ã€ŠAzure Eyesã€‹


 Job hunting

    Music wafted amid shining candlelight and rowdy voices. The smell of ale and roasted meat filled the air. Under the guild halls rafters and iron banded chandeliers Adventurers were Laughing, rabble rousing, dancing, arguing, and even fighting.

    Amongst this throng of merriment, one would never guess the world was threatened by legions of undead.

    A girl with dark gray hair and feline-like ears, stood before the guild quest board, her equally feline tail swaying slowly from side to side as she read through the postings.

    "Find my missing pet." "Kite stuck in a tree." "Find my missing tools." She hmm''d whipping her tail. There weren''t any decent jobs for adventurers of her rank.

    Thanks to the undead, monsters had become scarce, and jobs like gathering requests now had a higher risk, requiring a greater reward, meaning less people could afford to issue them; and the better quests were reserved for the higher ranked adventurers, or those with a party. She had neither party nor rank, so getting solid work was difficult at the moment.

    A few months prior when the city was under siege by an army of the undead, the local garrison was issuing requests with obvious urgency and the pay had been extremely good. Eventually the siege was repelled and the war front was pushed south, well away from the city.

    However, besides job opportunities, sieges also created shortages, which drove up prices. So the money she made didn''t last long, and had quickly run out, leaving her with little to eat besides hardtack and stale bread.

    She continued reading through the postings. "Warehouse cleaning." "Help with magical experimentation." She knew the poster for that one. A really nice mage girl who''d been traveling to further her studies in magic.

    Unfortunately, as she lacked the requisite magical abilities to be of any assistance, that one wouldn''t be an option. She went to continue, only to freeze, going as brittle as stone upon seeing a request on blue parchment.

    A request issued directly from the capital. Though It wasn''t the origin of the request but the request itself that startled her, In bold it read.

    "WANTED: INFORMATION ON THE REAPER CLASS UNDEAD AZURE EYES."

    She swallowed hard, her ears folding down. That''s not something that should''ve ever been on the low ranks board. After all Just the thought of that creature would make even the strongest of warriors nervous. The Azure Eyes, the terror of adventurers, bane of heroes.

    A monster who''d earned the highest classification of Reaper, which is said to be capable of wiping out entire cities and parties of high ranked adventurers. It was the very same designation that was given to dragons, and the Azure Eyes certainly deserved it.

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    In the past forty-years countless lives had been taken by it. Famous adventurers, heroes, knights of great renown, all had challenged it and died horribly.

    Rarely did anyone ever return alive from facing it, but if they did they never ever came back in one piece. Limbs, sanity or having been mauled to the point of being unrecognizable, something was always lost in that confrontation.

    It''s not uncommon for those who had survived to commit suicide not long after; people have even argued whether surviving it was worse than dying to it.

    Although, thanks to those unfortunate survivors, we know at least its capabilities and appearance. A white haired undead, wielding a curved red sword and possessing an extremely high level of swordsmanship.

    Along with the trait from which its moniker is derived, a pair of glowing blue eyes that are said to instill absolute terror in those who look into them.

    However it''s said, as opposed to its combat ability, its true terror lied in its intelligence, that unlike other undead it had sentience being able to strategize, lay ambushes, and avoid situations which would be disadvantageous to itself.

    There''d been named undead who could fight well before, but none held even a scrap of the Azure Eyes level of discernment. It was truly the apex not just in this era of strife, but in recent history as a whole.

    Now that the war against the undead was shifting, killing the Azure Eyes would be essential. It had interfered in the march of both sides'' armies before, causing this conflict to be prolonged for far longer than it should have.

    The guild was certainly desperate to see it properly dead if a request like this had also been posted to the low ranks board.

    The girl exhaled, even if it was just scouting. It''s not a job any sane person would take, but for curiosity''s sake she wanted to see the reward on it. "Two gold, five silver and thirty bronze! That''s the kind of rewards gold ranked quests get you!" She thought her ears twitching excitedly.

    "With that kind of money I could get that new gear I''d been eyeing and eat like a noble for a few months easy!" Her excitement waned, realizing she''d momentarily forgotten how insane taking such a quest would be.

    "Well¡­ that''s if I survived or could even find the Azure Eyes¡­" Rationality was beaten by greed and hunger like a red headed step child in a belt factory.

    "Hey guild girl I''d like to take this job please!" This girl daring as she was, couldn''t have realized this wasn''t an earnest request. That those who took this quest weren''t meant to be scouts, but bait.

 An abominable meal

    A young man sat on the trunk of a felled tree, thinking to himself amidst the silence. What was once a village bustling with people, was now a den of death, dismembered corpses laying strewn around its center.

    "How much longer will this go on?" He thought. "The killing, watching on unable to do anything as innocent people die." He reached a hand down caressing a severed arm that looked to have belonged to a girl around his age, maybe younger.

    He felt terrible looking at her, understanding what it is to be robbed like this, deprived of life so young. "Though it didn''t matter now." He thought as he picked up her severed arm. "I cant do anything other than watch." Blood spurted as he bit into it, flesh and sinew tearing with a sickening sound. "I''m nothing more than a corpse myself."

    How long he''d been like this he couldn''t tell you. It had all felt like a very realistic nightmare, and who could tell how much time had passed in a dream?

    Though sometimes he''d have brief moments of partial lucidity, like now, where he''s at least able to feel guilt rather than the usual fog in his head. However, feeling was all he could do, being unable to stop himself from butchering people and gorging on their remains.

    Such was his existence day in and day out. Kill, eat, kill, left to wander, with a feeling of being horribly lost. Kill, eat, kill. The wish to die, the desire to live despite being dead. It was a bewildering and agitating existence to the point some nights he''d just scream like he was trying to shatter the earth and sky.

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    Anything, he would give anything to be free of this wretched existence. Unfortunately he had nothing to give. After all the death he wrought, he''d have lost his soul, so he couldn''t sell it, and praying to God probably wouldn''t work either since he was no longer human.

    He couldn''t even remember his own name, the only thing left of him was his sword, which he''d long come to despise. It kept him alive, but prolonged this unending bloody nightmare; Yet he couldn''t fully hate it because even though he''d forgotten why, it was immeasurably precious to him.

    How ironic it is to find something precious in death, especially something you hate. "Though it doesn''t matter, hating something, wanting something." He tore into the girls arm again tearing the meat down to bloody porcelain bone. "I''m nothing but a corpse. A sack of rotten sorrow."

    The muscles in his face twitched, and he stood fluidly like the changing of frames. Moonlight shone from behind the clouds illuminating his boney gray skinned body and the fresh blood on his skinless face, seeming to shine even brighter beneath bloodied white hair were a pair of piercing blue eyes.

    Metal armor clicked and rattled accompanied by the smell of sweat and sword oil. The Azure Eyes had suddenly found itself surrounded.

 Black steel

    Commander Elwin eyed the village before him, no lights and no noise at least from what he could tell, having just teleported he was somewhat unsteady on his feet and his head fuzzy.

    Out of all the villages in the south they''d chosen, or more aptly gambled on this one as part of a ludicrous plan cooked up by one of the nut job court mages in the capital.

    Five-hundred of the Black Guard, the most elite fighting force of the empire answering directly to the emperor himself had volunteered for this mission. Even equipped with the unassailable black steel arms and armor none of them expected to make it home alive.

    He''d made that reality apparent when addressing his men about the operation, it was ridiculous even by the absurd standards they were known for; their quarry was after all the legendary monster¡­

    A feeling of eyes bored right into him snapping his attention forward. Ahead of him was a figure, surrounded by corpses. He didn''t have to see its eyes to know who it was, the white hair and decrepit form told him everything. The Azure Eyes.

    He took a deep breath, his body feeling hot. It wasn''t just fear, fear was like boiling water in your blood sapping your strength, this on the other hand was like molten lead being poured onto his body.

    A familiar feeling for a soldier, bloodlust, pure and terrible. He hadn''t felt such an intense murderous aura since the siege of Athos, when he faced down a seven foot tall dragon warrior that stood on a mound of dead bodies.

    It wasn''t anything he and his men couldn''t handle, or were unfamiliar with. They''d been on more than a few so called suicide missions. If anything it helped to push away the last of the fuzziness from his head.

    Elwin didn''t waste time not on himself or his men and gave the signal for those obsidian mailed braves to advance. "Having our formations set prior to teleporting was worth the extra effort on the mages part." he thought, peering from behind his square tower shield.

    The reports he''d read noted that the Azure Eyes was cautious when facing greatly superior numbers. So the sudden appearance of fully formed troops seems to have made it lag in its decision making.

    Hopefully, by the time it decides how it''ll respond they''ll have properly surrounded it. The black guard excelled at fighting in tight conditions, so heming it in should guarantee victory.

    The troops were nearly upon the village center. Elwin eyed the creature through his helmet visor. Its white hair was long going down to its waist and hung in its skinless face, which lacked a nose and bore a bloody maw of eerily white perfect teeth that were covered in fresh blood.

    It''s body was thin and skin gray and discolored. its stomach sunk in and each bone well pronounced. What little muscle it had was grossly defined, and it''s left arm was spindlier than its right. It wore a soiled and tattered rag around its waist that hung down to just passed the knees.

    A curved sword which it wore edge up was tucked snuggly at its hip. "What a strange way of wearing a sword." Elwin thought.

    Perhaps it was his time as a commander, but his great eye for detail noticed something else about it. It was neither tall nor thick-boned. Disregarding it being an undead, Its frame wasn''t like that of a grown man''s.

    "That''s right undead were once human and you must''ve been little more than a brat when you died." Elwin realized. He wanted to make a quick prayer for him, but he could do that later. Now was not the time for pity, especially towards a creature which had murdered so many. "I''ve grown soft in my old age." He muttered.

    "Aye, ''bout time you retired ye salted gray fuck." One of his men Balor replied, causing laughter within the formation. "Come now Balor, you shouldn''t talk like that in front of your grandmother." Elwin replied, nodding his head forward. "Ah, shite." Balor chuckled, along with the other men.

    The soldiers without being ordered all suddenly came to a stop; it felt like they might be ripped apart in an instant as cold boney hands wrapped around them in a steel grip.

    Elwin realized he''d made a mistake looking at the Azure Eyes which stood relaxed with its left hand resting on the scabbard of its curved sword. He understood now that it wasn''t slow to react, it simply didn''t need to; that we weren''t worth the effort of closing the distance.

    What he had felt earlier then wasn''t the Azure Eyes bloodlust. It was his own body trying to tell him to run by making use of something he knew to avoid at all costs. What he felt now went beyond that scaled beast capable of slaughtering a cohort of troops.

    Elwin tried to shout the order to charge, their only chance for victory was to press and overwhelm, but the words wouldn''t form.

    Eyes closed, the undead abomination seemed to be taking a deep breath making a noise like that of a forge stoke filling with air. Once its lungs were full, it let out a scream that sounded like a wild cat in heat and was so loud the air around its mouth seemed to tear and left the men in the front lines deaf.

    When it finished a ringing silence. No chirp of crickets or blowing of wind. The very world seemed to be terrified by Azure Eyes'' presence.

    The man next to Elwin soiled himself, and an un-deafened soldier was asking him for orders, but he was only looking at their quarry, unable to hear his soldier''s plea as blood sept from his ears.

    Elwin''s gaze met the undeads and rather than fear, despair, or desperation, he felt relief. Even though he''d vigorously trained him in fencing, his son attended university rather than becoming a soldier, so he''d never face danger like this. Though she''d only just come of age he was able to give his daughter away at her wedding.

    Elwin''s heart stopped. As he collapsed forward, he was grateful that even though he was forty-seven, he had no regrets in death having lived his life as fully as a soldier could.

    All the men watched as their commander fell, and all of them understood what came next. Death, the black guard do not run, they do not break, and above all they do not know shame of of cowardice.

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    Armor rattled and voices thundered shields up as they charged. Nothing to be gained and nothing to lose this would be their final battle.

    _________________________

    It was as if demons had been set upon him, the way these black mailed braves howled as they charged. Awing, but foolish as no one attempted to assume command in their dead leaders'' stead.

    This would make his victory all the easier, because there is no army in existence past, present, or future that could keep its cohesion without someone at the head.

    They were now nothing more than a mass of individuals, all that was left was to pull the strings that would loosen them up. Using his thumb to push on the round cross guard of his sword, clicked it free of its sheath then as if skipping he bounded forward.

    Black steel he''d encountered it before, and it was several times stronger than normal steel, but the sword he wielded was even harder than that and far sharper than any other blade; it was a truly vicious thing.

    Angling his sword edge down he struck with an upwards draw, his curved sword a flashing arc of crimson that sent sparks as it sheared through the middle of the shield and body of the man in the center of the formation.

    He killed the man in the next row the same way with an overhead slash then exploding through the bisected men''s gore, impaled the man in the back row shield and all with a thrust down to the hilt.

    Then lifting the still impaled man over head he pivoted around turning fluidly in place and flicked him off his sword with such force that he bounced when hitting the ground, his armor clacking wildly as he rolled past his comrades.

    A stare down. "Will they realize it now?" the Azure Eyes thought. Steel thumped as one soldier dropped his shield followed by another and then the rest. "Yes, that''s it, that''s the way. I''m beyond what you can defend against, so offense is your only choice."

    A soldier by the name of Algar eyed the undead before him, its crimson blade glinting in the moonlight. "Hey, Oswin." He called out to a man beside him. "Yeah." The man replied. "If I bite it before you, kick me over. I don''t want to die with my ass in the air." He said before rushing forward.

    Without being able to take even a single step the Azure Eyes shot forward with its jaws nigh unhinged and clamped down on his mailed neck. It''s teeth lacked the hardness to break through the mail, but had adequate bite force to snap his neck.

    Once it had, it spun, throwing him sinking low as it did, ducking a strike and then shearing off a soldier''s arm as it came back up, before slashing through another''s carotid artery and then flicking his sword halfway through the man beside hims neck.

    Without losing rhythm the Azure Eyes danced amongst a wall of blades dipping and slicing the tendons in one''s armpit and the back of his leg as he passed under their thrust. A perfectly aimed thrust through a visor slit, an overhead flick of his blade that split another''s visored helmet in half.

    Every move they could make he could predict and every move they did make he could feel. He thrust his sword over head as if chambering an overhead strike and stabbed the man behind him through the neck.

    Simply butchering them would be easy, but doing so would be a waste while individually they were below him they were still several times stronger than the average person making them perfect practice.

    Whether it was a bi-product of his personality before dying or his body''s overactive survival instinct pushing him towards it. Mastery of the sword was something of an obsession in his undead state.

    Fires began sprouting on the thatched roofs, as he finished wiping out the first maniple.

    "I see they''re cutting off possible escape routes. They can''t stand in the houses and forming in front of them would simply give me a place to leap to should the need arise. I could also simply break through the walls rather than face down their formations if need be so such an act was clever."

    Though it didn''t matter, he''d properly ascertained their strength. "Each man is about three to four times stronger than the average person, and if I had to guess their strongest would be five to maybe seven times at the most." He thought.

    "I''m well beyond any single individual here. Even if there are a few hundred of them it won''t matter, this will be a slaughter like any other." He kicked up one of the black steel blades, catching it with his left hand.

    Then he took a stance, his blades held slightly up just level with the top of his hips and arms angled out so that his knuckles were in line with his shoulders.

    It was his true style, dual wielding. Though rarely did he have the chance to use it, as there was never anyone strong enough to make him use it, and even more rarely did he encounter other dual wielders. So he preferred to keep it hidden as a sort of trump card.

    He leapt into the heart of the black guard now more well formed in a whirl of blades as he parried with the shorter blade and slashed with his curved sword. While he didn''t have as much cutting power fighting like this the speed in which he could attack and counter was ludicrous.

    Arteries were cut and blood spewed, heads rolled and hearts punctured with well angled thrusts through the armpit. Arms, and legs went flying but still The black guard still did not break, even as they charged over their comrades bodies, or as some pissed themselves in fear.

    "Truly the black guard is quite amazing." The mage Gwalch stated from faraway in the tree line looking out at the ensuing battle. "Sir Gwalch¡­ the battle does not seem to be going favorably." One of his assistant mages said.

    "Have faith in them, Atticus. Though it looks bad now losses are both unavoidable and factored into my plan" Gwalch replied reassuringly. The young mage bowed "Sire!" He answered. Gwalch smiled at this.

    "In that youngsters mind the great imperial mage Gwalch must be nothing short of a hero. That the plan to use the villagers as bait and then teleport them out at the same time we sent the black guard to ambush the Azure Eyes going awry was simply due to their errors rather than his." He thought, looking at the other assistants that had begun seizing out due to mana deprivation from teleporting so many troops.

    "Though I knew full well it''d be a slaughter." Gwalch thought. "I knew the villagers would die as well. So that''s truly no fault of theirs." He focused back towards the ensuing battle, enhancing his vision to see in better detail. He witnessed a soldier being used like a human flail getting flung around by his own intestines.

    He had to stifle his laughter at seeing such a thing, ever since that day seven years ago his sense of humor, or really everything about him had become wretched.

    The day he watched his long time friends butchered by the Azure Eyes, unable to do anything despite being the great genius Gwalch Gwyer.

    "Really, I''ve become despicable." He thought. "My comrades would hate the man I''ve become, undoubtedly. Olmin especially " He smiled, once again recalling his overly honorable warrior friend, who was as stout as a tree and wielded a mace that practically was one having his helmed head smashed in with his own weapon. "But I don''t care, I will kill that wretch. Either by way of the black guard or with the magic circle I crafted under the village."

    The battle raged on becoming a sea of blood and black steel. Not a single soldier managed to land a hit on the Azure Eyes.

    "I see¡­ so it''s time to make use of that." Gwalch announced feigning a somber attitude. "My lord are you sure?" Atticus asked, clearly shaken. "We have no other choice, Atticus. It appears I''ve miscalculated." He said a glum expression on his face.

    "Y-yes. It was an honor then to serve both under and alongside you Lord Gwlach, I''m sure we''ll be remembered as heroes, you most of all." Gwalch smiled.

    "Ah how touching my boy but I''ll only be supplying half the mana. The rest I''ll use to teleport the surviving assistant mages back to the capital." He thought slyly.

    The spell they were about to activate was tied to a massive magic circle they''d inscribed weeks prior.

    It''d turn the whole of the village into a swirling inferno with an unmatched intensity capable of incinerating everything caught inside from bodies to buildings, not even ashes would remain.

    The trade off was that it would take a massive amount of mana to activate. While mages were rare, mages with large amounts of mana like Gwalch were rarer. The drain from casting it will kill the assistant mages involved.

    "Yes truly I was fortunate to have such splendid mages to help me." He said, as they began to channel their mana toward the magic circle.

 Cat & Corpse

    Teeth chattering, and hands rubbing up and down her shoulders the cat eared sat sheltered under a tree doing her best to keep herself warm.

    "Ah, it''s spring, why is it so cold?" She thought to herself. "If I knew the nights were going to be like this I would''ve taken my coat along, or at least a small blanket to wrap around my shoulders." She shivered.

    She wore her usual gear, a long sleeve shirt under a cropped vest and a leather covered ring mail breastplate, along with a pair of tight cotton trousers under a pair of knee length shorts and buckled brown leather boots, but it wasn''t enough to protect from the elements.

    And though it was cold she couldn''t start a fire, undead monsters, bandits, or worse the Azure Eyes would be drawn to the flames.

    So bearing it was all she could do for right now. "At least I don''t have to be cold and hungry." Reaching into her bag she pulled out some jerky and bit into it, her teeth having no problems chewing the tough meat.

    The guild had overstocked, so before leaving on this scouting request one of the guild maids Erin had given her a big bag of it, which she had been grateful to the point of tears for.

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    Certainly doing all this running around would''ve been difficult while living off stale bread alone. She had been on the road for nearly a week now heading south near where her quarry was rumored to be active. It had been a relatively uneventful trip so far.

    "My luck is looking up, first I get lucky with the guild overstocking their jerky and I haven''t encountered a single undead along the way." The thought of her good fortune alone seemed to warm her up slightly. "Yep, even if I don''t find Azure Eyes. I atleast got a nice bonus from it, and an excuse to run around."

    A cold wind blew, putting an end to her elated warmth, not due to the temperature, but because of the smell that traveled with it. The smell of rot.

    She stood up back sliding against the tree she was sheltering under, her ears folding down and tail going rigid. Blood running hot she was shuddering with fear. As a rotten face appeared from the underbrush, the moonlit night was met with a shrill shriek.

 Chordus obitus

    Sizzling skin sloughed off, and hair smoked. Hot, there was no other word to describe the blazing swirl of flames that had almost incinerated him. Pushing up from where he lay in the dirt, he dragged himself forward further away from the inferno.

    The heat had cooked his brain, making standing difficult. Fire and solid hits to the head would always be a weakness for him, but he managed to regain his equilibrium; getting back on his feet, he turned looking back at the tempest which suddenly shot higher.

    The growing intensity making him lurch back further away, covering his eyes to protect from the heat and brightness as he did. He watched on as the pillar of fire rose above the treetops. It was as if hell had opened to swallow him whole, he thought. Certainly after everything he''d done it wouldn''t be surprising.

    It was never my intention or desire for so many to die, but I was still to blame. If I hadn''t died, everyone I killed would still be living their lives, laughing, smiling, getting married and having children or doing some other great thing. I''ve robbed the world of so much joy, not even leaving anyone for there to be misery.

    How many? An uncountable number must be waiting for me in the afterlife. Do they blame me, hate me for something that''s out of my control? I certainly hate what killed me.

    I hate, a simple way of running from something he didn''t like to think about. countless times he''d ask himself that question, and never did he settle on any other answer.

    What else was left? Sadness, guilt, and above all contempt. Hatred was the only thing that for a small moment burned away at the pain in his soul and gave him reprieve.

    The heat struck his body as the torrent flared. At the very least he couldn''t feel physical pain, but that may have only served to intensify the pain he felt mentally.

    Observing the flames he realized breaking through the torrent before it reached its apex was the correct decision; Had he gone with the plan of diving into the well and burying himself, he would''ve been petrified by the heat or encased in molten rock.

    Destructive magic capable of covering such a wide area at once was insane. If it wasn''t then it would have been used on him a long time ago.

    Normally any time mages were deployed against him they''d just level the area he was in with a mass of spells rather than one really big one.

    Meaning the mage who cast it must either be of rare ability with the power to cast such magic or of exceptional quality, boasting know-how for creating such a fearsome spell.

    It had to be one or the other, had it been both they''d have come to face me directly with their troops. Most likely it was know-how, as mages are prideful; one with such power would definitely have been somewhere they could show off.

    Though the mage in question should certainly be nearby. In all its time fighting, the Azure Eyes had only encountered two creatures it considered a threat.

    One it had already killed and the other it had avoided, not knowing what it was. While this mage wasn''t a threat combatively they were incredibly dangerous strategically. They would not be suffered to live. He thought as his body repaired itself.

    A stabbing sensation tore at his stomach causing him to double over. Hunger, one of the few instances where he felt pain as an undead.

    So long as he had something to eat his body could repair itself to a certain extent, but with the myriad of corpses lost to the flames that wouldn''t be possible.

    The world rolled, his vision going red. Whatever inkling of reason he may still have had was smothered by an insatiable and maddening hunger.

    He became feral, bolstered with a burning rage; for what that mage had done was unforgivable, turning those warriors to ash for nothing. Driving him further still was the sharp pain in his gut reminding him of how he died.

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    With senses sharpened to their absolute peak, he could smell what he wanted through scorched earth and his own burned body, food.

    He shambled slowly following the scent towards the far side of the fields that had surrounded the village, towards the forest.

    Mages, they were weak and cowardly, the first to run were always mages, the last to die were always mages. Vulnerable without someone to guard them; almost every mage he had killed would be shaking with fear, unable to chant their spells holding fast to their staves in desperation like a vice as hope was torn apart by even more vice-like jaws. He HATED mages.

    It was poetic as in the clearing he found the robed bodies of what appeared to be mages. Tearing at the cloth and flesh of the one nearest to him blood spurted staining the white fabric. Intestines, organs, bone. He didn''t go after anything specific, even when not in a maddened state he wasn''t picky.

    It was a haunting sound, skin tearing apart, and bones being snapped out. The feeling of blood under nails, the slimy texture of innards becoming mush in his jaws, warm blood flowing down his throat.

    Perhaps this was hell, such a sight couldn''t be found anywhere else. Snap his head shot towards the direction of the noise. There was something there, it was small; Breathing heavily it took off into the forest.

    "What is that?" A little girl thought as tears welled in her eyes. "That''s a monster! It was eating someone!" She wanted to hide to lay down and sleep awaiting her mother how scared she was.

    Doing so would mean death so she ran as fast and as hard as those little legs would let her. Through bushes and thickets, too frightened to pay mind to the rough ground which tore her feet.

    Death followed biting at her heels. To kill is simply what it does, not always for any particular reason. For food, for entertainment? No, just because it could.

    "Someone! Anyone please!" She prayed. Eventually, coming to a clearing those little feet gave out in the ruins of an abandoned manor. The walls made of brick were either collapsed or almost non existent having been recycled for use elsewhere.

    Huffing, chest tight, and throat burning. Tears welled in her eyes as the cruelty of the world, as hopelessness set in. "Am I gonna die? I don''t want to." Bearing down on her was a scorched undead with singed white hair and burnt skin all over its body. She met its gaze, and tried to get back up before those glowing blue eyes locked her into place in sheer terror.

    "Please, no." The young man thought, staring at a frightened platinum haired girl with tears streaming from her eyes. "Please¡­ no. She''s just a child." He pleaded desperately. Mercy was not something he possessed. No one was spared, not even children. How indescribably cruel beyond measure, such an act is.

    "Please." he asked again, trying to steer his body away from what he was about to do. "PLEASE!" He screamed internally, not able to bear the sight or sensation of his pearly teeth sinking into the girl''s shoulder. She let out a croak, the pain not allowing her to scream.

    Before he could tear the girls arm off a voice called out to him. Looking up he saw someone he shouldn''t have been able to. Someone who died a long time ago. He retracted his maw looking up, eyes going wide. it was¡­ *slack* something pierced through his right eye and everything went black.

    "Goodness me." A woman with glowing blonde hair said looking down at him. "How terribly close that was." kneeling beside his body, She thought a moment, looking at him and then at the girl who had blood seeping from her shoulder.

    This was not a simple decision to make, there were many factors at play, and very little time to consider them all. Finally she wrapped a hand around a fire poker which had been lodged in his skull, and yanked it out. "It''s a gamble, but I don''t have a choice. Time is running out."

 Aftermath

    He surveyed the massive black spot that had scoured itself onto the earth. Last night he''d been miles away when he saw a whirling torrent of fire lighting up the horizon, like a nighttime sunrise. It had caught his attention. Of course, who wouldn''t be curious about such a frighteningly dazzling sight?

    Though Personal curiosity aside It was his job to investigate matters like this. Things which may pose a threat to the empire or the common people, he was one of the four Archons after all, a warrior for holy light, a protector.

    The oldest and most experienced, possessor of the third wing and seventy-five years old with nearly sixty years in the holy orders service. It was thanks to the blessing of power he''d received that he was still physically able to carry out his duties.

    That''s not to say he doesn''t feel his age or that he''ll live forever, one-hundred years is the limit. Once he turns triple digits he''ll drop like water from a cloud regardless of his natural life expectancy.

    All power comes with a price, normally the powers Archons receive don''t carry one other than being worthy of them, Normally that is. However there''s no one who''s proved their worth for the third wing he possessed, so in this instance it''s a price for hanging on to it.

    Recalling the trial to claim it made him shudder, he''d nearly died. To claim the third wing he''d been thrown into a monster infested labyrinth to prove both his mind and spirit. A clever mind capable of seeing things clearly and spirit to persevere through great difficulty.

    By the end of it he''d been skin and bones with some fresh scars. When he was told he''d passed the trial he passed out standing up.

    I suppose it''s my own stubbornness that doesn''t allow for my retirement. I just can''t let someone go through that all so I can take it easy. Especially since I regret undertaking that trial myself, but that''s a secret I''ll be taking to the grave.

    Something hard met the heel of his boot. Looking down he swiped at the blackened dirt with his heel revealing some type of equally dark slag. Stooping down he picked it up feeling heat emanate from it through his gloves. "Hmm." A flash of light split the hunk of metal revealing a glossy black sheen within. "Black steel? Why would black steel be in a farming village?"

    "Lord Archon!" A voice shouted. Running up to him a mailed warrior wearing an off white green trimmed tabard knelt. "Yes¡­ Joffrey?" He asked, taking a moment to remember the young man''s name.

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    Unlike the other Archons he liked to learn his subordinates names, even if they were only around him temporarily. He disliked placing himself above others and being knelt to. It wasn''t a custom where he was from, despite that he never tried to correct it. "when in Rome, as they say."

    "We discovered several bodies in a clearing over yonder." He said pointing across the field. "They appear to be imperial mages judging by the robes and one of the bodies was torn into almost as if¡­" the young man paused holding back vomit remembering the sight. "I see. You''ve done well reporting to me." He said, placing a hand on the youngsters shoulder. "Get yourself some water, and then report to the others."

    Most of his escort were comprised of the orders younger members and lacked experience with the more morbid aspects of the job. There wasn''t much sense wasting seasoned warriors on an old man that was more than capable of taking care of himself. That and it gave the rookies a safe way to earn some experience.

    He went to the far side of the field where the clearing lay, passing through the rolling wheat. He would issue a dispatch to the local lord, to have make sure what hasn''t been burnt gets harvested. With the shortages the war had brought itd be abhorrent to let food go to waste regardless of circumstance.

    Arriving at the clearing he began inspecting the body of the half eaten mage. "Hmm, several organs missing and chunks taken out of the intestines." Sight nor stench of such gore didn''t phase him, having been in service from the start of this undead crisis far worse sights had greeted him.

    Zombies use their teeth as weapons, but they don''t eat their victims, at least not like this, usually they tear at limbs or the throat. Meaning it must''ve been him, the cannibal swordsman. Azure Eyes.

    "Lord Archon!" A voice called out one of the older members of his retinue Moss. "Report." The Archon stated flatly. Moss was an all business guy while on the clock, he didn''t care to waste time not on pomp or ceremony. "I followed a trail that seems to belong to the assailant."

    I followed it to the remains of an old manor, but found no one. However I did find this." Moss said, holding out a bloody and burnt stretch of fabric.

    "Good work." the Archon replied, taking it. He was glad; Few people would''ve had sense to grab such a nasty thing mistaking it for trash. Moss however had been around him long enough for more than his distaste for rank and ceremony to rub off on him.

    "With this we might¡­" he stopped. Whether his heart stopped or skipped a beat he wasn''t sure, but now it was thumping. It was like providence how this piece of fabric had withstood time to make its way to him.

    On it was a terribly faded image of a bird, Which anyone else would''ve thought nothing of. Not him, because he knew It was no random symbol.

    The implication of finding it so close to the Azure Eyes'' trail was mortifying. Of course the possibility crossed his mind, yet, even with the proof of that possibility staring him in the face. "Archon¡­ Archon? Lord Archon are you alright?" Moss asked.

    No, he wasn''t. He was as far from alright as he possibly could be. If the Azure Eyes was who he thought it was then he needed to face it. To repay his debt from sixty years ago. "Send an inquiry to the palace. Tell them Archon Takezo wants to know what they were hunting out here!"

 Cat in the tree

    Verdant green leaves swayed in the breeze, carrying the scent of morning dew along with it as droplets of water fell from their green seating.

    "This stinks." Thought a cat-eared girl Looking down at a small horde of undead from where she sat, perched high up on the branch of tree. She pinched her nose. "Literally."

    Before, she''d been proud that her senses were so much sharper compared to her human counterparts, but now not so much, the smell of rot wafting upwards forming a ball in her stomach trying to force up last night''s dinner.

    Now she cupped her mouth, doing her best to avoid vomiting. The feeling of nausea increasing at the sight of the undeads'' decaying flesh, giving way to their maggot infested body''s inner workings, their fingertips wearing away at the rough bark as they clawed at its trunk trying to get at her.

    It was just her luck to have come so far without incident only for a group of undead to take her by surprise. Her face went red from embarrassment, recalling shrieking like a bat and clambering up the tree she''d been sheltering under, with such speed one would think lightning had shot from the ground. All because she mistook the shambling corpse of a long haired old man for the Azure Eyes.

    "I''m so glad Miss Erika wasn''t here to see that. I''d never hear the end of her teasing. Especially if Leander..." She bit her lip at the thought of her older brother. When was the last time she thought about her brother, or her home? It had been almost five years since she had been driven out of the great forest.

    She missed it. The colossal red leaved trees, the sprawling ridges overlooking roaring streams that would be rioting with scores of fish this time of year. Along with the spring festival that accompanied them, where ladies would sing and and dance and the men would get into drunken brawls. She smiled somberly remembering the sight of her brother tossing people around like rag dolls, and swinging them overhead.

    Yes, she missed it, like the sea would miss the moon were it to depart the night sky. But she couldn''t go back. Returning would be the same as dying. No, worse. If she went back there what would be done to her¡­

    Tears welled in her eyes, heart thumping she shook her head trying to push these thoughts from her mind. "This isn''t the time to be thinking about such things." She told herself, focusing back on the situation at hand.

    It was a bad predicament to be in. Simply climbing down wasn''t an option. Jumping might work, she''d leapt from high places before, not quite this high mind you, but places higher than normal people should fall from.

    Though if she landed wrong and hurt her leg that''d be it. She chewed her lip. Perhaps climbing down part of the way and then springing off? "If only I hadn''t panicked this wouldn''t be so difficult." She lamented.

    It might be best to wait. Should an animal wander by the undead might chase after it. It was a viable option, probably the safest option. "Don''t gamble with your life if you can help it. Unless the situation requires a split second decision, sit tight and think things through." Erika''s tutoring echoed in her mind.

    She couldn''t wait forever however. The undead could attract a lot of attention and once night fell, such attention could be lethal. Afterall the Azure Eyes hunted at night¡­ CRACK"huh?" The situation had just gone from bad to worse.

    On the ground a mane of incredibly long white hair swirled, as undead heads were cracked open by what looked to be a tree branch. "Is that¡­ there''s no way my luck can be this bad right?" She thought, shaking.

    In a flash skulls shattered with a splattering of decayed flesh. A swift upward strike sent another head spinning through the air.

    More heads were crushed and shattered. Eventually the branch they were using as a weapon broke, and they jabbed the remains through the eye socket of an undead before opting to simply kick.

    Now the heads spun on snapped necks, one going flying like a ball punted from its shoulders. It ended as quickly as it had begun with the last undead being thrown to ground and its rotten brain matter sent splattering with a stomp.

    With bated breath the feline-like girl stared down at the long mane of white hair, her heart thumping hard. That can''t be the Azure Eyes could it? It was only supposed to be active at night.

    The figure turned looking over their shoulder up at her. Even though they were far apart they locked eyes, a blue eyed gaze meeting her own. "Haa. Thank Mannus." She mumbled, huffing in relief.

    A small voice called out. "Big brother!" Causing the figure to turn away and walk up to another smaller tree. He held up his hands, and caught what looked to be a small girl. The little one waved at her from where she hung in her brothers arms. "Hey! It''s safe to come down now!" She shouted with her tiny voice.

    The cat like girl smiled at this and slid down the tree hopping down the last few feet. "Blegh. The undead smell even worse up close." She thought cupping her nose and mouth trying to keep out the vile air as she approached her rescuers.

    Now that she was closer she got a better look at the two. The little girl sat in her brothers arms. She was fair skinned and as cute as a button, soft round blue eyes and platinum hair which hung past her shoulders, she wore a dirty red dress and was small, looking no older than four judging by size alone.

    She was taken back by the older brother. If she hadn''t seen it, it would''ve been hard to believe he''d bludgeoned so many undead with such ease. He stood at level height with her and was terribly emaciated, with skin paler than a ghosts, his cheeks sunken and body thin. Were he to strip you''d probably be able to count more than just his ribs.

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    He wore baggy and ill fitting clothes. A long sleeved white linen tunic, his left hand was completely bandaged, his legs were covered by black trousers and scuffed brown leather boots.

    He had the same blue eyes and white hair as the girl but it lacked the same luster and was far longer reaching down to his waist. As it stood she couldn''t fully divine his age from his appearance, but he couldn''t be very old.

    What stuck out to her the most though was the curved sword at his hip which was worn edge up. "What a weird way to wear a sword." She thought.

    "Miss?" The little girl asked. "Oh, where are my manners." She said, placing a hand on her chest and standing with the other on her hip she declared proudly. "I am Tora of the Vandili, you have my thanks for saving me." Her tail whipped and a double canined smile beamed.

    The little girl had stars in her eyes. "My names Sophia, and this is my big brother Asher!" She replied excitedly. "It''s nice to meet you Sophia!" Tora replied just as excitedly.

    "And¡­" She locked eyes with the boy. She was used to the way men looked at her, she was beautiful and exotic. Not many of her female tribesmen wandered the human kingdoms.

    It was always eyes of lust or swooning fervor, like looking at a piece of meat. These eyes though seemed to be trying to swallow her whole. Never in her life had she been looked at like this.

    It reminded her of a wounded dire bear that her and her brother had been hunting. Bristling with an air of death, dangerous, ready to tear everything apart for the sake of survival.

    The little girl tugged at his ear. "Big brother! You''re being rude." She huffed. "¡­Nice to meet you." He said flatly, diverting his gaze, his voice scratchy and hoarse.

    He had been sizing her up. A threat, not a threat? Kill, or don''t kill? Taking in every inch of her. She had feline ears and dark gray shaggy hair, thick and somewhat wild trying to cling to her face contouring with her neck leaving her nape exposed.

    She had full pink lips, and bright eyes the color of amber; fair skinned and slender, with a medium chest and fine hips. An absolutely stunning woman, but the fact of her beauty was lost on Asher.

    Her clothing consisted of a black long sleeved shirt under a dark brown leather breastplate and a dust-brown cropped vest. On her legs were a pair of tight black trousers under a pair of knee length shorts the same color as her vest and buckled brown boots. A pair of single edged curved short swords were sheathed beside each other on her left side.

    She didn''t appear threatening and he didn''t sense the least bit of hostility. Rather an un-beguiling curiosity shone in her eyes. That was dangerous in its own right, curiosity leads to questions, questions could lead to understanding and understanding could lead to realization.

    Curiosity could kill this cat and there wouldn''t be any satisfaction to bring it back. Anyone else would''ve found the sentiment amusing given the near literal context of the situation. Yet he was want to laugh, being neither in the mood or able to indulge in such morbid humor.

    He would ask her questions both to acquire information and to throw her off till he rehearsed good answers for the harder questions she might ask him. "So how''d you end up in that tree?" Asher asked.

    Tora perked up "Oh, I''m an adventurer. I was on a scouting quest when I got ta¡­ woke up to find the tree I was sleeping in surrounded." She blushed slightly, doing a poor job of changing the story mid sentence.

    "I see. I suppose you''re lucky we wondered by." Asher replied. "Ah yeah, thanks again for your help. You were really something." She said, whipping her tail.

    Wait, a scouting quest? The possibility of danger clicked in his head. Scouting for what, a military operation? If a battle was going to break out in the area then he needed to leave with Sophia asap. "You said you were on a scouting mission, may I ask for what?"

    She tilted her head to the side, shooting a glance at Sophia. "Hmm, well a monster of sorts." Asher realized she didn''t want to scare his sister by saying exactly what she was hunting. "I see." If it was just a monster he didn''t need to worry. There''s not anything out here worse than he is.

    "A monster, what kind?" Sophia chirped innocently. Tora paused her mouth slightly open, unsure of how to answer. "The scary kind, that go like ragghhh!" Asher said, feigning a monsters roar and tickling her. "Quit it!" She giggled.

    "Anyways. Why are you two out here?" Tora asked, looking to change the subject. Asher thought for a moment unsure of what to say. "We don''t have anywhere to go." Sophia said meekly, before he could answer.

    Tora looked at the two. The little girls somber expression. Her brothers face betrayed nothing, but she could feel a sort of helplessness there.

    "I wonder if this is how Miss Erika felt when she found me." She wondered, heart aching. Perhaps the undead drove them out of their home or maybe it was wiped out by a plague.

    Regardless, It''s obvious they''d been through a lot, especially the brother. To be able to fight like that in such a state. Just what kind of hell had he been subjected to?

    Her mind was made up, she resolved to help them as much as she could. Like how Erika did for her. It was the least she could do for them after saving her life.

 On the road

    The mid-morning spring sun began to beat down casting away the nights chill.

    Tora led the way down a forested earthen road lined by wagon tracks, slightly overtaken by grass denoting the risks of traveling in the undead infested south.

    Asher walked carrying Sophia on the crook of his arm, her hands clinging onto his shoulders.

    Their new cat-eared companion offered to guide them to a town where they''d be safe from the undead, but Asher was far from certain in regards to following her.

    He didn''t like the idea of having to rely on anyone, even if that person was expressing gratitude. The kinder a person is the more wary you should be, poisonous animals tend to have bright colors after all.

    They''d been walking for a good two hours and for the whole duration Tora had demonstrated an amazing talent for not being able to shut up.

    Certainly, it had been his intent to keep her talking to get as much information as he possibly could. Since he had spent an unknown amount of time as a corpse, information was something he lacked.

    This on the other hand was a bit much. She flew from one topic to another. Mushrooms to mages, the price of bread to the hardness of hardtack.

    He was getting useful tidbits that would help with normal conversation, but still he was feeling drained by the tidal wave of words flooding his ears.

    An amazing feat on Toras part considering he shouldn''t be able to feel tired, or at the very least hadn''t managed to reach the point of tiredness.

    He sighed silently, blowing air out his nose, his diaphragm lurching suddenly.

    "And then this guy Cedric, you might run into him in town, he''s hard to miss. Anyways¡­" Tora looked over her shoulder to see Asher had stopped.

    "Something wrong?" She asked concerned.

    He held out Sophia for her to take her. She did with a look of confusion. "Everything okay?" Asher didn''t answer and walked behind a tree where moments later coughing and retching could be heard, causing Tora and Sophia to exchange concerned glances.

    That felt much better. For the several days since he nearly burned alive it felt as though there had been something caught in his lungs, and his throat had a terrible scratchy feeling. He was thankful to finally be rid of the discomfort.

    Righting himself, he wiped his mouth of the black fluid comprised of blood and mucus before returning.

    "Are you alright?" Tora asked, ears folded down. He shot her a bent headed glance. "Yeah." He replied flatly.

    Her ears flicked at his reply, a slight look of suprise on her face as the boy''s voice now sounded different. Softer, no longer scratchy and much younger than she initially thought. "I¡­ if you don''t mind my asking, how old are you Asher?" She asked.

    He had to think for a moment. There shouldn''t be any harm in telling her he decided. "I just turned fifteen." He replied, taking Sophia back into his arms.

    "Wow you''re younger than I thought you were. I enter my nineteenth year in two months." She added, turning back around to resume their march. "And I''m six!" Sophia declared incorrectly holding up seven fingers.

    This was also surprising considering just how small the girl was. Was she just small, or is her size the result of a rough upbringing?

    Judging by the brother''s appearance one could guess that malnutrition may be a factor as to why Sophia''s so small. She did seem a bit thin.

    "They don''t seem to be carrying anything. What have they been eating?" Tora thought pausing; After a moment''s consideration, she pulled her bag from her shoulder and reached in.

    "Here you guys seem to be traveling light, so have some of this." She said producing a few strips of the tough beef jerky she''d been chewing on the last few days.

    Asher stared at the dried meat for a moment, before Sophia''s growling stomach and drooling face prompted him to take it. "Thanks." He said not meeting her gaze.

    "You''re welcome." Tora replied, stretching. "Now that I think about it, we''ve been walking for a while. We should probably take a break."

    She walked over to a large rock and sat down stretching her legs out, rubbing her calves. Asher slid his curved sword from his belt and sat at the base of a tree, holding it singlehanded with the butt of the scabbard against the ground, his long white hair draping upon the earth. Sophia sat in his lap struggling as she tried to tear and chew the tough jerky with her teeth.

    Tora sipped from a water skin watching as the girl tore at the dried meat, finding her efforts adorable. She wondered if this is why her people called humans "Kein Tann" which meant little teeth in her native tongue.

    Her eyes flicked to Asher noticing he wasn''t eating. She went to speak but hesitated unsure whether to ask him about it, not wanting to pry. Was he sick? Did he not like jerky? Wait no, would someone in his state even be so picky?

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    She rolled the possibilities in her mind as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye and took another sip of water.

    Asher did his best to ignore the girls staring, focusing his gaze off in the distance pretending not to notice the eyes rolling over him curiously.

    "Just what is she thinking?" He wondered. Had she figured out his resemblance to a certain monster was more than just an absurd coincidence?

    She didn''t seem nervous so that wasn''t likely. Perhaps it''s the smell of death? No, that could be pinned on the encounter with those undead earlier.

    He remained stone faced as he mulled over the possibilities, about what it could be other than just simple curiosity.

    "Nngh!" Sophia let out a grunt tearing at the jerky, managing to rip a chunk free, the excess force causing her tiny hands to slap Asher on the leg.

    "Ah! Shorry big brubber." She said, stumbling her words while chewing. "It''s fine¡­" He replied, looking at her his expression softening somewhat. He understood her voracity and was happy she could eat something besides roots or wild plants.

    During the few days that''s all he''d been able to find to fill her stomach. There weren''t any wild animals that he''d seen besides birds that were too small to eat.

    He looked at the jerky in Sophia''s hands, realizing he could probably shred it and make eating it easier for her. He went to reach up and stopped looking down at his bandaged up and necrotic left arm, deciding that It wasn''t a good idea to touch someone''s food with a hand like this.

    Closing his eyes, he pondered a decision. As much as he didn''t want to ask her, he knew that for right now he needed to put aside any misgivings about relying on others.

    "Miss Vandili." He called, flicking his gaze to the still staring Tora. "Yes?" She answered, going slightly red hoping he hadn''t noticed her staring at him.

    "Could you shred Sophia''s jerky so it''s easier for her to eat? I''d do it but." He held up his bandaged hand. "My left hand is necrotic so touching food with it probably isn''t safe." He finished.

    "Oh sure¡­" She turned to take the strip of meat from Sophia, meeting Asher''s mono eyed gaze. There was something eerie about this boy''s eye. It felt like a razor trying to peel away at her.

    She pushed these thoughts aside as she tore the meat in her hands into small bits. "Here you are." Tora said, scooping up the jerky and placing it in Sophia''s small cupped hands who began to wolf it down.

    Toras'' talkative nature took hold once again. "So Asher what do you plan on doing once we reach the city? You''ll be looking for work I''m assuming?"

    "More than likely." Tora flicked her ears somewhat annoyed by his short answers to her questions. "What kind of work are you thinking of looking for?" She started. "¡­not sure." Tora felt another twinge of annoyance at the lack of a proper answer, Asher took note of this.

    "Well what kind of skills do you have besides y''know? swinging tree branches?" She asked jokingly hoping some humor would make him more amicable to conversation.

    Asher didn''t want to talk all that much, but he needed to keep his cat-eared companion from growing restless. You can''t trust someone you can''t talk to, and you won''t talk to someone you don''t trust.

    "¡­I''m good at throwing branches too." He replied with a flat tone of sarcasm. "Breaking them and then kicking whatever''s nearby out of frustration."

    Tora chuckled, it wasn''t the least bit funny, she didn''t know why but the way he said it just made her giggle. She went to take another sip of water before offering some to the siblings.

    Asher declined, letting Sophia drink. The lingering taste of death in his mouth wouldn''t be explainable. It would be even worse if he accidentally spread some kind of illness. He wasn''t completely alive after all.

    Tora was worried for the boy, she didn''t know what exactly he''d been through but wouldn''t try to force him.

    She understood that people who''ve had bad experiences needed time to move forward, and that forcing them would only make things worse.

    It was a fact she remembered unfortunately well as she unwittingly pinched a lock of her shaggy hair

    She stood retying the water sack to her belt and slung her pack back over her shoulder. "Alright time to get back on the road. We''re still a few days from the city." Asher stood sliding his sword back into place at his hip and hefted Sophia back onto the crook of his arm.

    They continued their march, eventually leaving the forest and walking out in the open into a sprawling field of green.

 The fortress city of Edurand

    Humanity''s shield and spear point against the undead, the white bricked walls of Edurand stood tall, against the late day sun. Imposing and insurmountable, its battlements having withstood challenges and assaults for decades.

    It was much less like the town the cat eared Tora described and more like a small city. Sitting upon a hill giving it the advantage of terrain, a large drop protected its far side making it unscalable from there.

    Excluding that far side, four towers stood on each wall evenly spaced out with the exception of the two in the center which flanked the gate house, in which there was a double portcullis and a thick iron banded gate.

    Guarding it were Men-at-Arms wearing kettle helms and chainmail with shoulder rondels fastened tightly in place, A dark blue tabard draped over them bearing a coat of arms of a white owl.

    The insignia of the city''s lord Earl Ulysses Witchmane, a mystic whose background and origin is a mix of rumors, debate and speculation.

    Stretching forth from that impenetrable threshold awaiting entry a longline of merchants with their goods and wares as well as Yeoman with their excess crops come to sell their shares.

    This would not be where the party of three would be entering, instead they would be going through a side entrance taking a route through what Tora called the rubble district.

    It was a stand out addition to Edurand branching off from the outside of the main wall, an ovular section walled in by rough stones and mortar rather than the large square blocks as well as being much shorter.

    One could tell it was made to protect from the undead and beasts rather than armies. There was a guard at the outer gate but he didn''t do any checks, merely nodding his head as they walked past.

    Asher cast his gaze around it was probably less than a fifth of the main city''s size, and was much nicer than he expected. He had surmised it to be a slum from a distance instead having a square with a big circular fountain and cobblestone pathways to walk on.

    The houses here were more like shacks or sheds being cozily sized and made from the same material as the walls with plank roofs.

    Tora in her talkative nature explained what the place was as they went. "It''s called the rubble district. I''m told it was built decades ago to house refugees after the undead crisis started. The walls and houses here were all built with rubble from the wall getting smashed up." She paused before gesturing to one of the shacks. "My house is right there actually."

    Asher looked over but couldn''t discern the exact building she was pointing out, as the houses were all built the same.

    "Well, anyways, ready for the grand tour of Edurand?" Tora inquired, smiling hands on hips and heel bouncing against the ground.

    "Sure¡­ there is a stop I''d like to make though. Is there a shoe maker here?" Asher asked. Tora took a glance at the scuffed boots on his feet which looked to be in good condition and wondered why he wanted to see the cobbler.

    "Yeah, follow me!" She said happily leading their procession. Tora was a girl who didn''t often keep company. People either disliked her for her overly talkative nature, or she avoided them due to her own wary nature. So she was happy to have someone she could talk to.

    Asher followed after her Sophia in his arms, feeling a sense of trepidation. After all he was the Azure Eyes the legendary monster revived, now once again a living person with skin in the proper places and reason in his head. But a monster he was still.

    White hair, blue eyes, and a curved sword.

    It was bound to stand out, bound to draw attention. If someone made the connection or if the right person plied him for answers that would be it, the miracle second life would be over.

    Though he didn''t care if he died again, he wanted to. Sophia is what his worries lied, if it wasn''t for her he''d have sliced his own head off trying to kill himself.

    Now more than anything he wanted to protect her and give her a happy life, to save at least one person after everything, but should his identity be discovered that would become impossible.

    Heading up a slope the three came to the rubble districts interior gate leading inside the town itself. After a quick check with the guards they were cleared for entrance.

    Walking past Asher could feel hard eyes on him.

    One guard, an older man with a beard, narrowed his eyes and spoke up. "Hold it!" He demanded his voice brusk as he walked towards Asher who had stopped dead in his tracks.

    The guard shifted the hand his halberd was in reaching down towards the club on his belt. Asher could sense the movement, if he needed to he could toss Sophia in the air and kill both the guards and resheathe his sword in time enough to catch her.

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    He turned, facing the guard who was holding out some kind of small red rocks. "Here, take it. You kids look like you could use something sweet." The man said with a toothy grin.

    Assuming Asher''s penchant for hesitation when accepting things from others, Tora piped up. "It''s candy Asher mister Norris'' wife is a candy maker. It''s pretty yummy stuff so be gracious and accept it."

    Asher took the candy thanking him awkwardly as he continued on his way letting Sophia munch the offered sweets.

    Edurands streets were bustling with people, causing him to tense. How long had it been since he''d last been surrounded by living breathing people who weren''t trying to kill him?

    Tora noticed his hesitation and smiled trying to reassure him. "Welcome to Edurand."

    Asher just focused on the back of Toras head trailing after her while ignoring the stares and glances of passersby. An odd site to be certain, this young man. Truly, the way he wore his sword edge up was so very odd.

    This was the main thought that filled most people''s minds, they who were more used to the sight of adventurers and soldiers than undead monsters or scrawny boys with white hair, being more curious about the kinds of armor and weapons carried by those of the martial professions.

    Though there was some pointing and whispering by the fairer sorts who were speaking with their fellow housewives and companions, seeming to appraise his appearance. He could just barely make out the words cute and ugly girl as well as gestures which speculated that they were also talking about either he or Sophia''s hair.

    Asher continued on taking in the city''s sites. The buildings were three stories at the tallest, colorful and well kept being made from fine timber and possessing shingled roofs. He could make out some of the keep which rested in the far side at the highest point but couldn''t make out enough details with the houses in the way.

    They went down an alley towards a shop with a boot shaped hanging wooden sign, a shoe maker.

    Tora led them inside "hello? Anyone in?" She inquired, not seeing anyone.

    "Oh, yes. Be right with you!" A voice called from the back before a gray haired man appeared wearing an apron. "Ah if it isn''t the young miss Tora! With company this time of all things. Goodness me, what can I do for you?"

    Tora gestured to Asher who stepped forward having set Sophia down. "It''s nice to meet you¡­ sir." Asher paused before continuing. "I was wondering if you maybe traded in used shoes?" He asked, tapping one of his boots against the other.

    The man looked Asher up and down for a moment, a quizzical look on his face. "I certainly do young man. Tell me, are you buying or selling?" ""Selling." "I see. Well let me take a look." Asher pulled the scuffed brown boots from his feet and handed them over to be examined.

    The cobbler looked over them tugging on the soles and pulling at the lip, before nodding satisfied. "Mmm yes these are certainly a fine pair you have with a little bit of polish they''ll be like new¡­ actually brand new they must have fetched at least a silver judging by the material quality and craftsmanship."

    He clicked his tongue. "And for now I can give you let''s see¡­ twelve bronze."

    Asher wasn''t sure if that was a good price or not nor how well that equated to one silver. "And how much for a pair of shoes for her?" He asked, pointing to Sophia who was barefoot.

    The cobbler raised his eyebrows. "Four bronze but if you can bring them back in good condition when she outgrows them I''ll give you a discount on your next pair."

    "Alright get her setup won''t you?" Asher said, as he gently placed a hand on Sophia''s back and guided her forward.

    The cobbler brought out shoes that were plain and a little bit worn, but they were clean and didn''t smell.

    For a poor girl like Sophia they were an incredibly precious gift and she seemed excited slipping them on. "I''ve never had shoes before!" She exclaimed, her eyes shining as she happily tapped the soles loudly against the floor.

    She tightly wrapped her arms around Asher''s waist hugging him. "Thank you big brother!"

    Asher''s gloomy face softened as he patted her head. "You''re welcome Sophia."

    As the trio went to leave the cobbler seemed to want to stop Asher and inquire as to why he wasn''t getting himself a pair of shoes, but was met by a soft shh as the boy exited the store barefoot;

    Leaving him standing there with a slight pang of guilt in his heart. At first he thought that boy was a vagrant or a rotten sort, that those fine boots he was wearing must have been stolen but now the cobbler knew he was not a bad person but a big brother who loves his little sister very much.

 The barefoot boy

    Bleary eyed and yawning Cedric sat alone at his parties table, admiring the thick red wyvern hide splayed over the rectangular surface. A trophy from one of his solo hunts making for a good story and a display of personal ability.

    That being said he didn''t hunt it to show off, he hunted it because it was strong, because it was exhilarating; the feeling of spear against iron scale, the flying of sparks from the clash of fire and might.

    A small smirk played across his face, pride swelling in his chest, before yawning again. For the next week his party would be on vacation and it led to a few late nights of drinking or helping the head guild girl with some early morning tasks.

    To put it simply he was bored.

    At the very least he''d like to train with the knights, but this was supposed to be a vacation; both his party''s mage Acra and the guild girl Erin had been obstinate about everyone resting properly meaning he couldn''t train or fight. All there was to do was drink, eat, and sleep.

    Not that he minded too terribly, he wasn''t the type who needed to stay busy. He liked to relax, preferring to sleep outside in a hammock on nights when the weather was clear.

    "Cedric!" A woman''s voice called from the reception area. He huffed standing up stretching, snatching his spear from the wall wrack behind his chair. "Aye, I''m comin''!" He answered with a thick accent.

    Cedric was not an imperial despite having been born in the empire, his hair was orange and eyes golden, his mother hailing from the crimson isles to the far northwest.

    The islanders were all fair skinned with orange or red hair and ashen eyed. Unlike the imperials, who depending on whether they were from the north or south, were either dark haired or fair haired with either blue or emerald eyes.

    People from the central and northern regions are the former and the southern are the latter.

    He stepped into the reception area locking eyes with a guild girl. "What do ya need now ya nag?" Cedric asked with a smug grin.

    She glared up at him from behind her round spectacles, an unamused look on her pretty face. A thick book in her hand and half a mind to whack him with it, before settling on thumping him lightly on the arm with it. "You''re cute but far from funny you brat."

    She gestured to a large crate. "Give me a hand." Cedric stooped snatching up the cumbersome crate with ease and carrying it into the back rooms, the girl watching him as he went.

    Her name was Erin, the head guild girl. Her uniform was neat consisting of a dark green double button waistcoat over a white button up shirt with frilled sleeves and a knee length skirt over white trousers and soft black boots which came up to the knees .

    Her hair was the same shade of orange as Cedric''s but longer and parted to the right. Her face was fair with a button nose, pink lips, a sharp chin and eyes the color of ash.

    She was short with a slender body standing at five foot one inches and looked no older than twenty which belied the fact that she was not only thirty-seven but also the mother of the twenty year old Cedric.

    Erin''s heart swelled with pride looking at her son''s strong back, the muscle rippling through his white wool shirt. He was a handsome young man, standing at five foot eleven and liable to grow taller still. She held fast to the hope that she''d be a grandmother in the next year or so.

    Alas she knew her son was just like she was at that age, holding little interest in settling down. If she at the very least had some assurance of her sons future then laying her head down at night would be much easier. But such is the reality of parenting, a constant prose of woes even after children grow.

    Erin sighed, pulling her spectacles off to polish them lost in thought. "How long will Edurands current peace last?" She wondered. As strong as Cedric is, she was relieved that he was away from the city during the last siege.

    With lord Witchmane heading the defense there was little to worry about in regards to the city falling. yet still, undead are an awful sort, especially the monstrosities the southern kingdom makes.

    Erin shuddered remembering the sight of a wretched abomination consisting of several corpses sewn together to form an abhorrent serpent with the torso of a multi armed man and the body of a snake being wheeled to the grave keepers for study.

    "How could such a thing be made?" The guild had a copy of the autopsy report provided by young Magdalene but she was loathe to read it, not wanting to know, as the real purpose of her question was less of the how, and more of the why.

    What drives a person to do all this? To start a war and pervert the departed to such abhorrent forms and wretched tasks like tearing people apart and spreading death and to go even further by twisting the corpses of what was once living breathing people into literal monsters.

    There was one thing she felt sure of; that there wasn''t anything worse than that horrific amalgamation which assailed her sight. Morning light poured in as the guild doors opened. Erin slipped her glasses back on taking in the cat-eared Tora.

    Erin smiled glad the girl was alright. The guild master had left her in the dark about a certain request from the capital. A request that made use of the lower ranked members as bait to lure out the Azure Eyes by tracking the adventurers who didn''t return within a set time frame.

    To say she was angry was an understatement. Had It not been for the guild knight Cid she would have quite literally murdered the guild master for feeding their adventurers to a monster. "The sooner that old bastard croaks the better off the world will be." She thought maliciously.

    "Erin, I''m back." Tora beamed walking up to the counter leaning over it on her elbows. "Welcome back safe and sound Tora. I''m always happy to see one of my adventurers come home unharmed." Erin said, returning her smile.

    Her eyes snapped to someone else who was standing behind Tora, unsure of how she hadn''t noticed him. It was a one eyed boy, scrawny as can be wearing awkwardly baggy clothes and white hair that while pretty was much too long. to top it all off he was barefoot.

    She opened her mouth to address him, but caught herself clearing her throat with a hand on her chest before focusing back on Tora.

    "How faired the quest?" Erin inquired professionally. "I came up short, but I did find a talented aspiring adventurer." Tora puffed up confidently stepping aside gesturing to Asher much to Erin''s chagrin.

    "Just what on earth is this girl thinking?" Erin pondered. "This boy looks like he was one foot in the grave and she wants to make him an adventurer?"

    She did her best to smile looking the white haired young man up and down.

    "I am Erin the head guild girl. May I know your name, young man?" She asked.

    "Asher." The boy replied curtly. "And why do you wish to become an adventurer?" "Money." Erin''s smiling eyes narrowed as she appraised Asher shrewdly. "And why do you want money?" "I have a younger sister to take care of."

    Erin''s face softened. She was used to desperate people or vagrants attempting to become adventurers. People who were not at all cut out for the rigors of adventuring. This young man was one such person. A lad in a bad spot trying to earn quick coin.

    Not in the least bit of good conscience could she allow him to become an adventurer. "I see. Unfortunately we don''t have any incentive to license you at this time. Terribly sorry." She stated it plainly and politely, having rejected many others the same way.

    "Come on, at least give him an interview, Erin." Tora huffed. "He saved my life and he''s incredible despite how he looks." Tora went about excitedly relating the story of how Asher rescued her with many more words than necessary, feigning the swing of a tree branch as she did.

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    "Fine, fine. Ya chatterbox. I''ll at least interview him so ease off." Erin relented with a wave of her hand, overwhelmed by the slew of words.

    Grabbing a guild registry book and handbook she walked from behind the counter gesturing for Asher to follow. "We''ll use one of the gathering hall tables."

    They entered through a broad entryway into a large rectangular and spacious room with plaster walls and square stone floors. Sunlight poured through shuddered windows illuminating the room.

    Candle chandeliers made from broad hoops of iron hung from rafters overhead and would serve to light the space at night. In the center area of the room were smaller round tables for two to three people fitted with un-cushioned wooden chairs.

    There were two mezzanines with the smaller tables on both sides of the room overlooking the area below.

    Sitting directly beneath those by the walls were plain long rectangular tables with backed benches and chairs on each end in rows of five on both sides.

    One could correctly infer by the furs or monster skins over the seats that they are reserved for specific parties.

    The far side of the room had a fireplace that wasn''t currently in use, mounted above it was the head of a jagged mawed Wyvern. Next to it on the plaster was the head of a gryphon.

    On the right posed on its hind legs was a stuffed animal that looked to be a bear with shaggy ochre fur.

    Twisting horns curled forward from the sides of its head, a third horn jutted upward from the end of its snout.

    Its height brung its head above the second floor''s railing, making it well over twelve feet tall. It was more lanky than a normal bear with much longer front legs and a less burly body.

    Looking at the tables Asher could easily guess the parties responsible. A table with that same colored pelt draped over its chairs. Another with a vibrant red spread over its length as well as a rack that looked to be made for a spear on the wall.

    He didn''t see feathers anywhere, perhaps the party that hunted the gryphon went elsewhere? A twinge of guilt bit into his stomach at the possibility that he killed them.

    The two sat down at one of the circular tables.

    "Alright. So Asher, I''ll need to ask some simple questions to start. First your identity. Where do you come from, what''s your full given name? If you''re from a noble house and traveling incog I''ll need to know from which house. I do promise that no one aside from the interviewer and the guild master will be privy to this information, not like I expect you to actually divulge said information; it''s just a formality on the guilds part to avoid blame if a houses scion dies."

    "Asher, I don''t know if that''s my given name or not. As for where I come from, I can''t remember. I do know that I turned fifteen recently, just not the exact day."

    Erin wrote something down on some parchment. "I see. Well I don''t know anything about amnesia but I''ll have faith you''re answering my questions to the best of your current ability. Do let me know if you suddenly remember anything relevant to the interview. Okay, have you had any affiliation with rogue groups, militant organizations or mercenary bands?"

    "No." "Alright, are there any crimes you may currently be or become wanted for?" "No."

    "To clarify there will be a small waiting period before we issue your license while we check and it will be immediately suspended if not outright revoked should a wanted poster for you come in." "I understand."

    Erin spent the next few minutes writing in silence.

    "Tell me about yourself. Have you received any kind of formal training in the martial practices? This extends to warcraft as well. If yes, I''d like to know what schools you hold affiliation with."

    "Yes. I am mostly self taught but I learned from my father¡­" He winced a sharp pain shooting through his head.

    "Of course I''d be able to remember something when it pertained to swordsmanship" the thought aggravated him, hating that he may only be able to find his way in life through violence.

    "Are you alright, need a moment?" Erin asked with a slight worry on her face. "I''m fine. Please continue."

    "Tell me about your school. I''m not familiar with any that teaches the use of a curved blade like yours. You certainly wear it in a strange manner." She asked with a curious demeanor.

    "I don''t know much about it other than what my father taught me about it." He paused thinking quickly before adding. "I studied a dual blade style unfortunately I lost my companion sword awhile back."

    He added this incase in the future someone questions the similarities between the way he wields his sword and the Azure Eyes. Finding a new companion sword was always a possibility.

    As an undead he only ever fought with one sword. There''s not anyone who''s seen him dual wield and lived to tell about it.

    Not meaning to, he unprompted went into the finer details about the use of a shorter blade with a longer one, the techniques and tactics used.

    Erin stared at him, her ears beginning to ring, understanding how this young man found his way into friendly terms with the socially distant Tora. Both being complete yappers.

    She reached over patting him on the head. "That''s very nice but let''s focus on the interview okay?" She said politely as if talking to a child.

    "Next of kin? You said you had a sister, anyone else?"

    "If there is, I am unable to remember them."

    "Please bring her in so we can have the guild staff familiarize themselves with her. In case you die we need to know who to give your equipment to and possibly the reward if the request is completed post mortem."

    Erin wrote something down. Before leaning back in the chair, a serious look on her face. "Have you ever committed a crime you have not been charged with? I don''t mean theft, I of course mean a heinous crime such as murder, or rape."

    She knew she''d already asked him a question like this before but she preferred to press the topic to see if the people she interviewed got nervous when asked about a specific kind of crime directly.

    Asher''s heart thumped in his chest at the question. How should he respond? While he was responsible for the deaths of so many could he really say he murdered them? If someone took over your body and made you kill would you consider yourself guilty of the crime of murder; of the sin of depriving another person of life?

    He breathed deeply before replying his voice slightly shaky. "No, I haven''t. I have killed many people but I''ve never committed murder." His eyes were downcast and Erin could see regret there, a deep seated guilt like she''d seen in the eyes of veteran soldiers who passed through Edurand on the march south.

    The hard lines forged from fighting for one''s own survival, of making it back alive when others hadn''t.

    Something about this young man screamed danger, but maybe it was because she was biased from being a mother but this boy seemed so pitiful. She scrutinized him, before slapping the book she had been writing in closed.

    "Come here first thing midday tomorrow I''ll let you know my decision about instating you as an adventurer." She stood not waiting for him to respond as she walked from the hall.

    There was a lot to consider and even more to look into. The way the young Asher carried himself, the way he talks, his hair. But most importantly his teeth, she''d never met a peasant with such pearly white teeth.

    For them to be in such good condition would require great care, and great care requires money. While it was far from clear just who he was, she knew he wasn''t some wayward swordsman.

    There was a very real possibility, he was a fugitive noble from the north. She turned watching him leave her eyes flicking to his bare feet.

    Or perhaps not.

 A glimpse at the gates of hell

    Thudding, the clanking of chains hanging from discolored patchwork flesh, cruel liturgies written upon faded skin parchment wrapped around over sized limbs.

    A beast of death once a man strutted forward as if he was a farmer passing through a field of wheat rather than a monster on a battlefield laying waste to the living soldiers before him, fist crushing bone and battering flesh.

    Cold breath billowed from a lipless maw of yellow teeth spewing the stench of death. The liturgy covered parchment wrapping his head hid all but mouth and eyes that held within them clarity unlike the milky white of the shambling zombies at his flanks.

    This abomination was one of the generals of the south, Dimitrios. Once known as the stone footed for never backing down from any challenge, he''s now known as the Hell Guard standing against the northern imperials descent upon the southern kingdom of Carthus.

    Once just a mere man who guarded his king he was now Eight feet tall and weighing over four hundred pounds his chest covered in a thick crude iron plate and his limbs were wrapped in thick chains and liturgies of death so that he may carry the beliefs of his king with him always; sowing his lords will through the strength of his rot iron fist.

    With a snap of his arm a chain whipped outward turning the lesser man before hims head into a red mist, the helmet they were wearing pinging violently through the air.

    Batting away a pair of soldiers with the back of his hand, he grabbed a third who managed to thrust their sword into his leg picking them up and tearing them in half gambeson, spine and meat ripping loudly, entrails and spinal fluid flinging out.

    In all his time he''d trampled hundreds if not thousands of enemies with this body his king''s knowledge had granted him. The cutting, the suturing, the excruciating burning pain of flesh and bone not his own being bound to his body, all worth it to pursue the dream of his lord.

    For it granted him might unmatched by any save a fellow death general, a might he wielded with zealous gratitude.

    Lifting his arm just in time catching several blades that had been aimed at his head in his forearm he flexed, shattering the steel embedded within as he turned to face his new foe.

    It was an older man of perhaps fifty or more. He wore no helmet, his slicked back snow white hair hung just past his shoulders seeming to glow faintly. A surreal sight even for one who lived in death such as Dimitrios.

    Pulling the blades from where they were stuck he let the scraps of steel fall to the earth as he began walking without any sense of urgency or furor towards the one who appeared to challenge him, his voice a deep rasp as he spoke.

    "You, heretic who denies my lord''s will. I am Dimitrios the stone footed but I am also known to you as the Hell Guard. You are no common rabble, tell me your name and I will commit it to memory."

    The man stared at the wall of dead meat, a crooked smile playing on his lips. "Earl Ulysses Witchmane lord of Edurand. Mystic, and father to a son murdered by the bedazzled cadaver you call a king." He added with clear malice clapping his hands together the swords of fallen friends and foes alike rising into the air.

    Enraged by the insult Dimitrios bounded forward arms up to protect his head throwing off the blades that managed to stab into his arms and legs swinging the chains in a fury hitting only air, as the air is where Witchmane had gone standing upon the flat of one of the floating swords out of reach sending a pair of baldes sinking into his foes collarbone from above.

    A cold wrath emanated from the general and with an aggravated grunt he tensed his muscles shattering the steel within into pieces before looking up at the smug bastard who hovered out of reach.

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    "Oh what''s wrong, did that gold speckled twat choose a general who''s helpless against an old man? Or maybe you''re just too dumb to throw rocks?" The Earl Witchmane taunted.

    "What lost your nerve, did he not put anything between those legs of yours? Or maybe the issue is that he forgot to upgrade it and you''re feeling inadequate?" Witchmane laughed.

    Dimitrios grabbed a nearby body, flinging it at the overhead goader who dodged a smile still on his face.

    "Well it is a bit nippy out so I suppose it''s not entirely your fault, granted you''re also dead so that must affect blood flow, which I''m sure poses an entirely different issue down below."

    It was not at all a way a lord should ever talk. Even if he had come from peasant origins it was unbecoming to speak in so undignified a manner. For a noble the battlefield was supposed to be a place of honor and dignity. Earl Ulysses Witchmane simply didn''t care, he wasn''t going to be nice to someone trying to kill him.

    The magic in his body didn''t circulate like a normal persons meaning using any spells aside from bewitching was much too dangerous, perhaps that''s what allowed him to become so effective with such a utilitarian spell. A perfect art for dealing with hordes of undead.

    "Or perhaps he told you the big ones hurt?"

    With a twist of his wrist and a snide grin the sword''s shards still in Dimitrios began to stir, moving around picking up speed leaving the death general to realize far too late his mistake from not simply pulling the blades out earlier as small pieces of metal began to blend him from the inside.

    Blood poured out and his head burst destroying his brain putting an end to the south''s stone footed champion. Watching what remained fell, the weight shaking the earth Earl Witchmane exhaled. In the many years he''d been fighting he''d slain three of the south''s death generals.

    Flying higher, he took in the sight a large cloud of eerie gray green mist that stretched for miles across the landscape further south barring entry to the peninsula. The death mist, the gates of hell from which countless undead abominations far more vile than Dimitrios had poured out from.

    The living could not trespass it, killing all who entered. For a little over forty years he''d been fighting this war, having seen countless men die. Young men, men like his son Duncan who had been murdered as a result of the mad king of the south''s cruel desire to bring death to all living things.

    He shuddered remembering the rotted diplomat who proffered a vile peace. Offering equality in death with open arms; to make all undead who would feel no hunger or pain and would live free and happy under the new self proclaimed god Kaius Carthus.

    Worst of all this war was at a stand still. The south lacked a decisive victory and the north couldn''t press them at their heart, nor was either side willing to risk a large battle.

    The last one ending in disaster due to the interference of a certain undead.

    He looked over the death below him hundreds of the once living and a few thousand undead having butchered each other. They''d burn what they could so that the necromancers couldn''t use the leftover bodies for the creation of their abominations.

    He had a feeling humanity had yet to see the worst of what the south could field, and he had a good intuition.

    How longed for this conflict to end, for these nightmares to be just that, nightmares and nothing more. He was getting old; he wished for nothing more than to spend his days in peace managing Edurand and spending his days with his grandchildren.

    The wind blew the sound of a horn came with it announcing the time to pull back, the campaign to thin the south''s forces had been successful. He turned away and began flying back to regroup with his troops not bothering to look back to not carry the faces of the dead home with him.

 Beyond the gate

    Groaning, the sound of stone scrapping upon stone as massive bricks were hauled into place. Undead hands carried by shambling feet pulled and pushed. Building mausoleums, temples and statues and all other manner of great works preparing for their king''s day of ascension.

    At the end of the broad Main Street flanked by pillared multi story buildings. Rows upon rows of kneeling figures, hundreds of milky eyed pale gaunt faces absent of consciousness or soul sat in a mockery of prayer hands clasped together puppeteered by a once benevolent man.

    To where they faced up the steps of a golden throne accented with fine fabrics and wilted flowers sat Kaius Carthus. King of the southern kingdom of Dynatus, mad man and necromancer, lord of all undead.

    He wore dark green embroidered robes beneath a golden chest plate which had large ovular holes revealing his bare ribs and beating heart underneath.

    Upon his hands were golden rings with gems, the skin of the outer side of his palms were peeled away exposing bone. And on his head he wore a skeletal helmet with a round plume crowning it mimicking a halo which hid his white hair.

    This was not a choice of fashion made in his delusions of grandeur but rather it is the traditional helmet of the Carthus royal family. The kingdom of Dynatus was once known as the holy kingdom and home to the church of lights central cathedral, host to the holy priestess of light.

    A woman who Kaius committed a cardinal sin by murdering along with two of the church''s four wings. Helmos the second wing and Arteus the third wing, and afterwards raised the holy site to the earth.

    For some time he had been slumbering on his throne searching for something. Something which in his own words could not be found by looking for it.

    Only waking at odd intervals to oversee his kingdom, and not always did he have his mind when he awoke, sometimes speaking cryptically or lacking any memories until returning to his searching sleep.

    An imposing and grotesque form over twenty feet long slithered down the central avenue to the foot of the throne. An undead abomination, a champion, but not a general.

    Four armed and grey skinned with the lower body of a snake are up by grafted together muscle and skin, jutting from its shoulders was head of long blonde hair that when compared to its monstrous body looked comical.

    He held a large twin blade made of thick iron was as long as two men in his right hand. Well polished steel platemail covered his arms and torso.

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    It made a motion to kneel or at least bow considering one cannot kneel without knees.

    "Lord, Dimitrios has fallen. He has been stolen from us by the pretender in heaven." He reported without emotion voice ringing against the metal of his cross visored helm.

    A long silence reigned. "No." Kaius announced his soft voice breaking the silence. With an outstretched finger he pointed upwards to something only he could see, a sin which shone only to his eyes.

    A sea of swirling green filled with a myriad of white orbs, the bound souls of countless people who he was denying the right to pass on, to be at peace, creating a hell above the grand city of Caellum. Cruelly ironic considering the capital''s name means heaven.

    "Dimitrios is here, he has not been stolen away from us. Even in slumber I protect my adherents." Kaius lowered his hand. "What other news?"

    "I have lost his trail, lord." A loud thump sounded from the throne as Kaius peered down, his blue eyes filled with malice. "You have the most important of tasks Renatus. Will you betray me once more?" His voice was calm but his displeasure clear.

    "No, lord." Renatus knew his king was not just angry but desperate, as was he himself. He wished to right his wrongs from sixty years ago when he stood against his lords plans, it was by his own hand Kaius was sent to undeath unaware that''s what he''d planned to become from the start.

    Kaius rose, his gold mail clanking as he descended the steps to sternly cup the face of his champion, his voice as stern as his grip.

    "He yet persists. For his soul not to appear to me must mean he has freed himself of my control completely." He said turning to gaze up at his throne.

    "Only one of my line could do such a thing. It must be him, he must at last be awake. Afraid. Lost." his voice struck with severity, hands curling into a fist as he returned his gaze to lock eyes with Renatus.

    "Double your efforts, be as a mad beast on the hunt and find him. Find my child and bring him home to me. Return your young lord whom you swore to protect. Even if he cuts you to pieces, on the feet of your marrow bring Anastasius home."

    Renatus bowed acknowledging his lords missive, and began slithering away toward the north, swearing to find his little liege. The boy who he carried on his back around the palace gardens, the boy he''d visit when his sickly nature overwhelmed him, the boy he sent away from the kingdom in the wake of his fathers madness.

    The one who is revered as the most powerful undead.

 Imperator

    Spacious and not lacking in grandeur the halls of the imperial throne room was a silverine venue of splendor with black marble pillars and floors with red banners and a matching long carpet stretching its length.

    Here is where the lords one and all from the willful and borderline traitorous northerners to the more pliable and amicable southerners.

    Self serving fools one and all. This was the thought of Emperor Hortensius Domitus, who viewed his court as a house cards. Only the cards were liable to stab each other as they toppled over. At least those of the south had sense enough to behave.

    He hated them all. Threats, violence, consorting. A number of his daughters had been taken from him by way of poison or other vile means.

    Eventually he stopped marrying them off disowning them and sending them to convents for their own safety.

    His sons too had been murdered or coincidentally killed in battle with wounds in their backs or mysteriously dying in their cribs as infants.

    The closest thing he had had to a still living son was Elwin a war orphan he had fostered and the commander of the black guards first company.

    He placed a hand on his left arm remembering the wound that child soldier had managed to give him while defending his little friend so many years ago.

    He pretended to smooth the fabric of the cape which hung from his shoulder so as to not let any emotion show before any onlookers his wrinkled face stalwart.

    Elwin, oh Elwin why did you run to your death boy, was it to atone for allowing Decitus to die?

    If it were possible I would have adopted you officially, I couldn''t have made you my heir but a title and a father, I wish I could have given you that. Alas it was a mere passing wish of a man foolishly indulging in the luxury of sentiment.

    There was still a bastard child but he was born in secret and liable still to be found and strangled by this den of snakes.

    He reached his chambers walking past the attendants who had opened the doors for him and after untying the sword from his hip, slumped into a chair with a manner unbecoming of an emperor, his old bones aching. "Eighty-six. Sixty-six miserable years¡­" he said aloud mind drifting for a moment to his older sister, and then to his niece.

    Perhaps he could allow her to become empress once his miserable flame sputtered out. That black scaled abomination would be a perfect parting gift to the wretched nobles.

    "You look in dire straits Hortensius." A black haired man said, causing the old man to sigh. "You look like you fuck boys Rakon." "Oh how irksome." Rakon replied mockingly. "You''ll have to do better than that to make me kill you bastard flower of Amaeus."

    He took a seat across from Hortensius a wry grin on his handsome face, smoothing his dark hair surmising him slyly. "How faired court?" "Pigs, sisters and me. Those lords are always trying to fuck one of them."

    Drinking wine and screwing girls was what he wished he could have spent this life doing. He had drunk much wine and screwed many girls but he wished greatly to have drank even more wine and screwed even more girls.

    It was not to be, because his older brother in all his glory rode to his death leaving him the carousing bastard born of a northern wilding to assume the role of emperor.

    Unwilling to submit to an impure pedigree of royalty and barbarian the northern lords turned, sparking the short lived campaign to placate the traitors by force.

    Thus he began a six year march to bring the lords to heel and consolidate the empire once more. Until the undead crisis arose.

    As if hell had opened up. That''s what a messenger had said, that the dead stopped being dead, that which shouldn''t move, moved.

    He then watched that man slit his own throat the horror of what he''d seen apparent in his dying eyes that this was not the ramblings of a mad man like many including himself initially thought.

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    But a horrid reality of nightmares having been brought to life. The situation escalated over the course of a few years, several towns both fortified and otherwise as well as a number of settlements leading to the current political climate wherein he had to show deference to the northern lords to keep the empire from falling to the undead menace.

    Twenty-percent of the empire was lost and the bordering regions became highly dangerous constantly at risk of attack. On top of famines, and disease, brought from an influx of refugees fleeing north. It had all been on him to deal with, which he did to the best of his ability in spite of his precarious position on the throne.

    Not like it mattered anymore. He''d be dead himself soon, his miserable life would finally end and it''d be everyone else''s problem to deal with.

    He wasn''t worried about coming back, he planned on being cremated, his ashes scattered to the winds to rob his enemies the pleasure of pissing on his grave.

    "You seem dreadfully tired. Have you decided on an heir yet?" Hortensius was tired, especially tired of Rakon. In all the time he''d known him he''d been as much a source of stress as he had help, asking questions that were like digging into open sores or helping behind the scenes to make both a friend and a foe have an unfortunate accident.

    He wasn''t always like that but when your wife gets murdered in a power struggle it tends to twist you in a terrible way.

    "I have not. I haven''t any children or grandchildren capable of assuming the throne." He lied, as well as omitting his niece Rika and for good reason. If he even joked about naming her as heir then Rakon would murder him on the spot. Certainly he craved death but in the way one craves sleep, he wasn''t senseless enough to run to it.

    "Well how about the young lord Arlyle?" Rakon suggested playing with his hair "A fine name, strong, bold and idiotic. A fine name indeed if you wanted a civil war to break out." "He''s a perfect fit for emperor then."

    Hortensius leaned onto his hand. "Is he now?" Rakon just stared, clearly enjoying the headache he was causing.

    "Why must you be so difficult? What purpose does it serve for you to do all this? If you wanted this country to burn it would burn. There''s not a being in existence that could stop you."

    Rakon rose trailing over to the balcony to peer down at the imperial capital below his gaze casting over the shingled roofs to the insurmountable walls, sweeping over the slums and squares, from the criminals in their alleys to the nobles in their carriages.

    "Because I hate people. Human beings are nothing but trash. Reprehensible immoral vile pieces of dung. Thievery, murder, rape, humans do all these things but the worst of it is when they turn a blind eye to it when they simply ignore the suffering around them. Passivity is one of the worst sins so they say. And In all my time I''ve only ever met one human worth a damn and well..."

    Rakon turned smiling but there was darkness in his eyes, a bubbling pit of bile and wrath that only hell could ever hope to spew up the lack of anger in his voice making it all the more chilling. "You''re fully aware of what happened." "You were good once, and what she would want for you doesn''t count for anything?"

    He returned his gaze to the city below. "Yes I was good once, but what the dead want doesn''t matter. The only thing I wish for now is for humanity to sit in a cesspool of its own suffering."

    A long silence followed the only sound being the whistle of wind. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say that would ever mend the man before him''s heart. "Well. It''s time for me to return to my duties as emperor." With effort Hortensius rose, smoothing out his red robe and mantle, fixing the sword at his hip. "I wish you well Rakon."

    The dark haired man did not turn to face him. "Likewise Hortensius. Likewise."