed far away from them. Things have gotten better in the main camp, but it still happens back in the training camps.”

Damned undisciplined whelps. Damned weather, too. She couldn’t make any sense out of it; neither could the mystics.

It did rain in the basin, but only in the eastern third where heavy clouds rolled down the barrier range. The rest was infernally hot and dry, and foraging parties were turning up with less and less. The fires that she supposed would have to inevitably spring up in these conditions destroyed food and other supplies, halting their once-smooth advance. It was as if someone had tied a gigantic rope around their collective necks and gave it a good yank.

“Did they carry out my instructions to set up separate supply relays with reliable soldiers running them?”

“Your orders went out right after you issued them, General. It’ll still take a couple of days for logistics to catch up.”

Avod tapped a finger against her hip. There was no point in shouting and screaming: she was confident that her trained soldiers were performing as expected. It would take them as long as it took.

The unasked-for delay still tested her patience, however. The southern arm of their advance was supposed to be subjugating the eastern portion of the basin while the northern arm came around and started investigating routes north. The local tribes that fled ahead of the Goblin army’s advance refused to go south or north, so a great number of them now had their backs against a proverbial wall. It would be a good training experience for her troops.

“Anything new from the northern group?”

“A runner came in yesterday, reporting that Zrol’s scouts located a toehold on the other side of the northern passes,” another officer replied. “They’re moving to secure the pass and set up camp on the other side. The main branch of the northern group has been reporting steady progress, but I suspect the next set of runners coming in will report the same problems we’re having here now.”

Avod grimaced at her oversight. It seemed sensible enough, before they realized the condition that the basin was in. Already-trained soldiers would lead the way, while newly inducted recruits would be sent to training camps in the rear. What resulted was chaos: the main trunk of the supplies being delivered over the pass to the west were being destroyed by the undisciplined, careless, and inattentive. The resulting delays would affect their efforts in the north and south.

“What about the Humans these local tribes are so damn scared of?” Avod turned her mind away from their troubles, “We’ve been creeping pretty close to the edges of the basin here.”

“Nothing,” an officer said. “I’m willing to believe that there’s Humans to the south since the Slane Theocracy was southeast of The Neck, but the north seems like nothing but baseless spooks.”

To a Hobgoblin, the gathered officers nodded in agreement. The tales of Human raids from the south closely matched the methods of the Slane Theocracy, but they had discovered nothing substantial about the Humans that supposedly occupied the lands to the north. The only sign that there might be anything there was an old road that was not maintained and had no signs of recent use. Perhaps Humans once lived in the north, and the mere tales that lingered were sufficient to deter the cowardly tribes living in the basin.

“Maybe we should shift our main camp north,” Avod said. “I’d rather not wake up one day to the sight of Angels ransacking my tent.”

“Should be easy enough once our supplies are flowing again. Locals say that the river gets bigger the further north it goes, so forage’ll probably get better the further along we go. We’ll be able to link up with the northern group faster that way, as well.”

“Let everyone know, then,” Avod told them. “Recall that group advancing along that road going southeast, too. I don’t want to alert any of the Humans down south. We’ll finish up here and make our way out without any of them noticing.”

If not for the poor weather, their time in the basin would have been as ideal as she had initially envisioned. There were plenty of tribes to fight and add to their number, but everything else made for a miserable experience. Barely a week into it, she already wanted her army to move on. Loitering here did not net them the resources she thought it would, and was instead leaving them with a deficit. So much for showing the quality of her army to Qrs and Ysvrith.

“How are things going on the western side of the pass, by the way?” Avod asked.

“No idea,” one of her quartermasters replied. “They keep sending supplies and equipment over, so nothing should be amiss. Was there something you wanted changed?”

“No,” Avod shook her head, “just getting antsy, I guess. We’ve been on the move for so long now that not moving forward feels strange…and Jaldabaoth is still somewhere behind us.”

Her officers shifted where they stood, and she saw a few of them exchange surreptitious glances with one another. None of them were part of the original group that had escaped Jaldabaoth’s hell. They had all heard the accounts and most of them saw the aftermath of the battle at the Ford, but it just wasn’t the same as being subjected to what those who had suffered at his hands had experienced. They had come to join an army, and it was success that drove them forward, not the demonic spectre that loomed to the west.

As their successes grew, so too did their collective ambition. Subjugating small tribes wasn’t sating their appetite for conquest any more. They wanted something big – or at least they wanted the sense that they were headed towards some momentous battle worthy of the army that they had raised. Jaldabaoth was a tale that they had left behind; now, they only looked for glory on the horizon.

She turned her gaze towards the officer in charge of the camp at the main army’s northern perimeter.

“How far have our scouts gotten along the river?” She asked him.

“The ones that have returned so far have followed the old road as far as the second bend north,” the officer replied, “where another river joins it. The ones that were sent further out haven’t returned yet, but it’s slow going. One in three Goblins probably get eaten by some wild animal or monster along the way…I can get something more substantial together, if you’d like.”

“I’ve got a better idea, actually,” Avod said. “Since the next step is north through those passes and into whatever is waiting for us there, we should send word to Ysvrith. The Gnolls will be able to get everything we need done faster and better. Save for the forces that we need to finish up things in the east, we should move on and get to better lands.”

Though she had to force herself to settle down to do so, sleep came quickly for Ludmila. With the Ring of Sustenance, she always felt like she could go on forever, like some sort of Undead being – or perhaps more like some Construct, since Lady Shalltear had recently explained that Undead could indeed become mentally weary.

Wakefulness brought with it change: a new set of Undead to train, a pile of reports and administrative matters to sift through, and a map that had changed far more than she had expected it to.

“Wiluvien,” Ludmila stretched the last of her sleep away, “how long have I been asleep?”

“About eight hours, my lady?”

Wiluvien glanced over to the Vampire Bride that was standing at the table with her, who nodded.

“This looks like an awful lot for eight hours,” Ludmila frowned down at the map.

Two nights had passed since the first sweep of the Goblin army encampments: two more sets of Undead that gained combat experience by clearing the rest of the northern arm of invaders. Unlike the first night, where she had been so ambitious that dawn had overtaken them while they were still cleaning up the aftermath, the following nights were split into nine camps each. With three broad strokes, the entire northern advance of the Goblin army had been eliminated, and there was no indication that the rest had noticed yet…until now.

“It does appear like quite a bit,” Wiluvien said, “but watching it as it happened makes it a bit less substantial. They’ve simply relocated the camps following the road from the Slane Theocracy to the central valley. In total, the number of camps remains nearly unchanged.”

Was this the entirety of the Goblin army, then? Not that it wasn’t a large number, but she had already cleared a third of their number in the last three days.

“Is there still movement through the western pass?” She asked.

“Yes, my lady,” Wiluvien nodded. “These Demihumans continue to replenish their supplies, so there must be something on the other side that can keep this up.”

Ludmila didn’t think that it was possible – not for any lengthy period of time, anyways. Whoever was supplying the Goblin army would be stripping the entire area bare. Another possibility was that the same, mysterious, source of their high quality equipment was also providing everything else.

“Aside from these movements, have there been any changes in behaviour? Infighting; desertion – anything that might suggest that the army is falling apart?”

“No, my lady – just a lot of moving around.”

Their Shadow Demon sabotage, while enough to arrest the Goblin army’s momentum, apparently hadn’t yet done enough to break down their discipline and morale. The repositioning of their soldiers from south to north suggested that they were preparing to advance in her direction. With the canyon within a day’s march of the closest portions of the Goblin army, she wasn’t keen on finding out what would happen if they all mobilized.

Did she still have time to wear them down? Or was it time to go on the offensive and try to shatter the main body of the Goblin army? Her plan for the coming evening was to pinch off the supply line leading to the tightly packed cluster of encampments in the central valley, but if they advanced north regardless – or worse, advanced north while her forces were in the south – the risk of a breakthrough was high.

“What’s the river like right now?” She eyed the Katze River, which had camps on both sides.

“I beg your pardon, my lady?” Wiluvien asked.

“How high is it?” Ludmila explained, “Where can it be forded in the central valley?”

“…I’m not sure,” Wiluvien frowned. “We’ve only been keeping track of the camps and the movements of supplies. They mostly just follow their respective sides of the river, but we have no information on the river itself.”

Ludmila walked over to the hall window, peering outside. It was still mid-afternoon. She looked around for her two Shadow Demons, finding them under the dinner table.

“Head out past the canyon,” she instructed them. “Follow the river. Look for all the places that enemy soldiers might be able to cross up through the main body of this army. Report back to Wiluvien with what you find.”

The Shadow Demons flickered away, and Wiluvien lowered her head when Ludmila turned her attention back to the map.

“Apologies, my lady,” she said.

“It is something I should have had you check days ago,” Ludmila replied. “Lady Aura’s map is excellent, but she made it back when the weather was normal. The place is so dried out now that most of the small rivers have been cut down to a trickle. The Krkonoše restore the weather to its natural state over their own territory, but I am not sure if it is enough to make the Katze River uncrossable in the central valley.”

“I see,” Wiluvien nodded. “I will keep these sorts of things in mind for the future.”

“The future, huh.”

A faint flush appeared over the Half-Elf chambermaid’s dimples, and she turned her gaze aside.

“It’s fun,” Wiluvien smiled slightly. “If ever you need us for this sort of work, my sister and I will gladly come to help.”

“There will be a couple of new additions to your family come autumn,” Ludmila raised an eyebrow. “There is your mother, as well. I imagine you will have your hands full for the next while.”

“A few years probably,” Wiluvien said, then furrowed her brow. “How does that work, anyways? Will they be Quarter-Elves? I don’t think I’ve heard of anything but Half-Elves before.”

“You have probably picked the worst possible person to ask,” Ludmila smirked. “I seem to be good at fighting, ordering others around and scaring people witless, but that appears to be the limit of my talents. Anyways, I need to get this work out of the way before tonight: let me know if anything happens out there.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 21

Chapter 21

“This is a bit different…”

As Ludmila examined the newly-exchanged forces, she soon noticed that each Elder Lich commander oversaw a full ‘standard formation’ – the Death Warriors were not excluded this time.

“Did Lord Cocytus include some sort of note with your contingent?” She asked the Elder Liches.

“Lord Cocytus has noted that developments in the upper reaches have afforded an opportunity for Death Warriors to perform roles that are suited to them.”

She nodded slightly at the response. With every exchange of Undead servitors, she also included reports of the night’s activities, complete with her thoughts on their progress, potential risks, and the various options that presented themselves for the next sortie. What to do about the main body of the Goblin army was a question she had been considering, and Lord Cocytus appeared to have delivered the Death Warriors as an answer.

Death Warriors were something of the opposite of Death Knights, specializing in offence while sacrificing defence. They were swift and powerful, but lacked the durability of Death Knights and their suite of Skills and Abilities. If one were to consider a tactical analogue in the Goblin army, they were akin to the Bugbears that were used as shock troops.

Frankly speaking, Ludmila had no experience commanding anything like them. The Fighters in the Adventurer Guild tended to focus heavily on defence in order to anchor their respective teams, so the closest in terms of position might be a melee striker like a Rogue or a Monk. She also wasn’t commanding an Adventurer party – she was commanding a contingent of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s army, and there were many more factors to consider.

“Head up to the eastern pass with your troops,” she told the Elder Liches. “Help the others up there with sorting out and stripping down the corpses for delivery. Keep your mana topped off, though – we’ll be headed down later this afternoon.”

They nodded and led their formations southwest. With the many nightly battles came a veritable mountain of corpses and equipment. The Elder Liches – both her own and those who arrived for training – worked nonstop during the times that they weren’t fighting. The tens of thousands of bodies were moved via Gate on a daily basis to be stored in Lord Cocytus’ frozen realm, while piles of weapons, armour and supplies were building up on the flats with her timber and stone.

Repurposing everything was work for a small army of craftsmen, but she didn’t have that yet. Smith Kovalev informed her that she would need a proper foundry to process all of the steel equipment if she didn’t want the process to take decades. Fortunately, it wasn’t perishable, and she had no need to deliver it anywhere: all she needed was time.

Finishing the last of her tasks in the village, she made her way up to the pass. Dozens of Undead moved back and forth, delivering corpses to inspection points, then taking inspected corpses to their respective outbound piles. Undead Beasts took their wagons up the slope to be laden with equipment, then back down to the flats. A clear trail had already been worn along their path.

Ludmila found Nonna at her inspection point, and she peeked into the box reserved for magic items. There weren’t many. As with Nonna’s theory about how the Goblin army’s equipment was distributed, magical items were much the same. Weak camps had poor yields, while the few elite camps turned out sets of accessories that one might find on a Gold or Platinum-ranked Adventurer. She caught herself trying to calculate the value of the container’s contents – the spoils of war were indeed quite a distraction.

How did commanders of living armies deal with soldiers who were driven by their own desires? Ludmila imagined that if she had been leading an army of Humans, there would be more than a few that would be looting equipment and accessories for themselves without reporting their findings. Did their officers just end up treating it as a perk? She had read that mercenary companies basically operated in that fashion. It wasn’t something that she wanted professional soldiers operating under her command to expect, however.

“Anything out of the ordinary?” She looked up from the box.

“In my mind,” Nonna replied, “nearly everything identified in the past day has been out of the ordinary. Why would anyone expend the effort to craft some of these items? It is like using a dried-out leaf to shield yourself from a Fireball. If not for the value in collecting data for our statistics, I would consider the mana expended to identify these items a waste.”

“It is better than nothing,” Ludmila offered. “Besides, an Enchanter might be able to derive something useful out of studying so many magic items: new techniques and ideas…or something.”

Nonna sniffed dismissively. As with most things that did not come from the Sorcerous Kingdom’s mysterious place of origin, Nonna treated everything they found here with about the same enthusiasm as one might bestow upon a three-day old pile of manure that she came across on a rural road. The other Elder Liches were even worse, and attitudes carried about any one particular thing would persist until proven otherwise.

Ludmila continued on her way, climbing up onto an outcropping that offered a commanding view of the central valley. The space cleared out for the Goblin army encampments was plain to see, creating a field that brought to mind the tales of epic battles spun for the excitement of audiences both noble and common alike. She sat down, dangling her legs over the cliff face as she considered her options over a piece of jerky.

The central valley was a mostly flat area where the Katze River was joined by the various smaller rivers flowing down from the surrounding mountains. The Goblin army straddled both sides of the river, clearing away the dense brush and forest growth to form an ugly scar that ran down a good portion of the valley’s length.

It wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened – there had been several attempts by Humans to settle the area, pushing back the Demihuman tribes that occupied the basin. This never lasted longer than a decade, however, as the tribes recovered in the rugged areas surrounding it and pushed the Human settlers right back out. Eventually, it earned a reputation as an indefensible position, and all thought of settling the place was abandoned. Lady Shalltear had put forward the notion that Ludmila should stake her own claim for the Sorcerous Kingdom, but, for now, it had become a stage for conflict.

To Ludmila, the idea of just attacking the Goblin army out in the open felt decidedly strange. She was raised to command the limited defences of Warden’s Vale, using tactics and strategies that made the most out of their meagre numbers. Even her personal fighting style was conservative in nature. Fighting large, set-piece battles felt ludicrously wasteful and imprecise.

If it were Humans, at any rate. She now had tens of thousands of Zombies at her disposal, and Death Knights who could constantly replenish lost Squire Zombies as they worked their way through the Demihuman ranks. The only thing she had witnessed that was able to slow them down were the elite formations of the first battle, where she had purposely sent single Death Knights to test their strength. A single Death Warrior could probably obliterate the same sort of formation in seconds.

What remained was her initial problem. She had no fear that she would lose the battle, but not losing in battle didn’t mean that she couldn’t fail in some other way. Her conditions remained the same: she had to destroy her enemy without any of them getting away and potentially causing problems down the line. Unfortunately, the encampments in the central valley covered an area of over five hundred square kilometres, and there was no way she was surrounding the entire thing without millions of Zombies that she did not have. Thus, her original plan was to simply allow starvation and infighting to take care of most of them over several weeks, then sweep up the remainder.

After an hour reviewing the last few days, she settled on her plan of battle and returned to convene with her commanders on the northern slope of the eastern pass.

“Nonna,” she said. “The encampments that have been cleared in the last few days are still intact, yes?”

“There have been no orders to dismantle them,” Nonna replied. “They have only been stripped of supplies and equipment.”

“Then we’re beginning our preparations,” Ludmila said. “First of all, mobilize half of the Zombies in the passes, and have them gather at the confluence below this pass.”

“Half of the Zombies is ten thousand,” Nonna noted. “It will also take a day for the ones from the western passes to arrive.”

“Then move all of the Zombies from the two eastern passes,” Ludmila replied. “Split the number from the western passes to cover for them.”

“Very well,” the Elder Lich said. “Will there be anything else?”

“Yes,” Ludmila nodded. “Send our Squire Zombies down to collect the wood stakes from all the barricades in the camps nearby. They can bring them to where the Zombies are being gathered.”

Nonna gave her a long look.

“Your orders deviate significantly from the actions of the past few nights,” she said. “There was also nothing of this discussed in the plans for the main army camp.”

“If our opponent changes their behaviour,” Ludmila said, “we must adjust our own as well. Their shift into a posture that clearly indicates they plan on moving north necessitates a change in our own plans.”

“Then what is your new plan?” Nonna asked, “There is little to doubt when it comes to the power of our forces compared to theirs, but you have always made it a point to contain and eliminate all interlopers. Surely you don’t expect to fence them in with wooden stakes?”

“Those are for something else,” Ludmila smiled. “Their movements are forcing my own, and I have no expectation of being able to contain them with so little time to prepare.”

“Yet you have thinned the number of Zombies that you are using to block the passes. Are you certain that you will be able to manage the chaos that ensues?”

“The management on our part will be minimal,” Ludmila replied. “I am counting on the Hobgoblins to do the managing for us.”

“Counting on an enemy to do what you want them to do for you…” Nonna’s words took on a dubious note, “This is decidedly not your usual approach. Have you given in to wishful thinking? Or perhaps you have succumbed to the effects of this ‘aging’ that mortals are inflicted with.”

Ludmila rolled her eyes. The strategy for the coming battle had come to her after once again considering that it might be something similar to the ones that Bards would commonly relate to the masses. Like those tales, tailored to be full of the things that people anticipated, she realized that all she needed to do was have the Goblin army to fall prey to their own expectations.

“Rather than that,” Ludmila told her, “They won’t realize what’s going on until it’s too late.”

Deep in the forests north of the Goblin army, a party of scouts picked their way through the tangled undergrowth. They were not far from the northernmost encampments – perhaps two hours away if their path had not been choked with vines, thorns and pits sheltering all manner of biting and stinging things – but the Goblins’ nerves grew with every step. A trickle of cold dread played over their skins.

You should not be here.

The leader of the party could see it in the faces of her Goblins; she could see the whispered thoughts reflected in their eyes. The local tribes all said the same thing. Don’t go north. Death stalks the land. Her footfalls felt heavy, weighed by a suffocating feeling that pressed down on everyone.

Turn around. Run away. Before it’s too late.

She gave her head a shake. They couldn’t turn back. If they returned empty-handed, they would only be beaten. Forward. Forward until they saw something worth reporting. Then they could run back and be safe.

A high-pitched shriek echoed through the trees. Everyone froze. She looked up from where she had crouched instinctively, sniffing at the wind. Another scream pierced the evening air, and whimpers rose from the Goblins cowering behind her.

An eternity passed. The wind rustled through the leaves. There was only the damp of the river nearby; the smell of earth and decay. She rose and moved forward again.

They came to a clearing, and she realized it was the old road that followed the riverbank. She didn’t like roads. Roads had people, and most people saw Goblins as enemies or food. Her party was oblivious to the danger, however, walking out past her and into the open. She hissed at them to come back, but they didn’t listen. Stupid. They were stupider than her.

“There…Gob?”

She looked up at the voice. One of her party was pointing up the road towards the north. Something stood there – about their size. Was it another scouting party? The Hobs had sent many dozens north to scout the way.

“Hey,” the Goblin said. “Hey!”

The figure didn’t respond. Scowling, the Goblin who had called out to it walked up and put a hand on its shoulder.

“I say ‘hey’!”

“Oooooooah.”

The figure turned around, and the Goblin let out a panicked shout just before arms reached out to grab him. They fell into a heap onto the dirt path.

Her other Goblins ran forward, voices raised angrily. If it was a Goblin, it was a bad Goblin. They reached to pull the two apart, then jumped back as one. Spears stabbed. Stabbed and poked and stabbed. When the stabbing stopped, she walked up to see what sort of bad Goblin it was.

It was a very bad Goblin. A deaded Goblin that undeaded. The Goblin that it had jumped on was deaded too, blood spilling from his torn throat.

Her ears pricked up. The sound of shuffling feet. The moans of undeaded Goblins. Not far away, more dead Goblins slowly came towards them.

“Z-zom!”

“Zom!”

“Zom!”

The other Goblins panicked, dancing backwards while shouting. She wanted them to shut up, but it was too late. More and more were now coming down towards them.

“Zom!”

One of the Goblins raised her bow, planting an arrow in the closest Zombie’s chest. More arrows followed, and the undeaded Goblin deaded again.

The Goblins howled in victory, but then one of the howls turned into a shriek. They fell silent, staring up at one of their companions, somehow hovering in midair. Her body shriveled, turning withered and grey. It was as if the Dire Mosquito that had plagued her dreams of late had finally gotten her.

Her corpse dropped to the ground with a thump. Another Goblin appeared, floating over their heads. A winged Goblin? No. It had no wings. They could see right through it. It didn’t look very happy to see them.

The floating Goblin swooped down and picked up someone else. He shriveled up too. The Goblin leader turned to run, and she heard the patter of footsteps as her two remaining party members followed in her wake. One set stopped. Another scream that shriveled up like the others.

Run. Run run run run run run RUN!

The locals were right. The place was cursed, and death stalked the land. They should have never come.

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 22

Chapter 22

“GENERAL!”

Avod leaned away from the bellowing officer, did they ever look to see where she actually was before doing that?

“I’m right here, dammit!” She snarled, “What the hell is going on?”

“We’re under attack. Northern camps are falling back.”

Falling back?

She turned her gaze north, but the moonlit fields offered little in the way of an explanation. The sounds of her soldiers rousing for battle nearby could be clearly heard. Of the enemy that they were falling back from, there was no sign.

Nothing she knew of in the basin could push back a thousand-strong encampment of her trained regulars, never mind the entire northern fringe. Had the surviving tribes of the basin banded together for a final, desperate counteroffensive?

“Which side of the river is this happening on?” She asked.

“I only know about my camp on this side of the river,” the officer answered.

“Then what are we being attacked by, exactly?”

The officer hesitated, licking his lips nervously.

“The curse,” he said in a low voice.

“I’m going to hit you,” Avod’s voice was flat.

“That’s the actual report!” The officer protested, “A bunch of the scouts we sent downriver came back, all spouting the same gibberish. That they had gone too far north. They had roused the curse…and that it was coming for them.”

The curse…she did her best to quash the rumors of the local tribes, but rumors had the effect of getting stronger the more the higher-ups tried to suppress them. In the end, all she could do was let it run its course and be forgotten, but how had it gone from fiercely territorial Humans to a full blown curse?

“Have we seen any real sign of this ‘curse’?” Her voice grated with barely restrained patience.

“That’s uh…we killed the scouts just in case they did bring some weird thing back with them. About an hour later, though, people started dying anyway.”

“How?”

“Started in the tents,” he swallowed. “Screams, every few minutes. We’d go to see what the noise was, but it’d be too late by the time we found ‘em. Some looked like they’d been shriveled up in their cots, others were torn into a bloody mess. After a while, we saw what was doing it.”

The officer stopped to swallow again. His eyes darted from side to side. Avod punched him.

“Stop dragging every little thing out,” she fumed, “You’re not a damn Bard!”

“It was Wraiths, General!”

“So we’re being attacked by the Undead?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Then say so in the first place! How much time did you just waste?”

That being said, her soldiers had experience fighting the Undead back in the haunted forest. If entire camps were being pushed back…

“How many Wraiths was it?” She asked, “How many did we lose?”

“Hard to keep track since they kept popping in and out,” the officer answered. “A few dozen in my camp were dead by the time I ordered us to fall back.”

“Then I assume that a few Wraiths weren’t what had you decide to give that order.”

“No, General,” he shook his head. “More Undead are coming from the north. The scouts spotted them coming through the forest, but we couldn’t get a decent count before they started to enter the clearing.”

“How many were there by the time you pulled out?” She asked.

“A few thousand, at least,” he answered. “Mostly Zombies, but the scouts said that there were some stronger ones mixed in. There was no reason to stand there waiting to be overrun, so I ordered my camp to fall back until we could reorganize and form a proper defensive line.”

Avod nodded. He had made the right decision. Zombies were slow and mindless, but strong – better to consolidate their strength and destroy them at range than take needless losses in a disorganized effort to stand and repel them.

“Good work,” she said. “Get back to your troops…actually, do you know if the other camps had the same thing happen to them?”

“I’ve no idea, General,” he shook his head. “Came straight here to report in.”

Avod waved him away, collecting her thoughts. After three more reports from different camps, she had a general idea of what was going on on her side of the river. The current ran strong and deep, so messengers from the other side had to travel south to cross, but the forces there could be seen falling back along the opposite shore as well.

At last count there were nearly five thousand Zombies. Zombies were easily dealt with, but the problem was that masses of lesser Undead gave rise to greater Undead. The Wraiths were an example of that, as were the stronger Zombies that had been identified. What they really needed to be wary of were powerful Undead who could indeed cause trouble for a single encampment, such as Elder Liches. With this many Zombies, she wouldn’t be surprised if a few showed up.

She frowned at the thought of the Undead mages. Zrol and his troops had taken one down in the haunted forest, but it was bottled up into its lair and depleted of mana before being destroyed. They would be more annoying for her forces to deal with out in the open. Her Goblin skirmishers were too weak to stand up to them, so they had to rely on massed volleys of blunted stone arrows to chip them down. Ysvrith and her people were the ideal counter, but they weren’t expected to arrive for another day.

They would just have to deal with it when the time came. She sent runners out to the encampments, ordering them to mobilize and form on her position.

Three hours later, her main army – a force twenty thousand strong – was lined up in their neat formations on the field. Wolf riders had delivered messages back and forth between the opposite shores by then: it appeared that Undead had appeared on the eastern side as well, though in lesser numbers. She instructed the commander there to organize a defence with his ten thousand and clean them up before moving his troops to join the main body of the army.

A command platform was raised, overlooking the silvered landscape. The officers from her side of the valley had gathered from their respective formations, awaiting her instructions. They still had some time: Zombies being Zombies, it would take them a while yet to arrive.

“Anything that requires my immediate attention?” She asked them.

“The eastern command is a bit disordered,” the Hobgoblin to her right said. “They had troops out working to subjugate the remaining tribes, and it’s taking time to recall them.”

“Will that cause any issues if they get into a fight right now?”

“It shouldn’t,” he shook his head. “There’s only two or three thousand Undead on that side. The way things are, it might take them a bit longer to get rid of them all, but they still shouldn’t take long once things get started.”

“How about the Undead on our side?” she asked, “Scouts see anything big yet?”

“It’s still mixed Zombies on the ground,” another officer responded. “Nothing stronger than what we can handle. In the air, we’ve seen a few Wraiths flying around, plus some robed Undead. Two, so far.”

Several of the assembled officers turned their heads upwards and to the north, as if they would be able to spot what had been described from a distance. Avod didn’t bother.

“Elder Liches?”

“Might be. We won’t know for sure until they come close and start dumping spells on our heads.”

“Did we get stone arrows out to the troops?” Avod frowned, “Regular ones won’t do anything to them.”

“Yes General,” he nodded. “All along the line. We won’t let them cast spells at us for free.”

They knew that Elder Liches had spells to protect them from projectiles in general, but every spell they needed to refresh to defend themselves meant less mana being directed against their enemies.

“Make sure your formations are hardened against magic,” she told them. “Shield walls for any Fireballs that come our way. Spread out the rest behind to minimize damage from area spells. Even in that stance, we should easily manage against the Zombies on the ground. Just be ready to respond to anything nasty that pops up.”

“And when we’re done, General?” Another officer asked, “Should we disperse back to our camps?”

“No,” Avod answered. “After we’ve dealt with this lot, we’ll march north. I don’t know if these Elder Liches will retreat, but we need to find out where these Undead came from and root them out. We’ve just about picked this basin clean anyways – it’s time to move on.”

The officers dispersed to see to their respective formations. Shortly after midnight, horns sounded over the front. Avod leaned forward intently over the railing. Through the abandoned camps to the north, the first signs of movement could be seen. Figures lurched under the moonlight, moving independently rather than in any recognizable formation. Their advance was slow, with more and more coming into view as time went on.

Above, she could see one of the mentioned robed Undead floating in the air above the Zombie horde. They were still some distance away, so Avod decided to send a probing attack.

『Wolf Riders – right flank. Sweep along the front and start thinning out those Zombies.』

The baying of wolves sounded far to the east, where over 600 Goblin Wolf Riders sprung forward. Within a few minutes, they were running along the front of the slowly advancing Zombies, hurling their javelins into them.

Normally, the Wolf Riders would work in small packs, using their javelins to hobble a target before closing in for the kill. Undead, however, did not ‘hobble’ very well: they didn’t bleed, didn’t have the vitals of a living being, and couldn’t be crippled unless you removed their limbs entirely. It took about two javelins to kill each one, and the riders emptied their satchels before returning to replenish their ammunition behind friendly lines.

At the point that they were nearly depleted, she sent the riders on the other flank in to perform the same attack. Their cavalry trained to fight like this, as their future enemies would presumably have cavalry of their own that would pursue the first wave as they withdrew. The second wave would prevent this, though in this case the enemy had no cavalry to speak of. As the riders from the left unleashed their attacks, several fell in return.

Avod furrowed her brow. It appeared that the stronger Zombies mixed in with the regular ones had retrieved some of the spent javelins and were now using them against the second wave. She issued an order to the Wolf Rider captain.

『Pull back the Riders. I’m not losing any more over some stupid Zombies. Ready yourselves for the skirmish.』

The Wolf Rider formation changed direction in unison, angling away from the Undead before wheeling around to return to their position.

Above, a second robed figure had appeared, but neither of them reacted to the Wolf Riders’ provocation. The results of the attacks were less than spectacular. Because the Zombies were moving independently, they were spread out over a wide area. Missile attacks that missed their mark had little chance to strike another. Still, they had managed to take down several hundred Zombies, and the rain of arrows from the skirmishers would soon take their toll as well.

As the Zombies shuffled within a hundred metres of their front line, she called for her skirmishers forward to release their first volley. Ten thousand arrows arced through the night sky, catching the light of the waning moon. Though the majority missed their marks, there were so many that the leading edge of the Zombie wave was annihilated.

Overhead, the Elder Liches made their first move. A dozen ghostly figures descended towards the lines. Avod snorted derisively. They were being underestimated. A group of Wraiths might spell doom for a tribe of Goblins, but they were a Goblin army.

『Focus Battle Aura!』

As one, the Hobgoblin and Bugbear formations activated their Martial Arts.

In the wilderness, magical weapons were few, but there were magical beasts and monsters aplenty. Focus Battle Aura imbued the weapons that one held with magical properties, making them more effective against opponents with supernatural defences. Every seasoned warrior learned it out of necessity.

The Goblin skirmishers retreated behind the Hobgoblin lines. As the Wraiths attempted to follow them by passing through, they were cut to ribbons. Calls for healing rose into the air, but the damage overall appeared negligible. Another volley of arrows filled the sky, slicing down into the advancing Zombie horde. More Wraiths appeared in retaliation, to much the same result.

Are these Elder Liches idiots?

Maybe they had spent so much time persecuting the weak tribes of the basin that they never learned how to fight a real opponent. Avod gazed out across the river. It looked like they were already finished with their battle, and were withdrawing to cross the ford in the south. No surprises, then. She returned her attention to her side of the valley. The few strong Zombies that made it to the front line were crushed as soon as they arrived.

After the next volley of arrows, a third Elder Lich arrived. The three Undead swooped down over the front line, sending three globes of flame down at the formations below. Shields locked together just before the Fireballs struck, exploding into a sea of flames that washed over them. When the spell dissipated, the shield wall remained intact and her soldiers were unscathed. As if incensed that their attacks had been thwarted again, they unleashed another set of Fireballs to little effect.

Arrows from the skirmishers below pelted the Elder Liches as they lingered over the army. New sets of Wraiths appeared, who descended to deal with the skirmishers below.

『Move the Bugbears to intercept those Wraiths! Keep hitting those Elder Liches!』

The commanders below worked to relay her command, organizing their shock troops to deal with the incoming Wraiths. The Elder Liches switched to using Lightning spells, but they were casting from such a high angle that only one or two Hobgoblins were struck at once. The Undead casters continued probing the Hobgoblin formations’ defences, until they seemingly gave up and turned their attention on the Goblins and Bugbears spread out behind them.

How much mana do these jerks have? They’ve gotta run out some time soon…

Fireballs started raining down on the troops spread out over the field. With how far apart everyone was, they weren’t very effective. The Elder Liches targeted Bugbears in the midst of several Goblins, but most would scatter out of the way. The Bugbears survived half of the time and were healed by nearby mystics.

Avod shook her head. What was the point in this? They were expending their mana to kill three or four troops at a time, when the entire army numbered in the tens of thousands. Eventually, the Elder Liches seemed to realize this too, and withdrew to the north. The Zombies wavered and stopped.

A slow grin spread over Avod’s face. Victory was theirs for the taking.

『Sound the advance. We’ll be waiting all night if we just stand here. We’ll find those Elder Liches and destroy them in their holes.』

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 23

Chapter 23

A long sigh issued from between Ludmila’s legs.

“I do not understand why you have to sound so utterly unenthused,” she glowered down at the top of Nonna’s silken cowl.

“This is utterly banal,” Nonna replied.

“That is the point,” Ludmila told the Elder Lich. “Doing something radical here would ruin everything.”

Five hundred metres below, ten thousand Zombies shuffled through the trees, making their way south towards the Goblin army. After flushing out the scouts being sent north, she allowed a few to escape to report the advance of her Undead forces. The Death Knights and Death Warriors were positioned far to the rear, though she interspersed most of the Squire Zombies that she had available throughout the ranks of their weaker fellows.

She supposed calling them ‘ranks’ was probably a poor description. They were simply shuffling forward as fast as they could, in no set order. A horde of the walking dead that would emerge before the Goblin army to the south, who would presumably have had ample warning before their arrival. It looked nothing more than a cliché related a thousand thousand times in the tales passed down by any place with the most basic knowledge of the Undead.

The Elder Lich commanders immediately questioned her plan, offering various amendments. Form proper ranks. Equip them with armour and shields, at least. Use the Death Knights and Death Warriors to drive fear and despair into the enemy camps. It was a rare moment when the Elder Liches felt just as alive as any living being. Their sensibilities were challenged, and concerns bubbled to the surface of their usual dispassionate delivery.

You may play according to whatever rules you wish, but, in the end, you cannot stop me. By the same token, do you think any lesser being can stop you?

Her liege’s words might easily be taken as an expression of confidence in an exceptional vassal. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t gratified by Lady Shalltear’s words, but the true meaning of them most likely had little to do with Ludmila at all. It was the inviolable agency of a supreme sovereign, carried forth through those who enforced his will.

The behaviour of the Elder Liches underscored this notion. Every action and point was scrutinized; any detail that might be construed to misrepresent His Majesty was criticized. Appearing impotent was not permitted. Retreat was not permitted. Failure was not permitted. Opponents of His Majesty were to be subjected to the most extreme measures in all things at once, somehow. The absolute authority, power, grace, and splendour of the Sorcerer King was to be made clear to any and all who would witness even the tiniest fragment of the Sorcerous Kingdom.

Rather than foreign, it felt familiar. It was a sort of exceptionalism that one might find amongst nobles and their households, who held the dignity and value of aristocratic culture above all else. Or the fervent devotion found in adherents of her own faith. She would probably not be wrong to say that they perceived the Sorcerer King as a god, and that they were agents of his divine will.

It was an impossible ideal where perfect outcomes were executed perfectly, and anything that fell short of perfection was considered anathema. To Ludmila, at least, it seemed that way. To the Elder Liches, it was a matter of course. There was nothing to deliberate over. They would carry this attitude to the ends of the world, or to the end of themselves.

Thankfully, they were ordered by Lord Cocytus to defer to her instruction. She had the strong suspicion that they would have gone and done something ridiculous on their own otherwise. Though they shared the conviction that the enemies of the Sorcerous Kingdom should be destroyed, the how and why and when of it were fundamentally irreconcilable.

They followed after the slowly advancing Zombie army, and twilight faded into a clear night under the waning moon. She looked over at one of the Elder Lich commanders to her left as they came within a few kilometres of the Goblin camps.

『Take one quarter of our Zombies across the river. Leave the Squire Zombies on this side.』

She had the remaining Elder Lich commanders slow down the advance of the western forces so the new detachment could get to their position on the eastern bank. All 40 of the Death Knights from the day’s new trainees were sent into the river, as was all but one of the Death Warriors. The seven free Death Knights from her demesne were evenly spaced along a line that extended roughly one kilometre out from the riverbank.

With what felt like a brief set of initial instructions, everything was made ready. All that was left was to nudge the Goblin army into action.

『Send the Zombies on the western side of the river forward. Summon Wraiths and start sending them down into the forward camps. Attack individuals in tents, but make sure they’re awake before you kill them. Plenty of screaming, please.』

The Elder Liches – the ones from the army were all more powerful than Nonna – summoned four Wraiths each, sending them down as instructed. Shouts and screams soon started to rise from below, and she could see the camps coming to life in the wake of the disturbance.

“Are you certain this strategy will work?” Nonna asked.

“Ugh, why do you have to ask that right as we start?” Ludmila grimaced, “It is simple enough that it should. Their scouts should have forewarned them of our attack. Now we have alerted their perimeter to our presence. Next, we will give them an imminent threat to react against.”

“I don’t see how it will play out the way you expect it to,” Nonna said. “Our Zombie forces are no match for even one of these encampments.”

“They do not know that,” Ludmila told her, “all we have to do is give them the impression that what is coming is weightier than it actually is.”

To do this, Ludmila set the majority of her Squire Zombies along the leading edge of their advance. The Goblin army scouts would be able to see how strong they were, and all they would note from further beyond was that there were more and more of them coming.

“What if the first camps decide to fight?”

“Then they die,” Ludmila shrugged, “and we have more Zombies to work with. Losing a few of their forward camps will probably not change anything when it comes down to their ultimate response.”

The ‘ultimate response’ was her answer to the problem of containing the tens of thousands of Goblin army soldiers in the central valley. Through the days of clearing the encampments along her southern border, the composition and practices of the army became quite clear.

It was a force formed around a core of Hobgoblin heavy infantry. Small numbers of Bugbears served as shock troops while the vast majority of the army was composed of Goblins. These Goblins were auxiliaries: serving as scouts, pickets, skirmishers, and logistical components while the Hobgoblins represented the majority of their front line strength. As heavy infantry favoured flat and clear terrain, she would attack them where they were.

Her purpose was to provide her enemy the sort of battle that they had trained for, in a location that they found favourable. The tide of Zombies shuffling forward would give them ample opportunity to prepare without arousing suspicions about the true nature of their opponent. The Hobgoblin commanders would gather everyone in a single battlefield for a fight that they expected, oblivious to the fact that they were conveniently collecting their forces in one location to be decisively defeated.

Below, hundreds of Goblin pickets scurried out of the forest ahead of her advancing Zombies. The Wraiths continued their work in the nearest camps, though it appeared that an organized response to combat them was in progress.

“The Wraiths are at risk,” Nonna informed her. “Should we not withdraw them or attack elsewhere?”

“No,” Ludmila shook her head. “They can die, but make them work a bit for it. The first step of our strategy is to instill fear into the northern group.”

“Then we should have gone with the suggestion of the other commanders.”

“That would be too much fear,” Ludmila said. “It is as I said a few nights ago: fear on its own is insufficient. The application of fear as a deterrent may also be wielded to goad your opponents into making confident choices.”

She ordered the Elder Liches to replace their Wraiths and resume their harassment before continuing.

“How does fear inspire confidence?”

“Fear is only the catalyst,” Ludmila explained. “It is the choices available to deal with that fear that can inspire confidence. At this juncture, the camp commanders have two options: fight or withdraw. The unknown number of Undead approaching, combined with the constant Wraith attacks, will have them withdraw to consolidate their forces with the others to avoid unnecessary risk. It is a choice that they can make with confidence: this army is well-disciplined, trained, and rational. They will seek the best strategic options for themselves and their soldiers.”

They watched the encampments evacuate as the Zombies drew closer. Given the attitudes of the Elder Liches, Ludmila ventured it was something that they couldn’t understand, or at least never consider. If they were to be part of a larger army, however, it was something that they had to learn. It was decidedly strange that Goblins could be well-versed in this, but her Elder Liches weren’t.

“Eventually,” Ludmila continued her explanation, “this army will reach a point where they will make their stand. The slow movement of our ground forces will give them ample time to analyze the threat and organize a proper response. After a series of confident choices that lead to a series of successes, fear will dissipate: leaving only certainty in their imminent victory. They will make their moves, not knowing that they are being manipulated into making them.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t something that a regular commander could do with a regular army. If she ordered the vast majority of a Human army to go sacrifice themselves like this, they would certainly desert. It was a strategy unique to an Undead army, playing by rules that no one else could. Unless the enemy commander was capable of framing things in those completely alien terms, it was an undeniable advantage in her favour.

As they crossed over the first line of encampments, Ludmila ordered the forces on the eastern bank to advance in a similar fashion. The Death Knights and Death Warriors submerged in the river were moved ahead to a place just before the first ford. When they reached the second line of encampments, she directed a number of Undead to create a haphazard line of stakes stretching before a wide bend in the river. The barricades of the nearby encampments were added as well.

To the south, Ludmila could see the entire cluster of encampments in the central valley in a frenzy of activity. Demihumans started to stream towards the central camp. Neat, rectangular formations started to manifest on the field before a short platform. On the other side of the river, the Demihumans there started gathering at roughly the same point along the river.

『Looks like this is the starting point for the battle. Let the Zombies keep moving forward, and space our Squire Zombies between them again.』

Unexpectedly, the first move from the Goblin army was not sending forward their skirmishers to thin the slowly-advancing Undead, but the appearance of a group of Goblins riding Wolves. The enemy cavalry swept over the front, taking down several hundred Zombies with what appeared to be short javelins. As slow as her forces were, they could do little to retaliate.

“Say, Nonna,” Ludmila mused as she watched the tight formation run by far below, “do we get a Zombie if a Squire Zombie kills something with a ranged attack?”

“…that is unknown.”

She ordered the suddenly-isolated Squire Zombies that had survived the first attack to retrieve some of the javelins strewn over the ground. As the next wave of Wolf Riders came in, they hurled their weapons at each other. The Squire Zombies were too tough to easily take down with light javelins, but they were also terrible at throwing them. Still, the cavalry formation was so tightly packed together that more than a few of the weapons hit something.

The Elder Lich commanders started drifting forward, and Ludmila frowned down at them from above.

『Do not do anything yet. Prepare Wraiths to retaliate after they start sending arrows our way.』

She returned her gaze to the fallen Wolf Riders. After a whole minute, nothing got up.

“Aw.”

Ludmila pouted. Her overly optimistic idea of having Squire Zombies operating siege weaponry crumbled away before it could even take shape.

As the Zombies closed in, a great number of Goblins came out from behind the lines of Hobgoblin infantry. The ground below was briefly clouded by thousands of arrows before they hailed down on her troops.

“That must have been ten arrows for every Zombie down there,” Ludmila muttered. “These Goblins are really enthusiastic.”

She wasn’t sure what might have happened to House Zahradnik if the Sorcerous Kingdom had never annexed the duchy. She doubted that the Royal Army of Re-Estize would have been able to hold this Goblin army back. How many Adventurers would it have taken to stop them?

As instructed, the Wraiths were sent down in retaliation. Watching intently as the Goblin Skirmishers deftly maneuvered behind the safety of the Hobgoblin lines, Ludmila could only nod in appreciation of the enemy army’s sound decisions and smooth reactions. They had somehow drilled tens of thousands of Goblins into a work of organized chaos. The skirmishers and shock troops were spread out over a wide area – they must have noticed the Elder Liches too.

Across the river, the fighting was winding down. She spotted the Elder Lich floating above its decimated forces, and could only imagine the entirely displeased expression on its withered face.

『Assume command of the forces in the river. Shadow those Goblins’ movements, but do not initiate the ambush before I call for it.』

Another volley of arrows fell below, followed by another retaliation by summoned Wraiths. It played out much the same way as before. Ludmila called down to the three Elder Lich commanders hovering just out of range of the enemy lines.

『Time to rile them up. Pick out the most well equipped formations and send some spells their way. Ignore the more poorly-equipped Hobgoblins for now. Make sure you keep your protections up – stone is the most common material to fashion arrowheads with out here, and they can be made to deal bludgeoning damage.』

The Elder Liches started their attack, opening up with a number of Fireballs against the Hobgoblin lines. As expected, they formed shield walls against them. She had only read about the tactic, but it appeared to be as effective as described. Wraiths were summoned to retaliate against the archers trying to hit her commanders from below, which were in turn intercepted by nearby Bugbears. On the other side of the river, the enemy forces had withdrawn nearly two kilometres south.

『Alright, time to start flailing. Feel free to experiment with spells, but do not hit them too hard.』

Ludmila observed as a variety of different attempts were made to harm various parts of the Goblin army. Apparently, Lightning spells were terrible at high angles. With the enemy either hiding behind shield walls or spread out, area effect spells were similarly ineffective. Resorting to single target attacks when the enemy numbered in the tens of thousands felt like a waste of mana.

Tier magic had suspicious shortfalls when it came to spells that could deal widespread damage to large armies like this. Admittedly, there were a few that she knew of that appeared to be excellent at it – such as the Storm of Vengeance spell that Lady Shalltear had cast in Fassett County – but they were not spells that Ludmila would have access to with mid-tier casters like Elder Liches.

The Elder Lich commanders appeared to be at a loss as well when they were going over their options for the battle. As far as Ludmila could tell, aside from the few golden opportunities to land devastating attacks on opponents that were arranged just the right way, magic was better used in a supporting role while powerful physical combatants like Death Knights and Death Warriors dominated the field. Not everyone had Death Knights and Death Warriors, of course, but any strong warrior with adequate support could keep swinging long after several mages had run out of mana trying to eliminate the same number of lesser opponents.

When the enemy forces on the opposite shore were nearly to the ford, Ludmila recalled the Elder Lich commanders. She ordered the Zombies below to cease their advance. Shortly after, the ranks of the Goblin army started their own.

“Oh, they are actually moving,” Ludmila remarked.

“I find it disconcerting that you sound surprised over the success of your own strategy,” Nonna said.

“I expected it to work,” Ludmila replied, “but seeing it actually unfold right before your eyes is, you know…a-anyways, how is everyone doing for mana?”

Elder Liches gathered around her exchanged glances

“As ordered,” one of them replied, “we have maintained minimum reserves of roughly eighty percent.”

“Well done,” Ludmila smiled. “Back to the second line of encampments.”

Looking over once again to the south, she called for the fourth Elder Lich commander to commence its ambush against the Goblin army forces just starting to cross the river. Forty Death Knights and seven Death Warriors exploded out of the water and into the Demihuman column. The entire formation seemed to recoil at once. From their distance, Ludmila couldn’t hear anything over the current of the Katze River and the sound of the advancing army lines.

Within a minute, she could see Zombies shuffling into the water, swiftly carried downstream to join Ludmila at their new position. Below, the commanders of the Goblin army appeared entirely unaware that a third of their number was being systematically slaughtered and turned into her reinforcements. She issued her orders to the forces gathering below.

『Order ranks. It is time to form our little trap.』

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 24

Chapter 24

The dull rumble of tens of thousands of booted feet filled the night air, and a swell of pride filled Avod’s breast. Though their adversary had shown themselves to be disappointingly ineffectual, momentous feelings still carried through the hearts and minds of the Goblin army. Rank upon rank marched forward armed with grim steel and a sense of greater purpose.

This is what you were born for, the world around them seemed to whisper. You, who were once weak, will rule the battlefield. Nations shall tremble before you.

For Avod, who had seen her tribe fall and suffer under the whims of Jaldabaoth, it was a turn for the better. The Demon Emperor might eventually bring the world to an end, but at least her army would make their own mark on it before that end. They would fight and die on their own terms…or perhaps they might eventually grow strong enough to turn around and face Jaldabaoth head on.

After scanning the field ahead one more time before climbing down from her command platform, Avod and her bodyguard joined the rear of the advancing force. The scattered Zombies left behind in the Elder Liches’ retreat were no obstacle, and the army marched forward at a steady pace. She raised her head, trying to look over the front ranks.

I hope we find a pack of Worgs one of these days. A General shouldn’t be tiptoeing to get a view.

While Goblins were small enough to ride Wolves, Hobgoblins were not. There were a number of magical beasts that they had come across, but none were suitable as mounts, or they had been too fast to catch. She imagined how wondrous it would be to have a Griffon or a Hippogriff, riding on swift wings and commanding the field. Of all the tales she knew, none had ever spoken of such a thing – perhaps she would be the first.

『General.』

The voice of one of her officers interrupted her fantasizing. She looked ahead to where he was directing his own formation.

『What is it?』

『We’re approaching the second ring of encampments. There’s more Undead up ahead.』

They were fighting a Zombie horde. Of course there would be more.

『You mean more than expected?』

『Ah, yes, that’s right, General. A lot more. It looks like they’re gathering out there.』

『Gathering? Not moving forward?』

『Nope, they’re just standing there.』

『Distance?』

『Just under 500 metres.』

Avod brought her army to a halt. She jogged up to the front line to see what had been described for herself. In the distance, a line of Undead stood parallel to her own. Above, the three Elder Liches were floating silently against the backdrop of stars.

“They trying to copy us?” She mused.

“Who knows,” the officer nearby shrugged. “If they are, I don’t know what they’re trying to accomplish.”

She grunted in agreement. Zombies were slow to move and slow to respond. They didn’t have any Martial Arts or Skills. Or intelligence, for that matter. They were just lumps of reanimated flesh. If these Elder Liches thought that creating a rough imitation of formations made out of real soldiers gave them parity, they were in for a rude awakening.

“Do the scouts see anything out of the ordinary?” She squinted out into the distance.

“Nothing reported,” the officer said. “Ah – they’re moving.”

Across the field, the line of Zombies started to shuffle forward. The damn things were so slow that they looked like they were just swaying back and forth.

“Ugh…are they really trying to make them move together?” Avod said sourly, “This is going to take forever.”

“Should we send skirmishers forward?” The officer asked.

“May as well,” Avod sighed. “I hope there’s something left for our main line to fight.”

『Skirmishers forward. Don’t wait to volley – loose arrows at will. Watch out for Wraiths.』

The Goblin skirmishers came forward, using their shortbows to pelt the makeshift Zombie line. As expected, the Wraiths came down, driving the archers back after one or two arrows. Like before, the Undead only got as far as the main line before being torn apart. After that, however, a new set of Wraiths came down to loiter in the field between the two armies.

The skirmishers that were returning to the front stopped part way, loosing their arrows at them. The projectiles mostly missed, and the few that were on the mark passed harmlessly through.

『Stop that – you’re wasting arrows. Get back behind the lines and keep thinning out those Zombies once they get in range.』

“Weird…doesn’t look like they did as well as before,” the officer frowned.

Avod was forced to agree. In the previous skirmish, they had nearly obliterated the Zombies in range. Now, they looked nearly unscathed. She grabbed the arm of a Goblin that was passing by.

“Hey – those arrows barely did anything. What’s going on?”

The Goblin looked up at her, brows drawn together in the monumental effort of answering her question. She looked back out to the approaching Zombies before looking back at Avod.

“Zom!” She started, then paused as if she had forgotten what to say. “Zom…Zom…Iron Zom?”

“Iron Zom?” Avod exchanged a look with the officer.

“Iron Zom!” The Goblin squeaked.

The skirmisher pointed at Avod’s shield, then her breastplate. Armoured Zombies. Avod waved the Goblin away.

“Some Zombie variant?” The officer offered.

It was possible. Undead often mysteriously manifested with weapons and equipment of their own. There was a range of possibilities, but the type of Undead dictated what it tended to appear with. The ones they had fought previously were all unequipped; formed out of the corpses of Goblins, which were plentiful in the basin.

“Maybe that’s why they thought they could copy us.”

“Your orders, General?”

She guessed it was a waste of time trying to take them down with arrows. Her Hobgoblins and Bugbears would be the most effective in this situation.

“Looks like it’s the main line’s time to shine,” she said. “We–”

『Left flank reporting: we’ve just made contact with the enemy. Holding fine, but it’s a helluva lot!』

Avod froze at the report. She looked across the field.

Their fucking line is crooked!

Those stupid Elder Liches couldn’t even get that part straight. She stewed in her boots, incensed that this mockery of an army should even be allowed. The clash of the two lines rose far to the west.

『Hobs and Bugs, forward! These rotting shits can’t even manage a straight line. Quick march! Officers sound charge at fifty metres.』

Their formations advanced, rapidly closing on the crooked Zombie line. One by one, each formation raised their voices as they charged, a wave of steel that washed up against the enemy Undead from west to east. Rather than the two masses pressing together in the push of melee, the first two ranks of the Zombie army instantly crumbled on contact before the charge fully stopped.

Avod snorted derisively. They might be Zombie variants, but they were still weak.

“General!”

She looked up at the voice. In the formation directly ahead of her, the same officer was waving her over with his spear.

“What is it?” She asked as they advanced to where he stood over a fallen Zombie.

“This armour, it’s…”

A flash of fury washed over her when she realized what he was bringing to her attention.

“Those evil…”

She looked across the press of soldiers. Now that the enemy was within range of her Darkvision, she could clearly make out the details of the Zombie ‘variants’. They were adorned in plate mail, wielding spears and shields of Dwarven make. They were her own soldiers.

『I want these Zombies put into the ground NOW! These evil assholes have gone too far!』

Spurred by her rage, the Goblin army roared and pushed forward with sudden fervour.

It was to be expected, she told herself. Undead were the purest manifestation of evil: enemies of all who lived. The rationale failed to calm her, however.

Avod glared at the Elder Liches silently flying out of range overhead. When did they get the chance to kill and raise her own soldiers? Her gaze drifted over to the northern peaks. The report from Zrol arrived three days previous. The follow-up report was delayed, but not unreasonably so. Was that where it had started? If so, they would have over 20,000 Zombies to deal with.

The Hobgoblin lines continued their northward advance, taking down thousands of Zombies as they went.

『Left flank reporting: we got a big one here!』

『A big one?』

『An Undead...champion, I guess? About that strong. My Hobs are trying to pin it down, but he’s a real pain in the ass!』

『What is it? A Vampire? Some super Zombie?』

『Erm…a Skeleton of some sort. Bugbear-ish in size. Black Armour. Ah shit – another one popped up a few formations away!』

Avod turned her head to see if she could see what was going on. She ended up turning far more than she expected to.

『Wait, how far back are you guys?』

『We’ve barely moved from where we made contact!』

Unearthly howls started to rise across the front line. She scanned her surroundings, trying to make sense out of what was going on. Over the land awash by bright moonlight, her front line had formed into an echelon, with the river to the west.

『Bugbears on the right flank: gather and punch through! We need to roll around this Undead army and finish it off, quick!』

Anxiety washed over her. Something was very wrong, and they needed to clean up before whatever it was happened to them.

A spray of dirt erupted in front of her. She winced away, covering her head. When she looked up again, she found a ballista bolt buried in the ground. No – it was a wooden stake. The officer of the formation ahead of her lay impaled upon it. Another stake streaked in, punching through two plate-clad Hobgoblins before driving itself halfway into the ground.

She fell back behind the protective cover of her bodyguard, who gathered around her with shields raised. The Hobgoblin army had strong cadres of elite soldiers, but they didn’t have any champions to deal with enemy champions. Avod herself was the closest thing to it, but she couldn’t even remotely compare with Qrs, or even Ysvrith. She urged her right flank to make their breakthrough: they needed to find whatever was sending those stakes into their lines like ballista bolts.

Another attack whistled by, traveling through two Bugbears and a dozen Goblins before smashing into the ground and tumbling end over end. At least it didn’t take down another one of her officers. Were they targeting them on purpose somehow?

Avod glanced up again towards the night sky and frowned. The Elder Liches that she thought might be directing the unseen attacker were gone.

Over on the western flank, Ludmila frowned down at the ongoing battle. Was it going as planned? Or was her plan about to go awry? At the current juncture, it was difficult to tell.

As fresh Zombie reinforcements crawled out of the river to join her after their journey from upstream, she arranged her army into oblique order. Rather than a traditional oblique order, where a heavy concentration of forces was focused on one side of a battle line in order to quickly secure dominance on that flank, she was just piling up Zombies to slow down one side of the Goblin army. They certainly wouldn’t hold out in the long run.

She couldn’t bring her personally trained Death Knights into play too early, lest the enemy commanders reacted to their appearance and stopped moving as she wanted them to. All she could do was watch nervously as thousands of Zombies were mulched in a matter of minutes by the enemy’s heavy infantry. When the two lines finally locked into place, some parts on her side were so thin that she had to rearrange her Death Knights to shore them up.

『Elder Liches, head over to the end of the west flank.』

As she waited for them to get into their positions, Ludmila scanned the battle below once again. On the opposite side, where the Goblin army’s echelon had made their furthest advance north, two diamond formations were gathering behind the main line. The Wolf Riders used the formation earlier in the night, but she was only aware of two groups of Wolf Riders: one on each flank. Worried that they were being gathered for a potential breakthrough, she repositioned the nearest Death Knight to stand opposite to them.

The Death Warrior she left behind was nearby as well, pulling up the stakes that served to obscure the Zombies coming out of the river. It lobbed them randomly into the mass of the army, some of its attacks travelling over five hundred metres before skewering the Demihumans that got in the way. She redirected her makeshift Undead ballista in an attempt to disrupt the diamonds on the eastern flank.

“You could just have its attacks directed against the enemy General,” Nonna offered. “It should be in the midst of that defensive formation behind the main line.”

“In our case, we need the enemy commanders alive for as long as possible,” Ludmila replied. “They need to keep their formations from breaking for as long as possible after we close our little pocket. Hm…I guess we need to start now.”

To the south, the Death Knights and Death Warriors sent to ambush the Goblin army’s eastern detachment were spread out in a long line, rapidly making their way towards the main batte. She signaled the three Elder Liches beyond the far western flank to begin.

In unison, the Undead mages raised their arms over their heads.

“「Triplet Widen Magic – Cloudkill」.”

A yellowish-green mist rose from the ground below the line of Elder Liches. It formed into a bank of noxious fog 180 metres wide that started rolling southeast.

『Keep going – we need five more.』

The Elder Liches moved south, continuing to place the Cloudkill spells until it formed a wall over a kilometre long. It didn’t move very fast, but it was more than enough to serve her purposes. Just before it seeped over the western flank, she ordered the Death Knights there to release the attention of the Goblin army.

Demihumans turned their attention to the advancing mist, eyeing it warily. When it touched the edge of their forces, two thousand Goblins collapsed, screaming as their bodies turned black and swollen. Their cries did not last long; they were dead within three seconds. Many Hobgoblins fell and died as well, while those who survived fell to the ground, gasping and retching.

As one, the entire western edge of the Goblin army flinched backwards in alarm. Ludmila’s Undead forces were immune to the spell, and fell upon the defenseless few that survived.

『Roll up that flank! Southern force – close the lid.』

The western flank started folding eastwards. It was slow at first, but gained in momentum as more and more Demihumans scrambled back from the slowly advancing Cloudkill spells while trying to defend against attacks from Zombie Squires and Death Knights. The regular Zombies were being left behind, but it hardly mattered any more.

The southern force swept in from the rear, completing the trap that had suddenly formed around the Goblin army. While the Death Knights and their army of Squire Zombies were intimidating enough, the Death Warriors were on an entirely different level altogether. As they charged in, they fired crossbows and hurled the numerous javelins, throwing axes and daggers hanging about their forms. The projectiles each sliced through dozens of Demihumans as they closed distance.

At fifty metres, the Death Warriors catapulted forward, brandishing twin greatswords. Blood and body parts severed in every way imaginable arced into the air as they turned into veritable whirlwinds of death, weaving their way through the Goblin army. One of them made it all the way to the front line in less than two minutes, where it cleaved through a formation of plate-wearing Hobgoblins. Eighteen of the Demihumans – stacked three deep – were bisected in a single swing, shields and all.

Double the level does not mean double the strength.

Lady Shalltear had mentioned this shortly after they met, but seeing it was an entirely different thing altogether. The offensive power of a Death Warriors was clearly more than twice that of a Death Knight.

As all sides closed in, the Death Knights fell back onto their filtering tactics, using their skills to arrest the attention of nearby opponents while picking off those that broke and ran. Ludmila continued fixing potential weaknesses in their encirclement.

『Cut off the riverbank – I don’t want any swimming away. Once our encirclement is secure, slow down a bit. Make sure you pick out the Squire Zombies that you want to take back with you.』

What followed could only be called a slaughter. Ludmila quietly watched from above, and her eyes eventually fell to rest upon the Katze River. It appeared that Entoma was right in the end, after all.

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 25

Chapter 25

After the battle wound down and the Cloudkill spells ran their course, Ludmila joined her forces on the ground to survey the results up close. The western third of the field was littered with blackened corpses; victims that had been overtaken and succumbed to the deadly magic that she had ordered.

Cloudkill was one of the few spells that she found suitable for large battlefields in the Elder Liches’ repertoire. Even so, she had to come up with an effective way to deploy them, having a large number cast in tandem to create a deadly moving barrier. As it was described to her by Nonna, the spell was a noxious cloud that instantly killed those below Level 10. Below level 19, there was still a chance for it to be fatal, and continued exposure would cause adverse effects to one’s health. Anything stronger would still be subjected to its debilitating effects, but, at that point, it mostly came down to the potency of the caster versus the resistance of the individual.

Being immune to poison made one immune to the spell, so it was an effective battlefield tool when one’s army was one hundred percent Undead. Remaining high above the battlefield on Nonna’s shoulders, Ludmila was similarly out of the area of effect.

As she picked her way eastward, fewer corpses showed the effects of Cloudkill, and the work of her Undead forces left pieces of Demihumans scattered everywhere. It was a strange reminder of the arbitrary nature of magic: those who had died of the spell had turned as black as charcoal, while those who had died to every other cause had not – even though the poisonous mist washed over them after the fact.

While the spell certainly seemed convenient, she noted other details that made her question its use. Dead rodents and snakes could be seen occasionally, as well as bats and birds. Coming across a rotting log, Ludmila pulled out her axe out of curiosity. After peeling back the pieces of bark and chopping out a section of wood, she grimaced. The spell was indiscriminate: anything susceptible to the poisonous mist was affected, enemies or otherwise.

Her earlier testing of the spell had been conducted high in the rocky passes where her Zombies were stationed, so she had not been aware of the fact at the time. In the future, she would have to carefully consider the implications of its use.

“Baroness Zahradnik,” one of the Elder Lich commanders called out to her from the southwest, “The survivors await.”

Survivors…?

With both sides having fully committed themselves to battle, she wasn’t about to attempt something foolish like ordering potentially harmful measures to preserve enemy numbers, but she did leave several other orders standing. Amongst them were her instructions to leave the enemy commanders unscathed, if possible. She found a small group of well-equipped, dangerous-looking Hobgoblins seated near the centre of the field. Four Death Knights stood watch over them. Nonna appeared to be making a study of their possessions.

As Ludmila approached, they turned their attention towards her, faces expressing clear disbelief.

“Good morning,” Ludmila said. “I am Baroness Ludmila Zahradnik, Warden of the Vale. Five days ago, a contingent of your soldiers crossed over into the sovereign territory of the Sorcerous Kingdom, attacking the official that asked for them to declare their business. The individuals taken in for questioning revealed to us your intent to invade our nation.”

A large Hobgoblin in the midst of the group jumped to her feet and bulled her way forward. Ludmila called her glaive into her hand, but it was unnecessary: a Death Knight smoothly stepped in and bashed the Hobgoblin across the face with its shield. The Demihuman took several more wobbly steps before tumbling into a heap.

“General!”

“General!”

“General!”

The other Hobgoblins rose to their feet, voices raised in concern.

I guess I do not have to figure out who their leader is.

The Hobgoblin General sent a baleful glare at Ludmila from where her cheek was pressed against the dirt.

“You Undead bitch!” Flecks of spittle sprayed into the air, “I knew it wasn’t just some damn Elder Lich doing this!”

One of the Elder Lich commanders looked at the Hobgoblin General, then at Ludmila.

Don’t look at me – I never claim to be Undead…

“The fact of the matter is that you have come with the resolve to invade the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Ludmila looked pointedly across the field, “and this is the result. I am curious, however: why would you think to bring such a huge army into our quiet corner of the wilderness?”

The Hobgoblin General froze at her question, then a chuckle rose from its throat.

“I do not think I said anything funny,” Ludmila frowned.

“This isn’t the end…” The Hobgoblin General said.

Ludmila was not particularly well versed in romantic literature, but even she understood the ominous line as painfully cliché.

“I realize that more of your army remains in the basin–”

“No!” The Hobgoblin General shouted, “You realize nothing! I’ll accept that I was bested by a superior force, but the last laugh will be mine. Your evil will be destroyed by a greater evil – he will come for you, you Undead monster…”

Ludmila furrowed her brow and looked over towards Nonna.

“Did the ones from the other day yield any information related to this?” She asked.

“The interrogation revealed nothing relevant to exterminating these invaders,” the Elder Lich answered.

The Hobgoblin let out a guffaw. Ludmila wracked her head, trying to make sense out of its cryptic words.

“Evil…does this have anything to do with the ‘evil star’ that has fallen in the west?”

The laughter stopped.

“Evil star?” The Hobgoblin General snorted, “Which cryptic asshole told you that? Well, no matter. No amount of preparation will save you. These ‘soldiers’ of yours are nothing, too. Hell is right behind us, Undead – your ‘Sorcerous Kingdom’ will burn like everything else.”

“Explain,” Ludmila demanded.

The Hobgoblin General started to laugh again. Ludmila resisted the urge to use her glaive in an attempt to loosen its tongue. There were people that could do this elsewhere – she had to return and compose her report to Lord Cocytus before Entoma and Shizu arrived with the next contingent of army trainees.

After arranging for the interrogation of the Hobgoblin General and the rest of the captured officers, she ordered the Elder Lich commanders to start cleaning up the field. Once she set some Shadow Demons to ambush any incoming couriers or supply trains coming from the west, Ludmila hurried back to the harbour.

Along the way, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of the Katze River. Nearer to the battlefield, it had become discoloured – turned bright red by the tens of thousands of Demihumans slain along its banks. To her great relief, it faded somewhat as more and more streams and small rivers joined it along its course. By the time the river ran by the harbour it was only suspiciously dark…or so she thought.

On the pier, Chief Esess stood looking out over the water with several other Lizardmen. They froze upon noticing her approach, and she could swear that one of them pushed the chieftain forward. She greeted him with as much friendliness as she could muster.

“Good morning, Chief Esess.”

“Good morning, Lady Zahradnik.”

“Is something the matter?” She asked.

“Ah, hm…yes,” the Lizardman Chieftain answered. “The river has changed – the smell and taste of the waters have become strange…”

So much for hoping that no one would notice.

“The change should be temporary,” Ludmila said. “Give it a day or two and it should be gone.”

“What is it, if I may ask?” Chief Esess asked, “Is it something bad? Will it happen again? My people are concerned.”

“Rather than something bad,” Ludmila smiled, “I would say it is good news. The main army of the forces threatening us to the south was defeated last night. The river is stained with the blood of over 30,000 Demihumans. As for whether it will happen again, I will carry out my duty as often as duty demands.”

As she tried to convey a sense of confidence to the Lizardman Chief, he stopped blinking and his tail went rigid. Ludmila leaned forward and waved her hand in front of his snout, and he flinched backwards. She still couldn’t figure out many of the stranger aspects of her Lizardmen subjects.

“At any rate,” she continued, “try to refrain from using the river water until the blood has washed by. I will have barrels of well water delivered from the villages, if you wish.”

“Ah, hm, yes…thank you, my lady.”

The Lizardman Chief returned to the pier, gesturing with his arms as he relayed her explanation. They reacted in the same manner as their chief, save for one who fell into the river. Over the course of her exposure to the Demihuman race, she had come to learn that they were not very good on dry land. Even the ones that had moved to E-Rantel resided in the Demihuman quarter, where a small lake had been made to accommodate them.

Her mind started to wander towards her delayed development plans before she caught herself. She had no time to linger. Ludmila turned and walked up the village trail, returning to her manor.

“Welcome back, my lady,” Lluluvien greeted her as she entered, “and congratulations.”

Ludmila’s gaze went to the map in the back of the manor. It had already been updated with the changes that had occurred overnight.

“Thank you, Lluluvien,” she replied. “Please prepare some tea – I have a lot of work ahead of me this morning.”

A Skeleton stirred from the wall of the hall and made its way into the back to pick up the kettle from where it hung over the fireplace. Ludmila took a seat at her desk, trying to figure out how to best structure her report. After several hours, and with about thirty minutes left until the next scheduled delivery, she thought she had come up with something appropriately comprehensive and coherent.

She went down to the flats to prepare for the exchange. Entoma and Shizu arrived exactly on time with the next contingent of troops.

“Delivery.”

“Delivery~”

The two sisters were attired in the same garb as always: vaguely maid-like uniforms that might have come from some exotic place. After a few days, she decided that Entoma was wearing some sort of mask, while Shizu’s face was half-hidden behind her mottled green scarf and large black eyepatch.

“Thank you, Miss Entoma, Miss Shizu. Here is the night’s report.”

The two sisters stared down at the thick stack of papers. Entoma was the first to move, dashing by and disappearing around the hill.

“Ah.”

“Miss Entoma is always so excited about getting more food,” Ludmila said. “I apologize for leaving you with all the paperwork again, Miss Shizu.”

Shizu received the stack of papers and seemed to weigh them in her hand before she started flipping through the pages.

“It’s ok,” she said in her flat voice, “this is important work, after all.”

The flipping stopped at a certain page near the beginning, and Shizu’s eye roamed back and forth over its content. After a minute, she looked back up at Ludmila, silently running her gaze up and down her figure. Ludmila shifted slightly under her scrutiny.

“Erm…Miss Shizu?”

“Weapon,” Shizu said.

“Pardon me?”

“Weapon…do you use one?”

Shizu reached into her inventory, retrieving a variety of weapons. Axes, swords, daggers…they all looked both magical and highly valuable. Ludmila grew curious about how many would come out, but she didn’t want to waste Shizu’s time.

“I use a spear,” Ludmila said.

“Then…”

As Shizu drew out a long spear from her inventory, Ludmila called her new glaive into her right hand. The pink haired woman paused to stare at the weapon. All of the ones she had pulled out returned to her inventory. In their place, Shizu held a pen and stepped forward. Ludmila stepped back.

“What…what are you doing?”

“Drawing.”

“Drawing? Drawing on what?”

“Weapon,” Shizu said, eyeing Ludmila’s glaive. “Don’t worry: it’s permanent.”

Ludmila glanced down at her weapon, imagining fluffy animals doodled on the pristine white haft of the incalculably valuable weapon. She willed it back into her Infinite Haversack. Shizu’s mouth turned down in its ever-so-subtle way.

“This is a precious weapon bestowed upon me by Lady Shalltear,” Ludmila said. “I am sorry, but I cannot allow anyone to deface it.”

Shizu’s eye fell upon one of Ludmila’s Infinite Haversacks, and a worried look came over Ludmila’s face. They had been exchanging troops for the past week and, in that time, Ludmila found that the range of Shizu’s visible expressions was quite limited. This was about as close to pure dissatisfaction as far as Shizu was concerned.

Was she going to try and take it? If so, Ludmila felt that she would have no choice but to let Shizu have her way with her.

“Woodlouse…Ranger…”

Ludmila blinked at Shizu’s meandering words.

“A bow,” Shizu asked. “Do you have one?”

“A-a bow? Yes – yes, I do.”

She quickly retrieved her ash longbow before Shizu decided to do something to her. After a brief glance, Shizu’s frown disappeared and she reached into her inventory and pulled out a bow. Like the other weapons she had previously produced, it appeared to be of extraordinary value – a composite bow fashioned out of what Ludmila thought to be horn and sinew from some beast.

“Have you heard of…Runecraft™?” Shizu asked her.

“Rune…apologies for my ignorance, but I have not heard of anything like that.”

Shizu held out the bow.

“It’s dangerous to go alone. Take this.”

Ludmila was going to say that the soldiers that were just delivered would be with her, but Shizu came forward and pressed the weapon against her stomach. Ludmila’s arms reflexively came up.

“This, erm…”

“Rune Bow,” Shizu told her. “Made using the ancient art of Runecraft™. Exclusive magical product of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Ludmila held up the Rune Bow, examining it closely. It certainly felt ancient. She thought she saw a series of markings on the side of the shaft.

“These are runes?” She pointed at them.

“Runes…?” Shizu tilted her head, “Oh. Mm, those are runes.”

“What do they say?”

Shizu blinked up at her silently.

“Then does this weapon have a name? It looks quite old.”

“Ult…uwah…”

“Ultuwah…?”

They stared at one another again. Shizu’s blank expression did not change in the slightest.

“Anyways,” Shizu said after several moments, “you should let many people see it.”

With that, Shizu wandered off, leaving Ludmila standing alone with the Rune Bow Ultuwah. She tested the pull of the bow, finding it fairly light compared to her usual weapon.

What did she mean by letting many people see it? She still had the remaining portions of the basin to clean out. Was Shizu telling her to use the bow as often as possible against the Demihumans? Looking towards where the Sorcerer King’s servant had disappeared to, Ludmila wished she had stopped her to ask for a better explanation.

She needed to keep an eye on the forces in training, but it was a well-established routine at this point. The remaining portions of the Goblin army were reported to mostly consist of poorly-equipped training camps as well. Maybe she could get some training of her own in – her bow skills had greatly fallen behind her proficiency with a polearm.

After ordering the newly arrived formations to help with the cleanup in the central valley, she returned to her manor to see if any changes had occurred over the course of the morning. Wiluvien had assumed her sister’s post, and one of the Elder Liches from the farming villages was awaiting her in the hall.

“Is something the matter?” Ludmila asked.

“There have been several requests from the villagers about when it would be safe to return to work,” the Elder Lich replied. “The farmers wish to return to tending the fields. Seeing the current progress in the upper reaches, I believe that it is a prudent juncture to relay their request.”

Would it be safe to return to the fields? She walked over to the map. The Goblin army had been pushed back to the southern edge of the basin, and there was no sign that anything had disturbed the Zombies that she had stuffed into the passes or had scaled over the bare mountain peaks.

“You may rescind the advisory,” Ludmila nodded. “But remain vigilant. The threat of tens of thousands of Demihumans flooding into the territory has passed, but we do not know whether a small group has somehow found its way in. The village security forces will be returned to their posts, but I will still need a number of Bone Vultures for surveillance.”

The manor door shut quietly behind the Elder Lich, and Ludmila turned her attention back to the map again. Two days…or at least that was what she had thought remained before she could go back to focusing on her domestic duties. Now, the Hobgoblin General had mocked her over some doom approaching from the west – possibly the same ‘evil star’ that had driven the Krkonoše from their ancient homes.

“Take the Bone Vultures that were watching over the main army encampment,” Ludmila told Wiluvien, “and send them to gather information in a radius of up to 100 Kilometres west from the ancient pass. We need to find out what is going on out there.”

Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Training resumed as planned that night, with little in the way of complications. Rather than complications, their schedule had been accelerated. The steady stream of Goblins carrying supplies, unaware that the main body of the Goblin army had been destroyed the previous night, provided the new arrivals with full contingents of Squire Zombies before the evening had fallen.

As reported, the target camps for the night were mostly what one might consider ‘training’ camps, filled with weak and poorly equipped Demihumans that were often set upon while they were performing their drills. As a result, they provided even less resistance than previous nights, and Ludmila had to outline theoreticals in absence of a more genuine experience as the Elder Lich commanders practised with their troops.

Once it appeared that they were well on their way, her mind turned to Shizu’s words and she pulled out the Rune Bow Ultuwah. How would she draw the attention of others to the bow? How would she use it, for that matter? It was nearly as tall as a longbow: ill-suited for firing from the back of a mount – or from the shoulders of an Elder Lich, in her case.

“I do not recall identifying a magical bow from any of the forays against this Goblin army,” Nonna said.

“This is from Miss Shizu,” Ludmila replied. “The Rune Bow Ultuwah.”

“From Lady Shizu…Rune Bow…I see.”

Lady Shizu? As expected, the servants of the Sorcerer King were from some extraordinary background. Considering her detachable leg and nearly expressionless features, was she some sort of construct? A Golem princess? Lady Shalltear had mentioned something about turning into a Golem, once. Entoma likely held some lofty status as well.

“Do you know anything about Rune Bows?” Ludmila asked, “Lady Shizu said something about it being crafted using the ancient art of Runecraft™. She also mentioned that it was an exclusive product of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“I am uncertain of its details, but it is most surely a wondrous thing.”

How could she speak so confidently about it when she was uncertain of its details? It was a sort of inconsistent statement that she rarely, if ever heard from the Elder Lich.

A number of arrows rose into the air as one of the Elder Lich commanders skimmed a bit too close over its assigned camp. She retrieved a broadhead arrow and raised the Rune Bow Ultuwah.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if I can use this up here…”

Scanning the camp for a likely target, Ludmila located what looked like a healer who was desperately scrambling back and forth. She drew her bow, then something came loose between her legs. Startled, she released the arrow and it grazed her target’s arm. Looking down, she saw that Nonna had released her grip on her thighs and her hands were now placed on top of her head.

“Did your head just–”

“It didn’t happen.”

Ludmila frowned down worriedly at the back of Nonna’s cowl.

“I was trying to stabilize my form and I just–”

“It didn’t happen.”

“O-of course.”

There were already enough strange rumors circulating about her. Squeezing an Elder Lich’s head off with her thighs was not something she wanted to add to them. She settled on releasing her arrows at half draw, though even those attacks appeared to be stupendously powerful. The healer that she had missed was picked off first, followed by anything else that looked like some kind of magic caster.

After two dozen targets, she felt like she was depriving the trainees of their training, so she stopped. Killing such weak Demihumans didn’t seem like a very efficient use of arrows, anyways. She had Nonna ascend so she could look over at the remaining encampments.

“Have there been any reports of these training camps starting to break up yet?” She asked.

“We’ve received no updates of the sort,” Nonna replied. “If anything, these camps are larger than the average encampment.”

Ludmila mused over the idea of just scattering the remaining encampments. Since they were Demihumans engaged in training, it would stand to reason that they were the native population of the basin. Once they were dispersed, they would be trivial to deal with using her regular security forces. She eyed the ancient pass looming far to the west. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. If some overwhelming evil did appear, the chaos might be more than she could manage.

When the night’s training ended, Ludmila returned to her manor, eager to find out what the Bone Vultures had discovered in the west. The distance from the southern edge of the basin was so great that it took them until midmorning to reach the harbour. Thinking about Lady Shalltear’s push to have her claim the upper reaches for the Sorcerous Kingdom, she wondered how Clara managed her own huge demesne. She probably didn’t ride one of her Elder Liches everywhere, and there were far more people living in Corelyn County.

“Wiluvien, has there been anything from the Bone Vultures we sent out?”

“Only a few have returned, my lady,” she replied. “We don’t have a proper map of the region, so there’s only rough reports to go by. The base camps we identified when all of this started are still there. Across the river, there’s some sort of plain…that’s all we really have: nothing noteworthy has been reported there.”

It was good news, probably. If nothing went on, she could conduct the last training exercise and then settle down to see how the camps on the west side reacted to the destruction of the Goblin army.

“There have been some movements reported inside the basin, however,” Wiluvien added.

“Where?” Ludmila tensed.

“The reports are intermittent, my lady. It may be that the tribes in the upper reaches are returning to their regular lives.”

“Is it everywhere at once? Or are they coming from somewhere?”

“There are clearly groups of Demihumans returning from where they were driven to in the east,” Wiluvien looked down at the map, “and there might be another group in the southwest? Perhaps the remaining camps are breaking up now.”

“The east should be safe to leave alone for now,” Ludmila said. “I doubt they will try anything after seeing that the Goblin army has been wiped out. I will head out and see what I can learn about the movements to the southwest once I complete my report. Please let the next batch of trainees know where to go once they arrive.”

She headed out with Nonna in the mid-afternoon, flying over the passes to see if anything had disturbed the Zombies collecting there. After inspecting the westernmost pass, they turned south to investigate the approaches. When they had passed over several sets of camps, she spotted movement in the one ahead. Whatever it was must have seen them too, for it dashed away into the trees as they approached. Judging by its size relative to the camp features, it was larger than a Hobgoblin.

Ludmila looked around for a Bone Vulture, and sent it over to where the figure had disappeared. It circled overhead several times, finding nothing.

『Did you see that?』

Nonna shook her head.

『Summon some Wraiths. See if you can flush whatever it is out of the trees down there.』

The Elder Lich did as instructed, but failed to find anything. Further down, there was more movement.

『Another one. Or maybe the same one. In the camp to the west of us.』

Nonna turned to follow. This time, the mysterious figure did not seem to take notice of either Nonna or the Bone Vulture circling overhead. It finished rooting around the camp before they came close enough to identify it, loping out towards the nearby brush.

Ludmila leaned forward as they closed in, trying to figure out what it was. It passed behind a tree. When it appeared on the other side, it was facing them directly. Her sense of alarm rose sharply when she realized what it was.

Gnoll!

『Protection from Arrows! Get us out of here!』

The Hyena Beastman raised its massive greatbow. Ludmila grabbed the round shield from her Infinite Haversack and held it before her.

“「Protection from Arrows」.”

“「Fortre–”

Ludmila was jolted off of Nonna’s shoulders. Pain filled the world and her body seized. In her shock, she dully registered the arrow that had exploded out of her chest. It’s shaft was wider than her thumb, and it was tipped by a barbed black head as long as her hand. She didn’t feel herself hit the ground.

Amidst the murky nothingness, she floated. Irritation filled her being. Dissatisfaction. Something important, left undone. Too many somethings.

The nothingness lapped around her like soothing waves, but were of little comfort. Somewhere beyond herself, she felt herself: drifting away like she herself was. What she felt from them only served to exacerbate her bitterness. Ignorance. Failure. Incompetence. Impressions of other selves, punctuating her powerlessness.

She didn’t like this place. No, it was more truthful to say that she hated it. There was nothing for her here. There was nothing to be done here. She sought purpose; duty; a way to fix things; a way out.

But there was none. Only the nothingness and the beyond.

An eternity later, something dark approached. Evil, a part of herself screamed. Unclean, the echoes in the nothingness came. But the darkness was familiar to her. It was comfort in a place where there was none. A chance to make things right. She reached out across the void; felt the comforting darkness entwine around her being…

She opened her eyes. There was the ceiling of her manor; the scents of her home. Her blankets slid over her bare skin as her chest rose with a weak breath.

“Leave us,” a familiar voice said. “Now.”

She turned her head. Lady Shalltear was seated on the edge of her parents’ bed. An exquisite ivory rod lay across her lap. Her crimson eyes glowed, fixing Ludmila’s gaze with her own.

“Lady Shalltear,” she said, “what…”

Memory came. A sudden jolt and a world of pain. The sense of falling, her body burning from the inside. At the end…nothing.

“Did my words mean nothing to you?” Lady Shalltear asked quietly.

“I…”

“Did you not understand them, perhaps?” Her liege’s voice smouldered, and Ludmila fell silent.

She could absorb the fury of others; shrug off their hate and their scorn. But not this. This…was disappointment. Disappointment in her failure. Ludmila’s very soul seemed to want to curl up and disappear somewhere. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes.

“Oh, it seems that you do,” Lady Shalltear said. “At least in part. Do you require me to enlighten you of my full meaning?”

“No, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “A-at least I think I understand.”

“Are you sure?” Lady Shalltear raised an eyebrow, “Let’s hear it from you, just in case.”

Lady Shalltear rose from her seat, walking up to the side of Ludmila's bed. Her hand stretched out, and Ludmila tensed. She felt the points of Lady Shalltear’s nails playing lightly over her blanket.

“If I don’t like your answer,” she said lightly, “you won’t be getting up again.”

Ludmila remained silent for several moments, feeling the touch of her liege roam over her abdomen.

“You have taken me as your vassal,” Ludmila said quietly. “Invested me with duty; shared with me your responsibilities. I am an agent of His Majesty’s will. To fail is to show that His Majesty’s will may be resisted; denied."

“That’s right,” Lady Shalltear said. “Lord Ainz’s Will is absolute. All who challenge His authority must be made to see this truth. Yet you have done just the opposite.”

Ludmila sat up in her bed, drawing her blanket up to her collarbone.

“I will return to the field and seek restitution, my lady. I will reclaim the honour lost.”

Lady Shalltear sniffed dismissively.

“You say that, but are you capable of delivering on your claim? You were slain by a single arrow from an opponent you did not even realize was there. Your equipment is gone and you’ve lost levels. Your words ring hollow, in my estimation.”

Ludmila cast her gaze downwards, looking around for her things. There was nothing there. She would still be able to command from the air, but at a safe height, she had no real hope to locate those Gnolls. None of her forces could detect them. Even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to catch the strong ones and would eventually lose them again.

“…it is as you say, my lady,” Ludmila said. “I possess the resolve, but it is all that I have. I can’t do it on my own. I need help.”

Two objects landed at the foot of her bed. Ludmila’s eyes widened. They were Infinite Haversacks identical to her own.

“It would be better if you were to permanently cast away that sort of impulsive response,” Lady Shalltear said. “What is required of you is demonstrable results, not empty words.”

Ludmila reached out and pulled one of the containers onto her lap. Within was her equipment.

“My lady,” she looked up in disbelief, “this is…”

“The failings of a vassal are the responsibility of their liege,” Lady Shalltear told her. “Fortunately, they were foolish enough to take off with your equipment, so Nigredo found them right away.”

“You…you went out there personally?”

“I did,” Lady Shalltear said. “My escorts herded them back out of the upper reaches. There are a couple thousand Gnolls smeared against the walls of that ancient pass, now. I think a few thousand Goblins ended up in the mix, too.”

“I am truly ashamed for troubling you, my lady.”

Lady Shalltear stepped back, crossing her arms over her midriff.

“I may not be very good at many things,” Lady Shalltear said, “but I believe that I told you that fighting is something that I excel at. I know well enough what should and shouldn’t be possible when it comes to personal combat. I won’t arbitrarily punish you for failing at something that you cannot do, but I wanted to hear your response all the same. I have dealt with this matter for now, but I believe you realize that an affront of this nature cannot be allowed to repeat itself, yes?”

“Yes, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “Thank you for your consideration. I should be pursuing a permanent solution more aggressively, all things considered. It is unforgivable that the defence of the realm be limited by these ongoing shortfalls.”

“Indeed. For now, however, you have a job to finish.”

They stared at one another for several moments. Ludmila shifted uncomfortably under her blanket.

“What are you waiting for?” Lady Shalltear told her, “Duty awaits.”

Ludmila stepped out of bed and went about dressing herself. Lady Shalltear smiled from the side.

“I suppose there are advantages to not having Quickswap enchantments.”

Ludmila tried to ignore her liege’s leer, which only seemed to amuse her all the more. When she had fully equipped herself, Ludmila went over to the dinner table to see what had changed on the map. Urgent knocking sounded at the door. She went to answer, and found Lluluvien waiting outside.

“My lady,” she said after she stepped in and closed the door again, “something’s happened on the other side of the ancient pass.”

“Go on…”

“The base camps along the river have been attacked,” Lluluvien said. “They’re burning. There’s thousands of Demihumans fleeing into the basin.”

“Did they describe what is attacking them?”

“Not in great detail,” Lluluvien replied. “They suddenly came from over the plain – we’re still trying to sort it all out.”

Ludmila furrowed her brow, and a chill washed over her body. Whatever it was that the Hobgoblin General had mocked her over – the ‘evil star’ that the Krkonoše had fled from – had probably come. She turned to Lady Shalltear.

“My lady,” she said. “I must return to my command.”

Lady Shalltear smirked up at her, and a Gate opened near Ludmila’s bed. Ludmila made one last check over her person before stepping towards the portal.

“Baroness Zahradnik.”

Being so addressed, Ludmila paused for a moment, then turned.

“My lady?”

“Ainz Ooal Gown does not know defeat.”

Ludmila straightened, placing a hand over her breast and lowering her head.

“His Majesty’s Will shall not be denied.”

Table of Contents

- - Table Of Contents -
- Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 14
- Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 15
- Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 16
- Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 17
- Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 18
- Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 19
- Winter's Crown: Act 4, Chapter 20

- Winter's Crown: Halftime Q&A, Author Musings

- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 1
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 2
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 3
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 4
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 5
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 6
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 7
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 8
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 9
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 10
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 11
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 12
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 13
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 14
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 15
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 16
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 17
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 18
- Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 19
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 1
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 2
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 3
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 4
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 5
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 6
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 7
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 8
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 9
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 10
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 11
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 12
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 13
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 14
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 15
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 16
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 17
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 18
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 19
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 20
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 21
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 22
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 23
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 24
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 25
- Winter's Crown: Act 6, Chapter 26