Book of The Dead

Duchess Elenia Mirasmas, a vision of grace and dignity as always, dressed in white with full-length sleeves and a single golden bracelet on her left hand to accompany her intricate wedding band, lowered her cup to the saucer on the table before her.

“I understand that it did not go well,” she said clearly, her piercing blue eyes locking onto the men seated across the table from her.

Leras stiffened in his seat, but Artur merely chuckled grimly.

“That’s one fucking way of putting it,” he replied, taking a sip of his own tea. “This tea is stunning, where did you get it?”

“I received a consignment from my family in the capital recently,” the Duchess replied, not seeming to notice the profanity. Leras was stunned. To speak to someone of such pure blood in such a tone, Leras would rather bite off his tongue, yet it appeared Artur was granted such a privilege. Whatever Leras had heard about the lenience afforded to the veteran general had clearly been understated.

“Don’t waste the good stuff on me, my lady,” Artur replied, taking another sip. “By the Divines, that’s good.”

Leras himself took a drink from his cup, and found it was just as flavourful as the general had suggested. Incredible flavour flooded his mouth, rich and full of depth, unlike any tea he had ever tasted.

“I truly didn’t expect the city to fall in a single day,” the Duchess murmured, a frown creasing her features. “It was too much to expect they would hold until the Golden Legion arrived, but better resistance would have been appreciated. Artur, do you believe the defenders were incapable, or was the Necromancer stronger than we believed?”

The general shifted in his seat, considering his words.

“Mix of both, my lady. I don’t believe House Ladisla took the task lightly, but neither were they ready for what the heretic was capable of throwing at them.”“And what, exactly, was the Necromancer capable of throwing at them?”

“A surprisingly well-organised army with a stable full of Mages,” Artur grunted, sitting back and folding his arms over his chest. “Lord Sathin suggested that some poor bastard had been turned into an undead general, and I’m inclined to agree. The army didn’t do anything spectacular in terms of manoeuvres, very by the book deployment. Better than the book, if I’m being honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re undead. Whoever the unfortunate bugger is, it looked like he directed the entire army with his thoughts. Those blocks of infantry were as pretty as a picture.”

“Your troops aren’t as disciplined in the field?” the Duchess asked, the slightest quirk at the corner of her mouth.

“Fuck, I wish,” Artur replied sourly. “The siege didn’t last long enough for us to learn all that much more, but the magick used is worth talking about. I don’t know if the damned prick managed to find a graveyard specifically for Mages, but he has an incredible amount of magick firepower packed into that army. I suspect, given enough time, he would have overwhelmed the defenders with spells alone, though that would have taken a few days at least.”

“Hmm.”

The Duchess listened patiently, her fiercely intelligent blue eyes fixated on the general while he spoke. Her focus was so total, Leras wondered if she even remembered he was in the room.

“It may be worth mentioning–pardon me, Duchess–the incident with the gate.”

When she turned that gaze on him once more, Leras apologised almost on instinct.

“You’re right,” Artur said, leaning forward again, placing his heavy hands on his knees. “It was a hell of a thing. He left the path out of the river gate completely clear. After hours of magick bombardment, the people stormed the gate and broke out. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“What are your thoughts on this occurrence?” the Duchess asked, her focus on Leras.

“Mine?”

“Indeed.”

Leras took a breath to steady himself.

“When we spoke to the Necromancer, he said he would spare the people, so long as they didn’t prevent him from getting to the Nobles.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“Yes, your wife said as much.”

“I think he might be serious. At least, he wants the common people to believe he is serious. He wants them to think that as long as they aren’t helping the nobility, as long as they aren’t in his way, then they have nothing to fear.”

“A dangerous thought regardless of whether it is true or not,” the Duchess murmured. “Either the people turn against us, or are lured into a false sense of safety.”

“Surely the people would not betray the Divines,” Leras protested.

“Some would, but most would not,” the Duchess replied after a pause. “Faith in the Divines and obedience to their blood is ingrained in the Empire’s people.”

If the common folk trusted what the Necromancer was saying, then thousands, tens of thousands, may simply remain behind the next time he captured a city. If he turned on those people and killed them… that would be a lot of bodies, but also potentially multiple levels’ worth of power from the Unseen. That was power they couldn’t afford to give him.

There was silence in the room as each individual contemplated what had been discussed. The Duchess sipped from her cup, but her mind was clearly elsewhere, thinking, as were her various advisers and court ladies scattered around the sitting room. Beside Leras at the table, Artur was similarly sunken in thought, his eyes almost shut as he absent-mindedly stroked his chin.

As much as he wanted to let them think in silence, there was another matter on his mind that he was compelled to ask about. Most specifically because his wife had demanded that he do so after learning he had been granted this audience.

“Duchess…” he broke into the silence reluctantly. “I’m aware it isn’t directly relevant to what we are discussing, but could the people of the frontier be granted permission to return to their homes? It does not appear as if the Necromancer has any intention of fleeing back to the desert, and I know that the burden of feeding so many people is putting a strain on the province.”

So far, they remained in camps, with food and shelter provided for them thanks to the Duchess’ intervention. Ariez went to visit them every second day, but already order was beginning to break down. The sooner they were able to pick up the pieces of their lives, the better for everyone.

“Not until we know where the invader intends to go next,” she said softly. “It would not do for your people to return to their homes, only to turn around and leave again.”

“As you say, Duchess.”

It was what he’d thought she would say, but he had to ask, it was his responsibility as a Noble.

“So far, the bastard is holed up in Kallas and has been for over a day. Gods know what he’s doing in there,” Artur said, then grimaced. “Well, it isn’t that hard to imagine what he’s doing in there, if we’re honest.”

“You said it appeared as though a significant number of undead were destroyed in the assault,” the Duchess said, turning to the general. “Do you believe those numbers will be fully replenished, or will the horde be somewhat diminished going forward?”

“It’s hard to say, my lady,” Artur replied. “I don’t know how well he can repair the damage to his minions. I don’t know what he’s done to the people trapped inside the city with him. I think it’s safe to assume that a Necromancer is going to come out of a successful siege stronger than he went in. That’s what history tells us to expect. I wouldn’t want to go into the next battle thinking it’s going to be easier.”

Duchess Mirasmus nodded, her pale and flawless face uncreased by fear or concern.

“The Duke’s plan remains unchanged,” she informed them. “There will be one, decisive battle, to be brought on as swiftly as possible once the Golden Legion has arrived. With the consolidated forces of the houses, the Magisters, and the aid from the Central Province, we crush the invader in one fell swoop. The only question is, where and when the hammer will fall.”

“That’s not up to us,” Artur reminded her. “Imperial Authority to direct the campaign doesn’t sit with the Duke but with whoever they send from the Court. If they agree with the plan, which they bloody should since it’s the only one that makes sense, then they will be the ones to pick and choose the field.”

“Unless the Necromancer chooses first,” Leras said, then could have clapped a hand over his mouth as all attention turned towards him.

“The undead were able to move much faster than we anticipated,” the Duchess murmured, almost to herself. She considered for a moment. “Artur, how long would it take for the undead to reach Mirasmus if they were to march without stopping from Kallas?”

General Greyhame blinked, then scowled as he imagined the scenario playing out in his mind.

“Fucking hell,” he swore. “They could be there in under three weeks. With a four day headstart on the Golden Legion, they might just beat them there. And the Legion has marched from the capital. If they have to fight outside Mirasmus after weeks of additional hard travel….”

“They’ll hardly be at their best,” the Duchess said, frowning. “While the undead do not tire.”

She raised a hand.

“Iris,” she called.

A dark-haired attendant rose smoothly from her nearby seat and strode over.

“Yes, my lady.”

“I want messages sent to the Duke immediately by ro’klaw. Ensure that he sees to the defence of Mirasmus and prepares for a possible siege.”

“Should I tell him it’s a certainty the siege will take place, my lady?”

“No, simply write that I have a powerful premonition that will be the case.”

“As you will.”

As Iris left, Artur pushed himself to his feet, face like a thundercloud.

“I’d better get going, my lady,” he said, bowing low at the waist and holding the pose until she gestured for him to rise. “It’s going to be a long week in the saddle for me.”

“Thank you for coming, Artur,” she said with a rare hint of warmth. “I appreciate your counsel in this time.”

“Of course, that’s what you pay me for,” he said with a smile before turning and marching out of the room.

The Duchess turned to Leras.

“I have good news,” she told him. “I believe your people may be able to return home sooner than I had previously anticipated.”