Chapter 47: Parley

---D-Day+109, Dherus 16th, Sunday Evening---

---Castle Abives---

Lightning cracks and flashes, connecting earth and sky.  Thunder booms, rolling over hills and forests.  Rain falls, soaking the fields.  As well as those on them.

Like me.

Riding a Dark Charger, living shadow warhorse, slowly trotting across the no man's land between two armies.  On my way to meet the enemy’s representatives.

Who have requested, “parley.”

*clish* *closh* *clish* *closh*

As my mount made of smoke and ink walks on.  Take another gander at the scenery I’ve found myself in and mumble.

“If there's a bright center to the universe, you're on the planet that it's farthest from.”

The barony of Mel's childhood friend is just over the border in the Duchy of Trosseria.  A pretty BFE area.  No major roads.  No dungeons.  No industry.  Not even a town.  Just a clump of villages farming and herding.  Isekai boonies.

And “Castle” Abives?  Ha!  Hardly.  Sure, it's got a curtain wall and a keep, but not much else.  The tallest tower is barely four stories.  Was even built on just a regular hill, with a village at the bottom.

Probably picturesque when the sun's out.  But under pouring rain and grey skies?  The place looks like a backwater.  A proposed rural route.  Where people go to be forgotten.

If you recall, before school started, it only took a few hours to get to that labyrinth dungeon in this same duchy.  Which could have taken a week at “living” speeds.

But despite Abives being closer?  Spent a whole day getting here.

Why?

Two reasons.  Number one, shitty roads.  Hard to keep a good pace on small muddy paths.  Number two, golems.  Yeah, when they get moving they aren’t half bad speed-wise.  And, like the undead, don’t need “breaks.”  But they are also a lot less “agile.”  So, slippery sloppy roads?

Pretty much their nemesis.

It was late Saturday afternoon when we rolled out.  And almost exactly sixteen eight-hours later when Castle Abives finally was in sight.

What did we find?

No. Fucking. Siege.

Mel, who insisted on coming, was beside herself thinking Reginald had been captured or surrendered.  Until the army chilling outside the castle raised their banners.  One of them, belonging to her dearest oldest friend.

Now she’s beside herself thinking Reginald betrayed her.

Oh, and those five thousand Red was confident my couple thousand undead and golems could take?  More like ten thousand.

At least the “mercenaries” part was mostly right.  Though the banner of a famous merc general is also flying.  Meaning higher quality and better led sellswords.  So that’s bitten us in the ass too.

Frankie advised retreating and I agreed.  So we'll get harassed for a bit.  Not like they can keep up with our pace.  Would lose them within an hour or two.

At least that is what we figured.  Until shadows spotted a church army behind us.  Still a couple hours away, at living speeds, and small, only a thousand, but maybe enough to stall us until the bigger army here caught up.

…

Fuck.

That discovery, however, turned on the lightbulb for Red.

“Jon, now it makes sense.”  She motioned at our troops.  “They are not after us.  They are after them.”

Ah, I get it.  This trap?  Isn’t for me.  It's for my minions.  Once they’re gone?  Will be easier to deal with me.

To keep from getting sandwiched like a choir boy at a NAMBLA convention.  My lady general spends the next eight-hour “flanking.”  Super impressed with how well Red outmaneuvered the enemy by the way.  Finally placing us where both their armies are between us and home.

Yeah, not the best spot to be, but better than getting a pike up your ass.  Unless, you know, that's your thing.  Your, "fetish."  But hey, I'm not here to judge.

You sick bastard.

Good thing too since the church templars arrived in half the expected time.  Must have burned through a hell of a lot of stamina and strength buffs.

After their armies combined?  We now face over ten thousand enemies.

Yippee…

*clish* *closh* *clish* *closh*

Take another gander at the enemy lines as my steed walks across the wet ground.

[Super Senses] proves its worth again as it lets me push through the enemy mages’ obscuring spells fairly easily.  Admit I’m concerned though over how militarily savvy these medieval shits seem to be.

They’ve got haze type spells to make it harder to see their units.  Scrying type spells to get details on your units.  Artillery spells to barrage the enemy.  Shield spells to protect your forces from said barrage.  Even terrain spells, and counterspells, to break up or reinforce formations.

Magic that my girls used to great effect while Red was dancing around the enemy army.  Especially Oda-Mar, Sim-Fer, and Frankie.  Blue also chipped in, along with my undead priests and mages, but the “trio of terror” stole the show.

Which may be why they now want to parley.

Blocks of pikes, around a hundred across and ten deep, are lined up on their side.  Six blocks in the first line.  Three in a second line.  One behind the middle of the first row and another on each flank.

See handfuls of crossbowmen and swordsmen mixed in among the pikers.  Couple of priests with each group too.  Though they are in front right now.  Walking back and forth, blessing the troops.

Catch a couple smaller units of halberdiers tucked in behind the pike blocks on the wings.

Knight looking cavalry is out on both flanks.  But only a couple hundred each.  Lighter scout cavalry is even further out to the sides.  But only a small squadron.

Mages stand behind the second line’s center.  A good dozen wizard types, of various ages, in a row.  Each with an apprentice or two carrying bags and packs.

See them pulling out different parts and pieces of flora and fauna.  Consumables, to help lower the mana cost of certain spells.

The commanders are behind them.  Lined up, armored up, and mounted on large warhorses.  A few clearly not lords have flags, horns, or drums, crowding them on top of their saddles.  Signalmen.

Several lightly armored couriers are on smaller faster horses.  One is riding hard towards the knights on my right.  Maybe has new orders.

Then there are a few holding the lords’ flags and banners.  A riot of colors and designs.  Soaked through, but still proudly displayed.

And at the back?  Ballista.  Oversized crossbows on wagons, reeking of holy magic.  Bet those are for Frazur, my shadow dragon.

Very easy to pick out which are nobles and which are clergy among the commanders.

But where are the paladins?  Hmm…  Oh, interesting.

Thanks to my cheat I can see mana.  Focusing lets me sense only mana or overlay it.  Not completely accurate, depends on the target's aura control, but fairly good.

See body magic users sprinkled across their army.  Mostly officers and veterans.  Except on their right.  Both the knight and the pike unit have a lot higher mana concentrations.  Peasant magic levels and above.

Huh.  Bet they plan to turn our left.

Whisper what I’ve seen to Alex, the ex-inquisitor hidden in my shadow, and he sneaks back to tell Red.

Oh, and one more thing I noticed?  Only the front ranks are well armored.  The further back you go?  The less they have.  By the time you reach the back?  Just gambesons.  Quilted padded jackets.

Probably getting soaked and heavy in this summer shower.

Turn my head to take another look at my, “army.”

While their numbers mushroomed in the labyrinth?  They also took a big dive in the monastery.

Have over two thousand material undead now.  Mostly skeletal warriors.  More of them survived the nuns with guns fiasco since they were the last to arrive.

My astral undead were hit hard since they were in the trap sooner.  Less than five hundred remain.  Mostly specters.

Losses among my living shadow hybrids hurt the most.  While I haven’t lost any speakers?  Thank god.  Only a bit over two hundred survived.

And my forces now have a new addition.  Golems.  Somehow, in just two weeks, Agrag and Frazur managed to put together two hundred plus juggernaut style automatons.  Those two get along almost disturbingly well.

Each juggernaut is almost nine feet tall.  Around four feet wide.  And over two feet across.  Walking tanks covered in black spiky metal.  Look a bit like popeye with their bulging forearms and shins.

Now they aren’t identical.  Some are a little bigger.  Some are a little smaller.  More spikes here instead of there.  Etc…  But all have those two smoky glowing eyes and look ready to rip and tear.  Until it is done.

Red divided the juggernauts into six units of thirty to forty each.  Staggering them along the front line.  In between five blocks of skeletal warriors.

The skellies are gathered into blocks that are, like our enemy’s, around a hundred across.  But only three ranks deep.  Most armed with pikes.  Only a few wielding an axe or mace.  None of them have crossbows.

Combined, they make up our front line.

On each flank is a group of around fifty skeletal and shadow cavalry.  Along with fifty or so skeletal and shadow beasts.  Like wargs and gators.  Hidden among them are hundreds of specters and wraiths.

Behind the front line are handfuls of skeletal giants and living shadows.  There to plug holes or exploit breakthroughs.

Lastly are the undead casters and our own leaders, harem, and signalmen.  Don't have any flag or banner guys though.  Maybe I should get some?

*clish* *closh* *clish* *closh*

Finally, reach the soggy meeting point where three hostiles are waiting.  Still mounted.  The one in back is clearly a priest.  Heavy holy looking robes, wide brimmed cap, and a veil.  But a dude.  While the two up front must be nobles.  Way to fancy armor.

With their visors up, see one’s younger and one’s older.  Junior’s expression is arrogant as hell.  But senior’s?

…

What the fuck is he so happy about?  Guy looks ecstatic.  And he's completely focused on-

"Reginald."

Jesus, Mel’s beside me and you can feel the pain in her voice.

As per the rules of parley, I'm told.  Even numbers should attend.  Saw three, so I brought Mel and Frankie.  And the old guy looks overjoyed that I did.

“Melicent, I prayed Metia would bring you to me.”

Mel, on the other hand, looks like he ripped her heart out.

“How could you lie to me?  After all you put me through.”  Tears start running down her cheeks.  “After all the sacrifices I made.”

Old douche starts his pitch.

“No, Melicent, you must understand.  Heimer killed Hammond.  Killed our boy!”  Eh?  “Heard he might hurt you too.”  Clenches fist over his heart.  “So… I corresponded with Lord Geffroi.  For you.”  Paging deluded, party of one.  “I did this for you.  For us!”

Blue’s mother slowly shakes her head.  Still shedding tears.

“You told Geff?  How could you?”  Wipes her eyes.  “Humiliating me again, after so many years.”

Reg gets a little panicky, starts waving his hands.

“Melicent, please, that bastard never loved you!”  Arms go wide.  “What you branded a mistake?  An indiscretion?  Were the happiest days of my life!”  Sniffling.  “Little Ham was proof that you, once, loved me.”

She continues shaking her head.

“You blind fool…”

Oh, and in case you’re wondering?  Both Mel and Frankie are relatively dry.  Nope, it's not magic.  They’re saving their mana to fight.  It's their hats.  Seen the girls wearing them a couple of times before.

Picture a long raincoat with a hood.  Except this hood’s got a built in hat.  One of those big round bamboo looking ones.  So, almost, the whole body is protected and the face stays dry.  Well, unless she’s crying, of course.

Me?

Nope, wearing some weird armor Agrag made and it is not “waterproof.”  I’m soaked to the fucking bone.

Now, back to the delusional stalker show!  Where Reg still thinks he’s got a chance.  Let's see what happens next.

“Everything will be okay now, Melicent.  Lord Geffroi will have you stay with me.  Even marry us after the royal princess is crowned queen.”  Guy’s living in lala land.  “You belong at my side.  Not that… that… abomination’s.”

You know, it's rude to point.

*ahem*

Young douche clears his throat and looks my way.

“Viscount Jon Barton.  In exchange for your life, you will leave your unholy creatures here, to be purified.”  Points passed me.  “Those golems will also need to be left.”  Gives me a smirk.  “Only then will you be allowed to flee back to your tower.  Until the inquisition comes for you, of course.”  Like an afterthought, the dipshit remembers something.  “Oh, and the adulteress Melicent will be taken into custody.”

Ex-mommy duke gives Reg a withering glare.

“Adulteress?  Reginald?”  Her voice could freeze lava.  “You told them I seduced you?”  Crosses her arms.  “Did you mention the potion you kept forcing me to drink?”

At least Reg has enough decency left to look ashamed.

“It…  You…  You started liking it.  I know you did.  Started liking… me.”  Nods his head.  “And Lord Geffroi promised this is just an act.”  Scowls at me.  “Once that creature’s gone?  You will stay in Abives.  I…  I know I can make you happy again.”

Wow!

Mel peers down at her shaking hands.  Wet with rain and tears.

“Thirty years.  After you swore to carry this secret beyond your grave.  After I lied to my husband to protect you.  Even after I forgave your sins.”  Lifts her head and looks Reg in the eye.  “You chose to disgrace me again.  And this time, our dead son as well.”

Old guy’s mouth is moving but no words are coming out.

“...”

Blue’s mom turns to me.

“Jon, please take me away.”

I nod and start turning our living impared mounts around.

“No!”

*draw* *clack*

Hear Reg practically screech, so I look back and see…

Sigh.

He’s pulled a gun on me.  One that looks just like the pistols at the monastery.

“[Gaze of Metia]”

Sense mana move and my skin starts itching.  Like I’ve been out in the sun too long.  Feel my mana get sluggish.  Heavy.  Lazy.  My own mana is resisting my control.

Glance over and see priesty’s veil shaking.  Like he’s talking behind it.  See him lit up too.  Glowing.  Son of a bitch.  Fucker cast a spell on me!

Chest feels tight.  Getting harder to breathe.

Asshole, the younger, chuckles and pulls out a pistol too.

Great, got a priest throwing some divine shit and two nobles pointing firearms.  All of it, at me.

Fucking fantastic.

Milf glares at her old “friend” with even more scorn.

“Reginald, have you truly fallen so low?  Violating parley?  Is there no virtue left in you?”

Old guy shakes his head hard, like he’s knocking the truth away.

“N-no!  You love me.  I know you love me!”  Understanding dawns on his face.  “Yes, that must be it.”  Raises the musket more.  “He must be controlling you.  Release her, beast!”  Hands shaking.  “Give her back to me!”

Junior looks at asshole, the older, and rolls his eyes.

“We know these will not kill thee, Lord Barton.  Yet we also know they will hurt thee.”  Waves the pistol around before pointing it back at me.  “And with the bishop restraining your heretic magic?”  There’s that smirk again.  “You really should accept our conditions.”

Feel mana spike behind me.

*[Pestilence of Blood]*

*cough* *cough* *HEUK*

Nice chantless casting Frankie!

Startled and confused by a very unhealthy sound.  Both lords turn towards the holyman behind them.  His thick damp robes of white and gold now have a dark red streak down the front.  The lordlings’ eyes follow the crimson trail upward.  And discover the bishop’s veil has fallen to the side.

An old wrinkled face is revealed.  Pale and shivering.  It's only color provided by blood trickling down from his mouth, nose, and eyes.  Trembling and shaking, the powerful Metian lifts his face to the heavens.  Rain stings and breath shudders as he finally croaks out one word.

“Run.”

*viving* *shulch* *chalch*

Distracted by new unidentified sounds.  The terrified tourinese nobles slowly turn back around to face their “guest.”

*swoosh* *chan* *chin*

Both become even more bewildered since they were sure Lord Barton’s hands were empty a moment before.  Now each holds a sword.  One sparking.  One burning.

Finally catching up.  Realizing the danger they’re in.  Each pulls the musket’s trigger.

…

But there’s no explosion.  There should be a loud report.  All the commanders practiced using the aquecian weapons.  Yet the only sounds are the continuing pitter patter of rain and distant thunder.

…

*ahem*

I look at the idiots dumb enough to take their eyes off someone they were threatening to shoot.

“Hey.  Missing something?”

Downright comic how the aristobrats tilt their heads in sync.  Then slowly turn to the right and realize their arm is shorter.  A lot shorter.

The surprise written on their faces?  Almost makes hearing their bullshit, earlier, worth it.  Almost.

*splish*

Missionary man finally bleeds out and falls off his horse.  Face planting into the soaked turf.

This time, neither noble notices their coconspirator.  Instead?  They dumbly shift their stares between the stumps where their right arms used to be.  And the rest of the limb, still gripping a pistol, laying in the soggy soil.

I suspect they’ve gone into shock.

*clish* *closh* *clish* *closh*

Ride my steed of ink and smoke slowly up between the still breathing members of the delegation.  Regaining their attention.  There is a bit, like a lot of bits, more fear in their expressions now.

“Here’s my conditions.”  Remember, service with a smile.  “First?  I’m going to kill you.  Second?  I’m going to kill everyone who came with you.  Third?  I’m going to raise you so I can kill even more of you.”  Oops, almost forgot.  “And fourth.  I’m going to make sure everyone knows ‘you’ are why I’m killing them.”

Reg is so petrified that all he can do is shiver and shake.  Though that might be due to blood loss too.  The body starts shutting down when there's not enough "go juice" anymore.

Young lordling is in a little better shape.  Trembly, but still manages to speak.

“M-me-mercy…”

“No.”

*skriiilch*

Thrust Sanctity into junior’s chest.  Tormentor into senior’s.  Right through those fancy schmancy breastplates.  Wait to feel their death rattles, with the blades, before pulling them back out.

*splosh* *splish*

The now ex-nobles topple down into the drenched earth.

And their three trusty steeds?  Bolt.

…

*buroomm* *buburoomm* *foom* *fufoom*

Horns blare and drums sound from both sides of no man's land.  Warriors charge across the slippery wet field.  Lightning cracks and flashes.  Thunder booms and rolls.  The sky cries.  The earth drinks.

The Battle of Abives has begun.