The Zombie Knight

What a strange place this was. What a strange feeling. A place and a feeling. Merged into one. Inseparable. Indistinguishable.

He couldn’t think. Didn’t even want to, really. It was so comfortable here. Warm and peaceful. And yet plenty busy, too. Plenty to watch and be entertained by.

Dimas took a moment before answering. “It seems a solid idea to me. And perhaps our only option, for that matter. But I also do not wish for us to split our forces again, and if the intention becomes to stay and assist Graves, what then shall we do about that? Will we all stay in Vantalay? Or will some return to Warrenhold?”

“Good question,” said Horatio. “I am also hesitant for us to divide ourselves again so soon after reuniting, but we have many non-combatants to consider, too. And Warrenhold is no short distance from here. It would be quite the separation.”

“That is a decision that must come down to each House,” said Santos. “If and when that time comes, every fighting man and woman among us should decide for themselves if they wish to stay or go, with the final say resting on the head of each House. At least, that is my view of it.”

“I can agree with that,” said the Lord Delaguna.

“I, as well,” said the Lady Octavia Redwater.

“And me,” said the Lord Dimas Sebolt.

“Here, too,” said the Lord Horatio Blackburn.

“Wow,” chortled Santos. “It sounds like we are already putting it to a vote. But before anything is finalized, surely we must hear from the other head at this table who has remained silent this whole time. Lord Valero?”

And all eyes turned to the very young, fresh-faced head of House Garza.

Of the ten Rainlord Houses of Sair, only eight heads were present, since both Zeff Elroy and Joana Cortes were missing, but there was little doubt in Diego’s mind that House Garza was in the most awkward position of all of them, at the moment.

Which was saying a lot, considering how awkward he knew the Blackburns’ position to still be, after their betrayal back in Sair contributed to the detainment of so many other Rainlords.

The problem for the Garzas was that their previous head, Lady Socorro, had been slain by Parson Miles back in Sair while the rest of them had already been captured by Sanko. Only a couple of their non-combatants had managed to escape, and neither of them was here, right now. Luciana and Elise Garza had remained behind at Warrenhold.

Perhaps they should have come along in order to help their family members come to terms with all that had happened, but it was too late for such thinking now.

The Lord Zabat wasn’t done. “If this is true, then even if we do choose to stay, he will undoubtedly find some other reason to keep us close after things here in Vantalay are settled. In fact, perhaps his promise to help us retake Sair could be considered part of that. It would give him an excuse to remain in our company.”

“Or,” said Diego, deciding to jump in again, “if the first reason is not true and he really does want our help, then he could still just be biding his time with us until Vantalay is secure. Once we’re no longer useful to him.”

“Also true,” said Santos. “In all likelihood, he is working multiple angles here.” And he paused to look directly at Diego. “Knowing all this, if we are to test him, then it must be on the matter of his trustworthiness, yes? And on something relevant to our current circumstances. Something which provides him with every motive to deceive or betray us. And if he still does not, then perhaps we can trust him.”

Geez. It felt like Lord Santos was already way ahead of him. “I was thinking,” said Diego, “that maybe we could just... leave. And see how he reacts. See if he actually lets us go. If he does, then maybe we could circle back and help him out. If not, then... well...”

“If not, then we are fighting him,” said Santos. “Interesting. If he tries to stop us from leaving, then he will give us no choice, but at least we will know his true character. And in such a case, we would have had to fight him eventually, anyway, whenever he finished whatever game he was playing with us. But it is still a great risk. And we would not be able to enact such a plan until our business with the RPMP is settled.”

“That won’t be much longer,” said Diego. “And I don’t have a better idea for a meaningful test, so unless someone else does, then...” He looked over the table.

As did Santos, until he landed on the head of House Merlo. “What say you, Lady Rayen?”

She leveled a stare at Diego. “I still think it would be best to leave and not come back, but... I do not hate this idea, I suppose.”

“And Lord Dimas?” said Santos. “You’ve said nothing at all so far. What are your thoughts?”

“I do share your trepidation when it comes to the Vanguard,” said Santos. “I do not think we should blindly trust in Graves.”

“Finally, you are talking some sense,” said Rayen.

An idea struck Diego, and he wondered if Lord Santos was already thinking the same thing. When the man remained quiet, however, along with the rest of the table, Diego felt that it might be his turn to say something.

“Perhaps we could test Graves,” said Diego, drawing everyone’s attention. He tried not to sound too stiff. “If his trustworthiness is the main question, then we should see about finding an answer to it.”

Lady Rayen snickered. “You play with fire, boy. What manner of test would you have us conduct on a Vanguardian field marshal, of all people?”

“Well,” said Diego, “the specific concern seems to be that he is attempting to manipulate us, yes? Moreover, he is notoriously secretive, even for a marshal, and yet we in this room now know more about him and the nature of his power than... just about anyone else in the world, I’d wager. So I’d argue that, if nothing else, he at least has a rather strong motive to not let us leave Vantalay. To keep us close so that we can’t go around spreading information about him.”

Salvador jumped in again. “Wait. You’re saying this is all, what? Just some scheme to keep us here? That he doesn’t actually need our help?”

“The thought has crossed my mind as well,” said Lord Santos. “We do indeed know far more about Graves than most, but in the end, what we’ve learned is still precious little. To my mind, he could have been playing up his disadvantaged position for two reasons. First, because he wants us to underestimate him. Personally, I find this quite believable, though not for entirely logical reasons. He simply strikes me as the type of man to do something like that.”

“A constant schemer,” said Rayen, the agreement strong in her tone.

“Indeed,” said Santos. “And the second reason why he might’ve been playing it up is because of what Diego just mentioned: he wants us to stay of our own volition, rather than having to fight and recapture us.”

Whoa. Diego hadn’t exactly said all that, but he had been intending to go in that direction. And yet Lord Santos just blurted it out like it was no big deal.

“If the rewards can be deemed worth it, then yes,” said Santos. “The money we could procure from this venture would be what allows us to rebuild our nation and protect it. And moreover, from the sound of things, the Drylands will have an even greater need of such funding. We may need to take stewardship over them while the Sandlords remain broken.”

“Just as they did for our people,” added Evangelina.

“And so our finances will be stressed even further,” said Santos.

“Hold on now,” said Salvador. “Abbas Saqqaf yet lives. Whatever else is uncertain, that much is not.”

“Of course,” said Santos. “And I am sure all of Hahl Saqqaf will wish to fight alongside us, but they alone cannot hold the entirety of the Drylands. Until more Sandlords return or make contact with us, we should plan to aid the entire nation, not just the Wetlands.”

Horatio Blackburn decided to jump in now. “I do not know if that is wise. Would it not be better to focus our efforts on the Wetlands first, establish a foothold there, and then worry about expanding into the Drylands if and when it is deemed necessary? I feel we may be biting off more than we can chew, otherwise.”

“You’re right, of course,” said Rayen. “Our subjects must come first. Taking a long view of things is all well and good, Santos, but the grander we make our plans, the longer they will take to enact. The fact of the matter is that we may never feel fully prepared to return. It is always going to seem a great risk. But we have a duty to take it--and sooner rather than later.”

Santos made no response.

Damn. Diego wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure what to say here. He wasn’t even sure if it was his place to say anything. Truthfully, these big meetings with all the heads still made him feel knots in his stomach.

Fortunately, Grandma picked up the slack. “We also have a duty to our own Houses. Our families. And to each other. I am leaning toward Santos’ perspective of preparedness here. This is a critical time for our people. A cautious approach would be best, in my opinion.”

“Relying on the Vanguard again is not the cautious approach,” said Rayen. “If Zeff were here, I am certain he would be agreeing with me. And loudly so.”

Well, she was probably right about that, Diego thought.

“I cannot believe we are even debating this,” said Lady Rayen. “After all we have been through because of the Vanguard’s machinations? They cannot be trusted.”

“This is not just about them,” said Grandma, which surprised Diego a bit. “There are multiple reasons why we might decide to stay and help. Not the least of which being that Graves was right about us. About what we all feel. The pull. You know of what speak. And I know you feel it, too, my dear.”

“Do not talk to me like one of your children, Octavia.”

“Have no fear of that. My children would never be so ill-behaved.”

Uh-oh. Diego noticed Rayen glance in his direction.

“Easy now,” said Lady Evangelina from across the table. “We have just been reunited. Let’s not ruin it by picking needless fights.”

“My apologies,” said Octavia with a slight nod in Rayen’s direction.

And after a moment, Rayen returned one of her own. “Mine as well.”

“Whatever else might be said, this is an opportunity for us,” said Evangelina. “Now we must determine whether it is worth taking or not. The first matter of concern to my mind is, assuming we were to refuse and return to Sair forthwith, do we even think that we would be able to retake the country with our current level of strength?”

A brief silence fell over the table.

“It may not be pretty,” said Rayen, “but yes, I believe we could. We do not need Graves’ help.”

Lord Santos spoke up next. “If the Mad Demon is still there, then our odds of success are virtually nil, especially with the Sandlords scattered, too.”

“All reports have suggested that Morgunov has departed that war front entirely,” said Octavia.

“Reports are only so trustworthy,” said Lord Salvador. “They also told us that Graves was no longer in Vantalay, and we see how that turned out.”

“Agreed,” said Santos. “We should not return without the expectation that we will have to fight anything less than the Mad Demon himself. Better to be overprepared than under.”

“Not when time is of the essence,” said Rayen. “Our people continue to suffer while we sit here, talking.”

Santos wasn’t done, though. “Even if we do manage to retake Sair on our own, we must have enough strength left to hold it. Even now, we’re still recovering.”

“And so your solution is to wade into another battlefield?” said Rayen. “Where our strength may be further depleted?”

The table fell quiet again as they waited for Graves’ response to that one.

Diego was quite uncomfortable. Frankly, he felt those demands were rather unreasonable to be asking of Graves, and by the look on the Lord of House Zabat’s face, Diego was getting the feeling that the man had still more demands left in mind.

“...Parson Miles is not under my command,” said Graves. “I can petition Lamont or Sermung for his removal, but the decision will ultimately fall to one of them. Which I’m sure you already knew, Lord Santos. So why are you asking me for things that you know I cannot provide?”

“Fourth, reparations for the nigh incalculable damage that the Vanguard has helped bring upon Sair and its citizenry.”

Graves closed his eyes and sighed. “I see.”

Diego did, too. Or at least, he thought he did. Santos had built up the severity of their case and was now going to steer the conversation in the direction of money. Whatever other demands Graves failed to provide could potentially be made up for by adding even more zeroes to the money offered.

Or in other words, it was a way for Santos to drive up their price.

A shrewd strategy. And one that Diego expected would not sit entirely well with everyone. Personally, he was all for it. He’d always felt that they should be trying to turn a profit whenever they could, but he knew only too well how strongly some of his kin felt about mercenary work. “Unbefitting of Rainlords,” were the words that often got thrown around.

Would they see this differently? Maybe. If Lord Santos could convince them, too, perhaps.

Hmm. Knowing him, maybe he could pull it off.

From there, the meeting continued for a while longer, and it played out about how Diego expected it to. Lord Santos kept hashing out terms with Graves, but ultimately, before anything could be formally agreed upon, there was yet more work to be done--work that no longer involved the marshal, who eventually excused himself.

Several of the Rainlords dispersed as well, but the heads all remained in order to continue negotiations among themselves. Diego had the opportunity to leave--and maybe go enjoy the casino floor, since it was technically his day off--but he didn’t take it. He wanted to hear everything Santos was going to say and be here to back the man up, if he needed it.

Grandma decided to interject with a question that gave Diego pause. “Precisely how bad are you saying that things are for you here, Graves? Mevox is out of line, but he touches upon a relevant point. You are sounding like you think you will lose this warfront without our help.”

The aerial view of the watery battlefield finally shifted back to the normal chamber again. “Well, only fools assume victory before it is achieved,” said Graves. “Which is especially relevant in a war with so many involved parties who might show up unexpectedly at any time. But no, truthfully, I do not think I would lose the warfront without you. Rather, I think it would be woefully prolonged and cost many thousands more lives. Much of whom would be civilians.”

“Of course we would like to help you,” said Lord Salvador. “But as we have already said, several times now, we have our own obligations. Our own people to consider.”

“Yes, and I have already offered to return this favor,” said Graves. “Do this for me, and when you are prepared to retake your homeland, I promise that I will be there to help you do so.”

“The delay is still an issue,” said Lady Rayen. “And the Vanguard is the reason we lost our land in the first place.”

“Then I should be honored as the one to begin making amends on the Vanguard’s behalf,” said the marshal.

“Would it be making amends or returning a favor?” said Lord Santos. “It cannot rightly be both.”

Graves returned a nod. “A fair point. Perhaps there is some additional thing you might wish from me, then? I believe I have already made my desperation embarrassingly clear, so if you have terms, then you can at least be certain that I will listen to them carefully.”

“Oh, I indeed have some extra terms in mind,” said Lord Santos. “I do not know if you will like them, however.”

“Well, if they are within my power, I will probably like them just fine.”

“You tell me if these qualify, then. First, the immediate unfreezing of all Rainlords assets.”

“Mm. I can do that, but it wouldn’t be immediate. The Vanguard used proxies for that little trick, so it will take a bit of time and finesse to see it undone.”

“Second, a formal contract, signed by Sermung--and Sanko, for good measure--agreeing that members of the Vanguard will never again enter any region of Sair without the expressed, written approval of the local ruling House.”

“That... will be more challenging. You did hear the part about these things needing to be within my power, right?”

“Third, the complete and utter disavowal of Captain General Parson Miles. Or alternatively, the deliverance of him and his reaper into our custody.”

“Ah...”

“With respect to the Lady,” said Graves, “I do not think you do get it. These battlefields that I have shown you. Just involving Vantalay alone, how many do you think there are?”

She did not grace him with an answer.

He didn’t wait long. “Thirteen. One involving Czacoa, two with Naos, two with Yena Maria, this one here in Ridgemark, an additional one near Vantalay’s own capital, four more with Lyste along the western border, and then two others out in the Luthic Ocean regarding trade routes and pirates. So to your question of why I want your help: this is why. Out of the five active war fronts on the continent, this Vantalayan one is by far the messiest. And while it is very fortunate that I can be in more than one place at a time, thirteen is still a bit beyond me.”

That argument seemed to have struck a chord, because the Rainlords fell briefly quiet.

It was the Lord Santos Zabat who picked up the slack. “But the fact remains that there is not a single soldier on any of these battlefields who can stand against you.”

“Would that were so,” said Graves. “I have already died six times since my arrival in this country. Whenever I show myself, I become a point of great focus for the Vantalayans. Even I have trouble dealing with constant barrages of soul-infused missiles and machine gun fire. Which is to say nothing of the VAF’s elite unit of assassins that is constantly stalking me and waiting for even the slightest perceived opening to try and kill me permanently. Not to mention, there are actually a couple of warriors within the VAF that can threaten me on the battlefield if I am not careful.”

Huh.

Damn.

Diego didn’t know the guy had it that bad. He’d always figured that the marshals had it kinda easy, considering how powerful they all were. But yeah, he supposed being the guy with the biggest target on his back might not be so fun in a warzone.

And when the Rainlords grew quiet again, Graves’ tone shifted to one of confusion. “Are you really that surprised? Who do you think I am? Sermung?”

Mevox chose that moment to chime in. ‘Wow. I never knew marshals could be such whining pussies.’

“Okay, who let that reaper talk again? I thought we agreed last time that he would stay silent.”

“Sorry,” said the Lord Salvador Delaguna.

“This will not sway us,” said the Lady Evangelina Stroud. “Terrible though this may be, we have a responsibility to our own citizenry--one that is just as urgent, if not even moreso. Many among us feel that we have already tarried too long here in Vantalay as it is.”

“Moreover,” followed up Horatio Blackburn, “what need would you truly have for us? It seems to us that the famed Field Marshal Graves has proven himself more than capable of handling whatever remnants of Abolish may remain in this region by himself. If anything, I believe we are collectively of a mind to leave even sooner than we were originally anticipating.”

“Ah, that is news to me,” said Graves. “Well, well. I seem to have become a victim of my own success.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Rayen Merlo, apparently not in the mood for japes. “Stop wasting our time.”

“My apologies. Allow me to address your concerns in rapid succession. Please observe.”

And the scene before them shifted. It zoomed up and out, giving everyone a view of the battlefield from far above.

“See the battle lines?” said Graves, and the vision darkened, save for a few select areas which remained highlighted.

Indeed, Diego could see columns of soldiers forming up in the distance, flanked by tented encampments and standing behind large walls for cover.

There were large clusters of forces. One to the east and one to the west, judging by the position of the sun. And considering the geography, the one in the west must have belonged to the Vantalayan Armed Forces while the east belonged to the Czacoan Defense Force.

And their names, Diego realized, were unfortunately quite apt, what with the VAF being pluralized and the CDF being singular.

The CDF was clearly outnumbered here. Maybe by a hundred to one. Hell, maybe even more.

It made sense, of course. Vantalay’s population dwarfed that of Czacoa. And the VAF was comprised of multiple military organizations while the CDF was really just one group.

“This is but one of the Vantalayan battlefields,” said Graves. “Here is another.”

The scene shifted again, this time blacking out first before revealing a different landscape with an apparently similar story unfolding thereupon. The battle lines were highlighted again, though this time there was a large stretch of open water in the middle and scores of warships included in the mix. “This one is farther north, and it is largely between the Vantalayan and Yena Marian navies, though I have also noticed a few groups scattered along the coastlines. Perhaps scavengers. Hard to tell for sure. But we must speed this along, allow me to show you another.”

And again, the scene changed. This time, it was almost all sea, with land only on the horizon. Dozens of warships dotted the shimmering waters, and active missile, torpedo, and cannon fire was visible. “This one is Naos--”

“We get the idea,” said Rayen. “And still, it makes no difference.”

The entire chamber went briefly dark, and when light returned, it looked and felt as though they had been transported to a completely different location.

It was a scene quite similar to the one that had just been on the screen--so similar, in fact, that Diego at first thought that it was simply the same one recreated--but as he looked further, he noticed different buildings and street markers, and the reddish sun was in a different position in the sky.

Ash and smoke choked the air, and it felt like Diego could actually smell them. The scent of blood and death hung thick here. An all too familiar scent.

Diego couldn’t help standing to his feet.

They had all been told about the illusive capabilities of Graves by Zeff, and indeed, Diego had even caught a few glimpses of it firsthand on the battlefield since then, too.

But this was still quite a new and different experience for him. An illusion this realistic? It boggled the mind.

“This is not an illusion,” arrived Graves’ disembodied voice from all around them, as if in response to the thought that had just been in Diego’s head. “This is a projection. A live feed, if you will. From one of the many townships on the outskirts of Denbohlt. This is what will soon become of the capital city, if action is not taken in its defense.”

That information made Diego look over the scene anew. A live feed, was it?

So that flaming pile of the rubble there was burning as they spoke? Those rotting corpses along the sundered roadside were still there, right now?

And even that lone child wandering the street in the distance, face smeared black with soot and grime...? Even that was...?

Unconsciously, Diego raised a hand forward and took a step toward the child.

“...Ah.”

A hummingbird appeared before the child, drawing his or her attention. And Diego watched as the child began to follow it.

“Not to worry,” said Graves. “I will guide her to a safe place.”

Diego didn’t know what to say.

The Lady Merlo certainly did, though. “Perhaps you could show us a live feed of Kuros. Or Zebul, perhaps. Or just about any of the major cities in eastern Sair, for that matter.”

“Alas, I cannot,” said Graves. “That is much too far. And the reason I am able to share this scene with you is because I am also in Denbohlt, actively monitoring things there, just as I am here.”

Graves cocked an eyebrow. “...Ettol, you say? That is the name of an Ancient Melmoorian trickster god.”

“Yeah, dude, my reaper may’ve mentioned a thing ‘r two about that,” said Leo. “But I’m more interested in the modern day. So have you ever heard of a psychic who goes by that name?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Graves. “But even if I had, what would you do with such information? Please tell me you do not intend to go after this person without some sort of plan.”

“Plans come later, daddy-o. Once the gatherin’ of intel is complete. Or further along, at least.”

“Mr. Leonardo. I may not be fully apprised of your circumstances, but I do know something of the dangers you’ve described. Please trust me when I say that if it happened once, it can absolutely happen a second time. This does not sound like someone you should pursue haphazardly. I implore you to be exceedingly cautious.”

“Ooh. If you’re the one saying that, then maybe this fellow is even scarier than I thought. ‘Preciate the warning, pal.”

The marshal’s gaze lingered on Leo for a few moments more before returning to the rest of the table.

Diego felt the whole room relax a little. Phew.

“Well,” said Graves, “with that out of the way, I’d like to return to what we were discussing before. Czacoa.”

“Still?” said Rayen Merlo. “I should think we have made ourselves quite clear by now.”

“You have,” said Graves. “But permit me this one last courtesy. Then I shall not trouble you with it again. Fair?”

The Lady Merlo glanced across the table and saw a few nods of affirmation before relenting and giving one of her own.

“Thank you,” said Graves. He stood and produced a pair of tablets from his overcoat, fiddling with them briefly before sliding them over to the people on his right and left, who happened to be Rider, one of Santos Zabat’s sons, and Delia, one of Evangelina Stroud’s daughters. “This footage was taken from Denbohlt just yesterday. I’m sure I don’t need to worry about your sensitivities, but even so, allow me to warn you: it is quite graphic.”

The tablets passed along the edges of the table, and soon enough, one of them reached Diego’s hands.

The scene unfolding on the screen was of a type that he’d witnessed before.

Razed buildings. Smote ground and smoldering piles of rubble. Smoke and ash filling the sky. Bodies littering the ground.

Diego passed it on to his grandmother.

“I well know the noble spirit of the Rainlords,” said Graves. “I know you all have within you that most valiant of instincts to intervene and protect the innocent. But I’m sure that mere video footage will not be enough to sway you. So allow me to create an even more vivid depiction of what is happening over there, right now.”

“Quit lookin’ at me like a deer in the headlights,” Leo went on. “It’s a simple enough question. I’m sure you’ve given it plenty of thought over the years, at some point or another. So just tell me, man. How do you feel about your current place in the world?”

All eyes fell upon Graves again, who apparently needed a few more moments to find his answer. “...I am feeling just fine about it. But thank you for your concern.”

“Oh. Yeah? That’s great, dude. Happy to hear that. So you’ve got yourself a nice little support system in the Vanguard, then?”

“Support system? Yes, I suppose I do.”

“Good, good. Glad to hear it. I’m tellin’ ya, man. Social isolation: it’s a silent killer. Even if it doesn’t threaten your life directly, it’ll mess with your head until you start thinkin’ crazy stuff, daddy-o. Real family unfriendly stuff, know what I’m sayin’?”

“...From the passion in your words, I’m guessing that you have been struggling with such difficult thoughts yourself. Perhaps until quite recently?”

“Yeah. Well. No. But also yeah. It’s been a complicated last few years for me, man. Simple, yet complicated. Much like myself, you might say! Heh!”

“Right...”

“Long story short: my mind got messed with by a powerful psychic.”

“Ah. I see...”

“Made me feel not quite myself for a good long while. And yet, in some ways, looking back on it all now, maybe it actually made me behave more like myself than ever before. Like it brought out the worst version of myself imaginable. That make sense?”

“I do believe I understand, yes.”

“Course ya do. Knew ya would. Knowledgeable guy like you. Knowledgeable psychic guy like you.”

Oh boy. Diego couldn’t help tensing up, and he could practically feel the rest of his kin at the table tensing up right alongside him.

Melchor Blackburn was the one to speak up. “Leo...”

“No, man, relax. I’m not tryin’ to pick a fight ‘r anythin’. But I figure, maybe this fella here might know a thing ‘r two about the other fella what messed with my noggin. ‘sbeen on my to-do list, findin’ out more about who did that to me.”

“I see,” reiterated Graves. “Yes, psychics can be quite the troublemakers. I assume this person has made it difficult for you to even remember much about them?”

“Sure has. But I did manage to learn the name Ettol. That mean anything to you?”

Leo was also sharing in the marshal’s laughter. “They are a stubborn bunch, aren’t they? I’ve started to like that ‘bout ‘em, though. They say what they mean. Don’t try to trick ya with pretty words.”

“Yes, I can certainly see the appeal,” said Graves. And he paused to give Leo another look. “I must admit, however, that I am quite curious as to how you ended up in their company, Mr. Leonardo. They do not strike me as the type to accept others into their ranks easily, even those with famous names such as yourself; nor have you ever struck me as the type to throw in with a group with such strict ideas about lifestyle and structure. I always thought you were more of a free spirit.”

Leo bobbed his head to the side. “Yeah, well, it’s good to try out different things, now and again, ya feel me? Much as we might like to think otherwise, this world of ours just keeps on changin’. If we don’t change with it, then what’s gonna happen, ya think? A clash. Between us and it. And that’s not good for anybody, now is it?”

Graves fell briefly quiet again. “An interesting perspective.”

“Yeah, I been doin’ lotta thinkin’. Maybe a bit too much, honestly. But that’s prolly ‘cuz it’s long overdue.” He broke for another chuckle. “But what about you, Mr. Hawk? How you feelin’ ‘bout your place in the world, hmm?”

“...Why do I get the impression that you’re trying to sell me something?”

“Mm? Dunno, man. I’m just genuinely curious ‘bout your state of mind, daddy-o. When’s the last time someone asked you ‘bout these sorts of things?”

“With respect, this hardly seems like the appropriate--”

“Nah, bro, this is important. Listen. It’s super easy for us ol’ fossils to end up all alone with no one to have real conversations with, y’know? I’m worried about it. And as a matter of fact, now that I’m really lookin’ atcha and listenin’ to ya, I’m actually startin’ to get some real concernin’ vibes from ya, pal. Like you’re tryin’ to avoid havin’ a very important and necessary conversation about your own well-bein’. ‘Cuz there’s always somethin’ else to distract yourself with, right? I know it, and I know you know it, brother.”

Where in the hell was this going, Diego wondered?

And judging from the look on his face, the exact same question seemed to be occurring to Field Marshal Graves.

“Can’t blame ‘em for bein’ excited,” said Leo. “Not every day that such a big shakeup in the established order ‘o things happens, y’know? How many times have you clashed with some big name baddie and caused untold destruction, only for you both to walk away in the end, unscathed?”

Graves returned a nod. “Such is the nature of near-immortals being at war.”

“You said it. Really makes a guy think, after a while.”

“About what, precisely?”

“About the point of it all.”

That left a silence in its wake as the two men merely looked at one another.

Then Graves eyed everyone else, who’d just been listening quietly as they conversed.

What was he thinking right now, Diego wondered? He had a feeling that these two could’ve gone on for hours, just chatting away--and hell, maybe the Rainlords wouldn’t have even minded listening, either. It was really something, being able to hear what two old servants had to say to each other.

If only the battle for Ridgemark hadn’t still been going on.

“In any case, thank you all for coming,” said Graves, finally taking his seat. “As the hostilities here continue to wind down, I wanted to make one final attempt to convince you all to come with me to Czacoa. I know you said that you wished to leave as soon as Ridgemark is deemed fully secure again, but it seems to me that we could still be very useful to one another.”

This again, huh? Diego was mildly surprised. He thought the Hawk had already given up on that.

The Lady Rayen Merlo spoke up first. “Did the Lord Elroy not make our position quite clear the last time you asked?”

Graves made no response.

Perhaps because Zeff indeed had made it quite clear. Diego remembered the conversation well. Rarely had he ever heard Zeff sound so authoritative and unmovable.

Which was saying a lot.

Rayen kept going. “Or perhaps you were thinking that the rest of our minds might be more malleable with him not present?” Despite the bite in her words, she had a gentle, almost musical voice. Two of her sons sat on either side of her, Gil and Andre, and they were even taller than she was, making that side of the table look not unlike a fortress wall.

Graves chuckled. “I have never been under the impression that the Rainlords of Sair are--or might ever become--‘malleable.’ And I pity anyone who treats you as such.”

“Mr. Leonardo,” said Graves upon seeing the man file into the room behind the Rainlords. The recognition in his voice was unmistakable, and the look in his eyes spoke of a certain fondness. “How unexpected. I was beginning to think you were never going to show yourself before me.”

All eyes turned to the Bull Leech, who took up a position at the other end of the circular table, not bothering to actually sit down in the chair that was there in front of him. The look on his face was as relaxed as ever.

The Rainlords all chose their seats, with Diego ending up next to his grandmother and Melchor Blackburn.

This chamber was another new one. It was a conference room in the Lucky Llama Hotel & Casino. By now, they’d conducted a few different meetings with Graves, and each time, it had been in a different location. The first one had been in a barn, right at the edge of the battlefield, while this place was in the heart of Ridgemark. Diego recalled one the Triplets mentioning that this building was owned by the Black Artisan’s benefactor, much like the Ruby 88 was owned by the Linebreaker’s.

“Figured it woulda been rude if I didn’t drop by at least once,” said Leo. “Y’know, at first, I thought I might be able to sneak under your radar, but then I realized there was prolly no hope of that, eh? Got your eyes and ears everywhere, don’tcha?”

“Heh. How long has it been?” said Graves. “Forty years? You’re looking well. Better than I’d heard, actually.”

“Oh? Been listenin’ to rumors about me?”

“What, you don’t listen to any about me? I’d be hurt if you didn’t.”

“Far as I remember, there’ve never been that many goin’ ‘round about you, fella. Which is prolly how you like it, eh?”

“Not at all. Whenever I find out that people have been talking about me, it makes me feel important.”

Leo chortled. “That so? Then maybe I’ll make up a few spicy rumors about you and spread ‘em ‘round. How’s that sound?”

“As long as they’re flattering.”

“Ah. Spicy yet flattering. Tall order, that. Lemme think. Oh, maybe I could tell people about how you manhandled the Weasel and then kicked the Scourge’s teeth in.”

Graves paused. “I’m afraid you’d be a bit late to the party there. My own men have already been spreading that around like crazy, much as I wish they wouldn’t.”

Regardless, jeopardizing their already tenuous relationship with the man was the last thing the Rainlords wanted to do.

And to that end, Darktide appeared to be in a peculiar state, at the moment. It was clear enough that Melchor wanted to talk to Graves at length about many different things, but he also seemed to have a similar understanding about the fragility of the current circumstances. Diego could sense the many questions that Melchor was holding himself back from asking.

Before disappearing, Zeff had made clear that, despite how much they were risking by siding with Graves here, he still did not wholly trust the man and did not think that the rest of them should, either.

Which was more than a fair point, Diego felt. The Vanguard had already betrayed them once before. No matter what happened, the Rainlords were, at the very least, united in their determination to not let things here in Ridgemark with Graves the Pale Hawk devolve into a repeat of what happened at Rheinhal with Sanko the Gargoyle.

Which was not to say that they feared Graves, necessarily. While Zeff’s recounting of events had certainly been cause for worry, there was also the fact that Sanko had fought against half of the Rainlords’ collective might whereas Graves here would have to deal with nearly all of it. Plus a few additional guests.

Such as Leo the Bull Leech.

That man was a strange one, to be sure. Thus far, his presence on the battlefield--and indeed, all of Vantalay since arriving here--had been surprisingly restrained. Diego had not been the only one concerned about bringing that guy along. After the mess they got into with him in the Undercrust, most of the Rainlords were not exactly thrilled to have him around.

But at this point, with how little Leo had actually contributed to most of the fighting, Diego wasn’t sure what to think, anymore. On the one hand, it was definitely a good thing that Leo, a famous ex-subordinate of the servant empress Sai-hee, was not making a big splash here and potentially drawing her gaze toward them. But on the other hand, why had this fellow even bothered to come along in the first place if he wasn’t planning on assisting? Would it not have been better for him to stay behind at Warrenhold?

Not to mention, Leo was an impossible person to read. Whatever was going on in that mind of his, Diego was just about done trying to figure it out.

Just about.

But not quite.

Because when Leo decided, for the first time, to accompany the Rainlords to a meeting with Graves, Diego’s anxiety shot up.

‘But why not tell anyone, then?’ said Diego. ‘Did he think we wouldn’t understand? It’s his daughter.’

‘Maybe. Or maybe he was worried that some of us would try to go with him.’

‘Hmm. And the Monster of the East just accepted that? The offer was for all of us to leave, not Zeff by himself.’

‘You’re right. That does seem strange. There could be more to it.’

Indeed, that seemed likely. The timing couldn’t have been more peculiar. While it might’ve made sense on the surface that the Lord Elroy would’ve done anything in order to reunite with his lost daughter, Diego hadn’t forgotten the other news that Zeff had shared with them before.

About Field Marshal Graves putting Zeff in contact with his other lost daughter, Gema.

That one had not been an offer in exchange for anything. Graves had merely promised to make it happen, free of charge, whenever Gema became available.

And from the uncharacteristically happy way that Zeff had been when talking about it, Diego felt that there was precisely a snowball’s chance in lakefire that the man would have completely disregarded that in favor of going after Emiliana.

Granted, that would’ve been another impossible call. Choosing between children. But that was also why Zeff would have told someone about it, Diego thought.

If he knew he might miss his opportunity to meet Gema, surely Zeff would have informed someone of his intentions so that that person could go in his stead, no?

Agh. Or maybe not. Maybe Zeff expected to return soon and still make his meeting with Gema?

Or... maybe this disappearance was the meeting with Gema?

The more he thought about the matter, the more questions Diego had. And there was at least one person here who could provide some answers.

Talking to him alone didn’t seem like the greatest idea, though. Diego didn’t have any experience with meeting people that powerful. Amicable though the guy appeared, Graves did not strike Diego as the kind of person that one should speak to casually or unprepared.

And the man did not have much in the way of free time, apparently. As one might’ve expected, Graves was rather important to this entire warfront, now. Some would even call him the linchpin on which all their fates rested, though Diego and his fellow Rainlords, as well as the RPMP, would probably have something to say about that.

That was not to say that everything was going perfectly, however. Far from it. New worries were arising every day, it seemed.

Such as the whereabouts of the Lord Zeff Elroy.

His disappearance had disturbed everyone, especially Grandma. And it had not escaped anyone’s notice that this disappearance had come only after Zeff told them all about a sudden offer from the Monster of the East.

An offer to leave this battlefield behind and enter into Gohvis’ protection, where Zeff would be able to meet up with his lost daughter, Emiliana.

That had certainly been a surprise. And discussing their response to that offer had been their first real act as a reunited council of Rainlord heads.

Unlike the Golden Council of the Sandlords, the Rainlords had no formal title for their gathering, because the government of the Wetlands was not entirely run by the Rainlords. It mostly was, maybe about seventy percent, but there had still been plenty of non-Rainlord leaders and officials going around.

If more of the members had been present for the meeting, the official government name for it would’ve been the Congress of Western Sair--or the Wetlands Congress, as some called it.

Which led Diego down a whole other rabbit hole of worry, of course, about the current state of Sair. Of their subjects, who’d been forced to endure hell at the hands of Abolish.

He tried not to dwell on that too much, right now. The time for that would come.

Naturally, the decision regarding Gohvis’ offer had been one of rejection. A few of the reapers had expressed an interest in accepting, as did Zeff, but even they seemed hesitant about it. In the end, the vote to decline was not merely a majority but fully unanimous.

Which was a little surprising, actually. A couple of the reapers, most notably Mevox, were infamous for being contrarians and voting against whatever the majority sentiment was.

Perhaps even Mevox was not in the mood to be playing around when matters were this severe.

So Zeff’s disappearance was doubly confusing. One would’ve thought that if he wanted to see his daughter that badly, then he would have cast his vote in favor of acceptance.

‘I don’t know,’ said Yangera when they’d discussed it privately. ‘It actually makes a strange sort of sense to me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Zeff was in an impossible position. Torn between his two great responsibilities. That of a leader and that of a father. Perhaps voting the way he did was him trying to do right by us, and him disappearing was him trying to do right by his daughter.’

It was a hell of a thing, having everyone back like this. The Redwaters, in particular.

For months and months, he’d been the sole member of House Redwater among a sea of Rainlords. And for a while there, it had felt like that might continue to be the case for many months more. Years, even.

He’d never been terribly worried that they would be retrieved. For some reason, that had always felt like an inevitabilitly to him. Perhaps that stemmed from his faith in the other Houses to see it done. He’d known quite early on that they would not rest until everyone was recovered.

But he had been worried about being the lone representative of the Redwaters. The only one able to speak and act for them.

Truth be told, he’d always felt like something of a black sheep within the family. Growing up, it seemed to him that he’d always been singled out for one reason or another. In the very beginning, it had probably been quite superficial: the other kids poking fun at him for his red hair, for instance. Very few Rainlords had that hair color, and he remembered it being a frequent topic of conversation.

But over time, it had grown beyond that. Because he adapted. Leaned into all of the attention. Embraced it, turned it around on people, made fun of them, and learned the difference between a gentle ribbing and genuine humiliation.

That had been very valuable when it came to making friends--and also when it came to getting out of trouble. Rainlord families may have been stricter than most, but it still never hurt, being able to schmooze conversations a bit with the grown ups. He couldn’t recall how many times he’d been able to soften what would’ve otherwise been a brutal punishment for him and the other kids.

Now, he realized that he’d taken so much strength and vigor from the presence of his family. Just being around them had energized him. Made him feel whole.

So he had not been prepared when they all disappeared. When the weight and long history of House Redwater fell upon his shoulders, alone.

He tried to never let it show, of course. The insecurity. At least, not really. Joking about it was easy enough. And helpful for the deception, perhaps. And thankfully, there’d been plenty of opportunities to focus on whatever craziness was unfolding around them instead of his own fears and concerns.

But now that they were back, he felt a deeper, longer-lasting sense of relief than he thought humanly possible.

Out of all the Rainlords who’d been searching these many months for their lost kin, Diego Redwater didn’t think any of them could’ve possibly been more contented right now than him. Even in the midst of battle, he could still feel it there.

He didn’t necessarily blame them, either. Over the years, he’d heard it mentioned a few times: the idea that reapers might one day be rendered obsolete by the advancement of technology. Clearly, that day was still quite far away, assuming it ever arrived at all, but the ramata did look like a rather significant step in that direction.

It was certainly an interesting notion, though. He remembered discussing it with Yangéra before, but unlike most other reapers, she actually seemed somewhat receptive to the possibility.

‘Honestly, it might even be for the best,’ she’d told him. ‘Us reapers can be real troublemakers, even when we mean well. And especially when we don’t. But if we were ever cast aside by the most powerful figures on the planet, then maybe we would have less ability to meddle in the affairs of the living world. If nothing else, it would definitely give fewer reapers an excuse to neglect the job of reaping souls.’

He didn’t know if he believed all that, but maybe she had a point.

Either way, even if the ramata became advanced enough to perfectly replicate all servant abilities with little-to-no resource cost, Diego still doubted that any technology would ever be able to replace the reaper’s ability to regrow servants from scratch. That seemed flatly impossible, no matter how many years passed.

The presence of the ramata also added one more wrinkle to this battle, however. Under no circumstances could they allow one of them to fall into the enemy’s hands. The Artisan himself had made that abundantly clear. He did not want just any old soldier to be carrying one. He’d only distributed them to those of sufficient rank, and he’d even gone out of his way to discuss the matter with the Rainlords, petitioning them for their aid in ensuring that no ramatas survived the battle outside of the RPMP’s custody.

For their help, he’d offered the Rainlords various means of payment: two ramatas to keep as their own, cold hard cash, and the chance to request a custom creation from him at some point in the future, once the war was over.

It was a hell of a deal, all things considered. When he’d heard the terms, Diego could hardly believe the man was being so generous, but then he’d heard that the Lord Santos Zabat had served as their primary negotiator, and then Diego was no longer surprised.

By now, he’d personally witnessed the strength of all three of the RPMP’s most esteemed warriors. And they were nothing to sneeze at. He could see why both the Vanguard and Abolish had chosen to respect the RPMP’s authority during their stay in Ridgemark.

Linus Maximillian, Kristof Raynor, and Daro Bright. The Linebreaker, the Jailer, and the Black Artisan, respectively.

Thus far, Diego had fought alongside Linus the most. He’d ended up practically glued to the man during the assault on Logden Prison, so he’d been able to witness Linus manhandling the likes of Raga Marda, Mikas Cross, and a powerful prison guard named Longvin--and all simultaneously, at some points.

Raynor, of course, had distinguished himself on multiple occasions, as well. When they were transporting those poor Miroan villagers over to Ridgemark, Raynor showed up and aided the Rainlords against Raga Marda and Jan Cross. And out here, on this battlefield, Raynor had been holding off the VMP since the very beginning of the siege--almost single-handedly, no less.

Because the third, Daro Bright, was exactly what his moniker, the Black Artisan, implied: an integrator who primarily took on the role of support.

But what incredible support it was.

Diego had gotten more than a few glimpses of the man’s work by now--and even the opportunity to wield some of his custom-made weaponry and tools. Perhaps the most impressive was something that the RPMP troops were calling a ramata, or roughly “spell thrower” in Valgan.

In short, it was a device capable of mimicking servant powers.

True, they were quite limited in their capabilities, such as with materialization, where it could only create small, predetermined objects which did not last terribly long before disintegrating--but still.

It was hard not to be in utter amazement.

The ramata was also quite small and portable, not much larger than a standard sidearm but still smaller than a rifle. From what Diego had seen, it also required quite a bit of maintenance--and some sort of crystal as its fuel source. He had a feeling that was the real trick of it. Whatever those crystals were composed of, it couldn’t be any normal thing, he felt.

He’d asked some of the reapers and other servants about it, but thus far, he hadn’t been able to learn anything.

Other than the fact, perhaps, that some of the reapers were genuinely unsettled by its existence.

The two emperors remained still as they observed the mayhem for a few more moments.

“You are going to owe me after this,” said Father.

“Sure, sure,” said Morgunov. “What do you want? Help with that big rocket ship of yours?”

“Touch that, and I’ll kill you. Bool, included.”

“Oh, c’mon!” said Morgunov, laughing. “I could make all sorts of improvements to it! And I won’t prank you this time! I swear!”

“I have a different project in mind for you.”

“Oh?! Color me intrigued! Of course, that won't mean jack if Kallmakk beats your old ass like a paddle ball!”

“Hmph. From the sound of it, that is what he has been doing to you."

"Ehehe! Maybe just a bit! But I'm still here, aren't I? And frankly, I'm looking forward to seeing you get clobbered a few times!"

"The feeling is mutual. Now, let's go."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!