Kalmaart was a dukedom of astounding size situated geographically along the borders of Zefilia, Saillune, Ralteague, Dils, and the dangerous region of the Kataart Mountains. It held itself up as one of the leading merchant fiefdoms. The country dealt with any insurrection in its land swiftly and ensured that its borders were well protected. None questioned the firm control of the Duke over his subjects; the man's vast knowledge of military affairs had helped protect his land for many decades. All of the neighboring kingdoms have sworn off any attempts to annex that dukedom and the vassal fiefdom remained passive in any disagreements.
In the capital city of Kalmaart situated on a small island that existed in the middle of the major river that ran through it was the Duke's castle. It had numerous spires that reached high up toward the stars as the walls were heavily fortified against any form of attacks. In time of a serious crisis, the castle was designed to serve as a fort to protect the civilians.
Situated on the bridge that led to the main gate of the castle were a pair of guards dressed in their normal armor bearing the emblem of their country and armed with their spears. The two stood watch over the post to ensure nothing bad happened. Unfortunately, even for a professional, the graveyard shift could prove to be a dreadful bore.
"So, heard anything interesting Al?" Bob yawned as he stretched a bit to get the crick out his back.
"Why do you ask?" Al muttered as he shook his head a bit. "Shouldn't we be watching out for anything strange or unusual?" he remarked as Bob merely snorted at the remark.
"Like anything has happened around here in the last fifty or so watches we took," Bob snickered as Al merely watched. Sighing as he leaned on his spear, he muttered, "You've heard the rumors haven't you? About what happen in Saillune."
"What rumor?" Al inquired.
"You know about what happen in the Barony of Louve," Bob stated.
Silence touched down between them as the guards stood there at their post without saying a word. The cold wind blew by them as they merely stood there. Finally, an owl came flying down hooting between them just to break the mood.
"You mean the one that happened a few months ago?" Al inquired finally as Bob nodded. "I recall something about the main capital being ransacked by undead and the Baron there killed, but so what?"
"Well you see, I've heard from a friend of mine, who heard from his boss, who was eavesdropping on his cousin, who dated a soldier there, that a Mazoku was also involved in all of that," Bob explained as Al merely blinked as he tried to keep track of who told whom. "Anyway," Bob grumbled, breaking Al out of his confusion. "Don't you think that's weird?"
"I don't see why you're so interested in that. So what if a Mazoku was involved? That's Saillune's problem and they probably already took care of it since we haven't heard anything more about it." Al complained.
"Okay then," Bob snapped shrugging as the two went silent again. "What about the local unrest in some of the provinces?" He tried after he found he was starting to nod off.
"I won't worry about those things," Al said waving his hand. "I heard there was already a unit sent down there to quell it and that should be the last we hear about it."
"I hope you're right," Bob muttered scratching his chin. "I just find it weird that things would go out of control like that and in all those places at once."
"It doesn't matter," Al reminded him, "Our boys will take care of those people who are trying to stir up everything and that'll be it."
"Guess so," Bob sighed as he looked up at the stars above.
The two guards stood at their post silently as not one said another thing. The night sky was clear of clouds, the moon was bright and full, shining its light down. A peaceful serenity seemed to fall over the place until something abruptly started to disperse the feeling. In the distance toward the edge of the city, a flare of lights came up as the sound of something echoed through the air. The two guards looked at each other before turning to the approaching light.
"What the heck?" Al stammered as the noise as the light soon started to spread around the city.
"Those look like torches," Bob muttered squinting as he looked at the light. "Are they chanting?" he asked as he tried to make out what was being said.
"Doesn't sound like anything I know," Al stated as they could make out the light now as it came up the streets they were looking toward.
It was a massive mob of people ranging from poor beggars to wealthy nobles, all held make-shift weapons in their hand along with torches. Their faces were contorted in anger as they came marching toward the two guards. Some people in the crowd threw rocks at the nearby building and others begin to ransack them. All was clear though, about where their destination was.
"I don't believe this," Al gasped as he gripped his spear tightly. Setting his spear up for a charge in case they were rushed, Bob said, "Neither can I." Looking at the sheer mass of the horde, he ordered, "Raise the garrison, Al."
Besides the chanting, Bob heard no reply to his order.
"Al?" he muttered as he turned his head to witness Al's body slumped to the ground.
Blood slowly came seeping from Al's body as it spread across the Cobblestone Bridge as he lay there. His face was frozen in sheer shock and surprise. The deathblow was a stab in the back as the killer took a step over the corpse toward Bob.
"Who are you?" Bob asked turning his spear toward the new threat, forgetting the mob heading toward him.
The person that stood before Al's dead corpse was garbed in dark black clothing with a golden girdle for the belt. She wore a sleeveless robe of the darkest pitch with weird runes embroiled along the edges with a black headband over her forehead. A black veil covered the lower part of her face as she gazed at him with her red eyes. Her long silver white hair tied back in a pigtail danced in the wind as she held her black edge dagger covered in blood at Bob.
"I am Lymafae," she stated as Bob gaped in fear.
"What?" Bob gasped as she vanished from his vision. "Where did she go?" he muttered looking around before he felt a cold metallic edge against his throat.
"Elghinn," was whispered into Bob's ear as the blade was tugged back.
Bob could barely paw at his slit throat before he collapsed to the ground. Her murderer looked as him silently as she turned and walked toward the castle gate. The masses behind her walked over the dead guards as they followed.
The guards of the castle were caught ill-prepared for the sudden assault as they could only put up a meager defense against the invading horde. They were able to hold out only for a little while before they were simply overrun. The servants and courtiers were all slain as the horde moved through the entire complex. Even the ruling family was killed as the place was ravaged.
As the sun slowly started to rise out of the sky, the carnage had pretty much ended. Anyone that had resisted the incursion were killed and many others were imprisoned. The ruling family was all accounted for and slain as well as all of the advisers. All traces of the militia and guards were wiped clean.
The throne room was largely empty, as it was quite a mess compared to its former glory. Once rich tapestries hung from these fine walls were all tattered and torn. The marble floor was all covered with filth and blood. Bodies of some of the guards and servants that fled here were all pushed to one corner. Standing silently in the middle of the room as the light of the sun slowly peaked through the windows into the chamber was Lymafae.
This was easy. The people hadn't stood a chance and for that they were all wiped out. Their own self-confidence was their undoing and now they were dead. Dead...
The door to the throne room cracked open as mist came spilling into the place stretching across the floor like snake. Lymafae paid them no heed as they drifted by her legs. Turning to face the door, she stared at her master. The one that made her what she was as he floated through the door.
The skin that once hung from the bones were now all gone, leaving behind only a white skeleton frame covered by tattered remnants of cloth, the remaining exposed portion wrapped in loose white strips of cloth. The unnatural mist seemed to be emanating out of the thing openings in the wrap. Glowing eyes burned profusely in the empty sockets, a bit of magical flames danced between the fingertips.
His head looked up from the hood he wore over his skull as he examined the room. Floating toward the throne, he stroked his bone hands over the armrest of the chair as he chuckled silently. Finally, he sat down on the throne.
"Has everything been done?" the lich inquired as Lymafae kneeled down toward him.
"Yes," she said her veil hiding her disgust at him. "All have been taken care of as you ordered it."
"Good," the lich said as he pressed his hands together. His sockets flared with unholy energy as he smiled. "I have now achieved complete dominance of this region. Now we must consolidate our power as we move on toward the next part."
"The next part?" Lymafae inquired as the lich merely laughed.
"Yes, but first allow me to introduce you to two of your new allies," the lich said as he waved his hand.
Lymafae looked back as two tall figures walked into the throne room, wading through the mist till one was on both sides of her.
The one to her right was the taller, more than twice her height as he had a muscular build beneath his white skin. His eyebrows and cheekbone ridges were well defined, as were his pointed ears. Two horns curled out back from where his temples adding to the demonic look of a mouth full of sharp teeth.
The one to her left was only about two-thirds the height of the other, but still taller than her. His face was that of a bull with completely white eyes. The skin was a metallic black as he wore a toga and had hooves for feet. His nostrils flared on occasion, snorting out steam as his cold eyes scanned the room.
"Ogre. Ghuralli," the lich introduced as the two newcomers bowed to their master. "You will ensure my dominance over this land and those that surround it at all cost," the lich ordered.
"We live to serve," the three said as the lich chuckled.
"Now go forth and gather what I need," he ordered as the three stood and proceeded to leave. "For soon the world will trembled at the name of AnCev once more."
Mitch yawned as he got out of his cot; he hated to wake up so early in the morning. It was just his luck to be the one stuck on doing the early morning patrol. That usually meant he didn't get to eat until at least noontime. Though there was no use in complaining since all the patrols were chosen through drawing straws. He wondered if the others might be cheating.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he pulled on his gear as he made sure everything was strapped on right. Fixing his armor a bit to fit correctly, he grabbed his helmet and spear as he walked out of the barracks. The sun was up in the sky already as he placed the helmet on to start his patrol.
The town of Berths was located along the edge of Kalmaart, so there was a considerable guard force here assigned by Saillune. They probably wanted to ensure nothing bad spilled in from there without being alerted first. Besides that, this place proved to be a passing spot for many caravans leaving Kalmaart heading toward Saillune. So there was always considerable amount of traffic that tended to go through here. Little matter to Mitch as he made his way to the edge of the town.
But as he reached the edge, Mitch stopped. He spotted in the distance a figure, running frantically with arms outstretched. The figure was a man, clothes torn, armor broken, weapon discarded, stumbling toward him. Mitch gripped his spear as he waited.
The man came closer, before he stumbled and fell, struggled to rise, and fell again. He was close enough for Mitch to see the numerous wounds marring his body, a few arrows also jutting out of his shoulder and back. Mitch dropped his spear as he moved to the fallen man.
"Everything all right?" Mitch as he came upon the heaving wounded man.
"Kalmaart has fallen!" the man choked, madness glinting in his eyes. "Mobs! Fire burning everything! Evil Magic!" He gasped before he started to choke and cough up blood.
Trying to steady the shaking man, Mitch said, "You're not making any sense to me! What happened?"
The battered soldier shook his head sadly. "A Dark Wizard and his evil followers! They attacked several of the provinces. We were all routed before we could stop them. The Capital has probably already fallen. I must get to..." Weak from the blood loss and his journey, the man fainted.
Mitch quickly tore off scraps of his clothing to tend to some of the wounds, at least prevent further bleeding. Kalmaart had fallen in one night? It made no sense. What could have the power or the planning to achieve such a thing? Could they set their sights on Saillune next? Mitch shook his head. Impossible. This man must be delirious from his wounds; there was no way Kalmaart could have fallen. Better to get him to the commander and let him sort things out. Heaving the soldier onto his shoulder, he started to carry the guy back to the barracks. Just as he started, the man's eyes snapped open as he glared right into Mitch's.
"There is worse still, though," he stammered.
"Oh? What's worse?"
"The dead. The dead are walking."
A chill went down Mitch's spine as he continued to walk on.