Summoned!

To an RPG world

Oisin Muldowney

Chapter 1: The World of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms

I was lying on the couch, in front of the TV, which was displaying my maxed out Storm Wars warrior. Drowsy, I had to blink twice when a line of text began to flash before my eyes. Strangely, it seemed to float about half way between myself and the screen.

You have an invitation to join the World of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms. Do you accept?

Yes/No

Amazing. Some sort of new 3D advert?

Alert now, I sat up and I was surprised to see the text moving to keep its prominent position in the middle of my vision. That was strange. It was like I was wearing 3D glasses. And, for a second, I caught myself reaching up to my face to check whether I really was. How the hell did they manage that? It was annoying now, intrusive. Plus, I wasn't going to start a new game, no matter how smart the technology. Not after becoming the most indestructible warrior in Storm Wars. Two years and pretty much non-stop play during COVID lockdown had equipped me to be the most sought-after tank in the game. Only yesterday, I had been the main tank for a raid of three guilds, nearly two hundred players, against Warwrath, the mightiest dragon in the game.

After attempting to get rid of the message with a finger movement, I discovered I could focus on the 'no' button with my eyes, getting it to glow, before a blink sent it away.

Lying back on the couch, I felt tired. Of course, late hours playing Storm Wars made me tired. But it wasn't just that. It ran deeper. It was two years since my parents had died in a car crash and since then, I'd felt cut adrift from the world. There were friends whom I cared about and who cared for me. But since COVID restrictions, I hadn't seen them. Then too, my college course in Occupation Therapy had been moved online and I'd lost a lot of interest in that as a result. It was all biology now and the practical side of the course, with the opportunity to help people, was on hold. No, it wasn't lack of sleep. It was despair that made my energy levels low.

The popup came back.

You have an invitation to join the World of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms. Do you accept?

Yes/No

This time, more from curiosity to find out how this technology was working than any desire to try a new game I concentrated on the 'yes'.

A huge lurch seemed to shake the house, like an earthquake. It was unpleasant and something dark crossed my vision. A feeling of nausea swelled up in my throat, which I was just able to quash. And then I could see again.

I was in room with three other people: a silver-haired woman in fancy dress, like a medieval LARPer; a grey-bearded, slender man, dressed like a medieval noble; and a clean-shaven, stocky man in chainmail armour, scabbarded sword at his side. All three of them were staring at me with extraordinary intensity.

'Who are you?' asked the woman.

'Sean de Courcy.'

Astonishingly, there were smells; this wasn't a normal game: burning candles; incense; sweat; and that sharp tang you get when racing with electric cars. How did the game-makers achieve such realism? I looked around. It was a dim room, with a wooden floor, bare stone walls, with arrow slits in them. Like the inside of a castle tower. Across the floor was a complicated design, with unrecognisable, fanciful letters and candles distributed in an uneven way, like a constellation. And a slight haze of purple-tinged mist was everywhere.

The warrior took a step towards me, then hesitated. 'Sire? Are you well?'

Sire? Apart from that strange term, it was a good question. I felt disorientated but no longer sick. In fact, I was hungry. Looking down, I had a shock. My body was that of a very fat man. My fingers – I held them up – were stocky. My vast stomach blocked my view of my feet. There was a weight on my head. Reaching up, I felt a band of metal. A moment later I held it in my hands. A crown of gold with diamonds and rubies.

'Where am I?' My voice was different too. Deeper, somewhat older than my own.

The three people looked at each other and the concern on their faces shifted to becoming signs of excitement.

The woman smiled and stepped over to offer her hand, which I shook. Perhaps I was supposed to kiss the back of it as for a moment she looked surprised. Then she spoke with a gentle voice, 'welcome Sean, I am Carlena and you are in my tower, in the town of Carrick, in the kingdom of Greyland, in the world of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms. You have been summoned to replace a king who was leading us to disaster. Please forgive us if this is undesired on your part. We will make it worth your while.'

The bearded man fidgeted anxiously at my side. 'Now, sire. My name is Chancellor Parrin. If you would, please look up at the roof and raise your right arm, what do you see?'

The roof was a dull, near-black set of planks and I was about to say so when I reached up and a menu of tables filled with silver words cascaded down to hover about three feet away from me.

Greyland

EconomyMilitaryPeople

Currently building: granary level 2

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income: 54

Research: steel pickaxes

And a lot more that I didn't take in.

'What was that?' I blurted out in surprise. 'Those messages in the air?'

'Oh, how marvellous,' the elderly man – Chancellor Parrin – brought his hands together in front of his chest: half a prayer, half a clap. 'You can access the kingdom's menu. We had very much been afraid that you would not be able to do so. And that would have been catastrophic. But matters are so desperate, we had to take the risk that bringing you here, into the king's body, would not cut us off from the realm controls.'

'So this is a game? But it's so real.'

'A game? To you, perhaps, but this is our world.' The woman looked intently at me through startling indigo eyes, 'our lives are at stake.'

'Sire,' touching my arm, Chancellor Parrin gave me a grin that was probably supposed to be encouraging. It wasn't. 'If our spell located you correctly, you are the foremost warrior and strategist of your own world?'

I had been experiencing some anger at the thought that if this was true – and it certainly felt completely real – these people were effectively kidnappers. But at this I had to laugh. 'I'm a student of Occupational Therapy not… oh… wait. In Storm Wars, maybe I am. My warrior was maxed at level one hundred.'

For once, it was their turn to look puzzled.

'You can fight, sire?' The man in chainmail came closer, speaking with urgency. 'You can lead us to victory in war?'

'Sure. No problem.'

The relief in the room was palpable. Everyone was distinctly more relaxed and their smiles were genuine. Probably mine was too. Admittedly, I knew very little about military command, but I was good at RPGs and assuming this was an RPG, they'd gotten hold of the right guy.

'Then,' said the chancellor, 'let us go somewhere more comfortable and explain the dire crisis faced by our kingdom.'

***

By the time we reached a large room with a huge map spread out on a table in the centre of it, I'd learned the name of the soldier – Lord Arval – and reached several conclusions.

First, I absolutely hated this body. It was immensely fat and slow and made even walking up five steps a task that sapped my energy and made me breathless. It was also useless for fighting. Yes, probably this guy I was inhabiting was stronger than me and probably too, he had an ability to soak up blows, but he was so ponderous and lumbering that no opponent would have any trouble killing him. I wouldn't back myself against the kid I'd seen sweeping the halls. Plus, he reeked of stale body odour; his hair was greasy (I made the mistake of touching it); and he had sores and bites on his globular skin that I felt as incessant itches.

Second, this definitely was real. No game could get you to sweat and feel the signals of discomfort that this body was giving me. The ambient sounds alone, or the subtle scents, were too much for a game. Just possibly, I had somehow been hypnotised. But when Carlena had said that she had cast a spell to exchange my consciousness with the previous owner of this body, well, that had resonated with everything my senses were telling me.

Thirdly, these people really needed me and feck it, I was going to embrace the challenge. Not only because at heart I was a decent guy and always responded to a call for help, but also because I was up for this. Having the task of saving this kingdom from its enemies energised me; motivated me in a way I hadn't felt for months. I needed this just as much as they needed me.

'This is our kingdom, Greyland,' Lord Arval placed a finger on the lower left part of the map. 'Three days ago, having lost a battle against a united army of two of our neighbours just north east of Three Ways, we forfeited control of all this region,' he moved his finger, 'leaving us with just the capital and the territory around these mountains.'

I came to stand beside the soldier and studied the map for some time. It was detailed enough to give me a pretty good idea of the situation. We were easily the smallest kingdom of twenty-five in the bottom corner of a five-by-five grid. Worse, the region we had lost was farmland. The tiny patch around Carrick consisted only of hills, valleys and a mountain.

'Is the world a sphere?'

Lord Arval looked shocked; Carlena snorted with what might have been derision; and Chancellor Parrin raised his eyebrows in a pretty good expression of surprise.

When Carlena saw that I was serious, she shook her head. 'No. It's as you see here.'

There was a small section of sea around the entire world. I gestured to it. 'What happens if you sail off the edge?'

It was the Sorceress who answered, 'some say there are other realms beyond the mist. But no ship can survive the thundering torrents.'

'Well, at least we have one flank secure.'

'Indeed, sire.' Lord Arval gave me a nod. 'Although sea invasion is possible. There is enough sea room for an enemy fleet to avoid the current that draws you to the edge.'

I lifted my fleshy right arm and pointed up. Immediately the silver menus cascaded in front of my vision.

Greyland

EconomyMilitaryPeople

I didn't open any of the three sub-menus. Instead, I swept them away with a gesture and raised my left arm. A new menu appeared.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Str7

Dex4

Con8

Int16

Wis16

Cha3

Please choose a character archetype:

Fighter; Wizard; Healer; Scout

Interesting. Charisma 3 though. I waved it away. 'Can I improve my stats by exercise?'

'Sire?' Chancellor Parrin had wrinkles in his face that fell naturally into an expression of uncertainty.

'I've just called up my character sheet. My Strength is seven. Can I get it to eight by working out with weights?'

Lord Arval looked to Carlena, who shook her head. Not so much as to answer me but to say she didn't know.

'King Carlos kept his powers secret.' It was Chancellor Parrin who answered me. 'We know he had access to menus for himself and for the realm, but he never, ever spoke about them. He was… He feared…'

'He was a useless tyrant who bullied us all, knowing we couldn't replace him because he was the only one with the power to make decisions for the kingdom.' Carlena gave a bitter smile, 'but I found a way to get rid of him and still allow planning for our realm. I found you.'

'Can you see your own levels and stats?' While I was interested in learning about my predecessor, I didn't want to change the subject. My focus right now had to be on understanding whether this world was like RPGs I was familiar with. In particular, if I was stuck with those starting stats, I'd have to choose Wizard or Healer archetypes. If, however, I could get my Strength and Constitution to rise somehow, I'd opt for Fighter. I wanted to be a Fighter, but if I was stuck with this body and those stats, choosing Fighter would be a complete disaster.

'No, but I believe the king could. I know from my spells that I'm level seven Paladin,' said Lord Arval, 'but he never told me my stats and skills.'

Carlena nodded, 'King Carlos was a liar, but I know that when he said I was a level nine Sorceress, he was telling the truth. I get one new spell per level and I have nine spells.'

'And that I'm a level five Scout,' Chancellor Parrin gave a shrug. 'I certain I'm above that, however.'

'Interesting.' I tried pointing at Chancellor Parrin in the hope of calling up some information about him. Then simply concentrating, looking into his eyes. Nothing changed. 'Oh well. I need to conduct an experiment. Can you assign me a trainer to work on my Strength?'

'Now sire?' asked the chancellor, 'it's late.'

'In the morning then.' This body certainly felt tired. 'For now can I get a bath, fresh sheets on my bed and a clean set of clothes?'

This request caused Lord Arval to chuckle and soon Chancellor Parrin and Carlena were doing their best not to grin.

'What?'

'Whoever you are, Sean de Courcy, you are certainly not King Carlos.'

Chapter 2: Town Planning

Luxuriating in a – necessarily large – wooden bath, I got a good view of my enormous body. Well, at least as far as the vast stomach. From there, my lower half was completely out of view. Maybe Carlos felt at home like this and I wasn't judging him from the point of beauty or shame. My dismay at the body I was in was a practical one. As it was, I couldn't possibly help these people in battle. And I was so used to my own, fairly fit shape that for me, this was like being an imprisoning shell. I had an idea of who I was that was at odds with this person. It would take some serious work but I was determined to get in shape, not least for the sake of the battles to come. At least he was tall, taller than me, at about 6' 4" I'd guess. That was promising for the long term, if I could get the body into fighting condition.

While I didn't want to make any important decisions about my character sheet until I had tested if I could improve my stats, I took some time to properly study the kingdom menus.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: granary level 2

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income: 54 gold

Treasury: 17 gold

Daily food consumption: 13 units

Grain yield: 0 due in 17 days

Vegetable yield: 35 food units due in 21 days

Wool yield: 3 bales due in 34 days

Meat yield: 4 units daily

Timber yield: 17 planks daily

Iron yield: 2 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 6 blocks daily

Smithy yield: no production set

Weaving yield: 4 bolts daily

Research: steel pickaxes

Resources:

Wheat: 19 food units

Vegetables: 32 food units

Meat: 5 food units

Wool: 7 bails

Timber: 134 planks

Iron: 11 ingots

Stone: 33 blocks

Cloth: 0 bolts

All of these points of information could be opened for more detail, so I focused on the 'currently building' tab. There, I could see a graphic of a partly constructed wooden tower. The granary, presumably. In a timer that was counting down, there were two days and several hours left on a bar that was about half filled with green. I had other options, currently greyed out: farm buildings, level 2; hunting lodge, level 2; sawmill level 2; watermill; mine level 3; quarry level 2; smithy level 2; library level 2.

There was an obvious contradiction between the fact the kingdom was working on a new granary and there was no grain yield. Presumably, this was a legacy of losing the recent battle and the farmland. I should almost certainly swap the construction project to something else. Long term, it was often a good idea in strategy games to invest in research, which might be what the library was good for. But I had a real worry about the food situation. So without making any changes, and after shifting my hulky figure to swirl some warm water around, I looked at the Military sub-menu.

Military

Light infantry: 32

Heavy infantry: 12

Archers: 18

Light cavalry: 24

Heavy cavalry: 3

Ballista: 1

Military upkeep cost: 42 gold, 5 silver

Hospital: 17

Currently training: 2 heavy cavalry

Buildings: keep level 2; curtain walls level 1; towers level 1; town walls level 1

Currently building: tower machicolations, 3 days

I had no idea how big the armies in this world were, but with just a hundred troops the situation here was certainly dire. I suddenly had a dark thought. What if we were overrun? Slaughtered. What would happen to me? Would I get home? Respawn? Or just die, forever?

Although they were fundamentally important questions, there was nothing I could do to find answers to them, so I returned my focus to the menus. Each of these entries had options to drill down into more specific information, such as about the stats on the troops, but I just skimmed through them, wanting to understand the big picture items first.

People

Citizens: 485

Happiness: 14

Tax Level: High

Health: 89

Specialist roles

General: Lord Arval, Paladin Level 7

Royal Wizard: Carlena, Sorceress Level 9

Steward: Chancellor Parrin, Scout Level 9

Ambassador: Figus, Bard Level 3

Looking at the Citizens menu I saw a more detailed breakdown: Soldiers 110; Farmers 38; Builders 40; Shepherds 34; Hunters 48; Miners 84; Clothmakers 23; Bakers 23; Brewers 16; Carpenters 21; Stonemasons 14; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Idle 26. It was strange how few were the numbers here. Was this because I had found myself at an early stage of whatever game-like system this world was based on? Or was there some other explanation?

This was interesting. For a start, the king had been lying to Chancellor Parrin for some reason. Far from being a Level 5 Scout, the thin man was 9. Then I found I could open up their character sheets and I did so for Lord Arval.

Lord Arval: Paladin Level 7

HP 64

AC 18

XP 19,663 (28,800)

Str 17 (18), Dex 12, Con 15, Int 8, Wis 9, Cha 9.

Shield of Defence +1, Trueblade +2, Ring of Strength +1, Potion of Haste, Potion of Healing.

That looked impressive, though I hadn’t seen much to compare the Paladin’s stats with, other than my own weak scores. I had to close my eyes for a moment, ducking down to soak my hair, but the character sheet was still there when I came back up out of the water. Firstly, I noted that Lord Arval had an XP bar. He could level up. That was encouraging for me, because it suggested that stats might evolve too. Secondly: magic items. Everybody loves magic items, but again I was particularly excited to see they could be used to change stats, as in Lord Arval's Strength.

Time to check the others.

Carlena, Sorceress Level 9

HP 34

AC 5

XP 82,102 (100,000)

Str 5, Dex 11, Con 9, Int 17, Wis 7, Cha 8.

Broach of Protection from Magical Missiles; Wand of Channelling; Potion of Transformation.

Chancellor Parrin, Scout Level 9

HP 53

AC 12

XP 81,043 (100,000)

Str 9, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 14, Wis 6, Cha 9

Dagger +1; leather jerkin +1; Ring of Silent Movement.

Figus, Bard Level 3

HP 17

AC 14

XP 1,838 (3,000)

Str 13, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 9, Cha 15

Scroll of Charm.

Ambassador feats: Speak Language; Swift Travel

Pretty decent, or so it seemed. But everything was relative. What special roles did our opponents have? Maybe Chancellor Parrin would know.

By this time my bath was only lukewarm and so, with some difficulty, I stood up. Water dripping from me, I took a towel and when as dry as I could manage, a robe that a servant had brought me that looked clean enough. Outside the door of the bathroom was a young servant, who ducked his head when I left rather than make eye contact. After I was past him, he ran into the bathroom, to tidy up perhaps.

Lying in a comfortable four-poster bed, in clean sheets, I considered that I was blessed. Almost certainly, there were gods in this world. And if one of them had played a role in bringing me here, well, fair dues to him, her, or it. I sent a silent prayer of gratitude. This is what I needed. Not the trappings of being a king but the challenge. A kingdom under threat and an RPG system to wield to the best of my ability. I really wanted to get stuck into my own character sheet, but most of my decisions would have to wait until I had more information. And I was too tired to explore the menus much further.

There were two tasks, however, that shouldn't wait until morning. I called up Greyland/Economy/Currently Building. There I switched the granary out and from the other options, dragged in hunting lodge, level 2. We were losing about 7 food units a day, with reserves of just 56. Obviously, I needed to resolve that, before planning on building something more strategic.

The other assignment I wanted to make was for the Smithy, which was not producing anything. The sub-menu, however, was complex, full of possible items like horse shoes, swords, shields and arrow heads that all looked extremely useful. There were tools I could create too, including hoes, which I was tempted by, as these would surely help my food output. Or were they limited to use in the kind of fields we had recently lost?

Wondering why my predecessor had left such an important building idle, I had a thought and checked the research queue. There was only four hours left on the countdown for steel pickaxes. Maybe he had planned on completing that research and then getting the smith to work on producing them. If so, it wasn't a bad idea, all we really had going for us were the mountains around the town. If we could use sources of iron to build up tradeable reserves of iron and steel, that might be another way to solve the food crisis. So that decision could also wait until morning.

My head filling again with images of the town planning interface, I was asleep before I knew it.

Chapter 3: Getting Fit

Morning arrived with a lot of cries from cockerels and the scents of food cooking. It was probably very early, but I couldn't wait to get started. Rolling out of bed, I dressed myself in a long, loose tunic and a very fine cloak, it was a real struggle, though, sitting on the edge of the bed, to bring my foot up to a position where I could get a sandal on it. Should I wear my crown? For now, I just carried it in my hand.

On leaving my room, a guard outside looked at me in astonishment before composing his face into a neutral expression.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea of my way around this castle, yet it would be very strange if I were to ask the guard. So I just followed my nose and again, was met with looks of disbelief and alarm by servants and soldiers until I found my way down and around some wide stairs to a hall big enough for a feast, though all the tables were bare.

'Ah, sire, we weren't expecting you for many an hour yet. I'll hurry the cooks.' A female servant came over as I sat myself at the top table in what was obviously the king's large, padded chair.

'Just two poached eggs please and an apple and an orange.'

'We have apples, sire. Not the other.'

'Ahh right. Two apples then. And if you can press a few more to get juice out of them, I'll drink that.'

'Yes sire.' The servant, a middle-aged woman, had worry lines across her forehead. 'So no roast pork?' She gestured towards a door that I presumed led to the kitchen, judging by the concentration of cooking scents from that direction.

'No.'

'Err… forgive me, but just to avoid error, sire, no beef slices in horseradish sauce?'

'No.'

'Nor the chicken breast in garlic? The bread-and-butter pudding? The…'

I caught the servant's eye and with a gulp she stopped speaking.

'Nothing,' I said firmly, 'other than the eggs, apples and the juice.'

'Certainly sire,' the woman backed away with an anxious bow.

It would have been interesting to chat with someone and learn something about the world, but none of the guards and servants would dare look at me. The large dining hall was silent as though empty, even though I could count six guards and four servants.

Oh well. I raised my right arm and cascaded some menus. Good, steel pickaxes had been researched, my town now had the knowledge of how to produce them. So I opened up the smithy and planned for a build of 84 new pickaxes, one for every miner. That left my research queue empty and I crunched on one of the hastily delivered apples as I eyed my options, there were hundreds of possibilities, grouped into three core categories: economic, cultural and military. Currently, the food crisis was my biggest concern and my plan to solve it was via exporting ores. Assuming all my neighbours were hostile (and even if they weren't, I wouldn't want any of them to have extra iron supplies), I needed to get my ores further afield. And that meant… Navigation. A six-day research project.

After breakfast, with the help of a servant, I changed into tunic and trousers and good boots, then sent for my trainer.

Carradock Goblinbane was missing an arm at the elbow. I didn't ask; maybe the king knew his story already. On the short walk from the castle to the barracks training ground, I briefed him. I needed strength training as rapidly as possible. I didn't voice it aloud, but I knew that I just could not risk progressing my character until I understood the issue of stats better and, in particular, whether I could push them up through training.

'Strength it is, sire, and all-round fitness.' He looked at me longer than most people did. In fact, most people here didn't look me in the eyes at all. 'It will take a while. We must not rush. You're too big and too – excuse me – soft. You'll hurt yourself. For the first day, I just want to you walk around this ground fifty times.

'Fifty?' How hard could it be to walk fifty laps of a square whose sides were only about a hundred metres?

It was very hard. After one lap I was sweating. After the second my thighs began to ache and I found myself slowing down from my fast initial pace. After the third, I was panting and my huge body was complaining pretty much everywhere. On ten, Carradock handed me a tankard with cool water in it and I gulped it down. Then he offered me a sword hilt. It was a practice weapon, a rod of iron with no sharp edges. I reached out for it.

'Are you sure?' Carradock looked sceptical.

'Of course. I can do this.'

'No, I mean, your left hand.'

I had grasped the sword and raised it in my left hand. I tried it then with my right, shook my head, and shifted it back. 'This is better.'

Back on Earth, I was left-handed. Had the king been right-handed? Was this a sign to everyone I wasn't their old ruler?

'Carry it as often as you can. It will make your sword arm stronger.'

'Now?'

Carradock nodded, perhaps with a hint of a smile on his narrow, fox-like face.

Then off I went again, with a new source of pain slowly moving up from my left wrist, my arm and along my left shoulder. At twenty I took another breather. One side of the barracks square was a two-story, grey stone building. The other three were enclosed by a low, wooden fence. And at the fence were gathered a dozen people, looking in at me. On their faces were expressions of dislike but also astonishment.

All this walking had been good for my thinking. 'You,' I pointed to a woman with dressed in a tunic whose design matched that of the other castle servants. 'Get me the ambassador, Figus.'

'Yes, sire.' She curtsied, but I could tell from her body language she didn't like the duty.

'And the rest of you, get along with your business.'

No one spoke, but they all immediately hurried away.

It was another two laps before my ambassador came to the square around which I was walking. No doubt I was red-faced and quite a sight, but that didn't excuse the smirk on his face. Figus was quite the rock star. Unlike everyone else here, his hair was not a natural colour, rather it was bleached somehow and stood up in clusters of spikes. With a grace in his walk and a cynical smile in his bright blue eyes, I could see his Charisma of 15 was definitely in play. What was mine again, 3? I suddenly felt very conscious of my frown lines and a posture that was sagging at every point, including my face.

The ambassador drew up close, took in a breath and then bowed. 'Sire?'

This was a welcome excuse for a break, though I was aware that Carradock was watching and probably disapproved.

'We need to trade ore for food, what's the best way to go about it?'

Figus looked up with some surprise on his face. 'You are seeking my advice?'

'Uh huh,' I was still catching my breath or I'd have pointed out that he was our ambassador after all.

'Well, as you know, we are at war with Southway and Trolland, our nearest neghbours. So they are out. That also blocks the inland routes. By sea, we could trade with Cantreth, the Kingdom of Lost Souls and Rockguard…' he paused in thought. I paused in tiredness.

'Your majesty has no scruples dealing with a Necromancer?'

'Not at all, some of my best friends are Necromancers.' I was thinking of Storm Wars of course, but the look of consternation on the face of Figus made me feel like laughing.

To be fair to him, the ambassador recovered his poise quickly, 'in that case, I think the best deal we could make would be with the Kingdom of Lost Souls.'

'Right so, off you go and make that arrangement.'

'Now sire?'

I nodded.

He hesitated. 'How much ore and of what kind and quality will we be offering?'

I didn't have to call down the menu for the mines, we were currently producing 2 ingots of standard iron ore per day. Assuming that would rise with the new pickaxes… 'Fifteen standard iron ingots a week.'

Figus nodded and then with a temerity that was unusual in the people around me caught my eye. 'One more question, sire, if I may?'

'Yes?'

'We don't have a trading vessel, but we would get much better terms if this exchange happened in our ship.'

'I'll make that a priority.'

'Right so, I'll be off then.' There was a jauntiness to the man's step as he left me to my circuits. Had he deliberately just parodied my turn of phrase? If so, I rather admired him for it.

Chapter 4: The Enemy

After forty-two laps, I was beyond exhausted, my large body drenched in sweat, my left arm on fire. Every time a citizen came through they stopped in complete astonishment, sometimes gathering in groups to stare, until a frown sent them scurrying about their work. I lived for the nod of approval from Carradock each time I arrived back at the gate against which he leaned, often in conversation with other soldiers. Also, for the thought of a long, long warm bath.

A castle servant, the one from breakfast, was ahead of me, twisting her apron in her hands and looking everywhere but into my face.

'Wha'?' I wheezed out.

'Chef–' she flung her hand out in a gesture towards the keep, where a short man in what looked like a grey baker's outfit '–wants to know what to prepare for dinner.'

'Dear lord.' I came to a stop, worried my aching legs would not want to resume. 'It's not important. But keep it simple.' My predecessor had obviously enjoyed eating extensive meals with several courses. 'Just a couple of slices of roast meat and …' What would an athlete eat? Food with plenty of protein and vitamins. 'Wait. Grilled fish. Nuts. Fresh vegetables, like tomatoes and carrot, that don't need much, if any, cooking.'

I wasn't really hungry just now, my body was too stressed, but no doubt my appetite would revive later.

'Ahh…'

'What?'

'Chef won't be pleased.'

I stared at her. 'Hands up if you are king.' I put my own hand up. 'That puts me in charge.'

Once she had turned away, alarmed, I returned my focus back into my final few laps. Although it was distracting I when I turned a corner and was facing the keep: there I could see the chef remonstrating with the servant. He kept looking over at me, as though in appeal, but I wasn't having any of it and focused on moving one leg, then the next, and on keeping hold of that enormously heavy sword.

I wasn't allowed to settle into my rhythm again though, for with a clatter of metal-hooves on cobblestone, a small group of riders came into the barracks yard. Some were soldiers of mine but one was carrying a green pennant (deep green, with a golden wolf's head) and dressed in expensive-looking clothes.

'King Carlos?'

Either I looked dumb, having forgotten my name here, or else the new arrival was dismayed by my appearance.

'King Carlos?' he tried again.

'Yes?'

My impression that this was a man who was attentive to his looks was reinforced as he dismounted and made his bow. No one had a beard as neat his without some effort.

'Lord Oseso, ambassador to his majesty King Wace of Southway.'

'Pleased to meet you.' My politeness was automatic. I felt no warmth towards this man. Quite apart from the fact his rich, fur-lined cloak and black, oiled hair alienated me, this was the enemy.

A crowd was gathering as soldiers and civilians moved closer to hear the ambassador's words.

'Perhaps we can take some refreshment in private?' Lord Oseso suggested.

I shook my head. 'There's nothing you can say that I would hide from my people. Why are you here?'

'Are you sure?' There was a knowing sneer in his gaze, inviting some kind of complicity from me.

'Get on with it. I'm busy.'

Supressing a smile, the ambassador from Southland shrugged, as if to pass off any blame. 'King Wace, in his generosity, offers to make Greyland a dependency of Southway. You,' he gestured to everyone, 'are spared conquest. And you personally, sire, will be given a comfortable retirement, dining on the finest food of our realm in the company of delightful personal companionship, in return for implementing the decisions of his highness on your interface.'

A silence fell over the square and even the crows stilled their caws, as if to listen to my answer. I let my heart and breath settle.

'Firstly, we are not conquered yet. Secondly, we all know what it would mean for our kingdom to be run by an invader…' I raised my voice for all to hear. 'People dragged off to work wherever your ruler wanted; our soldiers used up in his battles to spare his own troops; our wealth drained into your coffers; starvation and ruin here.' I knew what I was talking about, it's what I intended to do to them.

Lord Oseso shook his head. 'Careful what you say next, this offer won't come again.'

'Good. If we see you again, you'll be executed as a spy. Greyland will never surrender and you can tell King Wace that unless he withdraws from our territory, it is he who will suffer conquest.'

'I'll tell him of your empty threat and he will laugh. And he will remind you of it when you are in chains at his feet.'

'That is disrespectful.' I was furious and at least a part my anger was drawn from the uncomfortable feeling, fear even, that he was going to be proven right. I walked over to him, using my height and bulk to lean down and snarl. 'Vincit qui patitur, he who endures conquers. And Greyland will endure.'

Perhaps he saw the determination in my eyes. Perhaps he understood how close I was to striking him with the sword in my left hand, which no longer felt heavy. In any case, the ambassador's head dropped and he stepped back, then turned away to find his horse and remount.

'Blindfold him and lead his horse. Don't let him look around as he leaves.'

'Yes sir.'

'Right, then everyone, back to work. We're going to have to work extremely hard, myself included, to endure and escape conquest.'

Muttering broke out among the people and it was hard to judge the tone. Certainly, it was not the cheering enthusiasm of a people rallying to their king. But among the soldiers especially there were several faces that looked brighter and more supportive than they had.

'Now, Carradock. I was on lap forty-four, was I not?'

'Forty-three sire.'

'Damn pedant.'

The last few laps were painful. It did help, however, that I could study the town menus and take my mind from the constant complaints of my body. That gave me one measure of the effect of my responses to the ambassador from Southway, which was that the score for Happiness under the people menu had risen from 14 to 16. At least it hadn't gone down, so on the whole, they seemed to approve of resistance rather than surrender.

It was the military menu that got me thinking again.

Military

Light infantry: 32

Heavy infantry: 12

Archers: 18

Light cavalry: 24

Heavy cavalry: 4

Ballista: 1

Hospital: 17

Military upkeep cost: 42 gold, 5 silver

Currently training: 1 heavy cavalry

Buildings: keep level 2; curtain walls level 1; towers level 1; town walls level 1

Currently building: tower machicolations, 3 days

Why was I training heavy cavalry? They were costly in terms of iron and tactically useless. We would be holding defensive positions for the foreseeable future and while I hoped the day would come when I rode at the head of a line of formidable heavy cavalry, that was a long way off. Although it meant losing whatever raw materials my predecessor had invested in the project, I cancelled the heavy cavalry from the training queue and instead added fifteen archers to it, at a cost of 10 iron ingots and 15 gold and 15 of the unassigned townspeople.

That left me 12 unassigned townspeople to think about. Before setting them to various tasks, I needed to know about building a trading vessel. When I tried to call up information about ships, I got a frustrating message.

Shipbuilding

Unknown.

Create a Shipwright to unlock this option.

'Hey, you!' I called out to a skinny youth, who was hanging around near the steps of the keep watching me with earnest eyes as though I was last man in for a cricket team that was over a hundred runs behind. And I couldn't tell if he wanted me to fail or succeed.

'Sire?'

'Get the Chief Carpenter for me.'

'Yes, sire.' The lad got up without any urgency and strolled down a shadow-filled street.

I was on lap forty-six when the carpenter arrived, he was a bald, confident looking man, with intelligent brown eyes.

'Walk with me,' I grunted.

'Sire.'

'Can you make us a trading ship?'

The question came as a surprise but he took it well, hardly faltering in his step. 'No sire.'

'What if I researched Shipbuilding One?'

The man looked at me, surprised, then down at the ground. 'As you know, sire, I only have access to a limited menu in order that I can view my tasks... I couldn't be sure about research, but Shipbuilding does sound like it will make the role of Shipbuilder available to you.'

'And I can then assign someone to it?'

'If it becomes an option sire.'

'Would you like to do it?'

'Me? It's up to you sire.'

'Yes,' I said, a little impatiently. 'I know that. But I'd rather people enjoyed their work than hated it.' This wasn't just coming from my innate sense of politeness, it was practical too. I wanted that town happiness score to rise and surely by assigning the right people to the right jobs, at least when it came to specialist roles, that was going to help?

We walked the entire length of the barracks square and turned back towards Carradock before the carpenter answered. 'I think I would like that sire.'

'Right so, find someone in your workshop who wants to be the Chief Carpenter and I'll make you Shipbuilder in…' I checked the research menu, dropped Navigation (there was no penalty, but I risked having to restart it again from the beginning), as it still had five days to go, and swapped to Shipbuilding 1, 'four days.'

'Thank you sire.'

'Now tell me this. I see a lot of people in the town. But not very many on the menus. Why is that?'

Again, the carpenter looked astonished. Then a little wary, as if I'd set a trap. 'People want to join the menu, sire, to serve the goddess... and you. But it's limited, isn't it? They can't get on unless you've been able to make room.'

That wasn't an answer that clarified very much, but I gave him a grunt to signal he could go back to work. It was as much as I could manage. As for the twelve unassigned people in the town, I decided to leave them for now. Soon I'd want shipbuilders and sailors.

Forty-seven.

Forty-eight.

Forty-nine.

Fifty.

'That's me done for the day.' I spoke to Carradock with as much nonchalance as I could muster. As if I could do another fifty, although every muscle was groaning.

'Well done Sire.'

That acknowledgement lifted me all the way back to the keep.

Chapter 5: Fine Dining

A long bath helped, but afterwards, as I made my way down to dinner, every step was a painful one. My muscles were already stiffening. It would be even worse in the morning. Still, I was determined. And that encounter with the ambassador of Southway just made me even more so.

A long, polished wooden table had been laid out with what looked like a banquet to me, despite my instructions. Silver candelabra held our source of light, light which glittered off a wide array of polished trays and bowls. There were grapes; cherries, apples and peaches stacked high; there were at least four kinds of fish, filleted and laid out with herbs and lemon on trays decorated with fishing net designs; bowls of peas, green beans, tomatoes and carrots were full to the brim, at least four different kinds of bread had been prepared, with slices and rolls displayed on yet more silver trays; while goblets of cut glass sparkled, ready to receive wine from a choice of six decanters.

The table was laid for four people but the placings were spaced so far apart that it was like a socially distanced event during the COVID pandemic back home. Much to the consternation of a servant who was standing by the wall and hurriedly came over to help, I started re-arranging the plates and cutlery, bringing all the places up to the top end.

No sooner than I'd taken my own seat, than Lord Arval, my Paladin General came in with a brisk march. Even for dinner, it seemed, he wore his chainmail and carried his sword. With a gesture that was nearly a smile, he took the seat to my right after I pointed to it.

'I heard about your training today sire. It gave encouragement to the troops.'

'There's a long way to go.' I glanced at my fleshy arms, so different to my previous body.

'I also heard that you scorned the ambassador of Southway.'

'Oh did you? What did your sources say, exactly?'

'That you were offered wine and women for the rest of your life if you'd do the bidding of their king and you refused, telling him that it was him who would be grovelling in chains before you.'

'Did I though?' I laughed. 'The story has grown. Good. They have the spirit right at least. That guy was so smug, I wanted to punch him in the face.'

We were interrupted by the arrival of Chancellor Parrin and the Sorceress Carlena. Although they were not arm in arm, there was something about them that suggested to me they might be a couple. They were the right ages – she with silver hair and he with the grey and sliver of his beard – and they moved towards me with an ease in each other's company.

'Another innovation I see,' said the Chancellor with a glance at the place settings and then at the servants. I got the message: careful, go easy on the changes.

I repeated my story of meeting the ambassador of Southway, to the approval of Parrin and Carlena but they were surprisingly taciturn. Only when we had eaten did Carlena lean towards me, so that I caught the full intensity of her stunning purple eyes, and whisper, 'send the servants away please, so we can talk properly.'

I nodded. And after the next time my glass was refilled, I slapped the table with my heavy palm (it was effective for that at least). 'Out! Servants out and don't disturb us until you are called for.' I spoke with unnecessary volume as they jumped to respond.

'Spoken like the old Carlos,' said Parrin with a smile when we had the room to ourselves.

The two of them then began an interrogation that would have never have been allowed by the previous king. What was I researching? What was I building? How would we cope with the loss of our grain-generating lands? What other information was in the menus? On the whole they were cautiously positive about my decisions and plans. At least, they didn't propose I make any changes to it. I was warned that my popularity, already very low, would drop further if we did start trading iron to the Necromancer king, but they could see the necessity of this.

By the end of their questions, I was totally clear about one thing. Carlena, Parrin and (to a lesser extent) Lord Arval saw me as their instrument. I was accountable to them and had to take their instruction. In business terms, this was a board meeting and I was the CEO, not a king with absolute power. This didn't upset me. I could totally see their point of view: the kingdom was on the ropes and everything they owned, including their lives, was in jeopardy. They couldn't afford any mistakes from me. Also, while I quite enjoyed the authority of being king and the way all the people were quick to obey me, I didn't like the barrier that the role created. At least here, with these three, I could be myself.

'I have a question about the menus,' I looked from one to the other. 'How is it there are so few people on them compared to the size of Carrick?'

It was Carlena who answered. 'I believe the numbers allowed on the menu are capped in some way by the overall happiness of the realm. Most of our citizens would join the menus if allowed, wanting Miya to triumph and not wishing to be conquered. You should try to facilitate them.'

That made sense and exploring how to raise happiness was yet another goal for me to add to the 'to do' list.

'How goes your personal progress?' asked Parrin.

'I don't know yet.' I patted the rolls of stomach fat that were resting on the table top. 'I've made a start on shedding these. But I haven't seen any change to my character sheet yet.'

Carlena frowned. 'What level Fighter are you?'

'I'm not even a Fighter yet,' I confessed. 'In fact I was thinking my character sheet means I should be a Sorcerer or Cleric.'

All three of them turned pale faces towards me, eyes glistening in the candlelight.

'Oh no,' said Carlena. 'Not a Sorcerer. You won't have any spells. To obtain spells you have to build a scriptorium of the spell level and then research them, getting a random result. It would take you forever. And it's not what we need on the battlefield.

‘As for Cleric. Do you have a connection with Miya? Can you pray to her for your spells?’

‘I don’t know.’

'I believe King Wace is level twelve,' muttered the Chancellor pointedly. 'And Queen Rorgesta of Trolland is eleven at least.'

I caught the Scout's eyes and said, 'I'll start levelling up soon. But with my current stats, I'd be a hopeless Warrior of any sort. I have to find out can I improve my Strength before starting my personal progression as a Fighter. Really, I should be a caster: a Mage or Cleric. And I also need to know how to level. Do I fight monsters? Complete quests?'

'I suppose if you don’t have a high Strength of Constitution, you are right to wait,' Lord Arval spoke after a short interval, ‘rather than be hopeless on the battlefield. But every day that you are not progressing is a day more for our rivals to get ahead. You could easily reach level two or even three by performing task quests in the town itself.'

'And we can bring you to areas nearby where there are monsters you can fight and kill for experience,' offered Lord Parrin.

That sounded promising and exactly like the RPGs I was used to.

I took a deep breath. 'I will progress soon then. For now though, my body is a mass of aches and pain. I can barely lift this fork with my left hand, my shoulder is so sore. There's nothing more I could have done today to advance this body towards where it should be.'

'True.' Lord Arval nodded. 'Don't push so hard you damage yourself.'

'We need time. Time to fix the kingdom's economy and time for me to level up.'

'Indeed. And in that light, provoking the king of Southway might not have been wise.' Carlena spoke tentatively, as if exploring the idea.

'Sean was right to refute him so publicly and so firmly,' Lord Arval came in, 'the message to the soldiers and people was clear. We will endure.'

Chancellor Parrin nodded. 'I think so too. But still, there is a real danger of the two armies continuing their advance together and overcoming our defences.'

'Speaking of which, I'd like to see them. We have a fort at the head of the valley that leads here, right? I might be able to upgrade it.'

'You can't get there, it is thirty miles away and no horse can carry you.' It was Arval who made this depressing, if practical, point.

'I can show you on the map at least,' offering Parrin, 'and you should be able to find a menu for it. It's called Three-Ways Fort.'

'I'll check later. And if it's all right with you, I'll move any remaining troops from here down to it, including the new archers.'

Everyone greeted my proposal with approval.

I had been thinking about Carlena's point about unnecessarily provoking King Wace. 'Could we maybe divide them? By talking with Queen Rorg… whatever … the Trolland queen. By suggesting that we might be willing to be a protectorate under her?'

'Perhaps,' the Chancellor nodded. 'It would be a mission for Figus.'

'When he gets back,' I said.

'When he gets back,' Parrin repeated.

'In the meantime, I think you need to go down to the lowlands and monitor the enemy's movements, to give us notice if they are advancing.'

'Me?' Parrin looked surprised. 'We have scouts, of course.'

'Yes, but they are all level zero, right? Whereas you are level nine.'

'It's been a while since I dusted off my Scout skills, but you know what, I'll do it!' Parrin rubbed his beard around his mouth, where a smile was forming. 'I'll set out in the morning.'

'Just don't take any risks.'

When our strategizing was at an end, Lord Arval called the servants back in and we resumed a more formal tone, until I was ready for my bed. Well, not quite ready.

'Can the king ask for a massage?' I leaned in towards the General.

'Of course. I'll send someone.'

'Good, I'll go on up to my bed.'

It was an effort, I was almost tempted to ask for help and a push, but my groaning legs carried me up two flights of stairs until I collapsed on the bed. Not long after I did so, a heavy knock came on the door and after I called for the person to come in. It was the masseur I was expecting. Well, not quite. A tall, muscular man in a soldier's tunic came in.

'Massage sire?' he asked gruffly.

'Please.'

'Saw you walking today sire. You'll want the legs looked at.'

'Left shoulder too, from carrying that sword.'

He nodded. 'Too right. You know they make the dummy out of lead, deliberate like? So when you pick up your first real blade, it feels light.'

I didn't reply and soon I felt his hands on the backs of my thighs, through my clothes. I wasn't going to remove them, even if that limited his access.

Before long, I was getting some serious work done, loosening my cramped and tight muscles and while it was borderline painful, it was effective. What with the wine and the exercise, I'd sleep well. There was one thought still nagging me though, arising from the questions that the Sorceress and the chancellor had raised with me. Oh yes. The hunting lodge, level 2 had been due for completion earlier this evening.

I paused the massage long enough to call down the town menu, then got back into position while I studied it.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building:

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income: 54 gold

Treasury: 2 gold

Daily food consumption: 13 units

Grain yield: 0 due in 17 days

Vegetable yield: 35 food units due in 20 days

Wool yield: 3 bales due in 33 days

Meat yield: 5 units daily

Timber yield: 17 planks daily

Iron yield: 2 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 6 blocks daily

Smithy yield: steel pickaxes on hold. Awaiting iron.

Weaving yield: 4 bolts daily

Research: Shipbuilding One

Resources:

Wheat: 14 food units

Vegetables: 25 food units

Meat: 8 food units

Wool: 7 bales

Timber: 150 planks

Iron: 0 ingots

Stone: 39 blocks

Cloth: 4 bolts

The meat yield had gone up by one. I had hoped for two but I couldn't argue with a 25% increase. That still left us losing about 6 food units a day, with reserves of 47. I winced, and not from the pain of the knuckles digging into my shoulder. I had to set a new town building project and the attractive options were hunting lodge level 3 or mine level 3. Both would take two days to upgrade.

In trying to figure out which of the two would work best for solving the food crisis, I realised that something was wrong. The smithy should have made me eighty-four steel pickaxes. If they significantly improved iron output, I would build the next level of hunting lodge. Yet the smithy was on hold.

The problem was iron. I had made a mistake. I blushed at the thought of talking about this with the others. If I had waited to create the new archers, I would have had plenty of iron for the pickaxes. Scrolling deeper into the menus, I could see that the Smithy had built a stock of 12 pickaxes before I had assigned the remaining iron to training the archers. Then it had come to a halt.

Oh well; I allocated the twelve new pickaxes to the miners and given that at least two iron would come in tomorrow, the Smithy would be able to make 24 steel pickaxes, which would surely improve the daily output of iron? Three days would see me with a mining workforce fully equipped with the new pickaxes. Three days though. When I should have been using those days in building up a surplus ready to trade for food if Figus came back from the Necromancer with a decent deal.

This was discouraging, but more positive was the discovery that the hunting lodge level 2 had the capacity for four more workers. That was a must. I assigned the new hunters from the reserves of workers (now only 8 strong) and went for the hunting lodge level 3 as the next build. While iron was vital, food was even more so and there was no guaranteeing that my ambassador would even return, let alone with a trade agreement.

Chapter 6: Personal Progress

My first thought on waking, was that I was happy. Not so much because I was living the life of a king (although I wasn't complaining about that), but because I had a reason for living: a mission. It was such a different feeling, having a purpose in life, to waiting around for the COVID restrictions to end. While Greyland was starting in a very difficult situation, I believed I could turn it around.

For a start, I had to ramp up iron production and correct my earlier mistake. As my first action, I assigned the realm's three iron ingots to the Smithy for more steel pickaxes.

Crucial to my success in this world would be my personal character progression. With some anxiety I called up my character sheet to see if I'd managed to improve it by my efforts of the previous day.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Str7

Dex4

Con8

Int16

Wis16

Cha4

Please choose a character archetype:

Fighter; Wizard; Healer; Scout

Of course, neither my Strength of Constitution had shifted. I sighed to myself. How many more days of exercise would it take to test whether those stats would rise? Should I give it a week and then give in and choose a Wizard or Healer path? The people who had summoned me here wanted a battlefield leader and my own desire led me to want to be a martial class of some sort. But it would be idiotic to aim for that if I was stuck with these stats.

Then I noticed the final attribute, Charisma. It had gone from 3 to 4. Yes! Yes! And again Yes!

Stats could be worked on. A glow of pleasure rushed through me. Okay, so it wasn't a Fighter stat that had moved, but really, after one day, even if I had focused on Strength, I could hardly have expected to see progress. I had a hunch that the reason I'd seen Charisma move was that it was a lot easier to raise a 3 to a 4 than a 7 to an 8.

Following that last thought, I had to admit to myself that it might take months to move Strength to something useful in battle, but even so I decided to take the risk and commit to Fighter. From the urgency with which the others had stressed the progress of my rivals, it was time to get going. Since a Wizard archetype was ruled out by the difficulty of obtaining spells and since my summoners wanted me to be a Fighter, made that choice in the hope I could get my physical stats to rise. In any case, I missed being the most bad-ass warrior in Storm Wars and couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to be on top of the game be like in a world where it really mattered? Still, it was pointless, counterproductive even, to daydream. There was a mountain to climb. And I hadn't even taken one step yet towards the summit.

I selected Fighter and got a message:

Welcome Sean de Courcy, to the path of the Fighter. You have chosen to stand toe to toe with your foes, dealing blows to them and evading their own attempts to harm you. It is a path for the brave and for the resolute. If you are fortunate and progress, in due course you will unlock specialisations within the Fighter class.

You will also unlock new skills by discovering them through action. For now, you have 10 skill points to assign among the following:

Bash: action, shield users only, additional attack with shield

Block: passive, shield users only, wards melee attacks if successful

Deflect: passive, shield users only, wards missile attacks if successful

Defensive Stance: passive, reduces damage of hits received if successful

Dodge: passive, avoid an opponent’s attack

Grapple: action, unarmed attack that restricts opponent if successful

Lunge: action, pointed weapons only, additional attack at up to +1m range

Parry: passive, intercept your opponent’s attack with your main hand weapon

Quick draw: action, produce hidden or sheathed weapon

Quite a lot to think about there. And I had to make my choice right away, as the screen couldn't be flicked away in the usual fashion. Generally, I preferred a min-max approach to RPG gaming. It was usually better to be really good at one skill and adapt your strategy to that skill than to have no particular specialism and be somewhat competent at everything. Ideally, I would have had a taste of fighting before make my choice, so as to get a feel for what would be the best skill to invest in. Here, though, there was going to be a lot of guesswork.

On the assumption I'd have the support of the high level people who had summoned me, I decided I should focus on attack rather than defence. Back in Storm Wars defence was crucial but here, at the low levels at least, I felt it best to try to rack up experience fast through killing mobs. Lunge appealed most, surely an extra attack and a bit more range on an attack was going to prove useful? When I tried to put my ten points into the skill, however, I got a message.

Skills are capped at Level x 5

Adding 5 points to Lunge worked. So for my other choice? Was I going to use a shield? Probably but not necessarily. I didn't know what weapons were going to be available to me here. Parry then. While Quick draw had its appeal, it was very situational. Whereas pretty much every fight I was in would involve the opportunity to parry.

My character sheet now had my class and skills, also, an EXP bar, showing that I needed 100 to get to Level 2 and HP. I had hit points! Not many though. And an armour class that at 0 probably reflected the fact that I had no armour on at all. Even if I did, that poor Dexterity score probably carried a penalty.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Fighter, Level 1         HP 8          AC 0

Str7

Dex4

Con8

Int16

Wis16

Cha4

Top Skills

Lunge 5

Parry 5

Exp 5/100

With the help of the PCs in Greyland, I should be able to level up fast.

If it wasn't for my heavy body, I'd have leapt out of bed with a spring in my step and an eager desire to get going. As it was, I had to lever myself up and then struggle with every single garment before managing to get dressed. It didn't help that I ached all over from yesterday's marching around the barracks square. At last, I was presentable and down I went to breakfast.

Today, the castle servants were ready for me and along with a glass of apple juice was a bowl with more apples and a plate with two poached eggs. I felt desperately hungry and was tempted, when a new servant tentatively approached, to ask for more. But I had to get down to a size where armour could fit me and a horse could carry me. So I had to diet. End of. Back home, I had sometimes tried to cut out unhealthy snacks, and managed for a while, before invariably returning to them and sometimes bingeing while hooked up to Storm Wars. Here, I felt differently. Here, getting the king's body into shape was just as important as levelling up and sorting out Greyland's food supply. There was no 'Will I? Won't I?' discussion to be had with myself. It had to be done.

After breakfast, I left the keep and walked slowly in the direction of the barracks. The citizens of the town hurried away from me or redoubled their efforts if they were working. For the first time, I noticed that stored away in the shadowy corner of a large cobbled square was a gibbet and a chopping block. Had my predecessor really executed people by hanging and beheadings? It was not a question I could ask anyone except one of the three who had been there at the summoning.

The soldiers were already drilling when I got to the barracks and I was pleased to see archers firing at straw scarecrows. Thirteen, fourteen… fifteen. Those were my new recruits. It might have been a dumb move using up all my iron before the steel pickaxes were completed but I was glad to see the archers all the same.

Carradock was there, marching some foot soldiers back and forth. He passed the duty to one of the men and came over at a brisk walk on seeing me.

'How are you today sire? Able to continue?'

'Stiff, but yes.'

'I suggest another march then. Sixty circuits.'

'Right so. Before I set off, I've a question you might know the answer to.'

He looked at me expectantly.

'I just learned the Lunge skill. Do you know how I utilise it?'

Surprise, then caution crossed the trainer's face. 'Not I sire. Skills like what you're talking about are special gifts from the gods. You need to talk to someone like Lord Arval.'

'Good idea. Send someone to fetch him will you.' As was my nature, I almost added 'please', but no doubt that would be taking my change in character too far.

On lap six, Lord Arval fell in step. 'Sire?'

'Two questions.' I already felt the need to be economical with my breath. 'Active skills like Lunge, how do I use them? And what's the quickest way for me to level up? Got some giant bats I can kill?'

'Skills? You'll see them as selectable icons when the right conditions are met. I mean when timers are ready; or the right weapon is in hand; or you've moved yourself into the right position. Skills are very experiential. You get to discover them and advance them mostly by practice.'

I nodded, hands swinging like pendulum weights as I strode determinedly around the square.

Lord Arval kept pace effortlessly. 'For levelling up, I think quests. Without access to the menus I can't be exact, but I felt that just by performing chores for the townspeople I became significantly stronger. Perhaps reaching level three or four.' He gave me a sharp look. 'It helps with your reputation with them too.'

'Good. I'll be done here by midday, come with me this afternoon and show me these quests.'

First checking no one was close enough to overhear us, Lord Arval leaned closer and dropped his voice. 'I'd never disagree with a command of yours, but I was intending to take the new archers down to Three-Ways Fort and check on our defences. I could ask Carlena to show you the easiest town quests?'

I caught his – grey – eyes and gave the slightest of nods.

'Very good sire,' Lord Arval spoke loudly and deferentially. 'As you ask, so it will be.'

The laps today were a little easier and even a soft rain didn't deter me. Walking was good for studying the menus too and I drilled down into the kingdom's various options, reading up on descriptions of buildings and balancing their various benefits against the immediate need to solve our food problem and be able to resist an attack if Southway and Trolland continued their alliance.

After I finally completed my sixty laps, I took a salute from Carradock and went back to the keep for a bath and change of clothes. Then I sat in the very large throne in the large hall on the second floor, the solar they called it. Outside, beyond the lead crosses that contained the window glass, the day was still grey. I could have rested there, alone, for some time, but Carlena arrived and waving away the servants who had brought her to me, came over.

'You wanted me to help with quests?'

'Yes please. I've started as a Fighter but, honestly, I'm not in the shape to hit things yet. So quests are perfect. And Lord Arval said they would level me fast.'

'Yes, they will. At least, they got me to my third spell. After that, you'll need to battle monsters. Also, your combat skills won't increase unless you do.'

'Right so, let's go and do some quests.' It was painful, moving again after being seated for a while. But pain meant gain, right? And I had the incentive of levelling up to encourage me.

'It's been a while since I did these…' She looked thoughtful, long, silver hair tied back so I could see her severe face clearly. 'And try to be more like King Carlos. Everyone is talking about you. About how you've changed.'

'He was a thug, right?'

'More of a sly creature, like a fox. Watching and waiting … then punishing. Never trusting anyone. You didn't know where you were with him. Not even me, who – forgive the lack of modesty – is the most important person in the kingdom. There was a time when I thought he was going to hang me for treason. Even though that would mean no Sorcerer for our battles.'

Having reached the large, double doors Carlena went silent and waited for me to lead her out. From just behind my right shoulder, she muttered directions as we walked down narrow cobbled streets until we came to a bakery.

'In there is a female baker who needs a large rat killed.'

I barged in, under the swinging sign of a loaf of bread. My bulky body made a small room feel even smaller: counter with several loaves; bare planks for floors; whitewashed walls; back room with an aroma of newly baked bread that made my mouth water.

A boy, about ten years old, was sweeping dust. His mouth dropped open. A thin woman behind the counter looked at me with pure horror, then said quietly, 'Miya bless me!'

'I believe you have a problem with a rat?'

No one moved or spoke, until the boy dropped his brush and ran. Then the woman did the same.

'Guards!' yelled Carlena. When two soldiers came running, she instructed them to bring the baker back.

Feeling impatient, I tried to strum my thick fingers on the wooden counter top, but couldn't, they just thumped down in a group. My crappy Dexterity? Or simply lack of practice with this body?

At last the guards returned, holding the woman between them. She was clearly terrified and I would have said something comforting, except that Carlena wanted me to stay in character.

'You have a task?' I asked.

'But…' she was looking at the floor. 'But… you've already done it.'

I shot a glance of alarm at Carlena who remained perfectly impassive. No doubt for the benefit of the guards.

'Give it to me again.'

'I can't sire, I really can't. Please don't kill me, I have three children.'

'Just try. Just say the words. I'm sure it will work. Go ahead!'

But she couldn't. Her mouth opened and closed without a sound coming out. Tears ran down her face.

Exasperated and not wanting to cause the baker to suffer any further, I strode back outside, took a second to orientate myself, and set off back toward the keep. Levelling up was going to require a rethink.

Chapter 7: Power Levelled by a Sorceress

'What now?' Carlena had caught up with me at the solar of the keep, where I sat glumly on the throne. Once again, she had ushered all the servants out before speaking to me. Her face, usually pale and thoughtful, was flushed.

'Can you find other quests for me?'

The Sorceress shook her head, silver hair swinging to emphasise the negative response. 'I no longer think questing is wise. I… we can't risk further aggravating the people. Already, they hate you. If they also thought you were not the legitimate king, that would be extremely dangerous. It seems that Carlos did all the introductory quests. If you were able to repeat them, well, the people aren't stupid.' After a moment she sighed. 'We are going to have to risk battle.'

'Risk?'

'You could die.'

Neither of us spoke. For my part, I was thinking back to my gaming experience. Obviously, when it wasn't real, I'd taken risks and died many times as a result. No biggie. Here, it seemed, the PCs didn't respawn. First of all I confirmed that. 'No one returns after death?'

'As a vampire?'

'No, as themselves, just back at a spawn point like this keep, but without their gear.'

With a somewhat feline look of contempt, Carlena said, 'what a strange world you have come from. No, of course not.'

I didn't bother to correct her. 'Can you change my shape, so that I can fit in armour?'

'I don't have the Polymorph spell; there's my Potion of Transformation which would last for eight minutes.' There was a reluctance in her answer.

'Could I turn into a dragon with that?'

'A creature approximating your current size, sire. But we should save that for emergencies, such as a critical battle.'

'True.'

Her comment about the potion reminded me of the other magic items that were in possession of the PCs of the kingdom. I checked under the town menu, people sub-menu and looked at the items again. Lord Arval had Shield of Defence +1; Trueblade +2; and Ring of Strength +1 which could all be of use. His Potion of Haste sounded good too, but that clearly had to be saved for war. Chancellor Parrin owned a Dagger +1; leather jerkin +1; Ring of Silent Movement. Nice too. Unfortunately, both were away just now or I would have borrowed those items.

'Sire?'

I blinked away the menus. 'Yes?'

I suggest we obtain the services of the Cleric at the Church of Miya, for healing, and then the three of us go towards Mount Djace. There are monsters and dangerous wild animals for you to fight there, not too far from the city walls.'

'Not too likely to kill me?'

There was no trace of a smile on Carlena's face. 'I don't think so. I have Freeze as one of my spells and if necessary, will destroy any challenge too hard for you with Fire Darts.'

'Right so.' I felt more cheerful. If Carlena and the Cleric could power level me for the rest of this afternoon, then with the borrowed magic items I could hope to steam along later in the week.

We parted ways: me to the armoury in the keep; her to change to her travelling clothes, as she put it.

There were no pieces of armour that could fit me. And in any case, I needed to travel light. This body wouldn't go more than a couple of miles without being exhausted. I selected a simple rapier, mainly for its sharp point, and a light wooden shield. Then, at the last moment I had an inspiration. If Carlena could freeze mobs, I needed missile weapons. So I took a bow and a quiver of arrows.

Carlena equipped for action was quite a different woman to the one I'd seen around the town. Gone was the long hair for a start, it was gathered at the back of her head and tied up very tightly, with a blue headband to keep stray hairs from her eyes. Instead of the robes that had earlier swayed around her with a certain aristocratic grace, she now wore high leather boots, leggings and a sand-coloured waistcoat over a dark brown blouse. Two bandoliers of small purses criss-crossed her chest and back, while another belt at her waist also had several pouches. In addition had a backpack that seemed half full.

After looking me over, the Sorceress simply nodded. 'Sire, you need water.'

Already feeling encumbered – not in the sense of any game penalty, just with the clutter of my gear – I felt even more so when we finally left the keep, having ordered servants to bring me an empty backpack and a large skin of water.

There was no need for Carlena to discreetly guide me to the church, a tall wooden spire acted as my route marker. As we walked, I checked the timers on all my projects, so that I could react promptly as soon as they were complete. Figus was out on a trade negotiation, time to complete unknown. Chancellor Parrin, similarly, was scouting with an unknown completion time. There were four hours to go until the smithy used up the iron I'd assigned this morning, at which point I would have twenty-four more steel pickaxes for the miners. Three days and six hours remained on my Shipbuilding 1 research countdown; exactly one day on the hunting lodge 3; and, from the military menu, just over two days for tower machicolations. As far as planning the kingdom went, I just had to allocate the new pickaxes when they were ready and I was good until the morning, when I would have at least 3 – hopefully 4 – iron ingots to assign.

Although the spire of the church stood out above the low roofs of the shops and houses of the town, the building itself was a simple wooden hexagon shape. It was more roof than room. Each of the six sides had a window that was simply a circular hole in the wall. Since we were experiencing a mild, if dull, day (late summer perhaps?) it wasn't uncomfortable, but surely winter assemblies here would be cold? The décor consisted of carvings in the wooden walls, some of them quite impressive interlacing. If there was a message, it was probably about fertility, given all the flowers and plants that were depicted.

Looking through the town menu and buildings submenu, I found the church.

Church level 1

Priest: Cleric level 1

Benefits: heals one person per day of minor wounds (cannot cure diseases, heal victims of poison or remove magical curses). Increases town Happiness by 1.

Well, that was interesting. It made me ambitious to have a high level church building, one that could heal a full range of injuries and improve the town's Happiness considerably. But then, probably every building had its uses. I needed to read up on them all.

The Cleric was a female, her dress a simple tunic, but with a wreath of vine holding back her hair from a plain and nervous-looking face.

'Sire?'

'Come with us. I need you to assist while I fight.'

'Get your armour,' added Carlena.

I took a seat. The bench was too narrow for my body, but at least it faced directly into the wide space in the centre of the church and I could stretch my legs out and keep my balance. While we waited for the Cleric to put her fighting gear on, I asked Carlena about how magic worked. The short version was that spell casters had a mana bar that depleted according to the level of the spell they cast. It sounded familiar enough, although as she talked I got the impression that mana came back so slowly that she rarely cast more than four spells a day, which was stricter than most games I was used to.

With every level up, Carlena gained the capacity to cast a new spell and a new spell for her spell book. You assigned a spell from the book to a place on what was effectively a UI (she said a set of runes appeared at the edge of her vision) and in theory, you had to make a choice each morning as to which spells to acquire for your UI. In Carlena's case there was no choice because she had only nine spells for her nine slots.

'It is possible for you to research many more spells for me. Also for me to find scrolls and other spell books from expeditions and quests. Carlos never told me he could do it; he didn't trust me enough. But for you, it should be a priority.'

'Let me see if spells are in the town research menu.' There was indeed a sub-menu for spells: it seemed that you researched a spell by level and class and got a random result. This menu, however, was all greyed out and would only be available when Carrick had a scriptorium. I told her so.

'What are you building now?' she asked.

'Hunting lodge three. Which is only a two-day build, whereas a scriptorium level one would take three days. What's the logic here, do you know? What makes some buildings longer than others?'

Although it was obvious that Carlena didn't have a ready answer, she seemed reluctant to admit it and after a moment said, 'materials, importance, lots of factors. A scriptorium, even level one, could lift us into the first rank of kingdoms. Magic is key to winning battles. If you discovered Fireball for me, for example, that would make all the difference.'

'I don't know. If the people are starving, that's us defeated before we even get to battle. I have to solve that first.'

'We. We have to solve this. You are not really king, Sean de Courcy. Remember that.'

Something about her tone made me look carefully at the Sorceress. What could I see in her face and those extraordinary indigo eyes? Determination, authority and… ambition perhaps. Given that she needed me to access the menus for the realm, I had nothing to fear from her, did I? This was, however, a new universe, I reminded myself and I should take nothing for granted.

At last our Cleric returned, looking completely different. Now she was wearing a chainmail suit of armour that included a coif, so she was glittering iron from head to toe. In one hand was a fierce-looking mace, in the other a shield, and there was a pack on her back.

Carlena stood up, adjusting her headband. 'Good, let's go. We might manage two hours of hunting before sunset.'

Walking out of the west gate of the castle, the journey was a dull and tiring affair. I could no longer talk candidly to Carlena and learn more about the rules of the world; we had to stay in character. While I could call down menus, I was self-conscious about that too, given it involved arm gestures. Perhaps, though the Cleric was used to the king waving in the air.

About an hour into the journey, I began to falter. My thighs were sore from chafing against each other and my shoulders ached from carrying the sword and the shield. It helped that Carlena had ordered the Cleric to carry my bow and quiver.

I was curious about the Cleric; what manner of person was she? What was her name even? But quite apart from the fact I needed every breath for the walk, I didn't ask. It wouldn't be true to the old King Carlos.

After what felt like ten miles, but was probably only two, we were on gorse-covered, sloping ground that led up to a skyline of rounded hills. Nearby, a lively-sounding stream ran through the gorse and wild grass.

'Ready?' asked Carlena, eyes on the slopes.

'Wait. Let me get my breath. Tell me the plan.'

'I flush something out and bring it here, you kill it. If I have to cast Freeze use your bow.'

After a couple of minutes I stood up. 'Right so.' I took my bow from the Cleric and put it on the ground at my feet, the quiver of arrows alongside it. Then I gripped my rapier in my left hand and hefted my shield in the right.

Just behind me was the Cleric, a glance showed her looking determined: in her right hand was her mace but her left was touching a circle of bronze that rested on her chest, hanging from a necklace. I gave her a nod, which I hoped was encouraging, but she just looked away fearfully.

'Here!'

Carlena was hurrying back towards me, with a brown creature chasing her that looked somewhat like a small ostrich or a baby tyrannosaurus. It was sprinting on two legs in an impressively fast waddle, its head swaying on a thin neck with the weight of a sharp-looking beak. It was feathered, but unlike an ostrich had two small arms with claws.

Feet thumping on the path, Carlena swept past me and I launched into the monster. Or at least I tried. Instead of being able to adjust my feet and bring my rapier point between me and the creature, I stumbled slightly and the creature was inside my reach, landing a vicious whack onto my ribs on the left hand side with that chisel-like beak. The stone-hard bone tore through my tunic and when the beak pulled back, blood should have sprayed everywhere.

Good news. The pain was mild, nothing like that of a real wound. And there was no blood, no exposed ribs, only a patch of red.

Bad news.

You have been hit by a Ciatern for 6 points of damage!

'Freeze!'

I staggered back, just before the monster lashed into me again. With a screech of outrage, the Ciatern – as I'd just learned it was called – strained its utmost to finish me off but thrashed impotently with its two feet fastened to the ground.

'Quickly!' shouted Carlena.

Shaking lose my shield and dropping the rapier, I gathered up the bow and grabbed an arrow, only to pull it back too far and somehow get the point jammed into the frame of the bow. My low Dexterity was really punishing me. From behind came the reassuring sounds of the Cleric chanting.

Finally, I got the arrow set properly, but when I released the bowstring, the arrow shattered on a rock well wide of the monster.

You have unlocked the Wield Shortbow proficiency

That was progress at least.

My next shot went wide and high.

You have become better at Wield Shortbow: 1

For the third shot I really concentrated. I took my time, drew the arrow well, held my breath to steady my aim and fired. Miss again! It'd gotten closer but the arrow flew past to the right.

You have become better at Wield Shortbow: 2

A heal landed.

You have been healed of 5 points of damage.

'Last chance,' said Carlena.

I missed.

You have become better at Wield Shortbow proficiency: 3

The screeching monster broke free and leapt at me again and I had nothing but the bow to interpose between me and that swift-moving, sharp beak.

A flurry of orange darts smacked into the creature, knocking it over, smoke trails rising from the twitching body.

'Not the start we hoped for,' I muttered apologetically. It had been years since I had played a low level tank. I'd forgotten how weak they were.

'We all have to start somewhere, sire,' said Carlena. 'Unfortunately, that's nearly half my mana gone.'

'And all of mine,' reported the Cleric.

'All?'

'Sorry sire.'

Damn me, but this world was harsh. A day's mana on a 5 hit point heal. Admittedly, she was only a first level Cleric, but still.

'Want to try again?' I asked, 'at least my shortbow skill went up a few times.'

'Oh, did it?' Carlena looked at me with a quizzical expression, but she had a question she didn't voice it, perhaps holding back because of the presence of the Cleric.

The Cleric went forward off the path and it took me a moment to realise she was looking for my arrows. That was a good idea and picking up my rapier and shield just in case, I went after the one that had gone high.

There were several large boulders in the landscape and one of them had been close to where the arrow had travelled, so I used it as a landmark. As I was looking at it though, I had a sense that something had moved, some shadow in the wrong place.

'Carlena, Cleric, come here quick!'

Maybe it was my royal authority or maybe the urgency in my voice but both ran over at once.

'I think there is something at that rock.'

'Stay here… sire, please. Cleric, you circle to the right.' With that the Sorceress began moving to see around the back of the boulder by walking to my left, keeping her distance. Her hands, I noticed, were picking items out of her pouches. Did spells require components? It looked like it.

Before either the Cleric or Carlena had taken twenty steps a man in leather armour sprinted away from the rock.

'Freeze!'

I was already running at him, as fast as my heavy body would go, which was a frustratingly slow waddle. Still, I was in a good position this time. Twist and turn as he might, the man's feet were locked on the ground and I could line up my rapier point with his back. As I did so, a green box flickered into existence, then out as the blade moved on.

By pointing the weapon precisely, I could get the target box to stay and I gave a mental command, go! Lunge! Activate! It wasn't the word, but the intent that seemed to work and suddenly I jerked forward and stabbed hard into the man's spine.

You have hit a Rogue for 7 hit points.

You have unlocked the Wield Rapier proficiency.

You cannot become better at Lunge.

The Cleric was beside me, mace raised.

'Spare me! Spare me and I'll help you.' The man was pale and faltering. I'd probably wounded him half to death.

'Who are you?'

'I'm a scout for King Wace.'

'Of Southway?'

'Aye.'

'Kill him,' said Carlena, heartlessly. 'You need to level.'

She was right and moving myself and the rapier until I could manifest the green box again, I triggered Lunge.

You have hit a Rogue for 4 hit points.

You have killed a Rogue!

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You have become better at Wield Rapier: 1

You have gained 55 Experience.

Pretty good. I was most of the way to Level 2.

'Should we hide the body?' I wondered aloud.

Carlena answered. 'Leave it for the monsters. There won't be a trace of it by tomorrow.'

'What next?'

'I have one more Freeze left and it seems that you have a useful attack with your sword. If I freeze something, you can get behind it and deal your damage that way, rather than try to use the bow.'

'I agree.' And I did feel confident about this strategy. It was only a shame that Carlena was so short of mana, because I reckoned we'd now discovered a way I could grind up several levels: Freeze and me Lunge from behind.

The Sorceress stooped by the body of the Rogue and came up with the dagger in her hand, then tossed it and caught it. 'This will do to attract attention.' With that she moved slowly through the heather, but again, it was me who saw a movement. A possible target, another Ciatern. I gave a low whistle and pointed.

Without responding, Carlena walked towards the monster until she was about twenty yards away. The creature looked up. Neither moved until Carlena flung the dagger. The spinning blade missed, but it galvanised the Ciatern into a dash towards her. There was something comical about the way it ran but nothing at all humorous about the hammer head and sharp beak.

'Freeze!'

Again, that awful screeching began and I had to hurry closer to it, Cleric at my side, and skirt around until I could line up my lunge at the creature's back.

It was a surprisingly long fight and I was getting anxious about the timer on Freeze when the mob finally died, after my fifth hit. With a delicious golden rush of light, I got the message I had been anticipating: I had levelled up!

You have hit a Ciatern for 6 hit points.

You have killed a Ciatern!

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You have become better at Wield Rapier: 5

You have gained 150 Experience.

You have gained a level! Your hit points are restored and your timers on skills and feats have reset. Please view your character sheet for other benefits.

This was more like it. I was delighted with myself. Yes, there was still a mountain to climb, but at least I was properly on the path now.

Chapter 8: The Drums of War

The walk back to the town – Carrick – was slow but satisfying. Naturally, I had my character sheet before me:

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Fighter, Level 2         HP 16          AC 0

Str7

Dex4

Con8

Int16

Wis16

Cha4

Top Skills

Lunge 5

Parry 5

Wield Rapier 5

Wield Shortbow 3

You have 1 attribute point to assign.

You have 5 skill points to assign.

Exp 110 (200)

I was heartened that the system awarded a new attribute point on levelling: one that further justified my risky decision to be a Fighter. The immediate question was not what attribute to increase but whether to spend it at all. If it proved relatively easy to get attributes to move up from very low scores, but very hard to say, train Strength from 17 to 18, then I should save all my level points until I'd achieved as much as I could from exercise.

Then there was the question of skill points. From the speed at which skills increased, I might have made a mistake in my Min-Max approach. I tapped Carlena on the back and asked that she wait with me while I took a breather. The Cleric, however, I gestured to continue towards the town walls, which were less than a mile away.

'Can you tell me about how to improve skills?'

'I don't have access to the menus that you do, so anything I can tell you is conjecture.'

'I understand.'

'I believe that every time where you are in a situation where you have a chance to use a skill in earnest, there's the possibility you will increase your expertise in it. But you have to use a skill many times before you will be successful.'

'Mine seemed to go up fairly rapidly.'

Carlena looked at me thoughtfully. 'Tell me my stats.'

It took a moment to find the right menu, then I reported them to her: 'Strength five; Dexterity eleven; Constitution nine; Intelligence seventeen; Wisdom seven; Charisma eight.'

'Much as I thought. Although my Intelligence is slightly disappointing. Now, what are yours?'

Although I felt reluctant to share this information for some reason, I reminded myself she was on my side after all. 'Strength seven; Dexterity four; Constitution eight; Intelligence sixteen; Wisdom sixteen; Charisma four.'

'By Miya's breath! Sixteen Intelligence and Wisdom? I never would have believed it!' Then she laughed. 'No offence, Sean, but I see the body of King Carlos and I see a very slow-witted man. It affects my perception of you.'

'None taken,' I smiled. It was the first time I'd seen the Sorceress laugh and all of a sudden, my doubts about her retreated.

'That's the explanation: you will learn fast with those two attributes so high. They are extraordinary, I doubt there are more than a handful of people in the world with both Intelligence and Wisdom over fifteen.'

'What's the maximum an attribute can be at?

'Again, this is conjecture, but I think for a human, twenty.'

I resumed my slow walk back to the safety of the town walls. It was hard to force my thick legs into motion, but my morale was high and the aches didn't trouble me. If I could get my core fighting attributes to increase, to at least to around eleven or twelve, then I could bump them up with my level gains. Meanwhile, I had a very advantageous situation in regard to skills. Obviously, I should spread my points widely, trusting to my Intelligence and Wisdom to bring them up fast. In time, I would be a very versatile warrior, capable of using a wide variety of weapons and actions at a high level, instead of a specialist in just one or two.

I put a skill point into each of Bash, Block, Deflect, Defensive Stance and Dodge, which would get me started in those. And I saved my attribute point for now.

By the time we reached the eastern gate of the town (a large metal portcullis that was already mostly down, I had to duck to go through), nearly four hours had passed. I hadn't forgotten the fact that the smithy was turning out pickaxes and as soon as the iron was all used up and I had twenty-four new pickaxes, I assigned them to the miners.

The Cleric was just beyond the gate, waiting for us. My instinct was to thank her, but conscious of the looks of the guards and the townspeople, I simply said, 'be ready to do the same tomorrow.'

'Yes, sire.'

With a promise she would join me for dinner, Carlena bid me farewell soon after and set off towards her tower, the one I had arrived at just two days ago (though it felt like I'd been here a week at least).

As I entered the keep, my thoughts were entirely on a bath and even a nap before dinner, when they were jolted into focus by the presence of Chancellor Parrin. My scout had been waiting in one of several chairs that were set outside of the solar for that purpose. My heart leapt. So much depended on his report. What did his face convey? Bad news, I thought, there was unease in the way his eyes caught mine.

After taking my throne and ordering the servants to leave, I called the chancellor close.

'Well?'

'They are moving an army towards us.'

'How many troops?'

'Sixty spearmen, twenty axemen, forty archers, thirty light cavalry, ten heavy cavalry…' he paused, 'with them are two commanders, one from each faction, and a Shaman with a sabre-tooth tiger pet, I couldn't determine their levels.'

They had about twice the number of troops we did. And strangely that gave me some hope. Given Greyland's tiny army, it could have been a lot worse.

'How long have we got?'

'They will arrive at Three-Ways tomorrow, probably near enough to noon.'

This was happening too fast. If I could have even had just a couple more personal levels, I could make a real difference to what happened in the melee. It was unfortunate too that the tower machicolations wouldn't be in place for this battle, one day and eighteen hours remained on that timer.

Perhaps I was looking worried, because Parrin asked, 'can we stop them?'

I smiled. 'Of course we can. In fact, I think they've made a mistake. They didn't bring their full army?'

'No, this is about half.'

That really did feel like a mistake. If they had risked everything on overwhelming us, that would have been far more dangerous. Perhaps they were worried about losing control of our farmland in the event of being thrown back. Or perhaps the two rulers were not entirely of the same mind. Whatever the reason, the encouragement I offered the chancellor was not at all bluster. 'A lot will depend on how you, Lord Arval and Carlena perform, but this will be a battle we can win. We have a ballista, they don't have anything with the same range?'

'No.'

'Because of that, they won't be able to mass their archers to eliminate ours and then drive us from the walls. They will have to come on fast and try to storm the fort while we are on top of them. And that's a big advantage to us.'

'True enough sire.'

'Send a messenger on a fast horse with those figures to Lord Arval and tell him I'm coming; order a horse and cart big enough to carry me; let Carlena know to meet us at the fort tomorrow, early, and the Cleric too, and any of the archers in the hospital able to fire a bow.'

We shared a look – for my part I tried to convey confidence and determination – and then he was striding out of the hall, his rapid footsteps echoing in the empty room. One day I would lead my armies from the front. If we survived this attack. But even if I couldn't fight in a battle effectively, I could be there to encourage the soldiers and give orders.

After a wash and change and a meal (fish again) I went outside the keep to where a man sat on a long cart, which was drawn by two horses. I was going to have to travel through an uncomfortable night on those bare planks and over a bumpy road.

It really was a painful journey, several times I was jolted so badly even my bulky body rose off the planks. As best I could, I distracted myself by reading up on the game menus, giving particular attention to the stats on the soldiers. It was possible to get details on each soldier type, so our 33 archers, for example, read as follows:

Greyland Archer

Fighter level 0

Ranged attack: 15

Melee attack: 8

Armour Class: 2

Hit Points: 5

Skills:

Wield Longbow variable, according to experience

Wield Shortsword variable, according to experience

Monthly Upkeep: 4sp

I had also been keeping an eye on the town menu and just after dawn, 4 iron ingots appeared in the resources area. That was excellent, it showed that applying steel pickaxes to mining really was an effective way to increase production. I allocated the ingots to the smithy, meaning I would have 48 new pickaxes in due course. Assuming we survived the day ahead.

Lively birdsong accompanied the spread of grey light across the sky. Because we were making our way down a valley, I didn't see the rising sun, only a pink glow that became a bright yellow sun by the time it rose high enough to cross the shadows of the horizon. It was a beautiful day and I was struck by the realisation that it might be my last. Unlike a game, this could be the end for me. I was placing myself in proximity to 160 or so enemy soldiers who wouldn't hesitate to kill me if they could. And there was no possibility of escape if it all went wrong, not with this body.

Did every soldier feel the same, the morning before battle? A heightening of all the senses? An appreciation of the sky, the breeze, the birdsong? Even of the breaths I was taking. Yes, I felt a certain amount of fear, but it was very much in the background. I had to do what I had to do.

Three Ways was the area at meeting of two valleys at the confluence of two small mountain rivers with a bridge over the emerging river. The fort was a wooden tower on a rocky outcrop to my right, the river I was following was on my left. Extending from the tower and all the way to the riverbank where there was another, much smaller, tower was a wooden palisade. There was a gate where the road passed through the wall.

My first impression was positive. We had control of the main route up towards Carrick. In theory, you could march along the other side of the river, in the narrow strip of rocky ground before the hill began to rise steeply. That would let you bypass the fort, but it would be slow going and we could harass the enemy from our side of the river. The walls of the hillside were even steeper near the main fort tower, including slaps of sheer rock in places. There was no way an army could skirt around us.

A picket of a dozen light infantry called on the cart to stop and as soon as they saw me, they stiffened to attention. With some difficulty I got myself out of the cart and over to the soldiers who looked at me with solemn expressions.

'Show me to Lord Arval.'

A guard saluted and led the way towards the main fort tower; before we were half way there, a cluster of soldiers came out of it, Lord Arval at their head, body armour shining silver in the morning light.

'Well met, sir, well met!' Lord Arval offered his hand and shook mine earnestly. 'I have made my dispositions, but I'm glad you are here to check them and lead us in the battle.'

'Thank you, Lord Arval. I don't suppose this world has invented coffee? No. Some hot water then if you can, while you explain your set up.'

'Certainly sire.' He gestured an aide to obtain my drink, then began his account. 'Our light cavalry, twenty-four of them, are scouting further down the road. They will bring us word of the enemy advance.'

I nodded.

'The ballista is on top of the main tower.'

'What's the maximum range for it?'

'I can show you, if you'll come up to the palisade walkway.'

It took some effort, and I nearly had to ask for a push from behind, but I got up a narrow wooden staircase and stood with the Paladin above the gate. Ahead of me, the road turned left to cross the bridge and then follow the river downstream on its left bank. That valley was where our opponents would arrive from. From here I could see the other stream and the mouth of the other valley, which was around the corner to the right of our main tower, with the stream running across the ground ahead of us to the main river about four hundred yards from where I was standing.

'See that reddish rock beyond the bridge?'

'Yes?'

'The ballista can hit that. I know this for certain because I had them fire at it.'

While it was good that we could be shooting at the enemy as they crossed the bridge, I wasn't sure about placing the ballista crew in a position where they could be fired upon once the enemy was over the crossing. Not at all.

'All along the palisade will be our light infantry. They have been hauling rocks up ever since we heard the news. Also about half the archers. Only fifteen can fit alongside the ballista crew on the top of the tower.'

Lord Arval looked at me and then continued.

'I was thinking that the twelve heavy infantry and four heavy cavalry should be there on that rise, as our reserve.' He pointed back the way I had come from.

'And what about you and the Sorceress?'

'It seems to me, she should be on the small tower, nearest the bridge, and myself with the reserve.'

For a while I studied the position and everyone waited silently, the only sound that of our flags flapping in a light breeze.

'Suppose you were their general, what would you do?'

Lord Arval looked thoughtful and rubbed his bald head slowly as he considered the ground ahead of us. 'I'd probably rush my archers to the main tower and try to silence the ballista, maybe having prepared screens first, so as to protect from incoming arrows from the walls. If I succeeded, I'd clear the palisade next, as much as I could.'

'I think the same. So would you consider putting our ballista with the reserve? Too far for their arrows to reach but within range of them?'

'We'd lose the opportunity to fire when they are crowding the bridge.'

'If they are smart, they will cross in single file.'

'What if they stand close to our walls? We might not have the elevation for the ballista to see them?'

'We could put Carlena here, she has a fire dart spell that would do a great deal of damage or drive them off if they come close.'

'Aye.' He had a distant look, probably I did too. We were trying to imagine what the battle might look like. Though as any writer on warfare would tell you, no plan survives contact with the enemy. 'Aye,' he said again, more decisively, 'I think you are right.'

'And the advantage of my idea is that we keep everyone under cover for the duel between ballista and their archers. Your way, we might win, but are likely to lose a lot of troops.'

'Very good sire. Shall I order it moved now, we need time.'

'Go ahead.'

It took over an hour before the ballista was set up on the rise behind the palisade, even with a pulley to lower the equipment down the side of the tower. Not long afterwards Carlena arrived with Chancellor Parrin, the Cleric and two more archers, who had recovered enough in the hospital to participate.

The Cleric was put in the reserve and then the four of us: Arval, Parrin, Carlena and myself went to the small tower while we talked over the plan. In short, it was to win the artillery duel and therefore be able to have the infantry throw rocks and spears from the palisade without fearing incoming arrows.

Time moves slowly before battle. It was still early in the morning and I wondered if it was worth feeding our soldiers in the near future or not. I asked Lord Arval.

'Does a soldier fight better on an empty or full stomach?'

'No one knows sire. There is a story of an emperor who had the same question. So he took two groups of twelve soldiers and had them fight. One group did so after a hearty meal, the others with no food inside them.'

'And?'

'Inconclusive, sire, I believe the no-food side won, but only by a man. Personally, I find a small amount of food, especially fruit, optimum.'

'Very good, distribute it now, in case the enemy are making good speed.'

Our opponents did not, however, arrive until after a long, long wait, the sun well past midday. Then time began to move rapidly, beginning with the return of our light cavalry: a distant dust rising into the clear blue sky, then the sounds of their hooves and finally the sight of them clattering across the bridge.

When they were drawn up beside the four heavy cavalrymen, Lord Arval had the gates closed and barred.

'Ready sire?'

'Not quite, gather the soldiers, I'll speak to them.'

Lord Arval nodded approvingly, while Chancellor Parrin's long, bearded face was inscrutable. He probably had years of practice at hiding his feelings from Carlos. Carlena, however, was clearly sceptical.

From a rock on the rise, with a good view of the cavalry to my left and the infantry below, whose faces were tipped up towards me, I tried to remember some of the rousing speeches I'd heard in films.

'What day is it?' I asked Chancellor Parrin in a low voice.

'Twenty-fourth of the month of Abya.'

'Soldiers of Greyland!' I began, my big body proving good for this purpose, with my voice strong and echoing from the rocks. The men looked at me with hopeful expressions. 'This day, the twenty-fourth of the month of Abya, is forever going to be remembered in the history of our realm. For it is on this day that we will turn the course of this war.'

Lord Arval gave a roar and shook a spear, which encouraged many of the men to do the same.

'And you are the lucky ones. There will come a time when vast armies under my command will conquer the twenty-five kingdoms. And they will all know that it began here, with just a few of us, a lucky few. A band of warring brothers.

'You will be able to say, with pride, I was there that day. With King Carlos, with Lord Arval, Chancellor Parrin and Sorceress Carlena, when we smashed the army that tried to invade our mountains and sent them fleeing back down the valley.

'It will be a tough battle, they have more soldiers; but we have much the better position and the advantage of the ballista. Let no one think of retreat. Either we hold this fort or the enemy capture Carrick and enslave your families.

'This is where we make our stand. This is where they will break. Fight for yourself, your comrades, and your families at home.

'Those recruits in years to come who were not here will think themselves cursed. And listen in silence when any of you speak. You who fought at the battle of Three Ways!'

Lord Arval gave another roar and this time there was a really satisfying response, one that resounded all around us.

'Positions!' Our Paladin, now on his horse, led the troops back to the palisade.

Before she left, I called Carlena over. 'I think today might be the day for your potion.'

'You might be right.' She looked at me with an expression I'd never seen before from her: respect. 'You spoke well.' Passing me a small bottle of turquoise liquid, she said, 'just drink and name the creature. Make it one around your size or it might fail. You will have eight minutes.'

'Good luck.'

'And to you.' She walked towards the gate and her position.

Before Lord Arval had returned, a new sound came from the valley beyond the bridge, an ominous deep series of thuds. The enemy were coming, marching to drums of war.

Chapter 9: Enter… The Rhino!

From out of a haze of dust, at the point where the descending valley turned rightwards, out of view, came the first ranks of enemy soldiers, chainmail clad axemen, leaning their weapons against their shoulders. They had a slow, steady pace, set by the beating of the distant drums. The effect was ominous and I felt my stomach tighten. Behind them came a large body of lightly-armed spearmen, the silver points of their upright weapons flickering in the sunlight.

Then came their light cavalry, thirty of them, taking a long while to file into view; next the ten heavy cavalry. Their archers were not yet in sight, nor the drummers, nor their commanders or the Shaman, yet the axemen were coming straight on to the bridge without pausing. Whether it was complacency or stupidity, they were going about this all wrong.

'Blood and Thunder, do you see the chance?' I looked a Lord Arval for confirmation.

His face was grim. 'Order us on sire and we'll go to hell or glory.'

I laughed. 'I can do better than that. Follow me. Open the gate!' I shouted. Then I took the potion bottle, uncorked it and gulped down the contents. 'Rhino!'

For once my great bulk was valuable, I felt it stretch and stiffen as I fell forward onto all fours. Probably I was not a full adult rhino, but the weight and sharpness of the horn in front of my eyes was up to the job at hand.

I set off, a lumber at first that was a trot, once through the gate I stepped up to a canter and finally hit my stride at a gallop. Being a rhino was intense. Although my vision was blurry, I could smell the sweat of my enemies and heard the loud thuds of their marching steps on the wooden bridge.

Fifty yards and their shouts of alarm rang through the air. The axemen needed the spears in front of them, grounded. But my calculation was that we would get there first. It was intuition and it was the kind of decision that you make in an instant and have to commit to.

Forty yards and I was throwing mud up from my hooves as I urged my heavy body to its upmost. This was living! No longer trapped in a body that couldn't walk up ten steps without having to pause for a rest, I was a raging storm; an unstoppable torrent; a tsunami about to crash on the shore. And I loved it.

Thirty yards, some of the axemen were trying to run back through the spearman, who were massed too tight on the bridge to bring their weapons to bear.

Twenty yards. Splashes either side of the bridge as men dived out of the way of the coming hell: me.

Ten and I was the tip of an avalanche. From the scent of fear, they knew they were going to be engulfed.

Impact!

There was a green box flash and I took it, of course.

You have hit an axeman for 147 hit points.

You have killed an axeman!

You have gained 60 Experience.

You have unlocked the Impale proficiency.

You have bashed an axeman for 31 hit points.

You have killed an axeman!

You have gained 60 Experience.

You have become better at Bash: 2

You have bashed an axeman for 34 hit points.

You have killed an axeman!

You have gained 60 Experience.

You have become better at Bash: 3

You have bashed a spearman for 26 hit points.

You have killed a spearman!

You have gained 40 Experience.

You have become better at Bash: 4

You have bashed a spearman for 22 hit points.

You have killed a spearman!

You have gained 40 Experience.

You have become better at Bash: 5

The notifications flew by and I ignored them as I pushed on, crushing soldiers under my hooves, impaling them and throwing their dead bodies to the side. Several axe blows struck home on my front shoulders, flanks and chest but twice I experienced the sweetness and glow of a level increase, each time completely healing my wounds.

Screams of wounded and panicked men rang out all around. But through the cries, I could hear a voice like a howling wolf, it was Lord Arval, screaming, 'come on! Come on! For Greyland!'

The crush on the bridge was intense, which favoured our side. While their axes and spears could not be brought into play, I could still smash my powerful head into faces ahead and either side, as well as break legs with stamps and kicks of my feet. Our horsemen, too, were nearly immobile, but they could still cut down with sword or stab with lance.

Step by step, we pushed on, nearly clearing the bridge. My only concern now was the timing of the potion. How long had it been since I drank it? Surely only a few minutes, despite the massive carnage we'd inflicted on their army.

Then, with a sudden release, we were through, the remnants of the unit of spearmen running back down the narrow path in panic, which instantly disrupted the formation incoming light cavalry. Did I have time to keep going into them? I had to try.

The fact that I'd levelled up twice meant I experienced no fatigue and a quick check told me my hit points were at 32. Filled with confidence and energy, I used the room ahead of me to build up momentum again.

'Follow the king! For Carlos!' Behind me, Lord Arval was still going strong it seemed and the answering roar of our soldiers had a clear note of triumph. Again, I could smell the fear of men and horses even before I crashed among them, showing no mercy to the animals whom I gutted and whose delicate legs I crushed.

Far louder than the cries of men and the clash of metal on metal were the high-pitched equine screams of injured horses. Unlike the heavy destriers behind me, these horses had not been trained for the press of the melee and they were frightened, some of them rearing up and throwing their riders to the ground. Even so, one or two lances managed to stab down and cut through my thick hide. My hit points dropped quickly from 32 to 19 following a third hit. But then I levelled up again, soaring up to 40 hit points.

Their light cavalry unit was in full retreat. I was just preparing to launch myself again, with the intention of smashing right through the heavy cavalry and into their archers when I found myself staggering, once more in human form, completely without armour. Fortunately, there was no immediate threat.

'Get back sire!' Lord Arval urged his mount past me and ceased his own charge, guarding me by interposing his large destrier between me and the enemy. Our four other knights did the same. Either side of our little defensive knot, our light cavalry came past, cheering that they were scattering their foes. Even so, the tide of the battle was turning. The ten enemy heavy cavalry were drawn across the road and were not budging, even for their own fleeing infantry and light horsemen, some of whom risked going over the broken terrain of the rising hillside, others trying to squeeze past on the river bank, falling in as often as escaping.

Beyond the line of horsemen, their officers must have gotten some order among the archers because arrows flited overhead with increasing frequency, some struck striking the plates of Lord Arval and his armoured horse.

Our problem was that we couldn't easily reach their archers. Our light cavalry lunged ineffectually at the enemy knights but couldn't break their ranks. There was room for our archers on the other side of the river, but if I ordered them to go there, we would be outnumbered and lose in the exchanges with enemy fire. The ballista was far too slow to bring up. This could really hurt us. Our riders and horses were beginning to suffer.

Another rousing cheer from behind me. It was the arrival of our twelve heavy infantry and a large body of light infantry with Carlena at their head. There were a good mix of spears, axes and swords among them. This was exactly what we needed!

There was a fierce look on Carlena's face as she ran past me, pausing to raise her hands and then, with a flash, half a dozen fire darts splashed onto an enemy horse. The animal collapsed. Cheered by the success of this magic our newly arrived soldiers ran past and also cut and struck at the horses in front of them. We were winning again, a huge press of our soldiers climbing over the dead animals and past enemy knights who were still fighting, so as to get among the archers.

I felt that we were on the brink of victory, when cries of consternation from our men made my heart sink. The very land was working against them: bushes and grasses reaching out to entwine their feet and immobilise everyone. The enemy archers, on the cusp of routing, took heart and through the chaos, I could hear an officer of theirs urging them to hold and fire at the immobilised targets.

'There,' screamed Carlena, pointing to a man in a bearskin, whose sabre-tooth tiger pet was walking in a circle around him, protecting him while he cast spells. It was their shaman, who had climbed up the hillside and come close enough to cast what to me seemed like an Entangle-type spell. 'He's out of my range.'

'Archers!' I called, but we only had a few men around us with bows.

Carlena ran towards the enemy spell caster and I admired her, because that tiger was fierce looking. The enemy Shaman had spotted her run too, and was clearly aiming a spell at her, his arms gesturing swiftly.

Caster battles could be short and violent. I found myself clenching my fists anxiously as I watched, oblivious to arrows and screams and the movement of the people around me. Was Carlena going to be taken out by a powerful spell? It would be a disaster for us if this went wrong.

Then the Shaman was down and behind him was the chancellor. Parrin had backstabbed their caster and taken him out! Our men were free again, the enchantment of the plants dissolving with the death of its creator.

'On, on! We have them!' Lord Arval set off again, the other four knights moving with him. It left me unprotected, but it was right. Even though a few enemy archers saw me as their target and I did get hit twice, we had them. Archers were no match for heavy cavalry and they knew it. Soon bows were abandoned as most of their army fled for their lives, while dozens of men huddled in groups, hands in the air, trying to surrender.

Up on the slope, our elderly scout was being savaged by the dead Shaman's pet sabre-toothed tiger and was clearly wounded. Carlena, however, had not stopped running and was in range for a spell.

'Freeze!' The animal was checked and Parrin scrambled clear.

'You! You!' I got the attention of two of our archers with an urgent shout. 'Kill that tiger.'

It took several hits, but Carlena had enough mana for a second Freeze and was able to keep the animal locked in place while the arrows thudded home.

All at once, it was relatively quiet. Yes, there were still groans and the clank of weapons and armour but the sounds of fighting were in the distance now, down the road. All around me Greyland soldiers were smiling and laughing. Some looked at me with frank delight, as if in this moment rank did not matter, that we had shared an experience that transcended the barrier between king and foot soldier. And we had. This was a victory to savour.

Chapter 10: The Aftermath of Battle

Although there were many smiles among our soldiers, there were others too who looked shocked: pale, slumped and tearful.

'Except those guarding prisoners, fall in to your units!' My order brought their training back and even the most wretched looking stiffened and hurried to find a place in the ranks.

'You fought well. Very well! And today will be the day I promised you. You will eat out on the story of the battle of Three Ways for the rest of your lives. But our work isn't yet done. Those of you on horseback…' I made my way to the light cavalry, half of whom were missing, chasing the retreating enemy, 'ride down the road, killing any enemy stragglers you find. Then, when our own soldiers return, scout beyond them until evening and report back here by dark… On you go!'

As the riders rode off, I turned to our archers. 'Sergeants, have your squads take the abandoned bows and quivers of the enemy; gather any unbroken arrows you can.'

'You heard the king!' shouted a sergeant, 'on me!'

'Sergeant of the swordsmen,' this to the squad leader of our twelve heavy infantry, 'take the prisoners and find a way to lock them in the small tower. They can be given food and water but make sure none of them is armed.'

'Yes sire!'

'You,' I pointed to the sergeant of a unit of twelve light infantry, 'are on the same task.'

'And you,' looking at the sergeant of my other infantry squad, 'get a cart and fill it with the abandoned weapons and any armour that is still useful. Also, tell the ballista crew to report to me at the bridge.'

There was a bustle of activity now and the eagerness with which the soldiers set about their tasks was heartening.

'Sire?' It was the Cleric. 'May I heal you?'

I checked my hit points, 33 from 40. 'No.'

Coming down the hillside was a weak-looking Parrin, being helped by Carlena. I gestured towards them. 'Go heal the chancellor.'

By the time they reached me, the Scout was looking a lot more cheerful. 'Sire, permission to shake your hand.'

'Granted.' I smiled at our Parrin as he took my heavy right hand in both of his and pumped it up and down.

'That… that was magnificent. Your charge. I'll never forget it, ever. I don't have the words.' And indeed, I could see tears were welling up in the elderly man's dark eyes.

'Good man yourself, Chancellor, your backstab was an excellent initiative.' I gave him a slap with my free arm. 'The Shaman might not have been able to save the battle for them, but we were about to lose a lot of men. It was brave too, with the sabre-toothed tiger at his side.'

I turned to Carlena. 'You too. To face the Shaman's spells and his pet without hesitation was impressive. I'm proud to be working with such courageous comrades.'

Carlena gave me the warmest smile I'd yet seen from her, a sincere one, from the heart. 'A rhino was a good choice for the potion.'

'When you said to pick something the size of my body… well, it came to mind.'

'Well done sire.' She dropped her voice to a whisper. 'Thank you Sean de Courcy. You really are the warrior we need. King Carlos would have stayed in Carrick. Yet that was a battle we might easily have lost and with it, the realm.'

Our mutual fan club was broken up by the arrival of the ballista crew, who had come at the double, as if to make up for the fact they had missed out on the fighting. Their sergeant saluted.

'Hard luck, sergeant. You were to be the hero of the battle by the original plan.'

Checking first that I wasn't looking too serious, the powerful-looking young man allowed himself a reply. 'We're very disappointed sire; next time I hope you'll leave some for us.'

'Good man. Well, I've a task that will make you popular with the rest of the army. Are you honest?'

'As honest as a mirror sire.'

'That's what I hoped. I want you to search all the enemy bodies for coin. Then roll the corpses into the river along with any dead horses. We'll demoralise their army downstream as their dead comrades float past. Our own dead we'll bring home in carts for their families. When you've all the coin, report to me and I'll share it equally with every soldier here. Even you lot.'

'You heard the king!' The sergeant gave me a salute and the crew immediately set to their somewhat morbid task as though it was a pleasure. Which perhaps it was. Loot was loot after all. Which gave me a thought.

'Do you have a Detect Magic spell?' I asked Carlena, who nodded.

'Can you use it and see if there are any magic items on the dead, perhaps on the Shaman or their officers?'

'Oh, I should have thought of that.' Carlena hurried back up the hill.

'Any orders for me sire?' asked Chancellor Parrin.

'Soon I'll want you to go scouting again, in case the rest of their army moves up towards us. I've a feeling that they won't. For now though, if you could find some decent wine and tolerable bread, I could really use it. Being a rhino for eight minutes is a hell of a calorie burn… I mean it gives you an appetite.'

Slowly, I made my way back over the bridge and up to the gatehouse, bringing the Cleric with me. On my way, busy soldiers glanced at me in an entirely different way than they had before the battle. There was respect and admiration in their eyes. Affection too even. I was becoming the king they wanted. And whenever my gaze rested on soldiers performing their duties, they hurried that bit faster, as though wanting to demonstrate their backing for me. This was a complete contrast to the sullen looks and slow responses when I had first gone to the barracks in Carrick.

Of course, I'd been wanting to study the effects of the battle on my character sheet ever since the fighting had ended, but only now, after a deliberate pause to consider if I had overlooked any important orders, did I feel the time had come when I could open that menu.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Fighter, Level 5         HP 40          AC 0

Str7

Dex4

Con8

Int16

Wis16

Cha4

Top Skills

Bash 25
Impale 25
Lunge 5
Parry 5
Wield Rapier 5
Wield Shortbow 3
Block 1
Defensive Stance 1
Deflect 1
Dodge 1

You have 4 attribute points to assign.

You have 15 skill points to assign.

Exp 2,860 (3,200)

My attribute points I decided to save, again, tempting though it was tempting to put a point in Dexterity. Assuming I could train up the low stats, I'd want those points for later.

There was also a new notification attached to my character sheet, which I opened.

Congratulations Sean de Courcy on reaching Level 5 in Fighter. You have unlocked the following specialisations within the Fighter class. Please choose one:

Berserker

Champion

Paladin

Shadow Knight

Warlord

Each had a description, which corresponded to fighter sub-types I was familiar with from Storm Wars: the Berserker specialised in speed, high DPS and was a master of improvisation, downside, medium armour only; the Champion was a duellist, a weapons specialist perfect for one-on-one fights, downside, all the benefits were individual only; the Paladin had holy spells as well as combat skills, downside incompatible with evil troops and creatures; the Shadow Knight was the opposite to the Paladin, with unholy spells and an incompatibility with good; the Warlord was the opposite to the Champion, a tactical specialist, all the benefits were group ones.

Obviously, with Lord Arval being a Paladin, the Shadow Knight was out. And it wasn't smart to replicate his spells and skill bonuses when I could gain new ones for our realm. Even if I got this body into reasonable shape, I was never going to be a Berserker. So that left Champion and Warlord.

Rereading the description of both, the Champion appealed to my pride. Following that path would ultimately lead to a character who could defeat anyone else in the world in a face-to-face encounter. I could visualise myself using Lightning Draw to bring a sword into my hands faster than my opponent anticipated and cutting them down with Critical Strike before they'd even drawn breath.

It was clear though, that in this world of twenty-five kingdoms battling for mastery, the Warlord was going to be the right option. As a Warlord I'd get feats that could rally shaken troops, that could heighten the combat skills of those nearby and at high level could identify unfamiliar enemy troop types. I selected it and immediately got twenty or so new skill options and my first Warlord feat, Charge! All friendly units in the vicinity got a 20% increase to base movement and a temporary 5 hit point increase.

As for the skills, since I knew I would learn fast from practice, I would simply put one point in each to unlock them. With 15 skill points to assign, I could get all but five. My exact choices, however, could wait.

Closing my character sheet, I had a look at the state of Greyland's army on the military menu:

Military

Light infantry: 26*

Heavy infantry: 11*

Archers: 34*

Light cavalry: 18*

Heavy cavalry: 4*

Ballista: 1

(*veterans)

Hospital: 18

Military upkeep cost: 43 gold, 6 silver

Currently training:

Buildings: keep level 2; curtain walls level 1; towers level 1; town walls level 1

Currently building: tower machicolations, 23 hours

Not at all bad. In fact, considering my original plan, which would have been costly in terms of archers and probably infantry, it was a fantastic result. Greyland's army was small, but it was still intact, a viable force with which to face the other half of the army of our enemies, should they dare advance. If anything, we were actually stronger than when the day had begun, since a new veteran tag had appeared over most of the troops.

There were rooms in the larger tower and although I struggled to get up the wooden stairs, which creaked loudly beneath me, I found a bench on the first level that could accommodate my bulk. The Cleric stood uncertainly by the door.

'Take a seat.'

She obeyed me.

'What's your name?'

'Anthea Greyford, sire.'

'Anthea, you know I have menus for the running of this realm?'

'Yes sire.'

'Well, you aren't…' I struggled for the words that she might understand. 'You are listed under the church menu but you aren't a special person. You can't level up, or can you?'

'Apologies, sire. I don't really know. If you were to upgrade the church perhaps?'

'I was reading about the various levels of church earlier and while it's not a priority …' I held back from expressing my concern about the food supply, 'that upgrade will happen. But it wasn't clear if you would gain a level. I learned only that the town would gain a second Cleric and those attending the church would be able to obtain cures for moderate wounds and the delay of poisons and disease.'

'I think it likely I would become second level sire, since those prayers are available to those who have reached it.'

'Let's hope so. And let's hope you can join me progressing. Because we are going to need a strong healer, both to level me up as fast as possible and for future battles.'

It was hard to see her response: in her full chainmail armour the coif put most of her face in shade. Her mouth looked determined enough though and she gave a nod.

Footsteps from below announced the arrival of the chancellor, bearing the very welcome load of two bottles of wine and four tin goblets. Behind him, a soldier had a basket with bread rolls and apples.

'Well done Chancellor.'

'Thank you sire.'

One of the joys of a high Dexterity, it seemed, was the ability to draw a cork from a bottle with just a narrow blade from his Scout's tool kit and it was only a moment's work before the comforting gurgle of wine being poured was heard.

'To Greyland!' I offered the toast and my two companions responded.

I asked Parrin about his sneak attack on the Shaman and was listening to his account – it reminded me that the Scout had an extremely important Ring of Silent Movement – when Carlena joined us, a look of quiet pleasure on her face that made me hopeful. That and the finely made rapier she carried.

'Four magic items sire.' She emptied a bag onto the bare wooden floor with a satisfying clatter from the three items that fell out. 'I've used the rest of my mana for the day casting Insight to discover their properties, but I thought you'd want to know.'

I nodded.

'Their Shaman had a scroll of Hold Animal and an amulet with the spell Hide from Animals stored in it; one of their officers had Bracers of Archery; and the other had this: a plus-two rapier.'

'Excellent, what do the bracers do?'

'Give you five skill points in your wield skill for all bows; a slightly faster rate of fire; and fifty-percent increase in all ranges.'

'Very nice. I'll keep them and the rapier. Can you use the scroll and the amulet?'

'The pity is that I can't add them to my spell book, with their being Shaman spells not those of a Sorceress, but as a once off, I can cast those spells.'

'Very good, they are yours. Sorry Chancellor, nothing for you it seems, though you deserved it.'

Parrin smiled and spread his hands. 'What's good for us all is good for me.'

We were well into the second bottle of wine and nothing but crumbs and apple cores remained in the basket when Lord Arval bounded up the stairs and into the room. A glance, then he stepped over to me, knelt and clasped my hands in his.

'By Miya! What a day. What a day. When I rose this morning, I could not dare hope for such an outcome.'

'Nor I Lord Arval, now take a seat and a drink.' I freed my hands from the warrior, picked up my goblet and passed it to him. 'I'm only sorry we ate all the bread.'

Our general was clearly exhausted, his face was wan and he sat with obvious relief. Yet his eyes were darting to check we all shared his happiness. And watching him, I had another thought. Perhaps the PCs had levelled too? I raised my arm. Carlena and Parrin were both still level 9. But Lord Arval had reached level 8.

Lord Arval: Paladin Level 8

HP 79

AC 18

XP 30,124 (64,200)

Str 17 (18), Dex 12, Con 16, Int 8, Wis 9, Cha 9.

Shield of Defence +1, Trueblade +2, Ring of Strength +1, Potion of Healing.

'Another toast!' I declared, though I no longer had a goblet and had to raise just my hand. 'To Lord Arval, our level eight Paladin!'

'Congratulations!'

'To Lord Arval!'

Our general acknowledged the goodwill in the room with a cheerful wave. Then Carlena told him about the magic items we had gained and he told us about the rout of the enemy, whom he pursued for miles down the valley. After that we fell into a comfortable silence, the silence of those who had been through battle together and who were reflecting on the day's events.

At least, that's what I thought they were doing. Lord Arval, however, looked over at the Cleric and spoke: 'Can you leave us some privacy, please.'

'Of course,' she got up at once and descended the stairs.

I looked at Lord Arval and no doubt my expression was curious.

He smiled. 'It's nothing urgent. But I wanted to know: how did this day compare to the battles you experienced in your world? You must have had other victories like this?'

How, I wondered, should I reply to that question? I could hardly say that the only battles I had fought in had been games.

Chapter 11: The Necromancer’s Offer

When Lord Arval asked me about my past victories, the others in the room – Carlena and Parrin – looked at me expectantly and I realised that this was a pivotal moment. Part of my mind scrambled to put together a story about being a real general. Perhaps I could remember enough about the campaigns of Alexander the Great or Julius Caesar from my games of Classic War to reconstruct convincing episodes? This part of my mind saw my companions as being in need of reassurance and justified making up a history for myself as a great general on the grounds of the value of inspiring confidence in their commander.

On the other hand, if I lied now, I would be stuck with having to remember my backstory for my entire time here and inevitably the fake history would have to grow and grow. Even thinking about that made me feel tired. Moreover, these people were no fools, none of them. Probably, they would be able to detect my bullshit and evasions.

If we were to turn the fortunes of the realm around and conquer the twenty-five kingdoms, Arval, Carlena and Parrin needed to become heroes in their own right and be utterly dependable too. You didn't lay the foundation of a victorious team on lies.

Then too, I knew that if there was ever a time to explain that I was not, in fact, an experienced general it was now, when they had no qualms at all about my leadership.

'I'll answer that question, Lord Arval, but first I have to explain something about the world I come from.

'In my old world, there are no menus for planning the realm, no magic at all and no levels to be obtained by specialists like us.'

'No menus?' Lord Arval shook his bald head. 'It must be chaos. How does anything get done? What would stop everyone from making their own plans?'

'Staying on the topic of my battles…' I really didn't want to be deflected into the politics I'd left behind, 'we have games… tournaments… that are very much like what's happening in this, the World of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms. And it is in these tournaments that I have fought and won battles like this one: much bigger battles, with thousands of troops.'

I wanted to try and express that my game playing experience was a transferable skill to their world. That no commander in real life participated in battles with enemy magic and monsters coming into action, whereas as a gamer I had fought in hundreds. But as I struggled with how to phrase this point, Lord Arval spoke.

'Tournaments?' he looked puzzled. 'Of thousands?'

'Yes, indeed.'

'Did the soldiers die though?' asked Carlena.

'They died as if they were soldiers, but most were only… models.'

'Golems?' she offered.

'Yes. That's quite a good comparison.'

No one spoke and I could not judge the mood of the room until Lord Arval said, 'well sire, if you would, can you tell us about one of your battles in a tournament?' This was greeted by looks of interest from Parrin and Carlena.

'Happily.' Whether it was the flush of victory that was still upon me, or the wine, or the sense that these people were still with me, despite my confession, I really did feel happy and I enjoyed recounting the final battle of the Crown of the Frost Giant Kings quest in Storm Wars. There, I'd led a raid of over two hundred PCs as we fought alongside a dwarven army in a battle with frost giants.

I was just explaining how we broke through the shield wall of the bodyguard of the frost giant king when the sergeant of the ballista crew came up the stairs.

'Apologies for the interruption sire, we have the coin.'

'How much.'

'Ten gold, a hundred and seventy-two silver and a thousand one hundred and eighteen copper. Plus a few bent and clipped ones.'

I knew from the economy menus that a gold was ten silver and a silver was ten copper, so the total was 3,838 copper. Arriving at that figure was manageable in my head but to divide it by our 114 soldiers wasn't possible without a calculator. Or maybe I could come at this a different way. If each soldier got 30, that would be 3,420. Then that left 418 divided by 114, which was somewhere between 3 and 4.

'Right so, give every soldier thirty-three copper, including our dead. The families can have it. There will be about eighty left over. That can go in the castle coffers.'

'Very well sire.'

The soldiers were getting about a month's pay. Not a bad reward and surely one that would help with my popularity.

The sergeant left and I stood up, feeling the aches of my tired muscles. 'I'll tell you about the rest of that encounter another time, if you are still interested.

'Lord Arval, any thoughts on our dispositions before I go?'

The Paladin rubbed his beard. 'It might be wise to keep the light cavalry here to scout and half the archers and the ballista. The rest could be granted two days leave. Then give the other half their two days and once that is over, station most of the army here with enough at Carrick to hold the walls against a sea invader.'

'Make it so,' I did the best to keep a smile from my face as I uttered the words. 'I'll return to the keep at Carrick. I'll be needing a cart.'

'Wait. Shouldn't we consider going on the offensive?' Carlena asked. 'Their morale must be shaken right now.'

The three of them looked at me.

'That had crossed my mind but let's suppose we march down the valley and engage the other half of their army. What's the best possible outcome? We regain our farmland. What's the worst possible outcome? We lose everything: the whole realm and perhaps our lives. So even if there is an advantage with us, it's a mistake to take the gamble. Especially as this is an excellent defensive position.'

The Sorceress nodded and I continued on to the top of the stairs.

'What about the prisoners, sire?' asked Chancellor Parrin, bringing me to a halt.

'What's the usual practice?'

The chancellor shrugged, 'keep them locked up and perhaps arrange an exchange or include them in truce negotiations?'

'The problem there is food. We are desperately short. There's no tradition of killing prisoners then?'

'Only among evil kingdoms,' said Lord Arval pointedly.

'Or putting them to work in the mines?'

'That's possible,' observed Carlena, 'but it has consequences. Since they will hate you, it will lower your popularity among the people, which is critically low as it is.'

'Right. Oh well. Keep them under guard here for now, minimal rations. Chancellor, as soon as you feel up to it, I'd appreciate you scouting the enemy again.'

'Certainly sire, I'll set out shortly.'

I checked his character sheet, he was only on 32 from 53 hit points. 'Rest until you are healed.'

'I can scout while wounded. I will recover.'

'No. Please order the Cleric to remain here and don't set out until you've had at least two of her heals.'

He nodded and still poised to descend the stairs – impatient as I was to get back to Carrick – I addressed the Paladin.

'Lord Arval, you'll want to remain here and see to our army.'

'Indeed sire.'

'And do you have a heal spell?'

He nodded. 'Although I am out of mana for now.'

'Then please use it on Parrin when you can. And how about you Sorceress?'

'I'll accompany you back to Carrick, if I may? I recover mana quicker resting properly in my tower.'

'With pleasure.'

With a final nod to them all and a farewell to those who were staying, I managed the staircase with care, then called for a cart.

***

On arrival at Carrick after an extremely bumpy journey (during which I searched and discovered I could upgrade the road, which when I had completed more urgent upgrades would be useful for swift movement as well as a more comfortable journey), I bid goodbye to Carlena.

On entering the keep I found Figus, my charismatic ambassador, seated outside the solar, waiting for me. He was eating an apple and this caused him some embarrassment as he stood up to greet me and couldn't find a place to put it. Eventually, he just gave a twitch of apology, put it on the arm of the chair and made his bow.

'I hear congratulations are in order, sire.'

'You know about the battle at Three Ways?'

'Lord Arval sent a rider with the good news. That's why the bell of the church is ringing.'

Now he drew my attention to it, I could hear the faint peal of a bell.

'Could I trouble your highness for an account of the battle?'

'Soon enough, but first tell me about your mission.' I strode up to the throne and took my seat, waving away the guards and servants, so that just the two of us occupied the large room. It was late and the setting sun turned the roof and the far wall scarlet.

'Well sire, I rode through Trolland while there was light, skirting their villages and sleeping in the barn of a farmer whose wife took a liking to me. On the morning of the second day I crossed the river Everwald and into the territory of the Necromancer. By afternoon I met the man himself, holding court in a large tent among his troops. And I have to say, I didn't care for the stench of his troops. There must have been a hundred zombies among them.'

'So he is on the march?'

'Possibly, that wasn't clear from anything that was said. They could have been training or patrolling.

'And what was he like?'

'A human male in his forties, maybe, you can never tell with spellcasters. Short black hair, grey hair at the temples. Frown lines. He didn't look like a man who had a lot of laughs. He was dressed in silks, black and purple. Several impressive rings, two gem-covered bracelets and a silver necklace.'

'Magic?'

'I couldn't use Detect Magic, obviously, so I can't be sure, but I'd say the bracelets could be.'

'Go on.'

'Well, I introduced myself and explained my mission and it startled him. I don't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't a trade deal. We talked it over and when he realised it was an iron for food agreement, he grabbed my arm, stared into my eyes and said I had to tell you the following: "King Carlos. You are the first of any rulers to send an ambassador to me. I appreciate that. And I appreciate the opportunity to send you our excess food in return for iron. Here's my offer: for each cargo of fifteen iron ingots that arrives to our docks, I'll provide you with a hundred-and-fifty units of food in the form of sacks of grain and rice."'

I let out a whistle. My intuition was that this was a good enough rate to solve the food crisis and with room to spare; I'd do some detailed calculations later.

'It sounds like a very favourable offer to me too sire. And he also said to tell you this: "Despite my reputation, I'm an honourable man and I make for a dependable ally."'

'Interesting. He was suggesting a military alliance?'

'I think so.'

'And did you believe him, about being dependable?'

'He sounded sincere,' Figus shrugged, 'but you know what they say: promises made out of necessity are made to be broken.'

'That's very wise, Figus, but what do you mean by necessity?'

'No trading partners; no one even sending communications; no allies. He must be desperate to avoid complete isolation and eventual conquest.'

'You are very wise Figus. I shall be careful. Even so, I'm very pleased with the results of your mission.'

My ambassador glanced at me, perhaps to confirm I was being sincere. I doubted King Carlos ever gave thanks or compliments. Then Figus nodded. 'And now, sire, if I may, can I trouble you for the details of the battle.'

It was no trouble at all recounting our victory at Three Ways and Figus made for a particularly attentive audience, encouraging me to provide specific details, such as those of the sounds and smells. Only when a servant came to light the lamps and inform me that dinner was ready did I stop. And even then, having invited him to join me, our conversation was entirely about the battle.

At last, I retired to my bed, wanting to check on the high-level economic menus before sleep and think through the offer from the Necromancer.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: hunting lodge, level 3

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income: 54 gold

Treasury: 5 gold, 5 silver

Daily food consumption: 15 units

Grain yield: 0 due in 17 days

Vegetable yield: 35 food units due in 19 days

Wool yield: 3 bales due in 32 days

Meat yield: 6 units daily

Timber yield: 17 planks daily

Iron yield: 3 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 6 blocks daily

Smithy yield: steel pickaxes on hold. Awaiting iron.

Research: Shipbuilding One

Resources:

Wheat: 12 food units

Vegetables: 20 food units

Meat: 6 food units

Wool: 6 bales

Timber: 150 planks

Iron: 0 ingots

Stone: 39 blocks

Cloth: 4 bolts

During the day, iron and meat production had edged up, as I had anticipated, and that was very welcome. Iron output should go up again after I assigned the waiting 24 steel pickaxes from the smithy, which I did right away. Food consumption, however, had gone up to 15 from 13, perhaps the result of capturing around 30 enemy soldiers. Even on minimal rations, that was a noticeable drain. It left me only four days away from running out. I felt a chill all over my body, despite the fact I was under warm covers. All the good of the today's victory could be undone unless I solved this issue.

Once I had a ship making a weekly journey to the Necromancer, I'd have another 21 units a day. Enough to feed everyone and build up stores against hard times. Obviously, I had to accept his offer.

I fell asleep while looking at the timer on Shipbuilding 1: two days and fifteen hours.

Chapter 12: Another Day, Another Negotiation

During the night I must have been dreaming about the food crisis, because I woke up having made two decisions. As soon as I was dressed and sat in the great hall, eating my breakfast, I acted on them. Firstly, I sent a messenger to amend Chancellor Parrin's mission. He was not simply to scout for the enemy dispositions, he was to obtain information about when and how the ripened grain from our former lands was to be transported. Then he was to liaise with Lord Arval in using our light cavalry to intercept it. Assuming we had cleared the enemy from the valley that descended to the farmlands, the way should be open for such a raiding operation. If so, I'd leave the details in Lord Arval's capable hands.

Secondly, I would ask the Necromancer for a delivery of food on account. I hated having to beg, but couldn't see an alternative. This was a job for Figus, which was a shame, because I also wanted the charismatic Bard to negotiate for the release of the prisoners. They were a burden and as soon as I could get them off my hands for any kind of recompense, the better.

While drinking a mint tea (thinking that I'd give a chest of gold for a bag of coffee), I checked for the new supply of ingots. The menu showed me I had 4 now in the stores. The new picks were making a difference but I was slightly disappointed that the daily yield wasn't 5. I allocated 3 to the smithy, to finish off upgrading all the miners and was glad to put aside 1 towards my first trade with the Necromancer.

Next, I called up my character sheet.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Fighter, Level 5         HP 40          AC 0

Str7

Dex5

Con8

Int16

Wis16

Cha5

Top Skills

Bash 25

Impale 25

Lunge 5

Parry 5

Wield Rapier 5

Wield Shortbow 3

Block 1

Defensive Stance 1

Deflect 1

Dodge 1

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

You have 4 attribute points to assign.

You have 15 skill points to assign.

Exp 2,860 (3,200)

It was heartening to see that my dexterity and charisma had both improved a point. That gave me an insight into the process, in that I'd been exerting myself to the utmost the previous day both to use the Rhino form effectively and to encourage the army. Probably, I'd performed actions that tested them repeatedly or under very great stress. And both were moving from extremely low starting points. There was almost certainly some non-linear progression at work here in that I'd have to do more than one day's activity to increase the higher stats.

While it was probable that weight training was the likely way to improve strength, how could I exert myself enough to trigger a constitution increase?

Perhaps Carradock Goblinbane would know. In any event, I wasn't going to spend my four attribute points yet. I still had to understand the system better.

It was time to choose my fifteen new skills and after placing one point in each of the following I felt a real sense of progress: Grapple: action, unarmed attack that restricts opponent if successful; Heavy armour mastery: passive, allows the use of heavy armour; Kick: action, attack enemy with a kick; Medium armour mastery: passive, allows the use of medium armour; Quick draw: action, produce hidden or sheathed weapon; Ride Warhorse: passive, necessary requirement for the use of other skills from horseback; Riposte: action, counter-attack enemy (can only be triggered after a successful Parry); Shield mastery: passive, allows use of all sizes of shield; Wield espadon: passive, allows the use of a double-edged, two-handed sword; Wield longbow: passive, allows the use of longbows; Wield polearm: passive, allows the use of all polearms and spears (not thrown); Wield war axe: passive, allows use of a heavy, two-handed axe.

Most of the Warlord skills clearly overlapped with other fighter classes as they were all pretty standard, generic ones, but my progression as Warlord had unlocked three eye-catching skills that were likely unique to this path. Battle Cry: action, raises the morale of allies within earshot; Detect Enemy Weakness: action, gain insight as to the extent to which the morale of the target is wavering; Stonewall: action, gain increased AC in proportion to skill level (this skill cannot be higher than Defensive Stance).

Of course I unlocked these with a point in each. Someday on the battlefield, they could make all the difference.

I noticed too that (Wis) had appeared beside my first Feat, and I opened that sub-menu.

Charge! All friendly units in the vicinity get a 20% increase to base movement and a temporary 5 hit point increase. Charge! is a wisdom based feat and each point of wisdom above 15 increases the buff by an additional 1 hit point and 1% move. A wisdom of 18 therefore leads to a Charge! with the effect of +8 temporary hit points and +23% movement for all those who hear the call.

Now that was interesting and gave me pause for a long thought. The attribute points I'd been storing up could make this a powerful area-of-effect buff. If I put all four in Wisdom and hit 20, that would be plus 25% movement and plus 10 hit points to my nearby troops. Considering the basic, level 0 archer had only 5 hit points, that was very appealing. Before I committed myself to this idea though, I needed to test the Feat to see what the reset timer was and how many soldiers it could affect.

Very pleased indeed with these set of skills, that reminded me of my Storm Wars days when I had the skills and feats to tank major bosses, I made my way over to the barracks. There was something odd about the behaviour of the people that I passed. A quick check on the people menu told me that an increased happiness score – now up to 21 – might have had something to do with it. But there was something else going on. Furtive smiles. Little whispers to each other and looks at me that were almost sniggers. It felt like I was in fancy dress.

Carradock Goblinbane was alone at the barracks and on my arrival he saluted me eagerly and said, 'well done sire! Very well done.'

'Thank you.'

'And sire. I may only have one arm, but next time I hope you'll take me with you. I can haul on a rope, or help the soldiers get into formation.' His look was earnest, almost pleading.

'Consider yourself so instructed, Carradock. You can be my aide-de-camp when we are in battle.'

'Thank you sire.' His words were heartfelt and the tears in his eyes sincere. Good man.

'Now, let's continue with my personal training. I want to get stronger,' I said, 'and I also want my constitution to increase.'

'The first I can help with. The second too, but not so much.' He glanced at me and must have seen a query in my expression, because he continued, 'if you assign soldiers to survival training, it takes three months for them to become hardier.'

'Three months.' I sighed.

'In your case, it might go quicker; you can dedicate yourself to it. As much as your duties allow.'

'What does survival training involve?'

'We go into the mountains and live off the land, building a lean-to, hunting and climbing every day.'

'Living off the land you say?' It occurred to me I might make a small saving in food requirements to assign some soldiers to this training. And I would end up with better troops. But with the army so tiny, I could hardly afford this measure, could I?

'Yes sire, it's not the comfortable life a king is used to, no, not by a long way. We'll be hungry most nights. But I believe I see in you a determination that will meet the challenge.'

I caught Carradock's eye and nodded. All the same, there was so much to do here.

'What about the strength training?'

'Much more straightforward, sire. I'll teach you the lifts and you practice them over and over until you are at your limit.'

'Let's begin with that then.' I literally rolled up my sleeves.

Soon, I was performing a variety of exercises, aimed at strengthening my arms and shoulders mostly, but Carradock also had me work on my legs with simple squats that very quickly became a challenge.

When I took a break for water, I noticed again the presence of onlooking townspeople, who still had the furtive smiles and almost expectant expressions. Before driving them away to get on with their tasks, I leaned in towards Carradock.

'What's with the smirks?'

'Oh,' Carradock had a thin, weasel-like face, more used to scowling than smiling to judge from the lines on it. But now it broke into a broad grin. 'Why sire, it's our new flag.' He pointed with his one hand.

The flagpole at the corner of the barracks had a green flag that I'd thought I'd seen previously. When the wind picked up enough to lift it fully open, however, I could see that it had indeed changed. The previous symbol had been a white circle of some sort. That was gone. Instead, it showed a galloping white rhino.

It was probably out of character as King Carlos but I couldn't help smile. I looked around the square and shared the moment with the people who were there, letting them see I was pleased. Then called out, trying to sound gruff. 'All right, I've seen it. I approve. Now get about your tasks.'

***

A couple of hours later, when I was panting from the weight training and sweat was pouring from my body, despite the cool autumn day, a messenger came hurrying to find me. It was a gangly teenage boy who I'd seen around the keep. 'Sire, sire! A ship is making for our harbour.'

'What kind of ship?'

'A Viking ship!' His eyes were wide with alarm. And my heart lurched too. We had no troops at all in Carrick. Well, a one-armed sergeant, a level three Bard, an over-weight Fighter who couldn't fit into any of the town's armour, and a Sorceress. At least we had Carlena, I hoped her mana was fully restored.

'Go fetch the Sorceress. Tell her to meet me at the quays. Get someone else to find Figus, the ambassador.'

'Yes sire.'

'Carradock, come with me and bring your sword.'

'Spear, sire. I can still stick 'em with it.'

'Right so.'

The quayside of the town of Carrick was a simple affair. One pier of stone stretched out into a grey sea for about thirty yards. In the protection of the lee of the wall bobbed two rowboats that were moored to buoys. It really needed a tower here, to help against invasion. At least we were outside the town walls and could fall back through a portcullis.

Shading my hand from the reddish sun, I could see the ship clearly enough. A bank of oars on each side; a large, square-rigged sail with a black and white stripe; and the ominous dragon head, facing us, rising up and down as they worked their oars and drove their ship towards us.

'What do you know of these people, Carradock?'

'Dangerous, sire. Fierce fighters. Robbers. Their land – Jomskar – is north, beyond the Kingdom of Lost Souls. We have a saying, "never turn your back on a Jomsviking", because they'd do you sire. Give you a knock on the head and you'd wake up a slave of theirs.'

A clatter of boots on cobbles heralded the arrival of Carlena, the boy with her. The Sorceress was in her fighting outfit of trousers and tunic and as she gave me a nod of greeting, she tied her hair up tightly into a bun.

I addressed the lad, 'get everyone you can from the town and take whatever helmets and shields we have in the armoury in the keep and hurry to the walls. Try to make it seem like we have plenty of soldiers in the town. And get some people to the portcullis.'

The boy's large Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed heavily. Then he was off, almost slipping on the cobbles as he scrambled over-eagerly back towards town. This really was a lesson for me. Never to leave the town completely without troops. Hopefully, the infantry that Lord Arval was sending on leave would arrive before nightfall but for now, we were desperately weak. Even this one ship posed a significant threat.

'How's the mana?' I asked Carlena.

'Full.'

'You're all we've got.'

'This I can see.'

I was hoping she'd add something reassuring to that comment. She didn't.

In contrast to the tension of Carlena's stance, the arrival of Figus was almost nonchalant in the confidence of his stride. He was well-dressed in good quality cloth, which was embroidered with intricate patterns based on the interweaving of wild flowers.

'Sire.'

'Ambassador.'

The four of us moved part way along the pier and stood in silence as the ship drew closer and closer. Seagulls swooped and squabbled and the scent of the ocean was as salty as on Earth. There was an extraordinary difference with my experience of the sea back home though. Here, on the horizon was a line of white mist that sparkled under the midday sun. The edge of the world, presumably.

As the ship came around the head of the pier, I could see the men – and women – aboard. They were long-haired, tall and sturdy. How I envied them their fitness. And to my great relief, they were not brandishing weapons and helmeted up. At the front of the ship, one arm on the fabulously carved prow, was a red-haired woman whose dark green cloak fluttered around her. She caught my eye and gave a shout. 'Hail King Carlos, permission to enter your lands?'

'Just you.'

With that their spokeswoman threw out a coiled rope with considerable dexterity and it was Carradock, despite only having one arm, who caught it and tied it off on a bollard. With an impressively uniform response to a command barked from the man at the tiller, the oars came in and the ship lay easy just a few yards from the pier. The crew were looking at us frankly, with curiosity, and were clearly unafraid.

Two planks were found to bridge the gap to us and without hesitation the woman ran across. She was in her thirties; had a wide, attractive face; and brown eyes that shone with amusement, or was it cunning?

'I am Jarl Injeborg the Red, here to speak to you on behalf of King Olgrim Beartooth of Jomskar.'

'Go on.'

She laughed. 'In my land, we greet ambassadors with generous hospitality. No wonder this place is called Greyland. Will we not go to your castle? A room? Some wine? Or mead if you like.' She turned to her crew. 'Ragnald, throw over a bottle of mead.'

One of the Vikings rummaged up a bottle, threw it accurately and Injeborg caught it effortlessly. Again it was an impressive display of skill and the whole crew knew it too, there were grins on all their faces.

'Here's just fine.'

'Suspicious?' She opened her arms wide, throwing back her cloak to show that the only weapon on her was a small knife in a decorated leather scabbard on her belt. Then she dropped the smile. 'If we wanted to, we could cut you down right now.'

'Perhaps, if you and your ship could survive a level eleven Fireball.' My heart was beating fast, but my voice was steady.

A quick flick of her eyes towards Carlena. 'We are here in peace and I am to offer you an alliance.' She paused, expecting perhaps that I would now bring her to a room in the keep for our negotiations.

'I'm listening.' And I really was.

'Very well, we'll talk out here, in the wind.' Injeborg's long, red hair had several braids, but even so often streamed across her face. 'Recently, King Olgrim had a meeting with King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin of Rockguard and it did not go well. Knowing he has the stronger army, mac Gille Coemgáin tried to impose tribute on us. And due to adversity and the recent loss of our mines to the frost giants, our king would have agreed. Except that when it came to shaking hands on the agreement, mac Gille Coemgáin instead demanded King Olgrim kiss his foot.

'This was in front of the courts of both realms. I was there. And our king said, "are you sure?" Mac Gille Coemgáin just laughed and said, "kiss it", holding his foot out. "Well," said King Olgrim, "it was your request." And with that he grabbed the royal foot and being a big, strong bear of a man, turned Mac Gille Coemgáin upside down. While the ruler of Rockguard wriggled like a frog, King Olgrim kissed his foot, then dropped him on his head.'

'As you can imagine, their courtiers did not take this well. And, to be brief, we are at war.'

I laughed. 'I like the sound of King Olgrim. Very well. What do you want from us?'

'Iron. We know you have mines.'

Iron again. I had been ramping production up as quickly as I could but perhaps I could do more. It clearly was a vital resource. Should I reassign people from other jobs? I'd ask Carlena about this later. It seemed that the power of the menus, whether divine or magic, gave the workers the appropriate skills in response to my decisions. But perhaps there would be a cost to reassigning someone, rather than using someone who was currently without a task.

'And in return?'

'Fish. Salted fish. Five units for each ingot of iron.'

Not as good an offer as from the Necromancer but, still, food was food and I wanted it badly. Deliberately slowing down my heart, looking into the distance and the slow movements of the sea, I tried to make my next words as unconcerned as possible.

'Using your own trading vessels?'

'Yes.'

'I'll speak directly and to the point. For every seven units of fish, I'll send you an ingot of iron. Right now, however, I'm very short of iron myself. In two weeks, though, I promise I'll give you twenty if you return with a hundred and forty barrels of fish.'

She looked thoughtful. 'I can shake hands with you now at six for one. Seven would need me to sail back to King Olgrim. And have you any iron to hand at all? We have barrels of fish with us now. Thirty of them.'

'You use slaves up in Jomskar?'

'We do.'

'Then I can give you two iron ingots and about fifteen slaves for those thirty barrels.' I was thinking of the four new iron ingots (possibly five) that I would have at dawn but even better of the chance to rid myself of some of the unwanted prisoners. The ones from Southway. I was still hoping to achieve peace with Trolland and their prisoners might be useful.

For a moment, there was a silence but for the waves, the seagulls and the creaking of their ship. I tried not to let my tension show, nor stare at the holds of their ship. We really needed those fish.

'I will agree if our agreement is six units of fish for each iron ingot after this.'

I held out my hand and the jarl shook it with a very firm grip. Then she gave me a fierce look. 'This trade is only the start. I can see you are a man who despite appearances is strong at heart. Soon, we will be comrades on the battlefield.'

'Perhaps. I am already at war with two kingdoms, however, I make no promises about fighting Rockguard.'

'I understand. Let's drink all the same, to the trade agreement.' Injeborg drew her knife and cut away the wax seal on the bottle. Then she offered the drink to me.

'After you.'

With a laugh she took a large swig from the bottle, making sure I saw her swallow it. After which I did the same. It was fiery and sweet. Delicious. 'Put one of those bottles into the trade will you,' I said, passing it to Figus who held it for a moment distastefully, then took a modest mouthful and passed it on to Carlena.

Injeborg laughed again, white teeth flashing. She laughed easily and while aware that I might have been affected by her obviously high charisma, I had the thought that these people might indeed make good allies.

Chapter 13: The Song of King Carlos the Rhino

Confident that they were not here to raid, I gave permission for Jarl Injeborg's crew to disembark and make camp. Outside the walls of course. Whatever their intentions, if they could see how weak were our defences, they might well be tempted to sack the town. I took Carradock's comment on their piratical nature perfectly seriously.

Back among my people, I organised a rota of pretend guards to face the Vikings, sent Carradock off to separate the prisoners and bring back the ones from Southway, then took Figus and Carlena with me to the keep.

There, in privacy, I explained the food situation and how important those 30 units of food in the ship were to us. We were up to 6 units of meat daily, with consumption at 15 (hopefully 14 when I got rid of the prisoners). Reserves were at 38. That gave us 4 days and then people would be on short rations. If we had the fish in the longship, that would give us 8 days before the stores were empty. Even then, we'd have plenty of iron but I had no idea how long it would take to build a ship, crew it and make a return journey to the Kingdom of Lost Souls. More than 8 days surely?

'Which is why,' I concluded, 'I think Figus will have to go to the Necromancer and ask for an advance.'

'Tonight sire?' Figus looked carefully at me.

'Right away.'

'Perhaps the morning would be better, it is Moon Day and I have been working on entertainment that might raise the morale of the people.'

'What's the significance of Moon Day?' I wondered aloud.

Immediately Figus turned to Carlena with a face of pure suspicion. 'What's going on?'

Feeling a flush of embarrassment, I realised I'd asked a question that King Carlos would not have raised. I had been too caught up in the menus and had dropped my concentration.

'Well?' now the Bard turned his startling blue eyes on mine, expression hard and suspicious.

'Well what?'

'You're not King Carlos, are you?'

'What do you mean?'

'You don't talk like him. You don't think like him. And you don't know that on Moon Day the burghers of the town attend you in the evening.'

'Listen carefully, Figus,' Carlena didn't move but her sharp, clipped words leaned over the Bard. 'If you go around talking like that, you'll bring ruin on us all. If his popularity gets any lower, no one will work or fight. And they'll abandon the realm.'

'I'm no fool Carlena, even though you think me one. Just tell me.'

'My real name is Sean de Courcy,' I said quietly, 'I was summoned here by Carlena to replace King Carlos.'

'Summoned?' Figus looked at the Sorceress.

'That ignorant slob was a fool. All he cared about was his dinner menu. And he thought we could do nothing about his ruin of the kingdom. That we couldn't lift a hand against him without the realm losing its menus.' Carlena was becoming impassioned, her normal pale face flushed and her words coming fast. 'He underestimated me though, and Miya, our goddess. She didn't want her realm to be destroyed. She came to me in a dream and guided me in a ritual to replace King Carlos with a hero from another plane.'

This was the first time I'd heard that a goddess had been involved in the summons. The role of gods and goddesses was clearly another aspect of this world that I needed to understand better.

'Pause there, please Carlena. Can you tell me more about Miya and the other gods? Can we get her help? Does everyone have the help of a god? How can I talk to her?'

'I'm a Sorcerer. All I can tell you is what everyone knows, that the gods created this world to play out their game. Each has one kingdom and they are all rivals to each other.'

'But how much do they intervene? How can we – or our enemies – draw on the powers of our gods?'

'They provide divine spells to their priests daily: Clerics, Druids, Paladins and Bards.' The Sorceress waved a hand towards Figus. 'Otherwise, hardly at all. I had never seen or heard from Miya before my dream.'

Figus nodded, then spoke, still with a tense and clipped voice. 'I believe… Sean de Courcy… that if you were to build the church up to a cathedral, and have very large numbers of worshippers for her, that Miya might be able to intervene more and provide significant benefits to the realm. Her attributes being those of fertility and renewal, they would most likely involve crops and healing.'

'Interesting.' And it really was. I was already thinking that upgrading the church was an attractive option and this information reinforced that idea. 'There you have it, Figus. I'm a newcomer. I don't know the name of the days of the week here, let alone the rituals around them. But I'm confident I can save the kingdom and, in time, go on the offensive.'

'This makes sense of everything that's happened in the last four days.' After my last words, the tension in Figus seemed to melt and all at once he was his usual devil-may-care self. 'Hello Sean,' he offered his hand. 'Welcome to our world. I'm sincerely glad you are here. We need someone like you.'

'Thank you.'

'This is exciting news. I feel hope again. And you know what? I think most of the people of the town would too, knowing the old King Carlos has gone...' Figus gave the Sorceress a rueful expression, as though apologising in advance for what he was about to say. 'You might consider telling them all. Especially if the goddess approves.'

'It's too soon. He's doing well but we need to come on a lot more before we can risk a collapse in authority. I think his popularity has to be able to take a much bigger drop than it currently can.'

'I might be able to help with that.' Figus grinned and turned to me. 'If I have permission not to depart until morning.'

'Permission granted.'

'In that case,' he stood up and bowed to us both. 'I'll take my leave and make my preparations.'

When he had left, I looked over at Carlena. 'I like him.'

'I am a difficult person, Sean, because I'm uncompromising. Figus was at King Carlos's right hand most of the time. I understand that he had to play the lackey to avoid punishment. But still, he used his skills to mock other people for the king's entertainment.'

'I see. Including yourself, no doubt. But you can still work with him in our joint enterprise?'

'Of course.'

'What's the Moon Day event he's planning for?'

Carlena looked tired at the thought. 'The town has burghers.'

'Burgers?'

'Yes. Each guild has a representative: the chief baker, the chief butcher, the supervisor of the mines and so on…. These are the burghers of the town, they have a committee to govern all matters in Carrick that are outside of your menus, such as holding court on property disputes, and they have the right to a seating with the king on Moon Day.'

'A seating?'

'They come to a grim and dull evening meal in the castle. Where you sit at the top of the table, hear any complaints they have and resist the urge to hang the lot of them. At least, that's what I think King Carlos usually does, to judge from his expressions.'

'I see.' I didn't really but I could manage to sit at the table and listen. It might even be useful, teaching me something about the way in which the orders I made through the menus resulted in changes in the town.

'Carlena.'

'Yes?'

'Are you happy?'

'Happy? Of course not. We are on the cusp of destruction. I'm a Sorceress with the minimum number of spells and few prospects to change that…' she shot me a penetrating glance. 'Worse, this is a miserable kingdom with a cultural level not much higher than that of the barbarians outside the walls. My existence is incredibly boring.'

'What would make you happy?'

'I'll be honest with you Sean, although many would feel revulsion at my answer. It's power. Power over magic. Power over the other kingdoms. Power not for the sake of it, but to live free from the fear of capture or death.'

'I understand.'

'Do you though?' Again that appraising look. 'I think you do, Sean. I think you understand everything.'

There was a weight on the word everything that was important, as though she were letting me in on a conspiracy. I couldn't grasp her meaning though, nor did I want to reveal my ignorance by asking.

'What about you Sean, are you happy?'

'Very. Before you summoned me, I needed a purpose to my life. A cause. And that moment when I thundered down on the enemy as a rhino?'

'Yes?'

'I've never been happier in my life.'

Carlena laughed. 'I think you share something with the old King Carlos then. He would have been content to live his whole life as a rhino.'

***

That afternoon I'd made sure to keep on top of all my town management choices, namely, assigning the completed steel pickaxes to the mines and deciding what to build, now that hunting lodge 3 had been completed.

Barracks 2 had its appeal, as it unlocked ballista crew training, and with just one more ballista on the large tower (therefore covering the bridge at the same time as the first ballista stopped groups of archers from congregating under the tower), I could hold Three Ways even against much larger armies. A scriptorium was attractive too. When I had stood before the Vikings and made my bluff about Fireball, it had really struck home to me how disproportionately important was magic here. If we had a research option that led to the discovery of more spells and really did obtain Fireball, Carlena would make our army ten times more threatening.

Upgrading the mine to level 3 would work as well. Given how important iron was becoming to our trading and diplomatic negotiations, I obviously couldn't have too much of it. Also, the description of the level 3 mine said that I would have a chance at discovering seams of silver and gold. Yet while I certainly would push up mining production as a priority, I'd run into the problem that I had no unassigned people after putting the last into the new hunting lodge.

It was during my investigation of the question of how quickly new people would become available that I discovered to my dismay that this was proportional to the realm's happiness score. Greyland's happiness had to be above 25 to even attract one new adult a week.

Which is why I used 110 planks of wood to set about the upgrade of the church. A bigger, more notable church increased overall happiness, improved healing rates and attracted a new Cleric to the town. Then too, it strengthened Miya, our goddess, and even though I wasn't sure how to quantify this, it was surely an important consideration? The timer on the upgrade was 2 days and 14 hours.

During the afternoon, I'd also worked on my core muscles, although training wasn't at all the same on my own as when Carradock had been present. In the evening, I'd bathed and, on dressing for dinner, had been provided with furs and impressive jewelled rings to wear for the Moon Day dinner.

The castle hall looked splendid, with silver places laid out for a dozen guests, glittering in the light of candles and a huge open fire. Banners and tapestries covered large areas of the stone walls and again I saw one of a white rhino on a green background. The people present included the chief carpenter, to whom I had promised the role of shipbuilder, and a dozen other men and women, wearing their finest clothes and bronze chains of office clasping emblems with the symbols of their guilds. These were middle-aged people; there was a dull emptiness in their eyes that made me wonder at first whether they were fully human or some kind of limited NPC.

It soon became clear to me that the dullness of their faces was a reflection of their interests rather than their intellect. Insofar as it was fair to generalise across them all, the issue was that their horizons were narrow. One after the other, they made the same kind of speech when their opportunity came to address me: the need to upgrade their factories or premises or equipment.

The 'factor' of the hunters, as she called herself, was rather less given to whinging, after all, she'd had two upgrades recently and twelve new hunters to lead. But even she wanted upgraded bows and knives.

I couldn't ask directly about how my choices in the menu options affected their work: it would reveal me to be an imposter. But I did get the impression from their remarks that they had free will, that they had ambition, rivalry, and passion even, somewhere beneath their solid exteriors. It also became clear that my instructions appeared to them as menus that the office holders could open and close, albeit that they couldn't make any amendments. Once or twice the burghers expressed thanks to our goddess, Miya, in a way that indicated that the divine power of the gods lay behind the menu system.

One question I thought would not be entirely out of character was that of reallocating workers. 'Ladies' – the baker, the brewer, the huntress, the seamstress and the scholar were female – 'and gentlemen. Today, we reached the maximum capacity of workforce in our town. Until such time as we attract new residents or the young come of age, I can only reassign workers. Tell me, is there any penalty for doing so?'

All their faces were turned towards me, orange tinted in the light of the large fire. Then factor of the hunters spoke. 'I believe sire, that while the gods allow this and the workers will immediately know the relevant skill, those reassigned are very likely to be discontented and that will reflect in the overall happiness score for our community.'

Something to be avoided then. Raising the population had become a problem almost as urgent as that of the food supply.

When the meal was done and all the goblets refilled, Figus took the floor. His dress, as always, was smart. Tonight a leather waistcoat lay on a silk shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, that appeared purple in the candlelight but which may well have been blue by day.

'King Carlos, Sorceress Carlena, dear burghers. As you will be aware, a journeyman Bard must produce an epic poem to become a master.' He walked around the room as he talked, meeting the gaze of those present and giving each of us a smile, including me. I still liked Figus, but given what Carlena had told me, I could already see that this performance was an act and that we had no insight into his real feelings or thoughts. 'Until recently, my natural subject for the epic, King Carlos, had yet to provide me with material of sufficient drama for the tale.'

A few of the burghers looked at me uneasily. Had the Bard just insulted me?

'Until yesterday, when, as you know, the king led the army in person, and led it to an extraordinary and important victory.

'This has allowed me to compose the following verses, which I humbly offer you tonight as a small part of what I anticipate will one day be an epic in which we will all participate, thanks to the exciting future that King Carlos will bring to Greyland.

'Ahem.'

Figus took a last drink, stood near the fire and raised his arms. 'I have yet to compose the early verses, but I begin at the tent of Commander Sorgud of Trolland where he is playing a game with Lord Oseso, ambassador to King Wace of Southway.

'"It is your move, Lord Oseso," the commander spoke, "but perhaps you should resign.
'"So that we can take a hand in the affairs of this battle."
'A snort of derision from the ambassador came.
'And he lifted a token instead.
'"Fear not, my Trolland friend, King Carlos is a coward, not to mention fat.
'"We will soon be marching over their piles of dead."'

'The drums beat steady as the army marched past.
'Fierce Trolland axemen first and nimble Southway archers last.
'Spears were there, light cavalry too, and the best of Southway's knights.
'Twelve in heavy armour, shield and lance.
'Skilled in the saddle, they rose as they passed the tent.
'Gave proud salute and made their horses prance.'

'Yet on the walls of Three Ways fort was a scene that would have surprised,
'The two leaders of the army of the allies.
'For the soldiers of Greyland were determined that day.
'To turn back the enemy and protect their families and friends.
'And with them was their king. No coward he, King Carolos was resolved.
'To fight from the front to the very end.'

I studied the Bard as he entertained the hall, walking animatedly up and down, lit to dramatic effect by the fire and making use of the flickering shadows his arms cast as he waved them. Figus gave a surprisingly accurate rendition of my speech; a somewhat exaggerated account of my charge to the bridge; fair recognition of the role played by Carlena (as much in bringing up the infantry when she realised what was happening as in her attempt to duel with the Shaman) and of Parrin.

While there was no doubt I was the hero of the song, Lord Arval was a close second, with the Bard dwelling on the courage, speed and resolution of our Paladin.

The burghers were fascinated by the tale: not a hand moved to take a drink; their wide eyes glistened and followed Figus as he walked up and down the hall. It felt as though there was an element of magic in the proceedings, that we were inside an actual spell and not just a metaphorical one. You could hear the clatter of blade on blade, the cries of the soldiers and horses and the whistle of arrows. It was impressive.

And I enjoyed the ending.

'Knocking aside the pieces of the board, Lord Oseso fled the tent.
'To join the frantic crowds racing down the valley.
'"Let every man look after himself! For we have lost.
'"How I will explain this to King Wace I cannot say.
'"What confusion, what dread, what ignominy.
'"A proud and once-glorious army, now in utter disarray."'

Chapter 14: A New Quest

It was after dark when the army returned to Carrick – with the exception of those on patrol and those on guard duty at Three Ways – they were loud, delighted with themselves, and boisterous, until the word reached them that leave had been cancelled. I watched as they filed past to relieve the town's citizens on the walls and was glad to see there were no sullen looks or obvious signs of discontent. They almost certainly appreciated the potential threat posed by the Vikings and the necessity of guarding against them.

When I felt I could relax at last, I was very tempted to take some of the town's better food and drink as gifts to our visitors: to Jarl Injeborg the Red in particular. Recollections of her confident laughter and her flashing, observant eyes came back to mind. What reason did I really have for putting myself in danger though? Had I come under her influence in some magical way? I knew from his character sheet that Figus had a Scroll of Charm. And I had learned earlier in the day that Bards obtained divine spells. Could I have been enthralled by their ambassador?

With a disappointed heart, I did the right thing and stayed in the keep. I did, however, send Figus to Vikings with a selection of the best food in my kitchen and instructions to make them feel that we appreciated their mission. He was the lucky one who could party late into the night while I lay alone in the huge bed.

As my thoughts began to dissolve into sleep, it occurred to me that the old King Carlos might have been swapped into my body back on Earth. And if so, he might well be falling asleep right now in my body. What was he making of our world? Was he blundering around and risking infection from COVID? Were his assumptions about his authority leading him to clash with my neighbours or the police? These were not comforting thoughts.

***

In the morning, Lord Arval was waiting for me in the solar. He had brought up the prisoners, following the order brought by Carradock, but was concerned about my plan to trade them into slavery in return for food.

'It is against my oath, sire.'

'Tell me more about your oath.' I was stiff from all the weight training and hungry from my low carb diet, all the same I knew this was an important conversation and Lord Arval had my full attention.

'When you embark on the path of a Paladin you are initiated into a knightly order. In my case, the Knights of Miya's Campanile. Your mentor strikes you with a gauntlet, so that you will remember the blow and your oath and you swear the following: I will speak only the truth; I will be brave in the face of evil; my actions will never dishonour our god; I will show mercy and justice to the meek.'

'It is a fine oath,' I said, 'and I admire you for living by your vows. Is it the one about mercy and justice that applies here?'

'And dishonouring Miya. She is a goddess of rebirth and brings love and kindness in her wake.'

I didn't mean my sigh to be audible, but it was and Lord Arval looked at me with an anxious, troubled expression.

'What would you do with the prisoners?' I asked him.

'I would ransom them, or release them in negotiation with their king.'

I couldn't help but shake my head. 'There was a king in my world who used to chop off two fingers from the archers he'd captured, so that they could never draw an arrow with full strength again.'

'Are you proposing…?' His face was dark now.

'No. Not at all. Just thinking aloud. You don't have this sign, do you?' I made the two-fingered V gesture.

'No sire, what does it mean?'

'That king I was talking about lost a big battle and the victorious archers made that gesture to him as he was held captive. To show they still had their fingers. It was an insult, one of anger and scorn. We still use it today.'

'I see sire.' While I digressed, he was waiting on me to respond about the prisoners.

I couldn't see a way around this. Personally, while I considered myself to be good, I was no Paladin. I was pragmatic. I saw nothing wrong with the idea of selling these soldiers into slavery. Especially as that would have been our fate, that or death, had they won the battle. But I couldn't afford to alienate Lord Arval.

'Very well. We'll give the Vikings iron instead of prisoners. They'll be glad of that. The Necromancer can wait.'

'Necromancer sire?'

'Ah.'

There was a long silence, which I eventually broke. 'The Necromancer is willing to give us fifteen units of food for each ingot of iron. That will solve our food crisis.'

'There has to be another way.'

'You don't approve?'

'Approve! By Miya's goodness, no! The Necromancer's god is Scrithax, the devil. He is the very opposite of Miya. Instead of rebirth, he breaks the cycle. His deeds are abhorrent: animating the corpses of the newly dead and trapping their souls in a state of darkness and torture so that the undead will serve him absolutely.'

My friends who played Paladins in Storm Wars would find a way around this. Long term considerations. The greater good. But I knew that wouldn't work here. Lord Arval was the real deal and had an unwavering commitment to the cause of good. This was admirable in a way. Yet I found a surge of anger building inside me. If I could only make alliances and manage the affairs of the kingdom while obeying the oath of a Paladin, I wasn't going to be able to save Greyland.

'Which part of your oath, exactly, does this trade agreement violate?'

'It dishonours Miya.'

'Does it though? If I understand the world correctly, there are twenty-five gods, each with an interest in a kingdom's success. Are you sure that Miya would consider it dishonourable to make trade agreements and even military alliances with some of the others? What about the alliance of Southway and Trolland against us?'

'Some gods are pure evil.'

If I could have drummed my fat fingers on the arm of my chair, I would have. 'Is there a way of finding out whether Miya would approve or not?'

'She will not approve.'

'Lord Arval,' I said sharply, 'Miya brought me here for a reason. And she brought the right person. Now, please don't insult her choice and your king. Think properly about my question. Is there a means by which we can ask the goddess whether she approves of my making a trade agreement with the Necromancer?'

From the set of his jaw and the defiant flame in his eye, I could see that Lord Arval wanted to immediately stamp out all talk of dealing with the Kingdom of Lost Souls. To be fair to him though, he mastered that impulse and begrudgingly answered, 'We could perform a Divination at Dun Ealglass.'

'Good, and what would that entail?'

'It is about an hour…' he glanced at me … 'two hour's walk to the north of here, an ancient stone circle on the cliff edge. I'd have to exchange my second level spell for a Divination.'

I hadn't yet gone into sufficient depth in the menus to see Lord Arval's spells before and I did so now, discovering that he had the option of casting two first and one second-level spells.

'Your magic is like that of the Cleric's? And different to Carlena's?'

'Indeed sire. She must learn her spells for the day from her spell book. Ours come from the goddess via meditation.'

'You have a wide range of spells to choose from?'

'Two from a choice of seven at first level and one from a choice of six at second.'

'I see.' And I literally could see now I'd found the right menu. He could choose from the first level spells: Bless Food and Drink; Cure Light Wounds; Detect Demon; Miya's Growth; Miya's Purity; Protection from Evil and Rally. His second level choices were Detect Lie; Holy Spear; Miya's Blessing; Resist Corruption; Ritual of Divination and Mount Whisperer. 'And you can be flexible about these? You can cast any of these spells right away?'

'Not right away sire. I must clear my mind and spend about ten minutes per spell level meditating… then the goddess fills me with the knowledge of the particular spell I want.'

'Got it. Well, I have some town management to do and I want to speak to the Vikings, which will take about the same amount of time you need to acquire Divination. After which I'll meet you at the north gate.'

Watching the departing Paladin I shook my head. My hunch was that the goddess herself would have a more practical outlook than that of her most zealous followers. If I was wrong though, I didn't have much of a plan B except to risk battle to regain our farmland.

Overnight, both the Shipbuilding 1 research objective and the tower machicolations military building had been completed. I now had shipbuilding options.

Shipbuilding 1

Rowboat

Carries up to 6 rowers and 2 passengers at 1 nautical mile per hour.

Capacity: 1

Cost to build: 24 wood; 1 iron.

Requires: docks, shipbuilder, 5 shipbuilders.

Time to construct: 1 day.

Fishing vessel

Carries up to 8 crew at 1 nautical mile per hour (oars) or variable (wind).

Capacity: 5

Cost to build: 52 wood; 2 iron.

Requires: docks, shipbuilder, 5 shipbuilders.

Time to construct: 3 days.

Merchant vessel

Carries up to 20 crew and 10 passengers at 1 nautical mile per hour (oars) or variable (wind).

Capacity: 140

Cost to build: 120 wood; 5 iron.

Requires: docks, shipbuilder, 5 shipbuilders.

Time to construct: 8 days.

Iron was required, of course. I sighed. Still, that wasn't the biggest limit on starting the construction of the merchant vessel. My timber supplies were only at 57, with a production rate that was currently 17 a day. It would be five days before I could begin. Even after I'd built the ship, where was I going to get the twenty crew from? I hardly wanted to take people away from their other tasks but that might prove necessary.

The fishing boat was of interest. I read that each fully crewed vessel brought in 2 units of food a day. And I had enough timber to begin construction right away. Was it worth it? The downside was it would significantly delay the merchant vessel by using up 52 wood. I decided against building one.

This kind of painful, tightly constrained management wasn't at all as enjoyable as building up my personal battle skills, but it had to be done. One positive in front of me was that I had a new research opportunity and with my need to attract more people to the realm in mind, I focused on the cultural options. The research project that seemed like it would have the greatest impact on the realm's happiness was Sanitation, which allowed builders to create sewers. This also reduced the chance of an outbreak of disease, which would be ruinous at this critical stage. So I selected that and a five day, six hour timer began.

From the military buildings menu, I picked Stone Tower and that opened a map of the realm with a red outline of a tower at my fingertip, one that turned green as I moved it to suitable places with enough room for it to fit. I dropped it beside the docks, where it would guard the pier and overlook arriving enemy ships. That cost exactly 50 blocks of stone, leaving me with 1 in my resources. I would be very glad when that eleven-day project was complete and I'd have some extra security shore side. The arrival of our guests had really given me a shock. Just when I thought I'd secured the eastern border with the victory at Three Ways, I'd been alerted to how easy it would be for an enemy to invade Greyland by sea.

Upon my thoughts turning to the Vikings, I decided to skip breakfast and hurry down to the shore, to confirm that they would accept iron for their fish. We had 5 new ingots this morning, bringing the total in the stores to 6.

When I walked under the portcullis of the western gate, I found an unpleasant wet breeze coming in from a choppy sea and the mast of the Viking ship was swaying, even in the lee of the pier. It was good to see that the foundations of the new tower were already being marked out and the foreman of the builders gave me a salute. He must have reacted swiftly to the menu instruction.

On my arrival (with two of my own soldiers from the gatehouse beside me), a Viking guard called for their Jarl. It took several – cold – minutes before she threw aside the flap of her tent and came out. Behind her was Figus, looking slightly embarrassed, tucking in his shirt and using his fingers to give some order to the peroxide spikes of his hair. I shrugged off a moment's dismay, which was surely only the echo of her influence over me the previous day, and gave him a neutral nod.

She greeted me with a bow, her red hair streaming towards me and obscuring the expression on her face, although I thought I caught a smile. 'Good morning King Carlos. I believe there is still some three hours before the turn of the tide.'

'Is that so?' I looked at the sea and by the line of seaweed and discolouration of the rocks I could see that the tide was only part way in.

'Can we conclude our business in that time? Have your prisoners arrived?'

'About that. I take it you would prefer iron to prisoners?'

Although the bright-eyed ambassador was good at hiding her true thoughts, I could see the flash of interest across her face. She nodded. 'It's a lot less trouble to transport.'

'I'm able to give you five ingots for those thirty barrels of fish.'

'That's welcome news.'

'I have business to attend to, so forgive me for being abrupt. I'll arrange the exchange and bid you safe sailing. Please send my friendliest regards to your king and tell him I admire him.'

'That I will, King Carlos.'

'And Figus, while I appreciate your efforts in strengthening the bonds between Greyland and Jomskar, you have another urgent mission, which should be your priority.'

'I shall depart at once, sire.'

Keeping my thoughts about charismatic Bards and their wayward behaviour to myself, I left the quayside and while making my way to the north gate, sent a soldier to the stores to arrange the transfer.

***

Dun Ealglass was a circle of stones on raised mound of grass on a very exposed promontory, high above the sea. The walk to get there had been arduous and I had to save my breath for the effort. In any case, a sombre Lord Arval had given no indication of wanting to talk. Towards the end, the path came too close to the cliff edges for me to feel comfortable. With my poor dexterity, I could imagine taking a fatal tumble after a trip. So I went even more slowly and carefully. In all, our journey must have taken nearly three hours. For after I had recuperated somewhat, I could see the Viking ship, far below us, edging out beyond the pier.

'What now?'

'We stand by this stone and I cast Divination, with a question for the goddess in mind. With your permission, it shall be: "does the goddess approve of Greyland trading with the Necromancer of the Kingdom of Lost Souls?"'

I nodded. 'And how will we learn the answer?'

'There, inside the stone circle, a vision will appear. Sent to us by Miya herself.'

'But the goddess won't appear in person?'

'I don't believe that possible for any god, until their followers are of sufficient number and their place of worship a suitably high level one.'

I was disappointed, but it was the answer I expected from what Figus had told me. If gods could appear and were able to intervene heavily in this world, like in the stories from ancient Greece, then the rest of us would only be pawns. Perhaps that was the case: by bringing me here, it might seem as though she'd made me a pawn in their game. But I felt a freedom of choice and action that made me confident I was my own man here.

'Shall I begin?' Lord Arval looked at me with eyes that were moist from the sharp wind. His bald head was uncovered and he looked unhappy.

'Please do.'

We were standing on the landward side of the stone circle, facing the interior, and, beyond the far line of stones, the cold sky and grey sea. The stones were not smoothed or balanced on each other, like at Stonehenge. Rather, each was a rough, single tooth, only a little higher than me.

After several minutes of mumbled prayer and chanting, Lord Arval was done and I concentrated on the view in front of me.

We did not have to wait long for the answer. A shimmering, purple-hued monochrome image sprang up of a serious man seated on a throne whose arms ended in skull decorations, or real skulls. He smiled to see a large man waddle towards him. That was me. For a moment I saw myself as other people must: far too fat to be a threat to anyone in battle. I had short, fine hair; was clean shaven; and the expression on my face conveyed a certain strength of character, I thought.

The Necromancer stood up to greet me and we shook hands. As we did so, the clouds beyond the vision parted, allowing a block of gold to appear from the sky to the sea and make it silver. The beam of sunlight travelled swiftly with the motion of the clouds, sweeping through the image of the divination and over Lord Arval and myself. For a moment I was dazzled and as I blinked away the afterimage of the sun, I heard the high-pitched calls of young robins.

'That's a "yes", right?' I turned to the Paladin, a surge of delight in my heart.

Lord Arval's attention was entirely on the scene in the stones. His arm reached across and gripped mine at the elbow. 'Look! There's more.'

Now a lance appeared, with a blazing tip. And while the Necromancer shaded his eyes, I reached for it. The lance moved off, always out of my reach, until a knight strode in – Lord Arval – he came to my side, shield raised as though warding off incoming arrows, and protected me. Now, my efforts were successful. Holding the lance triumphantly, I looked into my own eyes. And the image disappeared.

We were left with the cold wind and just the motion it caused in the grass as it swirled around between the stones.

'Of course!' said Lord Arval, happiness and enthusiasm making him seem twice the warrior he had been before the Divination.

'You know what that means?'

'I think so. That was the Lance of Light. The goddess approves of your trade, but wants you to complete the quest that wins the lance. That way, should the undead become a threat, you have a weapon that can throw them back. And I am to help you obtain it.'

'The Lance of Light?'

'Each realm has the potential to gain an artefact. The lance is ours. It is a fabulous weapon and the reward for a quest that will take us into many dangerous places before we are done.'

'The Lance of Light.' I repeated to myself, feeling a rush of pleasure. You don't get to be the top tank in an MMORPG without the best gear. In fact, it's nearly all about the gear. Discussion boards pretty quickly arrive at a consensus about the best attribute spend and skill combinations. Your build is always likely to be close to the build of other tanks. But if you have unique or extremely rare magic items. Well, everyone wants you to main tank their raids.

'When do we start?'

Chapter 15: The Legend of the Lance

The journey of Lord Arval and I down the cliff path and back into Carrick was a cheerful one, despite the persistent wash of thin rain coming off the sea. There was nothing like being in accord about a shared enterprise to dispel the earlier coolness between us. Lord Arval told me what he knew about the lance and in doing so revealed something that I had not understood before about this world.

The Twenty-Five Kingdoms had already experienced six past 'ages', cycles of growth, conflict and collapse. We were living at the start of the seventh. It was during the third age – a golden age for the people who worshipped Miya – that the Lance of Light was forged. Only in that age had her kingdom ever obtained such a vast population, such high level buildings (the cathedral and the smithy especially) and such high level characters, that they could unlock the artefact of the goddess and forge the lance: the most powerful weapon a champion of Miya had ever wielded, one with a particular focus against undead.

The story, however, had a tragic ending. The hero who wielded it was killed and the lance was lost. Hidden, apparently, to prevent it falling into the hands of its enemies. The quest to find it once more began with finding a sacred grove to Miya in the small but ancient forest to our south. Lord Arval agreed we should explore the area in the morning, with the assistance of Carlena and Athena, the Cleric. Chancellor Parrin too, should he return from his scouting mission in time.

While I rested at the keep – my body was exhausted after walking for so many hours and I consoled myself with the thought I might have earned a Constitution improvement – a book arrived for me, sent by Lord Arval. It was bound in leather, with thick velum pages on which was neat handwriting in dark ink, with the capitals of each chapter larger and more flowery than the other letters. I had no idea how old the book was, the leather binding seemed much newer than the stiff and yellowing velum. The title page was in a different handwriting to that on the other pages and read: Bishop Eathalard's History of the Ages of Miya. Inside was a soft, suede bookmark marking a particular passage. There, Bishop Eathalard had written the following:

It is common knowledge and a matter for the common people to revel in that in the third age of The Twenty-Five Kingdoms, which is sometimes called the Golden Age, was witnessed the forging of the Lance of Light. No other kingdom of that age reached such a level that it could attain an artefact and the people rejoiced. But in the heat of summer there is the premonition of winter as we learn at the church. All the other kingdoms, particularly the worshipers of devils and black magic, allied to bring down Miya's realm: shattering our walls, demolishing years of building achievements, enslaving our people, and killing the king. Of the lance, nothing more is heard. The commoners, Miya bless them, believe it waits for us. That in time of need it will be found again. And for once the crowd might be less foolish than the individual. For I have in my hand a very old parchment, so worn that it strains my old eyes to make out the letters. It is evidently the work of a mystic, not a trained scholar like myself, yet the meaning is clear. The lance was hidden by a worshipper of Miya and those who would find it must follow a trail made for true believers. Here are the words of the mystic, as far as I can make them out.

… look at the red moon, look on the falling rainbows, scattering their beauty like spear points and weep. For this is the end of spring, of hope and rebirth. Only darkness. Only night. Never to bask in the glow of the very presence of the goddess. She cannot return when the bodies lie piled in the streets. She cannot return when her image is strewn in coloured glass… …

'… never. Not when blossom still returns to the trees. Nor when the geese return to the lakes. I shall carry the lance. No burden this.'

'You understand what she asks? It is perverse and tortuous. Your world will be red. You will feel every moment of the passage of time as a pulse. The beat. The hunger. You will outlive everyone you love. You will outlast the ages and how many more before a hero comes to you with the word? You will yearn for death before your task is done.'

'I understand and am glad. For I have stood before the goddess when golden light was strewn from her hands like grain. I have heard her voice like the ringing of sweet trumpets. I have inhaled the scents of ambrosia that make all mortals reel in bliss. I have been burned by the fire of her gaze. I shall carry the lance. I am content.'

… …

… mark in the grove of Miya. Let those with understanding see it as a sea eagle sees the silver fish beneath the waves…

That is all we have from that ancient text and it has not proven enough. The grove is no longer ours, it is surrounded by evil, and even if we could still journey there, others have been before us, others who could make no sense of the marks on the stones.

Of all people, however, it is not for a bishop to despair. Miya will aid us. One day, I know, a hero will wield her lance once more.

I put the book down with the intention of reading more of the bishop's history. Even if this was the only section concerning the lance, the rest of the book looked intriguing and it might potentially be useful to find out more about the past. But when I returned from my light evening meal, I was too tired to read, especially by the poor lamplight of my room, and instead I struggled out of my clothes, into a robe, and sank heavily onto the creaking bed.

***

Our party consisted me in a jolting, bumpy cart; Lord Arval riding alongside on his warhorse, Carlena on her palfrey; the Cleric on a mare; ten archers behind the cart and, up ahead, ten lightly armoured swordsmen. Among the soldiers at the front was Carradock Goblinbane, walking with his spear as a staff. This wasn't exactly the promise I'd made him but when he turned up as sergeant for the soldiers and with an eager enthusiasm in his greeting, I couldn't turn him away. It was a nice touch too that the pennant on the tip of his spear and that on Lord Arval's lance was the white rhino on green. In the cart was a metal helmet sufficiently large to fit me, a rapier, a shortsword, a large shield, a bow with quiver of arrows and my food and drink in a backpack.

Naturally, I'd been spending time on my (sadly, unchanged) character sheet and the town menus. They were a welcome distraction from the thumps and jerks of the journey, and the economic summary was this:

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: church, level 2

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income: 54 gold

Treasury: 5 gold, 5 silver

Daily food consumption: 15 units

Grain yield: 0 due in 14 days

Vegetable yield: 35 food units due in 16 days

Wool yield: 3 bales due in 29 days

Meat yield: 7 units daily

Timber yield: 17 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 6 blocks daily

Smithy yield: ...

Weaving yield: 4 bolts daily

Research: Sanitation

Resources:

Wheat: 8 food units

Vegetables: 14 food units

Meat: 6 food units

Fish: 24 food units

Wool: 4 bales

Timber: 74 planks

Iron: 6 ingots

Stone: 7 blocks

Cloth: 12 bolts

The fish from Jomskar had made a difference: three day's more food supply was a lot under our very constrained circumstances. We still needed more though; my hopes rested on the success of Figus in getting an advance from the Necromancer and on Parrin finding us an opportunity to ambush the enemy when they tried to transport our grain out of the region. I could see from the menu, however, that there was still two weeks to go before the harvest came in. So even if an ambush was a realistic possibility, it would be too late to solve the current crisis.

One issue that stood out in my reading of the menu was that the smithy was idle. This was very frustrating as dozens of military options were available, such as chainmail armour for the infantry, horseshoes for the cavalry, and arrows: we could never have too many arrows in store. But there was no way I could spend that iron until the food situation was stabilised.

The people menu was mostly unchanged from the last time I had looked at it, except that having assigned the workers to the hunting lodge level 3, no one was idle. One other change was that the kingdom's happiness score was up to 25. That latter figure was a very pleasant surprise, seeing as getting happiness up so the kingdom would start to grow again was a major priority of mine. Just one more point and we would start to attract people. What had brought about the increase? The news of the victory at Three Ways had previously pushed up the score to 21 and it was hardly the completion of Shipbuilding 1 or Machicolations that had cheered them up so much since. What else had happened? News of the Divination and of today's mission must have spread of course. And I wondered, too, whether Figus had helped with his song to the burghers.

Following that thought I called up the character sheet for Figus.

Figus, Bard Level 4

HP 25

AC 14

XP 3,320 (6,000)

Str 13, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 9, Cha 16

Scroll of Charm.

Ambassador feats: Speak Language; Swift Travel

More good news! The Bard had levelled up. Clearly, I should continue to give him plenty of opportunity for performances and successful missions. He was evidently earning XP from a variety of actions, since I hadn't yet involved him in fighting. Had he even gained XP from his 'negotiations' with Jarl Injeborg?

Our small expedition crested the rise between two hills and looked down a moderate slope forest framed by some severe, dark mountains. The path we were on turned away from the forest and ascended the hill to our right, where there seemed to be the ruins of circular fort.

'It's time to walk, sire.' Lord Arval pointed his lance at the line of trees a few hundred yards downslope.

We left the driver and two archers with the cart and our horses and walked in close formation into the forest. At first the trees were familiar: ash, beech, oak and horse chestnut mostly. Tall, hundreds of years old, there was little undergrown and plenty of room below them. I could still see blue sky and feel a breeze. Before long, however, the mood of the forest darkened, the canopy above us closing in, so that it felt as though I was walking through a green twilight. Nor was there anything left of the wind. Now the forest felt close and expectant. I was sweating inside my helmet.

The trees here were no longer recognisable. They did not grow straight and tall, but were twisted and hunched over, with branches like tendrils, falling to the floor and lying there like ivy. The trunks of these black trees were knotted and strained, as though spirits inside them were twisting and striving to escape.

Hardly anyone spoke and the sounds around us were of the tramp of many soldiers over the undergrowth of these trailing branches and through bushes. To my right, however, Carlena looked perfectly comfortable and she pointed to a cluster of red-capped mushrooms growing on a fallen branch.

'Aethrix Sanguinensis. Very useful in alchemy. That is another important building we should construct when we can.'

'An Alchemist?'

'Indeed, an alchemist's tower. So that we can create potions and weapons with acid and oil.'

'Should we pause to collect them?' This was my aching body speaking. Already, it was signalling through hard-working lungs, sweat and painful, chaffed thighs that it wanted a rest.

To my disappointment the Sorceress shook her head. 'They are only potent when fresh, for a day, perhaps two at most. And as we can't use them now it would be better to let them grow and hopefully increase in number for another time.'

We pushed on through the grim forest until Carradock, who was at the front, some fifty yards ahead, called out, 'stream sire.'

'Good.' Lord Arval took off his helmet and wiped his bald head. 'We follow this stream to the glade. Let us pause and take on water.'

'Excellent idea.' I took my own helmet off and after searching around, found a moss-covered rock that while uncomfortable at least allowed me to take some of my massive weight off my feet.

'Here you are sire.' Carradock brought me a flask of cold water, which I drank gratefully.

'Glad to get out of the barracks, Carradock?'

'Very glad sire. I've missed this.'

I looked around at the oppressive and disturbing trees. The one-armed sergeant must have guessed my thoughts, for he continued, 'not this evil forest, no, sire. Being with the soldiers. On a mission.'

I smiled, 'of course. I understand.'

The break was short enough and soon we were on the march again, my neck aching with the weight of my helmet, my right shoulder with that of my bow and quiver, my right arm with the pull of my shield and my legs with the effort of pushing my large body over uneven ground. Not wishing to complain or let anyone know how much I was suffering I didn't try to speak. They would have heard the pain in my voice.

After what felt like hours, the stream led us a clearing and it was obvious at once that there was magic in the place. All around a glade, about two hundred yards long and a hundred wide, trees that emanated wickedness were held back as though against a glass wall. Twisted branches fell in straight lines to the ground. Within the glade there was a sense of peace: grass grew to knee height, the green carpet sprinkled with the purple of wild flowers. Up above, the afternoon sky was blue, with a few bright white clouds. It was only now that I could look up to infinity that I realised how oppressed I had been by the forest.

Around the edge of the clearing were stones, similar to the ones at Dun Ealglass. Not much taller than a man, each had a solid base and narrowed toward the top, making them seem like sharks' teeth that had been filed down. These stones were different to those on the cliff edge though, they were covered in runes that looked like hieroglyphs. All the stones ran around the glade, forming a very irregular oval shape not too distant from the tree line. All but one, which stood very distinctly on its own, over towards the far side.

'What now?' I asked Lord Arval.

'There should be a mark here, that those with understanding can interpret as a sign to where the lance can be found.'

'On that single rock perhaps?' I offered.

'Perhaps.' Lord Arval was looking at the tree line to our south.

'What?'

'I sense evil.'

When a Paladin senses evil, you pay attention. 'Deploy the soldiers please Lord Arval.'

Chapter 16: The Battle of the Glade

Lord Arval didn't shift his attention from the slight gap in the treeline to the south, where the stream ran out of the glade. He gave a sombre nod of his head. 'If you, Carlena, and the Cleric would stand beside that single rock, using it for cover if necessary, I'll line the archers up in front of you and the foot soldiers front and back.'

Immediately, I hurried over to the unique stone, my aches temporarily forgotten. Resting my shield against the strange carvings on the monolith, I strung my longbow and stuck a dozen arrows head down into the grass around me; from there they would be quick to pull up. Despite the tension, I found myself anticipating getting good use from the Bracers of Archery we had looted from the Battle of Three Ways.

About twenty metres in front of me, our eight archers hurried into position in a south facing line. At each end of the line were three swordsmen. The other four light infantry soldiers, including Carradock, were behind me with Lord Arval; they formed a kind of reserve, but also could alert us to any danger from being surrounded.

A large shadow crossed the grass, silently tracing the movement of a cloud above.

A bird fluttered loudly nearby, as though startled.

A flicker, like the flight of a dozen insects. And an archer and one of our swordsmen were down.

'There!' I pointed toward the stream. 'Blowpipes.'

Concealed among the trees were humanoid figures. Either they were wearing crocodile masks or they really were reptilian.

'Shields up, heads down!' ordered Arval, just as more swift darts crossed the clearing and rattled against shields and armour. Another archer fell. 'Sire, behind the stone please, you too Carlena.'

We obeyed, although I felt that we were almost beyond the range of our enemies. Lord Arval must have drawn a similar conclusion. 'Archers fall back to me, then return fire.'

In the exchange of missiles that followed, we had the advantage, but not by much. Their darts could not penetrate the leather armour of our five infantry who remained in front, guarding their faces behind their shields. They seemed safe enough and were well positioned to interrupt a charge towards the unarmoured archers. Our arrows rushed into the shadows of the forest, sometimes smacking into trees, sometimes, perhaps, hitting the dark, reptilian-looking soldiers. But I doubted we scored many hits and I could see our supplies of arrows diminishing.

In the hope Carlena had a spell that could help us, I hurriedly opened her menu and found her spell book: Detect Magic; Fire Dart, Freeze, Push, Flash of Light, Telepathy, Solid Air, Shatter, Doppelganger. Given she could only cast about four spells before her mana was depleted for the day, it probably wasn't worth a Fire Dart for just one of these opponents, even if it had the range.

'Cease fire,' said Lord Arval in a steady voice. 'Save your arrows for whatever comes next.'

Our Paladin was figure of calm and steadfastness. He was right too, that something else was about to happen. I could feel a pressure, like a glare of pure hostility burning into my eyes. It was coming from the direction of the stream and when I peered around the stone I saw movement from that south-eastern corner. Emerging from the forest darkness was a massive toad-like monster. Four times my size, it pulled itself towards us with six, slow-moving legs, carefully lifting and planting them one after the other. Two rheumy eyes, protruding from the top of the beast's head stared at me with intense malice.

'Fire at the demon!' ordered the Paladin.

I pulled an arrow fully back and let it loose.

You have hit Zeorvewck for 0 hit points.

You have become better at Wield longbow: 2 (7)

It was no good though, all our arrows scattered on impact, whether from the thickness of the rough hide or perhaps from the monster being immune to normal weapons.

'Aim at the priest behind.'

I looked beyond the toad-monster, Zeorvewck, to see who Lord Arval meant and caught a momentary glimpse of a crocodile-man with a helmet shaped like a monster's skull and a dark staff raised and pointing towards us. Before any of our archers managed to hit the figure, he was gone into the cover of the trees.

The monster opened its mouth and croaked a deafening roar, then its red tongue flashed and a swordsman was caught and quickly dragged to the creature's mouth. In a sickening series of chomping actions, the toad demon crushed the man down to a manageable size to swallow and we could see the lump in the creature's distended gullet.

While our attention was on this awful scene, darts suddenly shot past me from behind. Behind us! Carradock was down, foam at his mouth, eyes rolled back in his head.

Lord Arval was in the middle of chanting a spell, so I took it on myself to order the three remaining soldiers beside me to charge. Unless we moved right away, we were all dead.

'Come on!' I triggered my Charge! feat, giving everyone a 6 hit point and plus 25 percent movement buff, snatched up my shield and ran to the tree line. A dart stung my stomach but other than creating a sudden sense of cold, it did not seem to affect me.

You have been hit by a blow dart for 0 points of damage!

You have resisted poison.

Crashing through the undergrowth, I arrived in front of a crocodile warrior and smashed his blowpipe into his face with my shield.

You have bashed a Zikcrik hunter for 6 hit points.

You have killed a Zikcrik hunter!

You cannot become better at Bash.

You have become better at Shield mastery: 2

You have gained 160 Experience.

I tried to Lightning Draw my +2 rapier but got a fail message and instead lost a few valuable seconds pulling it loose in a clumsy fashion. In the darkness of the trees, it was impossible to know how many enemies there were but to my right Athena was smacking away at one with her mace, while ahead another Zikcrik hunter had snatched up a spear and his sudden jab pierced my thigh.

You have been hit by a spear for 6 points of damage!

My Lunge failed, but before he struck again my timer on Bash refreshed and I whacked the spear to the side and sent my opponent reeling with a blow from my shield.

You have bashed a Zikcrik Hunter for 3 hit points.

A Zikcrik Hunter is staggered.

You cannot become better at Bash.

You have become better at Shield mastery: 3

While the hunter was off balance, I made a successful normal attack (Lunge hadn't reset), my magical blade piercing the bone armour that hung on his chest.

You have stabbed a Zikcrik Hunter for 5 hit points.

You have killed a Zikcrik Hunter!

You have become better at Wield Rapier: 6

You have gained 160 Experience.

The Cleric had been victorious too and we looked at each other, then all around, poised to strike again. But there were no more lizard creatures. A swordsman of ours came back out of the darkness. 'Sire!'

'Let's help Lord Arval.'

I was impressed by the soldier and the Cleric, in that neither hesitated at all at the thought of returning to face that toad demon and they sprinted past me back across the clearing; I lumbered as quickly as I could in the trail of flattened grass they left under their pounding feet.

On the far side of the clearing, I could see that the monster was face to face with Lord Arval, it struck at him with heavy blows of its webbed front two feet: to no apparent effect. It was though our Paladin were standing under an invisible shield that absorbed the powerful downward strikes. For his part, Lord Arval got in a slash with his Trueblade causing a long wound to open up across the forehead and upper lip of the beast; from it oozed pale liquid.

As I trundled past her at the stone, Carlena called out. 'I can't get close enough to their priest. Their darts are targeting me.'

I paused. 'What does Doppelganger do? Or Solid Air?'

'Solid Air... it's a flat plane of air. It doesn't move though, so it's easy for them to get around.'

'If they realise. Go ahead and cast it.'

'I... very well.'

Catching my laboured breath, I waited while she performed the spell. Even though I seemed to have survived one dart hit, I felt that I might as well avail of any magical cover the Sorceress could create. There was no point risking being hit by more darts, I could have just been lucky with that earlier resist.

When Carlena's chants and gestures were finished, I felt a change in the air, as though I surrounded by static. Cautiously at first, Carlena moved out of the cover of the stone and when she realised that there were no darts coming her way, became more confident. I followed closely behind the Sorceress and I could tell there was a patch of the sky between us and the far side of the glade that was distorted, the spell was working as a shield. The zone of solid air wasn't as big as I had imagined it might be: it was perhaps only five metres by five. I could understand her concern. With no armour, she was an easy target for the darts should any of the lizard fighters circle around us again.

Returning my attention to the battle our fate depended on, I was heartened to see Lord Arval continue to slash away at the demon. He had surely cast Protection from Evil to get that defence against the heavy blows of the monster's front feet and I felt encouraged that he had a clear advantage over the fearsome creature. Their priest, however, was shouting at the lizard troops in a guttural language and his orders must have been for them to drop their dart pipes and run in on our Paladin with their spears.

It became apparent right away that the lizard warriors were not held in check by the aura around our hero. There were five lizard hunters jabbing at Lord Arval and those to his flanks and rear were getting through to wound him.

On our side, there was just the one swordsman, the Cleric and five archers left. And our archers were out of arrows.

'Come on! Draw your daggers! Save Lord Arval.' My feat, Charge! was on a cool down timer of over an hour. But the skill Battle Cry was available. I tried it and got a message saying the skill had increased to Battle Cry 2.

Whether the tiny moral boost of Battle Cry 1 had much effect or not, the archers dropped their bows and pulling their long daggers from their scabbards, ran in to the fray.

My own effort to run across to the action caught the eye of the demon monster, for all at once a hot, sticky tongue flashed out and there was nothing I could do to stop it from wrapping around my waist and pulling me towards that awful mouth. A wide, sharp-fanged maw from which roils of putrid air washed over me.

'No… You… Don't.' I manged to tip myself over on my right side and fall to the ground, stretching the monster's tongue as a result and twisting it in a way that must have surely pained it. And now my massive bulk was a help. The demon struggled to drag me any closer, giving mighty groans as it strained against my weight.

From ground level, I got a perfect view of Lord Arval leaping forward from the press of his enemies and chopping clean through the extended tongue, severing it.

Instantly, the constriction around me released and the monster, giving a mournful, spluttering croak, began to turn away on its lumbering and slow-moving legs.

Flashes of light left me blinking. Carlena was casting her fire darts. And again. And again. Their priest was a smouldering lump of charcoal. Our side, pitiful few as we were, were cheering. And when I saw the monster toad finally collapse as though a deflating balloon, I rolled onto my back, looking up into a blue sky that knew nothing of screams and death.

Zeorvewck has been slain by Lord Arval!

You participated in the fight.

You have gained 940 Experience.

That had been close.

Lord Arval leaned over me and grinned. 'A fine move, sire. Using your weight to our advantage.' He offered me his hand and with some difficulty I got to my feet.

His face became anxious. 'Are you injured?'

I checked. 'Not at all, my one injury was absorbed by the temporary hit points of my "charge" feat. You?'

'I can't be sure of the exact figure, but it feels like I have lost about half of my hit points.'

'You are on thirty-two out of seventy-seven,' I said after a moment looking for his character sheet. 'Cleric, heal Lord Arval.'

'Wait sire,' the Paladin held up his hand. 'There might be others who need it more. I have a Cure Light Wounds of my own, plus a Holy Heal: a Paladin feat that heals wounds and removes minor curses.'

'You're right. Let's check.'

It was a grim business examining the bodies of our troops. We did, indeed, manage to save an archer who had been knocked unconscious and was bleeding out until Anthea cast her cure. Those who had died of the poison on the darts, however, were irretrievably gone.

I stood over the body of Carradock Goblinbane and found myself clenching my fists and jaw in dismay. Perhaps I should have been firmer in refusing him participation in this mission. But he had been well able to contribute to our small force, the missing arm had played no role in his death.

In sympathy with my thoughts, Lord Arval clapped me on the shoulder. 'We've lost several good soldiers today. Let's make sure we discover the route to the lance, so that their sacrifice isn't wasted.'

All told, we were now one soldier, five archers, the Cleric, Carlena, Lord Arval and myself.

'Any ideas?' I asked Carlena, who had drawn a book and a quill set from her satchel.

'My intention was to make notes of the symbols on the stones, to study later.' She shook her head and put the book back. 'It's hopeless though. There are so many of them, even on that isolated stone alone.'

True. To record all the complex hieroglyphs in a short space of time was impossible without modern technology.

'We have to hurry,' observed Lord Arval. 'This place is not safe. There will be more.'

'I propose Anthea, myself and Carlena examine that stone; the rest of you walk carefully across the glade in a line, spread out to cover it all, and look for anything strange.'

'Very good, sire,' Sir Arval responded first and took the soldiers off to the east side of the glade.

'I'll join you in a moment,' said Carlena. 'I take it you have no issue with me searching their priest for magic items?'

'Oh, good idea.'

An hour later and we were stumped. The soldiers had been back and forth over the grass, while everyone had spent time looking at the small markings of the stones and of the lone one in particular. One positive was that on the smouldering corpse of their priest had been a ring whose magical nature was evident from the gleaming, untarnished look of the silver. To my real delight, it gave me +1 Wisdom. That was a welcome boost to my Charge! feat for a start.

'Do you recall the exact phrasing of the passage in that book you sent me?' I asked Lord Arval.

'Concerning the lance and this place? It goes like this: some missing letters then … mark in the grove of Miya. Let those with understanding see it as a sea eagle sees the silver fish beneath the waves.'

'An eagle.' I looked up. 'What would this place look like to an eagle?'

Without exception, we all tipped our heads up, to a view in which white clouds were moving swiftly in the depths of a blue sky.

'I have an idea.' My voice sounded excited, even to me. 'Perhaps there are marks on the very tops of the stones, where we haven't looked.'

'Well said, sire,' Lord Arval was enthusiastic about my thought and a white smile beamed across his clean-shaven face.

Soon, the soldiers were helping each other clamber up the stones, it was easy to check them and unfortunately, there were no helpful marks, not even the indecipherable hieroglyphs. By the time we had checked them all, Lord Arval looked anxious again and was repeatedly focusing his attention on the southern treeline.

'Carlena, pass me your book and quill please.'

It wasn't easy using a pen that was dripping ink, but I sketched out the irregular shape of the glade. 'Does this image mean anything?'

'I see what you are doing,' said Carlena and reached out for her writing instruments. 'Allow me.'

'Soldiers, cut lengths of those branches, about ten feet long. It doesn't matter provided they are all the same length. Then we shall measure this glade and the stones to ensure the drawing is a accurate as possible.'

I was met by blanks and sceptical looks, even from the Paladin, but soon we were working our away around the stones, calling out distances to the Sorceress, who drew a broadly oval-shaped image in a neat hand.

'A seahorse?' I wondered.

Then Carlena turned her book sideways and her face registered disbelief. Her subsequent look gave me a shiver. 'That's where we must go: The Island of Shadows.'

Lord Arval grabbed the book from her and his jaw fell open. 'Miya's breath, you have it! Sorceress, I see it! You have solved the mystery.'

'Not I. He did it. Our king.'

Chapter 17: Chancellor Parrin’s Report

That night, back at the keep, I ate with Carlena and Lord Arval. Not that I had much of an appetite. I was exhausted and although I felt a real sense of achievement from the result of our expedition, I was sorry about our losses and Carradock in particular. I'd liked the man. He had been the first to look me squarely in the eyes and speak up with his thoughts, even when he thought I was the old thug of a king. I'd miss him and it wouldn't be the same, trying to shape up without his nod of approval.

We hadn't been able to do much for our dead, not with a sense of urgency from the fear that more lizard-people might arrive and vastly outnumber us. We'd brought their bodies to the centre of the clearing and the Cleric had said a few words. Interestingly, her theme was reincarnation and she expressed a belief that they would be born again in another age. Maybe that really was the case here. And if so, that was a comfort. I was determined to do my best for these people, but there was no getting around the fact that there were a lot more battles ahead and a lot more soldiers would die. This was no world in which to be a pacifist.

'What can we expect on the island?' I asked.

Lord Arval, who had been eating heartily, put down the bowl of stew he had been slurping from and shook his head. 'No one really knows, do they?' He turned to the Sorceress.

'The name, Island of Shadows, is thought by some scholars to be literal. There are shadows, the undead kind.'

Lord Aval picked up his bowl again, but spoke before drinking. 'Drain you of levels, if they touch you. Fortunately, they can't touch me or those within ten feet if I've my Protection from Evil up.'

'How long does that last?' I wondered aloud.

'Ahh, about ten minutes.'

'You have a mana pool, right? You can keep casting it until your mana runs out?'

'Well, I could, but then I wouldn't have mana for my cure or Miya's Blessing.'

'But if we needed it, we might get thirty minutes of protection?'

Lord Arval nodded.

'And what else is said about the island? Has anyone actually been there we can ask to guide us?'

'Not that I'm aware of,' answered Carlena. 'The other story is that no matter where the sun is in the sky, it is twilight on the island. And that there is a demon who can step on to a shadow in one place and step off it in another, even if it is miles away.

'Either scenario would be a challenge.' I mused. Then I added, 'I've been thinking about the arrangement of the stones. Why just one stone on its own? It has to signify where we should go.'

'I agree.' With the servants having been sent away, Carlena had been refilling her own goblet and she was more flushed around the cheeks than usual. 'It's a marker. The Island of Shadows is too large to cross in a day. Unfortunately, we will need to spend at least one night there. I suggest we sail from the nearest point of our own lands across to the south coast of the island looking for a good anchorage and then hurry to the place on the island equivalent to where that stone is in the glade.'

I looked at Lord Arval, and he nodded.

'We have a plan then.'

For a short while, we ate and drank in silence. Then Carlena suddenly blurted out: 'Sean de Courcy, I owe you an apology.'

'What for?'

'When I brought you here, I considered you a servant. If not of me, then of our goddess. Placed in the body of our king, I did not see you as an actual king.'

'I'm not. I'll play the part, of course, because this kingdom needs me and for my own sake too.'

'Yet you are. And today…' She took a gulp of wine and blinked. 'I was frozen with fear. Those darts were killing soldiers so quickly. Of course I knew Solid Air would provide some cover but I was stuck there, behind the stone. I didn't dare cast it and face their attacks again until you came up. You… had the confidence and authority to get me moving.'

Surprised, I thought back to the battle. Events there had moved so fast, it hadn't occurred to me at the time that she was afraid. 'Well, we all experience fear. What matters is that you rallied and you absolutely destroyed their priest.'

'If it helps,' said Lord Arval, 'I have a very simple yet effective philosophy for battle.'

'Go on,' I said.

'Live with honour, and if you can't… die with honour.'

Carlena gave a thin smile. 'That's you summed up in one proverb. I'm… I find life rather more complex and I suffer fear as a result.'

Lord Arval shrugged and turned his bald head toward me. 'What about you sire? Do you have a code you live by?'

I shook my head. 'No, not a code.' Seeing that the Paladin was still paying attention to me and warmed by his own admirable outlook on life, I made the effort to say more. 'You remember when I was a rhino…'

'I'll never forget!' Lord Arval laughed.

'When I crashed into those men who had come to kill or enslave us, I felt… It's hard to put in words… like pure lightning. My whole life was concentrated into those few minutes. I had no concerns. No doubts. No unhappiness. I was alive only in that charge, in that fighting. And it was… intense.

'I discovered something about myself that day. Give me a cause and comrades and a battle and I thrive. Stuck at home, doing nothing important, and I'm lost.'

Both of them looked sombre now.

'Cheer up,' I said, 'it's what you want in a king.'

A servant opening the door interrupted us; she bowed apologetically and announced: 'Chancellor Parrin, sire.'

'Send him in.'

My elderly, bearded Scout strode into the hall, still in his leather armour. 'Sire.'

'Take a seat, Chancellor Parrin. And tell us what you've learned.'

'I will sire, but first, if I may. Is it true? That you've had a vision from the goddess and you now seek the Lance of Light?' His expression was expectant.

'It is true.'

Parrin slapped the table with pleasure and his bright blue eyes were glittering with the torchlight as he looked to Carlena and Lord Arval before returning his attention to me. 'This could make all the difference. What do you know of its location?'

Between us, Lord Arval and I explained all we'd learned and described the events of our small expedition. The Sorceress added a point or two and again I felt from the softness of her manner towards the chancellor that there was an attachment there.

For his part, Parrin brought very welcome news. According to the farmers – who had once been ours – the alliance of King Wace of Southway and Queen Rorgesta of Trolland had come under great strain since their defeat at Three Ways. Our Scout had seen for himself that their remaining troops were camped in different parts of the region and the rumour from their camps was that once the harvest was in, they were going to retreat with a share of the crops, each back to their own kingdom.

'If we were to bring every soldier we had and surprise them, could we defeat them one at a time, do you think?' I wondered.

'That's certainly possible sire.' The chancellor rubbed his beard thoughtfully. 'But I don't advise it. We should be able to regain our lands without having to take that risk.'

'Too late for the harvest though. Unless we can ambush it?'

'I don't believe we will be able to. Not if the rumours are true, that they will withdraw with the food.'

Tempting as it was to try to catch my enemies while they were divided, I really needed to build up the army, not weaken it any further. The losses today were going to be hard to replace, at least until I solved the population problem. Raising my arm, I called down the military menu.

Military

Light infantry: 19*

Heavy infantry: 11*

Archers: 31*

Light cavalry: 18*

Heavy cavalry: 4*

Ballista: 1

(*veterans)

Hospital: 16

Military upkeep cost: 43 gold, 6 silver

Currently training:

Buildings: keep level 2; curtain walls level 1; towers level 1; town walls level 1; tower machicolations

Currently building: tower, 9 days, 12 hours

Evidently noticing my action, Carlena asked, 'what are your priorities now sire?'

I sighed. 'There's still a problem with food supply. We are generating more than enough iron to trade for the food we need, but I'm short of the materials for the ship. And I'm short of people for the crew. So it seems to me that the biggest priority just now is to get our happiness score up: according to the menu, with even one more happiness point people will then start to arrive in the kingdom.'

'And the scriptorium for my spells?'

'There's just ten hours left on the church upgrade. That will be ready before we leave in the morning. Possibly, a scriptorium should come next, but we need to preserve timber for the ship. Let me check…'

The level 1 scriptorium required 40 wood and 10 stone and would take three days, twelve hours to build.

I shook my head and told her so. 'Again, we need more citizens. I have to increase our timber output. I believe that when Figus created his song and performed it for the burghers, our happiness went up by two, are there other measures like that I could take that would help?'

'A festival might have that effect. The old king Carlos never arranged any though, so I am not sure of the consequence.' Chancellor Parrin helped himself to a goblet, poured a generous amount of wine and, with evident satisfaction, took a drink.

There was indeed a festival submenu, thought it wasn't easy to locate, I found it under the people branch.

Festivals

Next available festival: Miya’s harvest celebration, in 14 days.

Cost: 2 days suspension of work

Benefit: +3 happiness

'Two day's work,' I muttered. 'That's a lot of iron, wood and stone.'

'Sire?' asked Lord Arval.

'Sorry, there is a festival option. Not for fourteen days though and to get an increase in happiness by three, we have to suspend work for two days.'

'That does not sound worthwhile,' said Carlena.

'Probably not. But a lot can happen in fourteen days. I'll consider it again closer to the time.' I found that I was yawning.

'You should rest, sire. We will start early, soon after dawn to go out with the tide.' This from Lord Arval.

'You are right. I'm worn out.'

'Sire… your ring. Is it new? Magical?' Chancellor Parrin had noticed the bright silver ring and I tipped it towards him to show off the turquoise stone it contained.

'Plus one wisdom.'

'Excellent sire, wisdom is a most valuable trait for a king. One that I believe was severely lacking in your predecessor, but which seems abundant in you.'

'Flattery chancellor?' I laughed. But I was pleased too and I took that compliment with me as I bid them good night and left for my chamber.

Although I could feel sleep falling over me like a blanket, I made the effort to stay awake at least long enough to check all my timers. Every hour was precious at this critical stage. There was the church upgrade of course, ten hours to go there; the new tower at the docks was still nine-and-a-half days away from completion; sanitation, another important project for the sake of the realm's happiness, was three days and nine hours away.

I was dreaming. A demon, much like a man, but for his horns, tail and fierce red eyes was standing in front of an abacus bigger than me. Thousands of beads of different hues clattered back and forth as his fingers moved them at tremendous speed, often flicking entire rows back to the left, before selecting new groups with his long fingernails and pushing them rightwards.

'What are you calculating?'

The demon smiled. 'The number of people whose deaths you will be responsible for.'

'Well then,' I replied. 'You'll need a bigger abacus.'

Chapter 18: Out to Sea

A servant woke me early. It was only just after dawn and I dressed, then made my way down to the docks with servants carrying my water, rations, helmet, shield, bow and arrows. The magical rapier was strapped around my waist. While I had some anxiety about leaving the kingdom for an expedition that would take around three days, at least I could manage our affairs though the menus. And from Parrin's report, it seemed that we were not under direct military threat.

Stifling a yawn as I reached the pier, I nodded to Lord Arval and Anthea the Cleric, both of whom had arrived before me. Below us was a single-mast boat that did not look particularly robust.

'You do realise I'll sink straight down if I fall in?' I said, only half in jest.

'Perhaps we should lower you in a sling?' said Lord Arval and I glanced at him, wondering if he was making a joke in reply, but it seemed not and before long the crane and pulley that was used to unload ships had been wheeled along the pier and a sling prepared for me.

When my full weight was transferred to the boat, it felt distinctly lower in the water. The gunwale was only about three feet above the waterline and I was worried. If the sea between us and the island was at all rough, I could imagine being swamped by the waves. And that would be the end of me and no doubt the end of Greyland. Whether that would return me to my body on Earth or simply leave me drowned here I didn't know, but my anxiety was that this would be the end.

My gear was stowed and with Lord Arval's heavy armour and the Cleric in her chainmail, we sank even lower. We sat waiting for the others, bobbing up and down with the motion of the waves.

'Who is going to steer?' I asked.

Lord Arval looked up from where he was placing an oar in its rowlock, 'I believe Carlena has some skill in sailing.'

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Carlena, accompanied by the chancellor, peered over the edge of the pier. She was wrapped in a deep blue cloak, which I was envious of. The sea breeze was cold.

The five of us – Warlord, Paladin, Cleric, Scout, Sorceress – had just rounded the end of pier and felt the impact of the sail filling out when a horseman clattered along the stone structure and began waving urgently.

'Coming about,' cried Carlena, and I had to duck as the sail swung over my head and the boat shivered, then veered off toward the pier.

It was Figus, no one else had such bright yellow, spikey hair.

'What news?' I shouted.

'Take me with you.' Our ambassador dismounted and stood expectantly at the edge of the pier.

'Aren't we a bit low in the water already?' I asked Carlena.

'It might help to have the Bard along. And we are fine. Throw him the painter Lord Arval.'

Anxious as I was about the fact that I couldn't swim in this body, I nevertheless allowed her instruction to go unchecked and soon, after a certain amount of careful manoeuvring, Figus was sat on the bench opposite me, blue eyes sparkling.

'You seek the Lance of Light?'

'We do.'

'At last, I get to witness your deeds. It's not the same, you know, composing songs from reports. You've fought in another battle without me being there,' the note of reprimand in his voice made me chuckle. 'Please, sire, tell me all about it.'

Of course, I was keen to oblige him. His composition last time seemed to have increased his own level as well as the happiness of the town. First, though, I had to know about the food supply. 'In time. Report, though, how you got on with your mission.'

'In short, it was a success. A hundred-and-fifty units of food are on the way. Weather permitting, the ship will arrive in two days.'

Only now, after these words, did I realise how tense I had become upon seeing Figus. So much depended on our obtaining enough food to bridge the gap until when our trade routes were established. 'Go on.'

'Well sire,' Figus looked over my shoulder to confirm that Lord Arval and Chancellor Parrin were listening, then back past Anthea, who was sitting beside him, and over his shoulder to take in Carlena at the tiller. He straightened his legs as much as my own large legs allowed for in the space between us, drew a deep breath, and ran a hand through the spikes of his hair. Dear me, but this man loved an audience. 'I was escorted to the Necromancer in Grimdark Forest, the large forest in the south of his realm. There, I believe he had been hunting grimdark spiders for his personal progression and for enchanted silk. They had a cart with two large reels around which the silk had been wound and he stood in a clearing where the ground had been torn up by magic.'

'Do you know what level is the Necromancer?'

From his quickly controlled reaction, it was clear that Figus did not like interruptions but he nodded, to show he appreciated the importance of the question. 'Unfortunately, unlike Queen Rorgesta and King Wace, he does not boast of his levels. Nor do his staff or servants speak to me of such matters. All I can offer by way of answer to your question is the observation that in the kingdoms like Southway and Trolland, where the rulers have devoted a lot of time to their personal advancement, they have reached level twelve. The Necromancer seems to me to have the same dedication and focus.'

I let out a sigh. Yet another goal to pay more attention to: that of catching up in level with my peers.

'May I continue, sire?'

'Please do.'

'I greeted the Necromancer in a most cordial fashion and he too seemed to be genuinely happy to see me. Both his kindly expression and his instruction that a bottle of – very fine – wine be opened suggested this. When he learned of my request, however, the Necromancer's frown lines returned and he rubbed at his silver necklace. The ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls had that distant expression that you have when looking at menus. And when his black eyes focused on me once more he said to tell you this:

'"King Carlos. I understand your difficulties. You must understand that to assist you, I am obliged to divert my own trading ship from its other duties. You shall have your food but the cost of this shipment is thirty iron ingots. To be paid as soon as you can."

'I accepted without attempting to negotiate. Another ruler, another circumstance, and I would have never accepted a first offer. From the Necromancer's tone and fierce look, I didn't dare say anything but accept on your behalf.' Figus gave me a hesitant glance.

'You were right.' I checked the economy menu. We had 11 iron ingots and were producing 5 a day. 'We'll have twenty-one ingots their ship can return with. That will reassure him that we mean to deal honestly with him.'

For the next hour, I responded to Figus as he questioned me about the expedition to Miya's Glade and the battle there. I was happy to talk, not least because it distracted me from the experience of sailing in this fairly small boat. My fears about it being low in the water were unfounded, at least in the current moderate conditions. The boat rose well over the waves and shouldered through the occasional cross-wave, even if that sprayed us with cold sea water. The motion, though, didn't bear thinking about, because it made me feel distinctly queasy.

Nor, if I kept checking frequently, did it seem like we were making much progress. We were following the coast of Greyland south-westwards and for a long time Carrick remained in view. Talking to Figus helped. So did studying the town menus. Another welcome distraction was the appearance of a seal, which I spotted as it surfaced among the grey ridges of waves. I saw the creature as a companionable one, but when I pointed to the seal, Chancellor Parrin commented that it would make good eating and might be worth using a Fire Dart spell on. Unaware of its danger and evidently curious about us, the seal must have spent half an hour in our company.

When the sun was well up, and as I was listening to the cries of a colony of seagulls among the stacks and rocks between us and a shale-covered shore, the timer ran down on the upgrade Church 2.

Church level 2

Priests: Senior Cleric level 2*, Cleric level 1

Benefits: heals one person per day of minor wounds (cannot cure diseases, heal victims of poison or remove magical curses). Other healing and benefits according to the spells of the senior Cleric. Increases town Happiness by 3.

* Senior Cleric may advance in level.

You have unlocked advancement for a Cleric level 2. Do you wish to attract a new Senior Cleric to the realm (may take up to three days) or promote Anthea Greyford (Cleric level 1) and attract a new Cleric level 1 to replace her?

New Senior Cleric / Promote Anthea Greyford

My choice of the church upgrade had really delivered on its promise. For a start, our town happiness was up to 28 and we were now gaining citizens at a rate of 1 per 6 days. Still too slow, but I could keep working on that happiness score. Unlocking level progression for the senior Cleric was a really important and unanticipated development. It immediately made me wonder about what buildings might allow other types of class to become available to me and progress. Could I obtain a Ranger, for example, or different types of magic-user?

Up until now, I'd only really focused on the essential economic buildings, like the hunting lodges and smithy. There were others, though, that I had previously only considered as luxuries for later, when my economic base was secure. I briefly scanned through them and made a note to study the details later, but there were indeed options such as Stone Circle, Monastery, Training Camp and Summoner's Tower that looked extremely promising.

A response was needed to the menu that was open in front of me and of course I chose to promote Anthea Greyford.

Her head shot up, grey eyes seeking mine. 'Oh. Thank you sire.'

'What did you just feel?' I asked curiously.

'It wasn't a feeling. I just saw a menu telling me that I was level two and Senior Cleric for Carrick's level two church of Miya. I can now cast more spells.'

'How many?'

'Two first level and one second.'

I searched under the people menu and found her character sheet.

Anthea Greyford: Cleric Level 2

HP 14

AC 12

XP 300 (600)

Str 12, Dex 10, Con 10, Int 8, Wis 17, Cha 9

And nested inside that menu, her spells:

Spells: 2 x first, 1 x second

First level spells: Bless Weapon, Calm, Cure Light Wounds, Growth, Holy Light, Inspiration

Second level spells: Cure Moderate Wounds, Delay Poison, Delay Disease, Miya’s Courage

It was obvious what the effect of the cures and delays was; Calm restored equilibrium in one person who was afraid or panicking; Light allowed the creation of a bright light for six minutes per caster level; Bless Weapon was a temporary +1 for one weapon, but perhaps importantly for battles with creatures like the toad demon, it made the weapon a magical one for six minutes per caster level; Growth assisted a small crop, allowing, for example, a Cleric to tend a herb garden successfully; Inspiration gave a short-lived buff to attacks and to resistance while Miya's Courage was an upgrade to that spell, in that it also improved skill checks.

'Just learn cures for now, Anthea.'

'I prayed for a Cure Light Wounds this morning, but I don't think I will be able to pray for my new spells in this boat. I need less motion to concentrate properly.'

'I see.' I studied the Cleric. She was wearing her chainmail coif thrown back so that her short brown hair was ruffled by the breeze: grey eyes, narrow face, shy looks that flicked around but rarely fastened on mine. Somewhat of a mouse in appearance. Yet brave enough. She had charged with me into the trees when we had been flanked by the Zikcrik hunters and smashed one down with her mace.

'I need you to understand something. Your goddess was not pleased with King Carlos and just over a week ago, a ritual was performed that changed his … spirit. Miya brought me here from another world to be her champion.'

I waited for her reaction. It was an earnest nod. 'I was aware of the change. Thank you for letting me know the cause.'

'What do you think would be the reaction of the people if you told them the same news?'

'They would be pleased.'

'The burghers wouldn't consider me less legitimate a ruler? Our happiness score wouldn't drop?'

Anthea shook her head. 'Not if you are Miya's chosen king. It might increase. You… King Carlos was obeyed from fear, not love.'

'He is Miya's choice.' Carlena spoke up from behind Anthea. 'Miya came to me in a dream to help me discover and understand the ritual we used to exchange our useless king for a much better one.'

Carlena's words made me feel happy: these people appreciated how I was doing my best for them. Although we now continued our journey in silence, other than the slapping of waves against the boat and the cries of seabirds, I felt that we were a community, a team, a party of six with a shared determination to bring back the Lance of Light to Greyland and restore the fortunes of the kingdom.

Chapter 19: The Island of Shadows

The following morning, after a night camped on the beach during which Figus entertained us with legendary sagas, we pushed the boat back out into a grey sea, where a lack of breeze meant we had to row for nearly an hour before the sail filled properly. The Island of Shadows was just visible as a grey line in a sky that was brightening to pale blue.

Once my hands were no longer needed on an oar, I called up the town menu.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building:

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income: 54 gold

Treasury: 6 gold, 8 silver

Daily food consumption: 15 units

Grain yield: 0 due in 12 days

Vegetable yield: 35 food units due in 14 days

Wool yield: 3 bales due in 27 days

Meat yield: 7 units daily

Timber yield: 17 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 6 blocks daily

Smithy yield: ...

Research: Sanitation

Resources:

Wheat: 4 food units

Vegetables: 9 food units

Meat: 4 food units

Fish: 19 food units

Wool: 7 bales

Timber: 108 planks

Iron: 11 ingots

Stone: 13 blocks

Our food reserves were at just over four days. That was more than enough to sustain us if the promised supplies from the Necromancer arrived in the next day or two. All the same, I wouldn't be able to rid myself of an anxiety on that front until they did. While it was frustrating not to have a building project underway (a scriptorium?) or items being produced by the smithy, I had to save up iron for payments to the Necromancer and the Vikings and timber for a merchant vessel. Two more days would see me with enough timber to start the construction of the ship.

Because the winds were light and inconsistent, the sea was a lot easier today and I would have even enjoyed the experience of sailing but for a sense of urgency about the time the passage was taking. That and a short but heavy shower which left me soaked and cold. It took us until well into the afternoon to navigate the strait from the mainland to the island. Then at last we caught a decent following wind and Carlena could set us dashing over the sea, a distinct foamy white wake trailing out into the dark water behind us.

As we came closer to the island, it grew to fill the horizon with its steep mountains. For about an hour, we ran parallel to a cliff. As I studied the island I noticed something that didn't look right. While sea-birds wheeled and cried in large numbers around large rocks and guano-streaked stacks, they did not land on the cliffs, which were formed of black stone unmarked by bird droppings. I pointed this out to the others but no one had any explanation.

At last, as we came around a protrusion of the cliff, we saw the high land fall away towards the sand of a huge, sweeping bay. We had hoped to be able to land somewhere in this region and it was clear we would have plenty of opportunity to do so.

'Figus, you have a way with words. Please name this bay for us.'

'Very good, sire. To give it a name will help with my epic song. Let me think… The Bay of Cataclysmic Disaster and Eternal Curses on all Who Land There?'

The Cleric gave a snort. Carlena looked aghast. From behind me, someone chortled, more likely Parrin than Lord Arval.

'Thank you Figus. I'm sure that will scan well.'

Soon we were pulling the boat from the waves and onto a pure white beach that would have been ideal for holidaymakers back home. It was an effort that got us all drenched in cold seawater, but having stepped the mast and tipped it to avoid the keel snagging, we hauled the boat towards the seaweed line of high water.

As I stepped across the last of the seaweed, it felt as though a dark cloud had suddenly covered the sun. And indeed, there was no longer a sun in the sky, only a vague impression of it above me, so weak and so distant that the sky was no brighter than it would have been at twilight.

'The sun has gone,' I said.

Taking a break from hauling the heavy boat over the sand, the others looked around too.

'There is a powerful spell at work here,' said Carlena.

'Or curse,' muttered Anthea. 'I feel like I've stepped out of our world and into Pelisia, the in-between realm, where the souls of the wicked await reincarnation.'

'Wherever we are,' said Lord Arval, 'the goddess has directed us. Come, friends, let's continue our efforts.'

At last we had the boat up against the sandy bank of a grass-topped dune, where it rested on its side, somewhat concealed and sufficiently far from the sea that I was confident it could not be reached even by the highest of tides.

'Shall I scout ahead?' Chancellor Parrin offered. 'I'll look for somewhere to camp.'

'Please.' With only a vague impression of the sun to guide us, it was difficult to tell how late in the day it was. But from the last time I had noted the sun, on its descent to the far side of the island, we probably only had another two or three hours before dark.

'See that mountain?' our elderly Scout pointed to the north east where a sharp, double-peaked mountain filled the sky. 'Aim towards it and I'll find you later.'

I had imagined us trekking for some time before the Scout returned but no sooner had we gotten up the dunes (not easy for me and I had to have Lord Arval and Anthea under each arm for a section where the sand crumbled beneath me as fast as I trod on it) than he appeared out of the waist-high wild grass.

'A mausoleum sire, for a giant king.' Chancellor pointed to a hill directly to the north, where the building was unmissable. A massive rectangle of pale columns held up a triangular roof of the same white stone. It was like a building from ancient Greece, only three or four times as big. 'There's a stone sarcophagus in the centre and written on the east face of the roof it says, Reganus, eternal rests; 'til the shadow giants need him next.'

'Doggerel,' muttered Figus.

'Shadow giants?' I spoke aloud. But no one had a response. 'Well, so, I don't see any need to mess around with that building. Assuming we are right about the marker stone, we are a long way from where the goddess wishes us to be.'

Carlena had her sketch in hand. 'It's somewhere over there,' her gesture was towards the double-peaked mountain. 'But hours away, we had best find a camp site.'

Again, Parrin ran ahead, until he was lost in the bushes and long grasses of the land we were crossing. The ground was uneven and there were no paths, other than tracks that might have been made by goats, which as often turned in unhelpful directions as led to the north east. At least moving warmed me up after the drenching I'd received in the sea.

An hour or so walking over the uneven ground, over hardy-looking grass, and I was feeling hot despite the cool breeze. Pausing to wipe the sweat from my brow I saw two eagles circling in the grey sky above, a pair of eagles of enormous size. It was hard to tell if they were far away and absolutely monstrous or…

'Ware eagles! Shields up!' I shouted. The birds were in fact near and as if realising that I had spotted them, were plunging out of the sky, claws extended.

One of the eagles was coming right at my head. With a successful Lightning Draw (now 2) bringing my rapier to my left hand, I braced myself under my shield, angling it in the hope of deflecting the incoming bolt from above as the eagle rushed upon me faster than a stone.

Impact! Feathers. Screeching.

You have been Bashed by a giant eagle for 18 points of damage!

You have become better at Shield Mastery: 2

You have become better at Deflect: 2

The monster smashed me down into my knees and took the breath out of me, but it could have been worse, I had managed to keep the shield between myself and the giant bird. With the ringing sound of claws scrabbling on metal and a cruel, hooked beak jabbing over the top of the shield, the bird flapped its powerful wings to stay on the shield, buffeting me with them.

It was all I could do to raise the shield higher and keep that terrible beak out of reach. I triggered the combat skills that had any chance they might help me: Block; Defensive Stance; Deflect; and Stonewall. Suddenly, the giant eagle got a grip of the edges of the shield with both its claws and tried to take off up into the sky. Once more, my large weight was an asset. There was no way it was going to lift me, no matter how it strained and no matter the pain in my arm.

With a crack, my shield failed under the stress. All the bolts around one end of a strap came free of the wood and the other strap was yanked painfully over my wrist and came off. The giant bird found itself flapping wildly backwards in possession of my shield. Although I only had my helmet to defend me now, at least my rapier could come into play. It had been useless in the face of the monster pressing down upon me (I really needed a cutting weapon for close fighting).

Lunge.

You have hit a giant eagle for 7 points of damage!

You have become better at Lunge: 6

You have become better at Wield Rapier: 7

A look of pure hate, not to say madness, was evident in the yellow-ringed eyes of the raptor and with a deafening screech it hacked a gobbet of flesh out of my shoulder.

You have been pecked by a giant eagle for 7 points of damage!

Although I could see nothing other than the rapidly moving black and brown wings of the bird, I smelled fire and burning feathers and the monster was away, leaping through the air towards Carlena, claws extended. My stomach clenched in anxiety for our Sorceress.

With a neat step and a perfectly timed and savage blow of his short sword, Figus hacked into the right wing of the eagle and it crashed to the ground, still eager for the fight but having missed Carlena.

'Freeze!'

As the monster righted itself from its roll through the grass, Carlena took the opportunity to magically fix it in place. No matter how fast and furiously the eagle beat its wings, it was stuck.

For the first time since my battering I could check what was happening with the other eagle. As I'd hoped, Lord Arval had the aggro – I reminded myself to ask him about that – and was moving well, blocking with his shield and cutting a distinctly wounded eagle with slashes from his Trueblade.

'Mana?' I shouted to Carlena.

Without taking her eyes from the bird she replied. 'One more Freeze.'

Hurriedly, I found my longbow and picked up my quiver from where it had fallen after I had been struck by the eagle. Coming so close that I felt confident I wouldn't miss, I drew back the bow with all my strength and loosed a shot.

You have shot a giant eagle for 7 points of damage!

You have become better at Wield Longbow: 3 (8)

Without even thinking about it, my hands had prepared the next shot.

You have shot a giant eagle for 6 points of damage!

You have become better at Wield Longbow: 4 (9)

'Freeze!' shouted Carlena. And followed this up by hurtling a dagger, which hit but unfortunately only handle first.

Thanks to my magic bracers, which I really appreciated for the first time, I got in three more shots for 19 damage in total and each was accompanied by a skill up, bringing me to 7 in the skill and 12 with the effect of the bracers.

Just when I decided I had better drop the bow and draw my rapier again, ready for the Freeze to break, Figus came into view, groaning with the effort of raising a large rock at chest height; with both hands he launched it through the air with enough momentum that the boulder crashed into the left wing of the eagle, instantly shattering the bones.

Now, even after the eagle came free of the spell, it couldn't fly and it could barely hop. I had no difficulty shooting at it over and over again while staying out of reach of beak and talon. In fact, when Lord Arval came hurrying over to assist, having killed the eagle that was on him, I called out. 'Leave it for me. I'm getting skill ups.'

While I was kiting the injured eagle, Chancellor Parrin came running back to us. 'Everything all right?'

'We're good,' said Figus, 'although how I'm going to make this part of the battle sound heroic is beyond my current level.'

Because I looked up to check the Bard's expression – a smirk – I missed a shot and there was an audible groan from Carlena. My next three arrows thudded home and at last the monster was dead.

You have shot a giant eagle for 7 points of damage!

A giant eagle is slain! You participated in the fight

You have gained 630 Experience

You have become better at Wield Longbow: 15 (20)

You have gained a level! Your hit points are restored and your timers on skills and feats have reset. Please view your character sheet for other benefits.

'Ding!' I cried, delighted.

'Sire?' Figus looked at me curiously.

'Ahh, a habit from my world. I've levelled up.'

The others congratulated me (both Lord Arval and Chancellor Parrin coming over to shake my hand), and while I was appreciative of their thanks, I also was eager to call up my character sheet.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Warlord, Level 6         HP 48          AC 3

Str7

Dex6

Con8

Int16

Wis16 (17)

Cha6

Exp 3,230 (9,600)

Top Skills

Bash 25

Impale 25

Wield Longbow 15 (20)

Wield Rapier 7

Lunge 6

Parry 5

Wield Shortbow 3

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

You have 5 attribute points to assign.

You have 5 skill points to assign.

There was a lot to consider, especially the question of attribute points. Up until now, I had been playing the long game, saving them until I had worked up Strength, Dexterity and Constitution to reasonable levels and then allocating them. What was a reasonable level? I hadn't decided: I supposed that if I had Strength or Dex at 14, I wouldn't feel it a waste to push either up to 17 or more. There was evidence that this long-term strategy was a sound one from the changes I'd achieved this far and from the latest update to my character sheet. Both Dexterity and Charisma had gone from 5 to 6 in the period since the battle at Three Ways.

On the other hand, there was evidence of diminishing returns that suggested getting Strength, Dexterity and Constitution to 14 by sheer effort was going to be an enormous challenge. Neither Strength or Constitution had moved yet, and surely I was exerting them enough? Moreover, another indication that the high levels of attribute gain might be exponentially hard to achieve was the way in which the experience goal for level 7 had really jumped up. My next target, 9,600, was nearly triple the experience needed for 6. Did that mean for level 8 I might need four times the experience of the previously level? Around 40,000? If so that was daunting. And catching up to the other rulers was going to be really tough.

The particular issue that was tempting me to abandon my long-term plan was the fact that Charge! became so much better if I brought Wisdom up to 20. I looked at the feat again.

Charge! All friendly units in the vicinity get a 20% increase to base movement and a temporary 5 hit point increase. Charge! is a Wisdom based feat and each point of Wisdom above 15 increases the buff by 5% in movement and by 1 hit point.

With my magic ring, my feat was currently worth 7 temporary hit points and a 30% movement increase to my allies. If I went to 20 (and could it go to 21 with the ring? Or did attributes run into a hard cap of some sort?) that would be 10 hit points and a 45% movement bonus. Tempting. Very tempting. Then too, a higher wisdom would push the rate of my skill increase higher. Not that I needed to worry about that too much: with Int and Wis 16, I was already getting a skill up about four times out of five uses.

Once more I held back from spending the spare attribute points. I still felt there was a lot to learn about the system, what, for example, feats might become available next? I might regret not being able to match another attribute to a powerful feat. If I was being honest with myself too, it was also the memory of leading the charge against our enemies at Three Ways. In that moment I'd discovered what I truly lived for and I wasn't yet ready to give up on experiencing something like it again.

Chapter 20: A Visitor in the Night

Although Lord Arval demurred, I insisted that he be restored to full health before we continue. Having prayed that morning for two Protection from Evil spells, the Paladin could not heal himself. On the other hand, Anthea had, as I'd asked, obtained two Cure Light Wounds and one Cure Moderate Wounds. It took the Cleric's second level spell and one of the first to cure all of Lord Arval's wounds.

Another hour of travel and the permanent gloom began to deepen. Both Chancellor Parrin and Ambassador Figus had thoughts on where to camp and, unfortunately, neither agreed.

'Sire, we should camp near those rocks,' Parrin gestured to a large stone resting on terrain that was mostly gorse bush and heather. 'That big boulder has a natural overhang that will provide us with shelter.'

Figus shook his head. 'But sire, the ground is miasmic. We risk a sleepless night from insect bites. If we follow that stream half a mile to our right, we can use that copse for cover and be near fresh water.'

'Too difficult for whoever is on guard to keep a good look out. At the rock the watch can sit on top.' Parrin folded his arms.

Everyone looked at me expectantly.

'Just a moment.' I called up their character sheets and searched the sub-menus. It turned out both Chancellor Parrin and Figus had the Wilderness Survival skill, with Parrin at 23 and Figus at 16.

I said as much and that therefore we'd take the chancellor's choice. I had to admire Figus: he obviously felt strongly that he was right but you could hardly tell, so accomplished was he at showing good grace. And he didn't even say 'I told you so' when a short while after seating ourselves under the rock, small, biting insects began to hover over us. I could tell that the Bard was not in great form though from the fact that unlike the previous night Figus did not volunteer to entertain us from his repertoire of epic songs.

We were a miserable group beneath that rock. Or at least I was. Lord Arval, like an experienced soldier, had just rolled into his blanket, pulled it up over his head and fallen asleep, asking be to woken for his watch. The rest of us couldn't light a fire for fear of drawing attention to ourselves. So our meal consisted of whatever we'd brought with us by way of cold rations. In my case, the kitchen had filled a pouch for me with nuts and preserved fruit. And while I ate my nuts, the insects ate me.

Our conversation, such as it was, was conducted in low voices because in a night that was without stars or moon; we had no idea what dangerous monsters might be nearby. Were shadow giants creatures of the night? If I could have done the same as Lord Arval, I would have. But quite apart from the difficulty of finding a spot where no rocks dug into me, my blanket roll was too small to cover both my body and head. Then too, my feet were so cold they stopped any sense of drowsiness from forming. I resigned myself to a night without sleep.

I was awake during Anthea's watch. We had decided there was no point our lookout being on top of the rock when it was too dark to see anything and so she and I were sat slightly out from the overhang, our backs to our comrades. A very faint turquoise glow from my magic ring and sword gave enough light to see her, at least in outline.

Ignoring all the biting flies but those that bothered my eyes, I asked Anthea about her life and her story confirmed an impression that had been growing throughout my time here, which was that the world had only recently been 'restarted'. It had a history stretching back hundreds of years, through six previous ages, but her own parents had been among the first generation of this, the seventh age. Showing a passion for the goddess Miya, Anthea had been schooled at the church in Carrick and became Cleric there just last year.

'And you are happy in that role?' I asked her.

'Oh yes. It is all I hoped for… well…'

'Go on.'

'One day, I hope Carrick will have a Cathedral and Miya will manifest there and I will stand in the presence of our goddess.'

'You've never seen her?'

'Only in dreams.'

'What does she look like?' I wondered aloud.

'Human. Young, beautiful. Blonde hair, tied in vines, in two plaids. Brown skinned. Green-eyed. A voice like a fast-flowing, bubbling stream. She is shorter than me and much lighter, like an elf. And she wears a pale blue dress.'

'That's her spring manifestation.' The voice that spoke was male, dry and very close.

If I could have, I would have leaped to my feet and used Lightning draw. Lacking the physique and dexterity, I leaned back instead and grasping Lord Arval's boot, shook it hard.

The cold, soft voice continued, from only a few feet away. 'In summer she is taller, fuller and wears green. In autumn she is a mature woman, the first streaks of grey in her hair and wears yellow. In winter, white-haired and white clothed.'

'Who is there? Show yourself!' I had gotten to my feet, but I did not draw. This man claimed to know Miya and was perhaps not our enemy.

A patch of darkness, even blacker than the night drew closer.

'Protection from Evil!' Lord Aval bellowed, coming to my side.

With a groan, the darkness fell backwards.

'He's evil, sire. Be careful.'

'I'm evil. Yes. But by a divine mystery, I also worship Miya.'

'Who are you?' I asked, trying to make my voice kind.

'I am what's left when a rock is beaten by the waves for a thousand years. I am he who drinks blood and who eats only sorrow. I'm he who cannot bear the sun and whose burden is pure light. I am death and I am undead.'

'You are the guardian of the Lance of Light,' I said.

'Am I? Perhaps I was once.'

'Where is the lance? Can you give it to us?'

After a long interval, the darkness spoke again. 'There have been others. Some left. Some fed me. Some were killed. None was worthy of the lance. And none were able to release me.'

'How do I prove my worth?'

'Align yourself so that the two peaks show a line of light between them. Walk until you find my tomb. Place your hand on the rune for Miya. And suffer the consequences.'

'What does it test though? Is it my level? My dedication to Miya? What?'

There was no answer.

'He's gone sire,' said Lord Arval and I felt it too, the easing of a kind of pressure, a lightening of my soul.

'I don't know about this.' I said after a long silence in which Lord Arval seemed to be waiting for me to speak. I really didn't. 'Perhaps we should turn back in the morning and wait until I'm higher in level. Or perhaps you should take the test, Lord Arval? You are more moral than me, higher level, and closer to Miya.'

'Thank you for that kind judgement, but we all have our weaknesses sire.' I could tell from the rasping sound that Lord Arval was running his hand over the stubble of his jaw, as he often did when thinking. 'And surely Miya would have expected her king to come for the lance, not her general? The test might involve your use of menus.'

Everyone was awake now and I could sense them around me.

'Can we afford to leave and come back later?' asked Carlena.

With a sigh and a feeling that my next words were fateful, I answered, 'not really, we are almost a flatline, everything is so tight. Without a big boost to happiness and more people it will be months before we properly start accelerating in the right direction.'

'Then,' she said firmly, 'you must take the test.'

No one disagreed.

Assuming the guardian was telling the truth, I was probably the weakest, least impressive king in all the various ages to have come and sought the lance. Although, when I thought back over the encounter, the man in the dark had not specified that the others were kings. Perhaps they were only soldiers sent on a mission and perhaps that was why they had failed? If they were kings, why would Miya give the lance to me and not to any of those who had tried in the past? Presumably, she wanted the lance to only reappear in the world in the hands of someone who had a realistic chance of leading the realm to victory in this game of gods. Well, there was a consoling thought in that idea. Of all those who had come before me, I was unique. I came from twenty-first century Earth. Perhaps that would make the difference.

***

My first thought on waking from an uneasy sleep was that today our food supplies from the Kingdom of Lost Souls were due. No matter how well the day went, there was no way that we'd make it back to Carrick in time to meet their ship, yet I wanted to give the Necromancer whatever iron I had, to assure him of my good faith. Was there a way to manage this with the menus? I cascaded the ones that seemed relevant but apart from finding one for the stores that showed me capacity limits, I couldn't see a way of, for example, assigning the iron to the docks.

At least I had enough timber at last to start work on my merchant ship and I triggered the menu to send that instruction. The difficulty though, was assigning shipbuilders. Not only did I risk taking a hit to the realm's happiness score (which was proving so important) by moving workers from one task to another but I would lose production. In addition to the individuals in roles such as each of the burghers and the castle chef, my population menu showed me the following allocation of workers: Bakers 23; Brewers 16; Builders 40; Clothmakers 23; Carpenters 21; Farmers 38; Hunters 48; Miners 84; Shepherds 34; Stonemasons 14; Smiths 4; Researchers 4.

For my five shipbuilders I decided that reassigning them from being clothmakers was the obvious choice. In fact, since I would not get any bales of wool for another 26 days and the clothmakers had nearly run out of it, I really ought to consider moving more of them to other tasks. As soon as I returned to Carrick, I decided I would go talk to them in the hope of getting volunteers. I just didn't dare risk an unhappiness hit that I might incur by using the menus to order them to change jobs.

'Bread, sire?' Lord Arval's offer broke my concentration and I closed the menus. It was barely dawn in a sky that was entirely a blanket of dark grey. The bread roll I was offered was hard and dry; copying Chancellor Parrin I made a hole in it with my thumbs and poured in a little water from my canteen. That softened the bread up enough to make it edible, though I had to chew hard. It was at times like this that I really missed coffee.

During the night I had been bitten a dozen times or more and I my fingers were constantly finding bumps on my skin and scratching them, the urge to do so being irresistible. It did cross my mind that a Cure Light Wounds would probably fix them.

We were travelling so light, it took hardly any time to break camp and soon we were trudging across a landscape that despite the gloom was made green by the richness and length of the wild grass. To our right the ground descended towards a forest and to our left it became rockier as it rose over several hills that were like the skirts on the great doubled-peaked mountain. Of course, I checked the sky frequently to ensure we remained on course but I was also wary for more giant eagles.

About an hour into our march and I sensed that we were being watched. I was walking beside Anthea and mentioned the feeling to her. She looked around and I did too. Carlos had good vision and despite the low level of lighting, I could pick out a lot of the details of the rocks in the distance. And it was in carefully scrutinising the stones large enough to conceal an enemy that I distinctly saw something move, even if I couldn't be sure what it was.

'Halt! Gather around while we take a water break.'

Once Parrin was back among us – he had been scouting ahead, but not as far as he had the day before – I spoke to them. 'Don't stare but something moved among the large rocks we are heading for. I got the impression of something large, but it ducked out of sight.'

'Shadow giant?' asked Carlena.

'Possibly. Let's go slowly on but Parrin, if you can make yourself scarce, can you scout it out for us?'

'Of course sire.'

He fell behind as the rest of us moved at an easy pace and when I next looked over my shoulder I couldn't see him anywhere.

It was hard not to stare at the rocks ahead and I made myself check all directions equally. I was well aware of them, though, as well as the fact that we were into bow range of anyone hiding by the rocks. I didn't want to go much further.

'Sire.' Parrin was back, suddenly emerging from beside a gorse bush, 'five giants, bronze breastplates, greaves and two-handed spears. They are ready for us and look like they mean to fight.'

'Lord Arval, how able are you to force our enemies to focus their attacks on you?' Unless our high level Paladin could control the aggro of the fight, it would be hopeless.

'I can bellow taunts and I believe my very aura attracts the enmity of evil creatures.'

'Are these giants up ahead evil?'

After turning away and a moment's concentration, Lord Arval looked back at me from within his heavy helmet, visor currently up. 'No sire, I don't believe they are.'

'In that case… you are up Figus. Charm your way past them.'

Surprised, Figus swallowed heavily. 'Five giants…' He took a breath. 'Be ready to assist if this goes wrong.'

We all advanced as a group a little further to a spot from where Figus could shout.

'Hail the giants! We mean no harm here and seek your permission to complete our quest and leave the island.'

Immediately, with the clank of their weapons and the heavy tread of their feet, the five giants came out of hiding. They were large, twice our size, and I had to quell considerable anxiety about the damage their spears could inflict upon us. Smiling with pretended confidence, I dropped my hands to my sides. See? No threat here, no preparations for a fight.

'Who are you? And what is your quest?' One of the giants took a step forward. They all had arms and equipment in the style of ancient Greek warriors from Earth, except that while the other four had scarlet-dyed horsehair crests to their helmets, the speaker's was golden.

'I am Figus, ambassador–' I appreciated how Figus put a certain weight on that word, to ensure the giants appreciated the significance of it '–of King Carlos of Greyland. And our quest is to discover a relic of our goddess, Miya, divinity of fertility and motherhood.'

The giant scowled, his crest swaying ominously as he slowly shook his head. Then he stared into the sky and raised his spear. 'A curse on all gods. Ye beings who think to make a game of the lives of all others. Here on this island, we giants of Iskios suffer, punished by the gods, but we are free. We help none with quests, divine or otherwise.'

'We ask no help and seek only to journey for a short distance and then leave this island.'

'Turn around now and leave at once and you shall keep your lives.'

'I am King Carlos.' I took a step forward, my voice even. 'What is your name?'

'I am Lysegetus, homoioi of Jekas.'

'Well, Lysegetus, homoioi of Jekas, your defiance against the gods interests me greatly. I would learn the story of your people. If you would share it.'

'We are not here for your entertainment.'

'I offer the help of my kingdom. What can we do to ease the suffering you spoke about?'

His laugh was cold and loud, ringing back as an echo. 'Would you defy your god, anger her, O king who serves her quest in person?'

'I have as much freedom to choose as you have. Perhaps I would choose to help you, even if it did anger Miya.'

'We do not spare words for long stories. I will simply say this. We were worshippers of Yehlios, god of the Sun in the last great age. Proud and noble, there came a day when we decided not to be slaves of the gods any more. Not to play their game. To live at peace with our neighbours if we could. To die as free giants if we could not.

'Yehlios punished us with a curse, that our bodies burned to ash whenever he was in the sky and looking down upon us. We became creatures of the night, farming by moonlight. But war engulfed us and it seemed we were fated to utter destruction, until for unfathomable reasons, Miya surrounded this island with shadows to mask the sun. Thus our ancestors made their way here.'

'How can I help?'

'We are cursed to share this island with a creature of the night. One who kills our young and drinks their blood. And there is nothing we can do to protect ourselves. No door or window prevents it from entry. No trap or scheme has caught the monster. If you can rid us of that curse, then you will have friends among mortals. Albeit enemies among the immortals.'

'Lysegetus, homoioi of Jekas, I, King Carlos of Greyland accept your quest. I know the creature. He is a vampire. And I also know how to destroy him. Let us continue on our journey and you'll have your wish.'

The giant turned to his comrades, whose gestures of assent were exaggerated by the swaying of their helmet crests. Then they moved out of our way. As we walked past, for my part still feeling slightly tense, despite the sense we had reached accord, their leader called out once more. 'Do not hope to deceive us King Carlos. We know where your boat is and you will never get off this island if this is a trick.'

'It is not.'

When we were clear of the giants, Figus slowed his pace to match mine. 'That was very well done sire.'

'We are not really going to anger Miya though, are we sire?' Anthea looked at my earnestly. 'I couldn't have even said the things you just did without fearing her wrath. Couldn't have thought them.'

'Not at all,' I spoke loudly enough that Lord Arval, walking firmly up ahead would hear me too. 'Fortunately, the wishes of our goddess and the wishes of these giants coincide.'

Chapter 21: The Test of the Lance

The temple to Miya had been easy to find, being the only artificial structure we could see in an otherwise purely natural landscape. It was a stone circle, a small one with just eight megaliths more or less evenly placed around the perimeter and which were very similar to those in the glade on the mainland. All the stones were about my height and had carvings on them. There was one stone, aligned with the gap between the two peaks and a stone on the opposite side of the circle, which carried the same circular symbol that Anthea wore in bronze around her neck.

'I suppose I must place my hand here,' I said, walking over to it.

'Good luck sire,' said Lord Arval with heartfelt sincerity. The others looked at me with expressions of anxiety. They were perhaps thinking that they were about to lose me: the tragedy for them being not the loss of Sean de Courcy the person but the king who could manage their menus.

I felt trepidation, of course. The guardian – of whom there was no sign – had implied that lots of people before me had tried to obtain the lance and all had failed, with dire consequences. Yet there was no point dwelling on the unknown and on the danger I was in. I'd set my course to this point when I'd acknowledged to Carlena that to return without the lance was not an option.

Glove off, I placed my right hand flat against the stone, inside the circle that was a symbol to Miya.

A lurch, the same as the sickening one from the day I had entered this world, and I was in a different place: night sky, filled with stars; a flat ground of earth; eight carved standing stones, exactly like those of the temple I had just been present in; no landscape beyond the stones, only the black depths of space; and a woman, white-haired, elderly, beautiful in an elven way, and even taller than the giants. She was looking at a point somewhere beyond me.

'Faster to us than the lives of sparrows are to you, are the cycles of birth and death among humans. You who stand here must make a choice. Imagine yourself holding the Lance of Light. To finish the age triumphant as ruler of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms, you must strike and slay the person who has been most loyal and true to your cause. Should you fail to do so, all will be lost.' Still staring at a point in the distance, the goddess walked to one of the stones and touched it, causing it to pulse with a blue glow. 'If you are prepared to sacrifice your comrade for the sake of final victory, enter this portal.' She crossed to the stone on the exact opposite side of the circle. 'If you are willing to sacrifice victory for the sake of the life of your comrade, enter this portal.' Her touch caused the stone to pulse with a green blow.

'Make your choice and prove yourself worthy of the lance.'

'Wait goddess! I would speak…' but she was gone and only for the glow of the stones, I'd be in darkness. Had she even been here? I had not felt anything of a divine presence and she had never looked at me. That message could have been a kind of programmed one.

As for the choice, well, did she want her hero to do whatever it took to win the game? Or was she testing my morality? Did she want her ruler to do what was right, rather than what was necessary? A sudden wave of anger came over me. These kinds of tests were nonsensical. Here I was, second-guessing her, rather than responding according to my true nature, whatever that was. And in any case, it was ridiculously contrived. An 'either' 'or' scenario that never arose in such a stark way in real life. Whenever I saw a film that raised these kinds of questions, it seemed to me some manipulation had taken place to limit the options to just two

There was always a third option: in this case of fighting for victory without sacrificing your friends.

Immediately on having this thought, I had another one. There had been dozens of heroes in this situation before me. They couldn't all have gone to the wrong portal. Some of the others would have got it right. This had to be a trick of some sort.

Resolved not to touch either of the glowing stones, I walked tentatively around the circle, looking for other options. Under an infinity of darkness, with just distant stars watching me, I studied the carvings on the megaliths by the light of the glowing portals. There was one, and only one, stone that had the goddess's symbol on it. That would do for me. I touched it.

A grinding sound of stone on stone and then the rune-carved megalith swung to the side, to show stairs descending downwards into darkness. Now all my anger melted away and as well as excitement I felt a newly-discovered warmth towards Miya, the goddess. Perhaps I had misjudged her and in fact she felt exactly the same as I did: that when you were faced with two unacceptable options, there was always a way to find a third. In which case, this was a more sophisticated test than it had appeared.

I drew my rapier for the faint magical glow it cast and walked about twenty paces down a slope of paved stone, to a low-ceilinged chamber. On the top of a sarcophagus lay a dark-haired man clasping a lance to his chest. He was dressed in a gown decorated with the circle symbol of Miya and the moment I crossed the boundary from the corridor into the room, he turned his head and opened his eyes.

'Even eternity has an end.' His voice had the soft, dry sound of the man we had heard during the night. Then raising himself from the tomb he started walking towards me, lance held across him. Though this was not a threatening position, I raised my rapier and saw the Lunge option appear.

'Do not fear me.' His laugh was hollow. 'Waiting. Waiting until I must feed. Waiting. Waiting. Oh I know how to wait. I know how many heartbeats there are in a day. How many in a week. How many in a month. Always waiting for the one who would transcend the question.' He stood still and offered the lance to me. 'The goddess. I have served her. May you serve her with the same devotion and sacrifice.'

I hesitated. 'Is this another trick? How is it that no one before me came this way?'

'It is not so easy to think for yourself when the goddess has given you directions.' Making an effort to grin – an expression more alarming than the grim frown he had previously worn – the vampire thrust the lance towards me. 'Take it, serve the goddess to your best. I have borne centuries as patiently as stone but I find I cannot bear the slightest delay now my end is close.'

There was such anguish in his voice that I grasped the lance at once. The shaft, made of a dark green wood I had never seen before, tingled as I lifted it. Although the weapon was long, about two feet taller than me, it was light and easy to wield. I placed the haft on the ground, bring the blade up to my face. The metal had a blue sheen; a white halo of magic imbued it, flowing ceaselessly out of the blade as short-lived tendrils of light: as though the weapon was echoing the way that a star might cast out flares. The edges of the blade were made sharp by leaf-like serrations, broad ones, within which were smaller ones, and where they overlapped were smaller serrations still, creating a fractal pattern.

Congratulations! You have completed the Lance of Light quest.

You have earned 12,000 Exp.

You have gained a level! Your hit points are restored and your timers on skills and feats have reset. Please view your character sheet for other benefits.

Lance of Light

This is a unique item, the artefact of the goddess Miya.

+3 lance (+5 vs undead), +2 Wisdom, +2 Strength, +5 Wield Lance, +5 Ride Warhorse, +5 Ride Flying Mount.

Light: permanent, unlimited Light spell on command, centred on the weapon.

Holy Light of Miya: launches a level 15 Holy Light up to 500 yards, up to three times a day. (Holy Light: a sphere-shaped explosion of 20 yards radius that does damage to all undead with the area of effect of 8 hit points per caster level. The spell blinds those within the explosion for a minute per caster level.)

As I read these messages I felt like punching the air in delight, or clasping the vampire to me in a hug. Since both my hands were on the lance, however, and since tempting a vampire by placing an eager pulse right under his teeth was not a good idea, I got the rush of pleasure under control and simply said, 'thank you. This is a powerful weapon.'

The guardian nodded. 'Now, strike me down.'

'Strike you?'

'How I have held on until this moment, I do not know. Uncountable times, I felt the responsibility unbearable and that I would prefer for the sun to destroy me than to continue as a blood-drinker. You must release me now.'

'I have so much to learn from you though,' I said, 'are there other artefacts? What happens when one of gods achieves dominance over all the twenty-five kingdoms? How, can I talk to the goddess? What –'

The man waved an arm impatiently and for the first time, I got a flash of the ferocity of the vampire across his face. His eyes burned and I suddenly became aware of how weak I was in comparison to him. How easily he could destroy me. 'Strike me now. Kill me, then destroy my coffin with the power of the lance.'

'Kill you with the lance? Must I? You could return with me, help us.'

'You must kill me where I stand. Miya will gather me in her loving arms and I will be reborn. Reborn as mortal, free of this abhorrent curse.'

I raised the lance high, ready to slash down as hard as I could. Yet, despite the expectant look on the guardian's face – such a yearning as I'd never seen in my life – I could not bring myself to strike him with that deadly blade.

'Do it!' he hissed and turned his fiery eyes onto me.

With the power of that command in my arms I struck.

You have attempted to assassinate a helpless opponent.

You have failed.

You have hit a vampire for 12 damage.

You have discovered Wield Lance

The guardian staggered and groaned, then straightened himself. 'Again!'

You have attempted to assassinate a helpless opponent.

You have failed.

You have hit a vampire for 10 damage.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 1 (6)

It took four more tries before my assassination succeeded. The poor man must have suffered greatly, but he bore it with only the barest of cries. Strangely, on dying, his body dissolved into a cloud of mist, which swirled over to the coffin and then inside of it. When I came closer to examine the sarcophagus, I could see that the stone cover was slightly ajar and that a grey gas was circulating inside.

Perhaps it would reform as the regenerative powers of the vampire brought him back, even from death. I now understood his instruction to use the power of the lance. Resting the tip of the lance on the edge of the stone coffin and covering my eyes with my right arm, I triggered a Holy Light of Miya right into the sarcophagus.

The brilliant flash of white light was shocking and my vision was completely swamped by it. Blinking, I saw only reds and blues and the afterimage of an incandescent sphere.

You have damaged a vampire in gaseous form for 120 points of damage.

You have killed a vampire!

You have gained 3,400 EXP.

The fact I was effectively blind corresponded to the description of the lance's powers. According the menu, this would last for fifteen minutes, so I sat down and tested if my character sheet was still accessible. It was.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Warlord, Level 7         HP 56          AC 3

Str7 (9)

Dex6

Con8

Int16

Wis16 (19)

Cha6

Exp 18,630 (28,800)

Top Skills

Bash 25

Impale 25

Wield Longbow 15 (20)

Wield Lance 4 (9)

Wield Rapier 7

Lunge 6

Ride Flying Mount 1 (6)

Ride Warhorse 1 (6)

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

You have 6 attribute points to assign.

You have 10 skill points to assign.

I decided to spend my first attribute skill point. I couldn't envision ever regretting pushing Wisdom from 16 to 17, which became a 20 with my +1 ring and the Lance of Light. Maxing that score guaranteed me an improved Charge! and it might unlock other benefits too. So I made that a choice and … Nothing. That was a slight disappointment but still, the benefits I already knew about were worth the extra point. The rest of my attribute points I saved once again.

As for my skill points, I decided to hold them over too. When I practiced a skill, it went up three times out of four tries, or better. So there really wasn't a need to improve the skill by levelling. On the other hand, if I got the chance to unlock new skills, such as I anticipated happening when I reached level 10, then I'd regret it if I didn't have enough points to cover all the options.

Throughout this planning a background happiness had been bubbling up inside of me and as soon as I closed my character sheet, it came to the fore. I'd secured the Lance of Light! Quite apart from the personal benefit and the potential impact of this weapon on the battlefield, surely returning with the artefact would lift the happiness of the realm? I allowed myself a few minutes to bask in a sense of accomplishment and then, as the colours ebbed from my vision, restoring my sight, I got up and made my way back along the stone corridor, which now looked cramped as a result of the Light I cast from the tip of the lance.

Standing in between the stones, two of which were still glowing in blue and green, I wondered what I should do in order to return to my companions when the ground around me fell apart, megaliths tumbling into the darkness of space and my stomach giving that terrible lurch again. And I was on the Island of Shadows once more.

'Sire!' Lord Arval was the first to greet me, slapping me on the back. 'You passed the test! You've succeeded when so many others failed. You are a true hero of Miya!' Then he fell back, staring reverentially at the lance.

'What was the test?' asked Carlena and Figus took a step forward, so interested was he in my answer to that question.

Glad to see the delight on their faces, I told them all about my experiences. When I got to the moment I received the lance, Anthea said, 'we knew you had succeeded. I felt a sudden surge and the ability to cast more spells. I must have levelled up.'

'Oh, so you shared the quest reward?' I checked the Cleric's character sheet.

Anthea Greyford: Cleric Level 5

HP 35

AC 12

XP 1,800 (3,200)

Str 12, Dex 10, Con 10, Int 8, Wis 20, Cha 9

'You're level five! With three first, two second and one third level spells.'

Spells: 3 x first, 2 x second, 1 x third

First level spells: Bless Weapon, Calm, Cure Light Wounds, Growth, Holy Light, Inspiration

Second level spells: Cure Moderate Wounds, Delay Poison, Delay Disease, Miya’s Courage, Holy strike

Third level spells: Cure Poison, Cure Disease, Divine Message, Miya’s Restoration, Regeneration

I quickly opened the character sheets of the others. 'I see, you've all gained one thousand, five hundred experience. Which doesn't mean too much for Lord Arval, Chancellor Parrin and Carlena, but a great deal for Anthea. And Figus, you are not so far off level five.'

Everyone was beaming, even Carlena looked genuinely happy for once. Deferential towards the lance at first, they were soon eager for a touch and Lord Arval made several practice stabs and cuts with the artefact before handing it back with a look of intense satisfaction.

'Well sire, this is history in the making. I am proud and honoured to be part of it.'

Chapter 22: A Rising Tide

Our journey back across the island was a cheerful one and often I would catch the others looking at the lance with expressions of pride. Such was our high spirits that when Figus sang a song about a chicken which had accidently gained combat progression powers, we all joined in the chorus. Even though I was physically at my limit, my cheerfulness and sense of achievement was so strong that forcing my heavy body on and on was not the chore it might have been.

All that gaiety abruptly came to a halt when, late in what passed for afternoon on this island, we crested a final rise before the land swept down past the giant mausoleum to the wide beach on which we had left the boat.

There in the grey light were twenty giant warriors, men and women in breastplates, greaves and helmets with crests.

We continued our march in silence. There was no choice but to journey on to the beach and our boat: if we wanted to leave the island, it would have to be with the permission of these giants. Still, I had killed the vampire that was preying on their people and perhaps that would be enough to avoid difficulties.

The giant with the golden crest we had met before stepped forward from their line of spears and strode towards us.

'What was his name, Figus?' I whispered.

'Lysegetus, homoioi of Jekas,' the Bard replied without hesitation. There were definite advantages to having an ambassador in the group.

'Greetings Lysegetus, homoioi of Jekas,' I called out. 'To what do we owe this guard of honour?'

'Our queen would speak with you.' Whether the giant was friendly or not, it was hard to say and I doubted even Figus could have read much into that helmeted face and neutral tone of voice.

'I'm honoured,' I replied. 'How should I address her?'

'She is Xenatha, anassa of Jekas.' The warrior giant turned and led the way, the ranks of his comrades parting to allow us through to where a giantess stood waiting. Her breastplate had silver designs upon it and her double crest was purple and gold.

We all walked through the line of giants, their proud eyes watching me from deep within their bronze helmets. In my arms was the lance, held across my body, as the guardian had held it when bringing it to me.

A little short of what I estimated to be Lunge distance from the queen, I put a leg back and bowed as much as my body would allow without me looking a fool. And I said, 'greetings Xenatha, anassa of Jekas; I am King Carlos of Greyland and I have rid you of the vampire.'

'Have you though?' Shaking long, blonde hair loose, the queen removed her helmet. I'd have found her wide cheeks and strong features attractive in a Nordic kind of way if she hadn't been twice my size and scowling with a ferocity that made me anxious for my safety. 'Or having completed a quest on behalf of your god, are you lying to me so that you can leave? All humans are liars, especially those loyal to the gods.'

'I'm not lying. This lance is powerful against the undead. I destroyed the vampire with it.' No need to mention he was pleading with me at the time to end his life as an undead blood drinker.

'Give the lance to me.'

I hesitated. Around me, I sensed a motion of her warriors as they came a little closer. What else could I do? This was a no win fight. Haft first, I put the lance into the hands of Lysegetus, who studied it momentarily, then passed the weapon across to Xenatha. In the queen's hands the lance appeared flimsy and short; even so, her expression changed to one of respect.

'An artefact.' She gave me a long, appraising look, colder than the breeze that was blowing her long, curving hair across her silver breastplate. 'You are the least impressive human I have met. I'm surprised that you possess this. Did your warrior win it for you?' Xenatha turned to look down at Lord Arval.

'We worked together, although the final challenge was for me alone.'

'And somehow you met it.' The scepticism in her voice was clear.

'There's more to me than meets the eye.'

'Swear to me, by something you hold dear, that you truly have killed the creature that has cursed my people for so long. That it is gone forever.'

'I swear by the fate of Greyland that I have destroyed the vampire and it will not return.'

'Very good.' She looked at me with burning, deep blue eyes. 'Listen carefully King Carlos. If you are lying to me I will cross the sea with an army and sack your city. I will make its name famous across the twenty-five kingdoms as a byword for complete ruin and destruction. My warriors will not spare women or children.'

Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. 'Still, if you are telling the truth – and I think you are – then this is a day for celebration and reward. Choose, human king, a chest of gold coins or one of my warriors to join your kingdom for a year and a day.'

Her abrupt change of direction took me aback and I said nothing. As though an omen of some sort that I couldn't read, a seagull cried out and swooped between us.

'You have a choice to make, sire,' muttered Figus.

As I weighed up the possible benefits of a giant warrior against a chest of gold, the queen of the shadow giants returned the lance to Lysegetus, who in turn gave it back to me. My relief on gripping the artefact once more must have been obvious because she laughed louder still: a deep and disturbing sound.

I looked into the giant's intense stare and met it fully. 'I would be honoured if a giant would join my army in Carrick.'

'You understand we jekasoi cannot survive under the sun? That my warrior will only be able to serve you at night?'

'I understand.'

'Well, then, King Carlos, you are wise, for a human. You may expect one of my myrmidons soon.' Queen Xenatha gestured at our boat. 'You may leave us. If you sail now, you have a fair wind and will make landfall before dark.'

Two of her giants picked up the boat as easily as if they were moving a bench and, having launched it carefully on the sea, held it for us. With a somewhat undignified boost from underneath by Lord Arval and Anthea, I scrambled in and soon we were all at our oars, with Carlena at the tiller.

Watching us in silence, the giants remained on the beach as we pulled away from shore. Their queen was right, a strong wind was soon filling the sail and pushing us over each wave.

Long after we were beyond the range of a human voice, a deep shout carried to us over the sea. 'Don't trust the gods King Carlos. They care only for their game.'

***

After a night's sleep in our old beach camp and a day sailing north by tacking back and forth in a strong but not entirely favourable wind, we rowed in to the harbour at Carrick in late afternoon. And as we approached the pier, my impression of Carrick was that of a town in complete bedlam. There was a large merchant ship at anchor that reeked of decay and which flew a black standard with a complex red symbol. Tight against the bollards of the pier was moored a Viking longship, perhaps the same one that had come to us before. Surrounded by scaffolding and busy workers was the half-constructed new tower. And the docks were also busy with a confusion of timber laid out in an approximate outline of our new merchant ship.

Moreover the pier was full of people, several of them were in very fine clothes and one was that ambassador from Southway whom I thought I had banned from the kingdom. 'Figus. Isn't that Lord… somebody? The ambassador from Southway?'

'Lord Oseso, sire. It certainly is.'

'I can execute him as a spy can't I? Especially having made it clear I would do so if I ever saw him again.'

Figus gave me a cool look from under his bleached spikes: he was probably trying to assess if I was joking. 'Certainly sire, but his presence here despite your very clear warning suggests that he has something important to communicate. I strongly recommend listening to what he has to say.'

The pier was sufficiently crowded that Lord Arval had to bellow angrily to get the pulley and crane up to lift me from the boat. And as soon as my feet touched stone, several people pressed close, wanting my attention.

'King Carlos, ambassador Brythilda of Trolland! Queen Rorgest of Trolland has an important message for you.'

'Your majesty, forgive my presence, but it is urgent that I speak with you!' Lord Oseso scowled as he got a push from the ambassador from Trolland.

'King Carlos! You are here at last.' An angry looking man in green cloak and young-looking despite a black beard pushed ahead of the others. 'King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin demands you cease trading with the barbarians of Jomskar!'

Somewhat back from the press was a smiling Jarl Injeborg the Red and beside her a frowning, black-haired woman wearing leather armour that had been dyed a deep blue.

Once the sling was clear, I planted the lance in front of me and caused the point to flare with a Light spell. 'Silence!' And just like that there was quiet. I could not command the waves, which continued to lap at the pier, and the gulls who squawked and fussed at the barrels of the Viking ship, but the effect of the lance and the anger in my voice was enough that I had quelled the various ambassadors.

'I am just returned from a long, tiring undertaking. I will hear you this evening, properly, in the solar of the keep. Now stand aside.'

'But sire, I must be gone…'

'King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin demands...'

I pushed past them and strode up towards the portcullis of the town wall archway, genuinely in need of a bath and a change of clothes before I found out what they wanted. They had waited this long, they could wait a few more hours. There was one person, however, whom I wanted to meet and who I would not delay beyond the next tide and that was the captain of the Necromancer's ship or his ambassador, if he had sent one. Presumably, the woman in the leather armour was from the Kingdom of Lost Souls.

Once we were out of sight, I sent Figus back to secretly arrange to have her come to the keep right away.

As the rest of us walked slowly through town, a crowd began to gather in our wake. 'The lance! Miya's lance! The Lance of Light!' a variety of voices called to their friends, to those in workshops, to those looking curiously out of windows. Soon children were running back and forth, delivering messages, urging adults to see, 'come see! It's the lance!'

The dozens behind us became hundreds and I found myself holding the lance point high, the blade still blazing white and throwing out tendrils of light. What a feeling! After the battle at Three Ways, I had seen the difference in attitude towards me in the faces of the troops. Well, it was like that now. People caught my eye and smiled and looked at the lance and smiled again. They nodded their approval. They put their tools down, left their workplaces and homes and joined the crowd. Behind me, the cries about the lance merged to be a general hum whose pitch expressed excitement.

'You'll have to speak to them sire,' said Chancellor Parrin, his own eyes glistening: he was truly moved by the response of the people.

Lord Arval had his helmet under his arm. He too was smiling. 'Now is the time to tell them.'

Instead of walking to the keep, as I had planned, I turned south and entered the parade ground of the barracks. There, helped onto a large water barrel by Parrin and Arval, I stood tall and held the lance above my head.

'In ages past,' I called out with my deep, powerful voice. 'An artefact was forged by worshippers of the goddess Miya. This is that artefact! This is the Lance of Light!'

The cheers from those at the front of the crowd brought the rest still entering the square running forward to listen. There were banners too, the craft banners of the various guilds – I could see the symbols for the bakers, stonemasons, brewers, smiths, builders, clothmakers, carpenters and more – behind which were their practitioners, now also hurrying to participate.

This was a massive crowd, filling the barracks ground, hundreds of pale faces turned up towards me. Although I could hear the sounds of footsteps of those eagerly coming to join the throng, the excited calls of children, and the slap of a rope against a flagpole, it was surprisingly quiet for such a large gathering. They were straining to hear me.

'In a divination, the goddess showed Lord Arval that she approved of us trading iron for food with the Kingdom of Lost Souls. But she also showed us that we would need this weapon. It is powerful, especially against undead.

'The goddess left a clue to the location of the lance in the shape of the stones of her glade. And yesterday, following that clue, we found a sacred place on the Island of Shadows, where I passed a test. The goddess found me worthy to carry her lance.

'Greyland is on the march! We are going to prosper. We are going to conquer. There is a long, long journey ahead of us all still. But the darkest days of winter are past. This is our spring. This is the turning of the tide. Remember this day well. You were here when the lance of the goddess was found.

'And you should understand who I am. The goddess was dismayed with King Carlos and so summoned me to replace him. The body is the same, but the person who leads you has changed. Whatever you thought of the old king, think differently of the new Carlos. I vow to do my best for this kingdom and you all. I am resolute, fair, and will stop for nothing, stoop to no one.

'With this lance of burning light: with Lord Arval at my side: with the goddess in our thoughts: I will not cease from growing this realm. Nor shall this lance rest asleep. For it will bring lightning to our enemies!'

I brandished the artefact again, holding the base of the shaft in both hands and swinging it from side to side above my head so that the blazing white blade stood tall in the darkening evening sky.

The cheers of the crowd were incredibly uplifting, wave after waves of roars that gradually became one word, repeated over and over: 'Carlos!' 'Carlos!' 'Carlos!'

In front of me Lord Arval was red-faced, the blush even spreading to the top of his bald head. 'Well said, sire. Well said! Know that I will follow you in every step of this journey. To hell and back if we have to.'

By contrast, Lord Oseso, who I saw at the back of the crowd running up to enter the parade grounds, looked absolutely appalled.

Chapter 23: Allies and Enemies

Relaxing in the royal bath, I took a minute off and just felt good about myself, about the lance standing in the corner of the room, and about the fact that my legs didn't have to bear my weight. Then I got back to work, starting with the realm's economic menus.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building:

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income: 54 gold

Treasury: 7 gold, 5 silver

Daily food consumption: 15 units

Grain yield: 0 due in 10 days

Vegetable yield: 35 food units due in 12 days

Wool yield: 3 bales due in 25 days

Meat yield: 7 units daily

Timber yield: 17 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 6 blocks daily

Smithy yield: ...

Weaving yield: …

Research: Sanitation

Resources:

Wheat: 2 food units

Vegetables: 6 food units

Meat: 2 food units

Fish: 10 food units

Wool: 0 bales

Timber: 22 planks

Iron: 21 ingots

Stone: 25 blocks

Cloth: 28 bolts

The Necromancer's ship clearly hadn't been unloaded yet. Still, it was in the harbour and so even though our food situation was at near crisis point, I was confident I would be able to resolve that shortly. Checking on the research menu, I saw that Sanitation had just one day left. There were two other issues that stood out: firstly, the fact that having run out of wool, the clothmakers were all idle and would be for twenty-five days when 3 bales were due. The second was that the smithy was idle too and I really regretted that. Since I was determined to honour my agreement with the Necromancer, I couldn't spare a single ingot at this point for improved iron equipment. I'd have to endure the bottleneck patiently. Once I had repaid the Necromancer, 5 ingots a day would be enough to supply him and build up a stock for myself.

What, I wondered, were the bolts of cloth good for? It took a bit of searching and I found the answer. I could build a Tailors – Level 1, which converted the cloth to ship sails and also clothes which could be traded or distributed to the people to avoid the negative effects of cold weather and reduce the possibility of a disease outbreak. Again, another attractive path to follow, especially having come from a world suffering the effects of the COVID pandemic. But again, not my number one priority. Spare clothing would have to wait until the population was growing and I was ahead on food, iron, timber and stone.

Next, I examined the population sheet and of course there was no change in the work roles since I had moved five clothmakers to shipbuilding: Soldiers 110; Farmers 38; Brewers 16; Shepherds 34; Hunters 58; Miners 84; Clothmakers 18; Bakers 23; Carpenters 21; Builders 40; Stonemasons 14; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 5.

When I checked the realm's happiness score, I let out a cry of delight. Happiness 42! Greyland was attracting three new people a day. Now that was a breakthrough. While I was thinking about where I would assign these new people, there came a knock at the door.

'What is it?' I called.

'Our ambassador and the ambassador of the Necromancer await you in the solar.'

'Send in servants to help me dress.' I could just about manage myself these days, but it was quicker to get assistance. 'And make sure our visitors are served good food and wine.'

After dressing I picked up the lance and made my way down to the solar. Already the artefact felt familiar, felt like it was mine. I studied the dark, polished and stained wood of the haft, feeling the strength of it. And the fractal-edged blade too, twisting it to see the reflection of the lamps break into minute rainbows.

Having taken my seat (the lance horizontal on my lap) and waved away the servants, I invited Figus and the woman to approach.

'Sire, may I introduce Sicaria, ambassador of the Kingdom of Lost Souls.'

'Welcome Sicaria. I owe your lord a great deal.'

'Thank you. He sends his greetings and hopes that this supply of food will prove to be of great assistance.' While the woman spoke, I took the opportunity to study her more closely. The Necromancer's ambassador was in her thirties; pale grey eyes; a lithe figure, well-guarded by hardened-leather plates; dark brown hair, tied back in a practical pony-tail; an alert, intelligent face. When I had seen her at the docks, she had been wearing two swords, which had been strapped to her back and I wondered what class she was. An eastern-warrior sub-class? Or something more sinister perhaps, like an Assassin. Really, I ought to have a bodyguard for meetings like these. Like a giant. I looked up to the roof for a moment, calculated the height, then back to our guest.

'You have the food?'

'A hundred and fifty units worth. As promised. Do you have much iron?' She looked me in the eye as she asked this question. I was happy to deal with such directness. In my experience, people who talked around a subject were much less likely to be acting in good faith than those who addressed it straight on.

'Right this moment, twenty-one ingots. By the time you have unloaded your cargo and taken the iron onboard it will be nearing dark. I suggest you wait until morning, my miners will have delivered another five by then. So you can return with all but four of the debt paid.'

'My lord will be pleased. That is more than he hoped for and worth my delay.'

'Good, I sincerely hope that the trading agreement between our realms will last and will be a foundation for a strong alliance between us.'

For the first time, her lips formed a smile, it was an ironic one containing bitterness not good humour. 'At this time, my lord shares those sentiments. He does not yet know, however, that you have obtained the Lance of Light.'

'Why would this alter his attitude towards us?' I shifted the lance to a vertical position, resting it on the base of the shaft.

'It was forged to fight armies of undead.'

'When Figus came to your lord, we were weak. Almost helpless. We are getting stronger daily and we will be incomparably stronger in the months to come. As will be the Kingdom of Lost Souls. You need iron and we need food. Working together, we will advance much more rapidly than those who have not created such an agreement. The lance has no bearing on this. I sincerely hope there will never be a day in which it is used against you.'

'Then guard it well.' Sicaria moved quickly, kicking the shaft from the floor and causing the lance to twist, wrenching itself out of my hand. Before the lance clattered to the floor, she caught it and brought the blade up to point it at me. 'My lord trusts you. Neglect. Reckless battles. Poor security. You can betray him in many ways without meaning to. Do not do so.'

Sicaria spun the lance so the haft was towards me and passed it back. My thumping heart began to ease. For a second I felt like trying to explain that I had been thinking of guards, that a giant would soon be here. I quelled my self-justificatory thoughts and did my best to regain some dignity.

'Good point,' I said. 'Well made.'

Wearing a scornful expression, the Necromancer's ambassador turned to leave. Before following her, Figus gave me a look of alarm and shook his head.

I called in a servant and ordered six soldiers to attend me as guards. Then I had several bottle of wines brought to me, along with six glasses and some food. What a lesson that had been. I felt a flush of sweat form across my back. Ever since gaining the lance, I'd been full of confidence, a confidence which I hadn't lost even when dealing with the queen of the shadow giants. But I'd become complacent. And a mistake in this world could so easily be fatal. Much as I hated to admit it, I owed Sicaria my thanks for the wake-up call.

On his return, Figus said nothing about the lance, but he did look on approvingly when the six soldiers arrived and I had them stand three either side of the throne.

'Four other ambassadors await an audience sire,' said Figus.

'Southway, Jomskar, Trolland and Ironguard, right? Which do you think I should hear first?'

'Out of courtesy, Jomskar. But what Lord Oseso of Southway has to say might shape all the other discussions.'

'It might. Very well, would you bring him in.'

In contrast to the last time I'd met him, Lord Oseso was all humility and deference. He still had an absurdly sculpted dark beard and clothes of silk and felt that were far more expensive-looking than anything in my wardrobe. Not to mention the fur-hooded cloak with its silver clasp. But he no longer looked at me with a sneer.

'Your majesty!' Lord Oseso took off a dark green cap emblazoned with a golden wolf's head and made a bow so ostentatious that the cap scraped across the wooden floor. 'I owe you an apology.'

'Go on.'

'I am sorry to have offended you the last time we met.'

'You said something about my being in chains before King Wace.'

'Foolish and embarrassing words, let me apologise for them again.'

'And you recall my saying that if I set eyes on you again, I'd execute you as a spy?'

Lord Oseso looked pale and got no comfort from the expression on the face of Figus or my guards. I followed his anxious looks and was glad to see my own people were admirably stern.

'Of course sire, but I count on your kindness and mercy and your honouring the sacred role of an ambassador. I apologise for having provoked you to making such an utterance by my own folly.'

'Why are you here?'

Trying to rally himself with an enthusiasm that was obviously forced, Lord Oseso took a step forward and in a cheery tone said, 'King Wace has come to realise that his alliance with Trolland was a profound mistake and that it is Greyland with whom Southway should be allied. With soldiers armed by your iron and fed by our grain, we can punish the treacherous Trollanders. It was the Trollanders who drew us into war with you, only to betray us, as was shown when the cavalry of Cantreth captured the gold mine in our westernmost province.'

'Wine, Lord Oseso?' I gestured to a table with my bottles and six glasses. Stepping over, Figus promptly poured the dark wine and served Lord Oseso, then me and then himself.

'Thank you sire.' The ambassador from Southway looked uncertain. No doubt Lord Oseso was used to much finer wines but he bravely took a drink.

'I can see King Wace's difficulty. If he continues the war with me, he won't be able to send his army west to regain his gold mine. What I don't see is why you consider Trolland to be traitors. What happened? Surely if you have been attacked by Cantreth, you need all the allies you can get, not enemies in every direction?'

'After your famous and personally courageous victory, a particularly acrimonious meeting took place between the noble King Wace and the fickle queen of Trolland. Despite some hot words, it seemed as though the alliance was sustained. Soon afterwards, however, when news of the invasion from Cantreth reached our king and Queen Rorgesta was invited to fulfil the terms of our treaty by King Wace by helping us, the true situation was revealed. In secret alliance with Cantreth, Queen Rorgesta had tricked us into losing a third of our army in the attack on you and when she knew we were weakened sufficiently, she summoned her allies to attack us from west.

'You are an honourable man. Your general is a Paladin. You would not behave with such perfidy. It is to you, therefore, that King Wace offers the branch of peace and more, he wishes to join with you for the victorious march of our armies against the common enemy.'

'Queen Rorgesta?'

Lord Oseso nodded with an air of complicity. 'At first. After conquest of Trolland, the alliance could continue against another of our neighbours, or, I should say, our mutual enemies.'

'And will King Wace leave my lands and leave me the harvest that is nearly ripe?'

'Of course sire, as well as give you extremely favourable trade rights for our surplus food.'

'How favourable?'

Now the look on Lord Oseso's face was that of a salesman announcing his giveaway offer. 'Eight units of food per iron ingot.' He leaned back, evidently expecting me to be amazed. Yet I had ten coming per ingot from the Necromancer. Still, I did my best to act surprised.

'Eight you say?' And gave Lord Oseso a smile at his earnest nod. I found that I could not look at Figus. The Bard was no fool and he too must have appreciated that this was a big opportunity for us. Not to ally with Southway, of course, but to exploit their difficulties. I didn't want Lord Oseso to get the slightest hint of my true train of thought and if he caught Figus and I sharing a glance, he would get more than a hint. 'Thank you very much Lord Oseso, you've given me much to think about.'

'Ahh.' The man looked a little crestfallen. Perhaps he had been hoping I'd rush over and shake his hand in gratitude. 'And what message can I give to King Wace? One of hope and friendship I hope?'

'Of course. But do not leave my realm right away. Make yourself comfortable for the night. I will give you a full answer in the morning.'

'Thank you sire.' The ambassador from Southway gave another sweeping bow.

'Figus, please have a servant seat Lord Oseso in the dining hall and encourage chef to provide him with the best we have to offer.' I looked up at the man in question. 'I'm sorry it won't be of a standard to match the food of Southway.'

'Not at all, sire, not at all. You are very good.'

When Figus returned his eyes were twinkling. 'You show an unexpected talent for diplomacy sire.'

'Unexpected?'

'My apologies, I look at you and I see the old King Carlos. He would never have been able to hide his true feelings.'

'You think I'm concealing my real thoughts?'

Running his hand through his peroxide spikes, as if in shy apology, he said, 'yes. Yes, I do.'

My only response was to smile. 'Who is next?'

'Again, I'm sorry to keep Jarl Injeborg the Red waiting, but I think we should hear from Trolland.'

'I agree. Please bring her in… B… Bethilda?'

'Brythilda, sire.'

The ambassador from Trolland was a human female with chocolate-coloured skin and clothes that were much more practical than those of Lord Oseso. She was dressed in high leather boots and a warm-looking sheepskin jacket over a cotton shirt. As seemed to be the case with all ambassadors, she was charismatic, or at least, she would have been if her frown ever gave way to a smile.

After exchanging polite greetings and taking a sip from the glass of wine that Figus had presented to her, Brythilda came immediately to the point. 'Queen Rorgesta would like a peace treaty with you and the return of our prisoners.'

'Why?'

'Because King Wace is an idiot. Instead of throwing everything we had at you and eliminating you when we had the chance, it was his idea to keep half the army as a garrison of the newly conquered lands. And when Cantreth invaded his western province, he tried to claim our treaty required us to march to war with him against Cantreth, which it did not. As a result, he decided that we must be in a secret conspiracy with Cantreth to bring him down.'

'And are you?'

'No. But we might soon be in an open agreement to that effect.' She laughed. 'I'm riding there as soon as I've finished our conversation. And this is entirely King Wace's own fault. No offense sire, but our alliance was working and was just ten days away from obtaining your entire harvest.'

'Will you leave my lands and my harvest untouched in return for peace?'

'Queen Rorgesta swears this.'

There was silence in the room. My soldiers were obviously fascinated by the proceedings but each time I glanced their way they straightened stiffly and strove to keep their expressions neutral. I gestured to Figus to offer our guest some more wine while I sat back. My army was still terribly weak, but here was a chance that wouldn't come again.

'Brythilda. You can have your peace and your soldiers. But if you are serious about war against Southway I can do better.'

'Indeed?' she looked interested, almost eager.

'Suppose you were to storm out of this building, making sure to kick over a rack of spears near the dining hall while cursing me aloud. And supposing I was speak with Lord Oseso in the morning and offer to bring my army to join with King Wace in regaining their gold mine. And lastly, suppose on the way we encountered a force of yours.

'Do you think King Wace is the kind of man who would charge at you only to find himself attacked unexpectedly from behind? Who could be caught between two armies? Would he fall into such a trap?'

Brythilda looked at me curiously. 'I'm sure of it, at least, if you played your part well. Yours is a good kingdom and a good goddess. Such a ruse by Greyland is inconceivable.'

I smiled. She smiled.

The ambassador from Trolland handed back her glass to Figus. 'If she agrees, you'll hear confirmation of this plan from Queen Rorgesta. Our messenger will pose as an apprentice scribe hoping to study with your Sorceress.'

'Good.'

'In that case, eternal curses on you King Carlos!' Brythilda flung her head back, turned on her heel and strode to the door; once it was open she continued to shout, facing away from me so her voice carried down the hall. 'May you be reincarnated as a goat! No a fat toad!' Upon exiting the hall she slammed the doors shut behind her. Soon, we heard the crash of the rack of spears.

'She's good,' said Figus approvingly. Then he stole a glance at me. 'So are you. But you do know that Lord Arval won't play this game?'

'He won't lie. I know. He certainly wouldn't lead a charge against King Wace while the army of Southway was marching in the belief they were our allies.' As I replied to the Bard, I was very conscious of the presence of the soldiers by my throne. 'He's an honourable man and I admire him for it. All the same, if the armies of Trolland and Southway end up in battle, that has to be of benefit to us, whether we join in or not.'

Figus gave a nod, then straightened his collar and ran his hand through his hair. With a quick glance at his reflection in a bronze shield boss, he said, 'shall I ask Jarl Injeborg the Red to attend you?'

'Yes please.'

When the doors to the solar opened, however, it was the young ambassador of Rockguard who came in. 'King Carlos! Do you deliberately insult King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin by keeping me waiting like this? I have an urgent message to which the king demands an immediate response.'

From behind him, I saw Figus give an apologetic shrug.

My guards had moved to intercept the ambassador, which was good to see. But the man was only a threat to my temper not my person and I waved them back. 'Is this the way the people of Rockguard behave? Charging into rooms and making demands?'

Standing before me, hands on hips, eyes flashing fire and worked up into a passion of righteous indignation the young ambassador probably saw himself as some dramatic hero in an epic poem. 'King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin is furious that you are aiding his enemies and it is within my power to declare war on you if you do not cease trading with Jomskar.'

It was a very long time since anyone tried to bully me, all the way back in sixth class, in fact, when I was eleven. Aaron Holywell, who was distinctly taller and heavier than me, had started giving me a hard time: grabbing my books and pencils; kicking away my chair; trying to get the other kids to laugh at me. And with some success. The others were afraid of becoming the focus of the bully's attention. I honestly didn't know what to do. Eventually, I asked my dad.

'Do you want me to talk to the teacher?' he had asked.

'No. That would be ratting.'

'Then I can't help you very much, Sean; you'll mostly have to deal with this yourself,' dad said. 'You'll have to face up to him. Tell him, you're not having it anymore.'

'And if he hits me?'

'Then it's okay to hit him back.'

'Really?' I remember being surprised. I'd heard the opposite so often. No hitting was a mantra of school.

My dad had been a teenage boxer, good enough to get a trial for the Irish under-16s. He showed me how to make a fist so I wouldn't break my thumbs and how to hit hard, with the full power of my arm passing through a straight wrist position that did not waste any energy. He also taught me to keep my arms up in a guard and to balance, right foot forward, in a way that could move from defence to offense and which would make it hard for my opponent to kick me in the crotch. And he said something interesting. 'Kids your age flail a lot and rarely land a decent punch. In a fight, try to keep your cool and wait. One good shot to his nose and it's over. It doesn't matter if you've had a dozen unimportant knocks.'

In the end, there was no fight. When it came to the confrontation, Aaron must have seen in my eyes that I was up for it. He backed off and even – though I wasn't buying – tried to become my friend.

These memories sprang to mind as I looked at the ambassador from Rockguard and he looked back at me, proud and obviously sure of himself. It was a shame that schoolkid tactics wouldn't work here, as I'd have loved to have gone over and punched him on the nose.

'Figus,' I called. 'There's a protocol to these discussions, isn't there? Should we start with the introductions? Who is this?'

'Alas, I do not know sire. He has not observed the usual formalities that are so conducive to successful diplomacy.'

I gave a nod that I hoped would appear thoughtful, rather than amused. Figus had been quick to follow my lead.

'I am Connchobair mac Gille Coemgáin, cousin to the king, ambassador of Rockguard.'

'Welcome, Cononchobair mac Gille Coemgáin, cousin to the king, ambassador of Rockguard, will you take a glass of wine with me?'

'I will not. I will hear your reply and then depart.'

'My reply.' I stretched, muscles stiffening from all the hard work I'd done recently. 'I do not wish to be at war with Rockguard.'

The insufferable youth nodded knowingly.

'So I will offer you a trade that matches theirs and thus Greyland will be neutral in your conflict.'

'What trade? We don't want your iron. We have plenty of our own.'

'Have you need of cloth?'

'Not at all,' the ambassador almost spat, such was his contempt. 'We have the finest breed of sheep in the twenty-five kingdoms.'

'Have you steel pickaxes?'

No answer. Then, reluctantly, 'we have not.'

'Steel pickaxes increased our iron output by fifty percent. If we trade them to you, that has to be worth far more than a few ingots of iron to the Vikings.'

The impact of my words on the young man was immediate and he began to stroke his black beard. We all waited on him. 'Very well, a hundred and fifty steel pickaxes. For what?'

'Four timber per pickaxe.' We had plenty of trees but timber was one of my current bottlenecks.

'Three.'

'Agreed. But it will be ten days before our first shipment of fifty pickaxes departs.'

'Unacceptable. A week.' It seemed to me that the man simply wanted to regain some of the dominance that he believed he had over me. Not that it mattered.

'We will bring a cart along the coastal path to the border between our countries and make the exchange there on the ninth day from now.'

'That is acceptable. Send a rider to confirm when the goods are on the way.' With a toss of his head, the ambassador added. 'Tell me, why do you have a ship belonging to the Necromancer in your port? You do realise the danger of disease? Not to mention of them stealing your people to make them undead servants of the dark lord?'

'They came under flag of truce, asking for shelter and materials to repair a damaged rudder. I have allowed it, rather than risk offending the Necromancer.'

Now the youthful ambassador managed to give me a paternal look. 'You are wise not have made an enemy of Rockguard, King Carlos, and as soon as we have finished with the Vikings we will eliminate the evil that is the Kingdom of Lost Souls. You will have nothing to fear from the Necromancer.'

'My heartfelt thanks and perhaps we might be able to offer you some small assistance in achieving that goal.'

'Perhaps. Now I must bid you farewell and return as fast as my horse can carry me.'

When the smug young man had left, we could finally invite Jarl Injeborg into the hall. Once again, she looked splendid: an attractive, open face; tall; red hair in braids; a dark blue tunic of fine wool; and a deep green cloak with intricate zoomorphic embroidery.

'Welcome, most welcome, Jarl Injeborg. I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. It is not any reflection of our warmth of feeling towards you and Jomskar.'

'I understand. First duty, then pleasure.' She laughed, as if to acknowledge she was being presumptive in assuming that dealing with her was a pleasure. I liked her for both the laugh and the presumption.

'How can we help, Jarl Injeborg? I did not expect to see you so soon. Rather, I anticipated a trading vessel with fish for us.'

'I've brought your fish, but King Olgrim Beartooth sent me because he wishes to offer you an alliance.'

'Go on.'

Injeborg took a deep breath. 'Rockguard has invaded in strength by sea, all we can do is fall back, yielding territory. Yet they must have very few troops left behind. Even a small raid on their kingdom would force mac Gille Coemgáin to sail his armies south again. And if that happened before the harvest, Jomskar would recover quickly.'

'After meeting with that maggot of an ambassador, the cousin of their king, I very much want to help you win that war. But we have a small enough army as it is and might have to fight in the west.' Without going into details, I explained that it was likely that the former allies of Trolland and Southway might soon be at war with each other.

I also told her about the threats that Connchobair had made and her face grew grim, angry even, when I explained that I had been obliged to make a trade of steel pickaxes. Before she could express that anger, I held up my hand. 'Listen carefully, Jarl Injeborg, although Greyland is not currently in a position for us to openly declare war on your enemy, we can still help you. If we arrange for a ship of yours to be on hand, you can intercept those pickaxes shortly after the trade and sell them back to us for more iron or whatever you need.'

That idea appealed and her expression lightened at once. 'I like that trick, though it is not the assistance we were hoping for.'

I nodded. But what could I do for them? Realistically? For all the possible scenarios that were rapidly developing I needed time to build up Greyland's army. Perhaps I could help in a different way. 'Between Jomaskar and Rockguard lies the Kingdom of Lost Souls. Have you asked the Necromancer for aid? Any move by him towards Rockguard will have King mac Gille Coemgáin panicking.'

'The Necromancer?' The Viking ambassador almost took a step back in shock. 'That would likely be even more dangerous than the current crisis. Once the undead army begins to grow, it is very hard to stop.'

'Our goddess believes the same, which is why she directed me to this.' I thumped the base of the lance against the raised platform. 'You've seen their ship in the harbour. We are trading with the Kingdom of Lost Souls and are prepared to risk the rise of the Necromancer.'

Jarl Injeborg looked thoughtful. 'That lance does make a difference. It won't be popular, but perhaps we should look to him for help.'

'I believe you should. And you can relay to the Necromancer the exact words that the foolish young man from Rockguard spoke just now: "as soon as we have finished with the Vikings we will eliminate the evil that is the Kingdom of Lost Souls".'

Figus spoke up. 'With your permission, sire, I can brief Jarl Injeborg the Red on my dealings with the Necromancer and how she might best succeed in urging him to invade Rockguard.'

'You have my permission Figus. And while you are briefing our guest, you might also arrange the robbery that will allow the steel pickaxes to come back to our realm.'

Something tightened in my chest as Figus and Injeborg departed together, clearly happy in each other's company. Once the doors were closed behind them, I arranged with the soldiers for a rota of additional guards for the protection of my chamber and then retired. It was early, but I wanted a full night's sleep.

Chaos was coming to this world and coming fast.

Chapter 24: Means and Ends

During the night, my mind must have been very busy, because I woke full of urgency to set about all the tasks in a checklist I'd formed: release the prisoners; talk to the cloth workers; talk to the new arrivals and talk to Lord Arval. That last one was not going to be an easy conversation. First, however, I opened up the economic menu and checked on the food situation.

Our stores had 100 units of wheat; 55 of vegetables; 49 of fish and 4 of meat. A feeling of relief and satisfaction washed over me. We were comfortable. At least, until the rising population created new pressures on food supply. But so long as I was careful to manage the realm's capacity to generate food, we should be able to expand relatively rapidly. Even better, it seemed likely that we were about to reclaim our farmlands. I noticed that fish supplies had jumped by 30, which must have been the barrels aboard the Viking ship. That meant I owed Jarl Ingeborg 5 iron. She would have to wait until tomorrow for it, as the Necromancer was first in line.

I double checked on my current projects and their countdown times: Sanitation, 12 hours; Merchant Vessel, 7 days and Tower, 4 days.

My building construction was not set and since I had 125 timber and 19 stone I took a while to think about what project I would like to start next. It had been in my mind to begin Barracks 2, so as to unlock ballista training. The military landscape, however, had changed dramatically and rather than preparing to resist invasion from behind the walls of Three Ways, I would now be moving the army down to the farmlands. Attractive alternatives included Sawmill 2, to speed up wood production; Smithy 2, to unlock new tool and weapon upgrades; Mines 3, to increase ore output and unlock the chance of finding silver and gold; Church 3, to keep pushing towards a stronger connection with the goddess and gain increased happiness; Library 2, to speed up research; and even Hunting Lodge 4, with an eye on my expanding population.

As always, I felt the pressure of wanting all of these benefits and yet having to limit myself to just one. My choice this time was a Scriptorium. I liked the fact that the cost was only 40 wood and 10 stone and the build time three days and twelve hours. The benefit was that I could add spell research (level 1) to my research options. Eventually, I wanted a Scriptorium of level 3, so that there was a chance of discovering Fireball. If Carlena could launch three or four fireballs in a battle and I could fire three Holy Light spells, we could have a massive effect on battles. As a bonus, I knew that Carlena would be pleased to learn of my decision.

Standing up from the bed was difficult. Not so much because of my bulk – I was getting used to that – but because I was so stiff. All my muscles ached: limbs, body, neck, everywhere. On impulse I had a quick check of my character sheet to see if any of my attributes had improved. And they had! My Charisma had gone from 6 to 7 and better yet, my Constitution from 8 to 9. The late Carradock Goblinbane had said that it was possible to train Constitution and now I could see how it was done. Journey for the best part of three days, rowing, walking, clambering, sleeping outdoors, eating only rations. That was good enough to get from 8 to 9 at least. It encouraged me to go back to weight training to get my Strength moving.

After dressing, I went down to breakfast, carrying the Lance of Light with me. By contrast with my first few days here, the staff of the keep actually looked at me, with curiosity even. And once or twice I exchanged a nod of greeting with a familiar face. Good, I didn't want to be the old King Carlos, cut off from everyone by a wall of fear.

I didn't take long over my two poached eggs and apple juice. Reluctantly, because I was tempted to stay for another serving, I got myself to my feet and set out for the barracks.

It was still early. A grey day, but our green rhino flags fluttered cheerfully in a light breeze. The cobbled streets were quiet, but for some workers making their way to their tasks. Every person who passed me did so with a greeting. The sergeant on duty at the barracks was young: a woman with a stocky physique and a short crew cut that reminded me of the look of soldiers back home.

'Sergeant.'

She leapt up from where she had been in the process of lighting a fire and I waved her to relax her salute.

'I need a detail to release the prisoners of Southway and escort them until beyond the gates of Three Ways.'

'Very good, sire.' There was something about her expression, some query.

'You have a question sergeant?'

'Sorry sire. You don't mean the prisoners of Trolland do you?'

My left hand was on the lance, my right I used for balance as I leaned against the door to her room and took a good, long look at her. Her gaze dropped to the bare planks of the floor.

'Why in the world did you say that?'

A slight colour came to her pale cheeks. 'Word is, we are going to fight Southway as allies of Trolland.'

Dear me. I would have to recruit personal bodyguards of a completely different level of discretion than the six who had attended me the previous night.

I sighed. 'That might be true sergeant. But Southway has no idea of it. If we are to have the advantage of surprise – a very considerable advantage you'll agree – their prisoners must leave her under the impression that we are their friends and the prisoners of Trolland are fated to remain under guard. You do see that?'

'I do, sire.'

'We had best limit the numbers of troops in the escort party. Find someone else to take over your duties here and personally hand pick four more soldiers who can be relied upon not to give the game away. And do this right away. The longer those prisoners are here, the more likely they'll hear something.'

'Right away sire, sorry sire,' and as soon as I'd shifted myself from the doorway, she was off and running across the barracks square.

As it was too early to visit the clothmakers and the church was not so far from the barracks, I walked down to it. The tall, wooden spire now had a bronze circle at the very peak and the entrance doorway was significantly more ornate, with skilled carvings of vines in flower in the wood of the lintel. Inside, the basic hexagon shape was the same, but the windows were no longer simple, empty circles but proper glass windows with the same fine carvings around the frames. The changes made the space distinctly warmer and more inviting.

A Cleric was present, dousing tall candles with a long-handled device. The tall candelabra were new too. She was young, with medium length, dirty-blonde hair tied back in a vine.

'We are not open… oh sire!' The Cleric gave a bow.

'You are the new Cleric?'

'Indeed, I have that honour sire. Ava is my name.'

I called up her character sheet:

Ava Rose: Cleric Level 1

HP 7

AC 0 (12)

Str 9, Dex 11, Con 11, Int 10, Wis 15, Cha 10

1 spell per day from: Bless Weapon, Calm, Cure Light Wounds, Growth, Light, Inspiration

'Welcome Ava.' I found a bench and sat carefully on it. It was close to the wall and not wide, so took some effort to secure myself from slipping off it. 'Perhaps you can explain something to me.'

'If I can sire,' Ava stood before me, looking at me with frank curiosity.

'When the church upgrade was completed, how did you know to come here? What choice did you have about it?'

'O happy moment! I am so glad to recall it. I was teaching a group of four novitiates in the school behind the church, when the written message of the menu came up before my eyes. The goddess offered me a choice. Did I want to become a first level Cleric here: yes or no? Of course I said yes, I had been hoping…'

'But you could have chosen no? Then someone else would get the message?'

'I could have, but my main desire in life is to serve the goddess.' She paused and I waited until she realised I wanted more. 'Ever since Anthea left us to became Cleric of the church, I had hoped the king – you – would upgrade the church and promote her so that I could join her in duties here… I suppose if I had said no, then the option to become Cleric would have passed to the next most prepared trainee.'

'I understand. I think. I don't suppose you know where the new people come from? We have three new people today.'

'New?'

'The menus show three more people – currently idle – than we had yesterday.'

'Oh, I see. New to the menus, sire. Not the realm. We live and work here the same as everyone on the menus, hoping you'll grow the realm and bring us into the goddesses' favour.'

Of course. It had been explained to me earlier. There were hundreds more people around the town, not to mention the outlying villages, than were on the menus. Nearly all the servants at the castle for a start.

'People want to get onto the menus? Even though that probably means a lot of hard work? Or fighting?'

'Indeed we do. If you join the menu, you are helping bring about the age of beatia. If our realm conquers the world, we will enter a golden age in which the Miya is queen of the gods and her followers live in peace and the harmony of springtime and eternal youth.'

Her face showed enthusiasm, passion even. Mine was probably thoughtful if not dismayed. 'And if we lose? If we are conquered?'

'Whichever god triumphs becomes the most powerful and remakes the world in their image. If Miya rules the gods, she will make the world unto heaven, if Scrithax or any of the evil gods, it will be a very hell.'

'Except for those on their menus, presumably?'

'Indeed, their followers will reap their rewards, wicked and cruel as they might be.'

Again, this information made sense. The gods wanted mortals to participate in their game and not opt out, like the shadow giants. Divine reward was a pretty big incentive. But far from feeling enthusiastic about the fact that people wanted to join the menus I felt a huge weight of responsibility, like a bank of dark cloud had suddenly covered a blue sky. These were high stakes we were playing for. Heaven or hell.

With an effort, I got to my feet and moved towards the door. 'Thank you Ava, you've been very helpful.'

'Thank you, sire.' She must have seen something in my face. 'Do not fear, you are chosen by the goddess for a reason. The people believe in you.'

She meant well, but that thought was not particularly comforting. While it would be reassuring to imagine there was something about me as a person that had led to my being summoned, probably I'd been chosen because I was a top tank in an MMORPG: and all that really meant was that I'd spent hours online mashing buttons.

More sombre-minded than cheerful now, I made my way to the clothmakers' workshop through a town that was becoming busier. There, among the large wooden spindles and wracks of instruments were the workers, sitting and talking to each other. Men and women, young and old. The large room fell silent and the predominant expression on their faces was surprise.

I leaned on the Lance of Light and raised my voice. 'There is not going to be any new wool delivered for twenty-four days and even then, it will be just three bales. I'm sure you wish to serve the goddess and the realm and I'm sorry I'm currently unable to allow you to do so as clothmakers. There are other jobs where I could use your help: I could use three more carpenters, six more farmers, in seven days I will need twenty sailors, and I also need more soldiers.

'I'm not going to force anyone to change job but if you volunteer, I promise you will be able to come back here if you want when we have a demand for clothmaking again.'

After a slight pause, where I wondered had I said something to alienate them, a young woman took off her apron. 'That's fine with me, sire; I'd rather be helping than standing around bored – no offense friends – and idle. I'd be happy to farm.'

All of a sudden there was a clamour as they all spoke up with similar sentiments. Pointing to the woman and signalling she should come over to me, I opened the menus and moved one person from clothmaking to farming.

'Sire, you wish me to reassign Martha here to a farm?' To my right was a door to another room and emerging from it was a guildmaster I recognised from the Moon Day feast.

'I do.'

Calling on the workers one at a time, I made the adjustments to People menu and the guildmaster confirmed it with the individual concerned. Soon I'd got all the volunteers I needed and the People menu looked like this:

Soldiers 110; Farmers 44; Brewers 16; Shepherds 34; Hunters 58; Miners 84; Clothmakers 1; Bakers 23; Carpenters 24; Builders 40; Stonemasons 14; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 5; unassigned 11.

Thanking them all, I left the building. Behind me a hubbub of conversation broke out, whose overall tone seemed to be one of excitement.

Next on my checklist was to explain to Lord Arval my diplomacy and see if we could agree on a strategy for the coming war with Southway. Since Chancellor Parrin and Carlena would want to know all about this too, I returned to the keep and sent messengers to summon all three.

Soon we were gathered in the solar: me on my throne, the others before me seated on chairs I'd had brought for the meeting. In the time it took for them to arrive, the clouds had parted and ten large rectangles of sunlight formed by the shape of the windows lay on the wooden floor, creating a chequered effect.

I recapped the negotiations of the night before and summarised my approach by saying, 'what I want to do is deceive King Wace of Southway into thinking we are allies and when he is committed to battle with the army of Trolland, come in decisively and shatter them.'

Lord Arval shook his head. 'Such a deception is against the code of the Knights of Miya's Campanile.'

'Are all ruses and deceptions against the code?' I asked.

'Not all, no. But there's a difference between, say, lighting extra campfires to give the enemy the impression our army is bigger than it actually is and looking King Wace in the eyes, promising to fight at his side, and then stabbing him in the back.'

When he put it that way, I felt uncomfortable and said so. Then I added, 'We have an expression in my world: the end justifies the means.'

Despite the light in the room, Lord Arval's face looked dark. 'That's stupid and self-serving. The means is the ends. If you use evil means, you will attract evil followers and the world that you create will be evil. You won't be able to turn about at the last and declare heaven: your methods will have determined your final choices.' He took a deep breath and his lips moved as if silently composing his next thoughts.

'Let me put it another way sire. Our troops are fighting to bring about a world in which the goddess reigns above all the others. It will be a beautiful world, of peace, abundance, health and love. When the fighting is fierce and their comrades are falling, it is their belief in their cause, in me, and in you that keeps the troops from panic. If we carry out your plan, we might well win that particular battle. But we will create doubt in the troops as to the nature of our cause and this will lose us the world in due course.'

I knew that being a Paladin, Lord Arval had a preference for straight dealing. And I had come to this meeting thinking that my diplomacy had been cunning and it was superior to his naivety. Listening to him now, I realised that his outlook was not naïve, it was deep and strong and probably very effective. I felt myself to be shallow in comparison to him.

'What do you think, Carlena?' I asked the Sorceress.

'Honour applies to the honourable. We should never be false to our true friends. I do not feel the same about King Wace. He has no code. He would betray us in an instant.'

'Do we want the world to say the same about us?' muttered Lord Arval.

'Chancellor Parrin, your thoughts please.'

The grey-haired Scout touched the tips of his long fingers together. 'I think there is a point somewhere between the trick with campfires and a stab in the back that we should find. One that gives us maximum military advantage without becoming snakes rather than rhinos.'

Even Lord Arval smiled at this and I sensed the mood of the meeting shift as we were reminded of our recent victory.

'Go on please, chancellor.'

'Let us rule out the idea of marching to battle with King Wace, only to turn on him. For the reasons Lord Arval gives. We could, all the same, take advantage of King Carlos's – Sean de Courcy's – diplomacy. If we brought the army down to our former lands with many delays and if accidents on bridges created more delays, then we might find Trolland and Southway give battle without us.'

'Good.' I said, 'I like that. And what if King Wace waits?

'Tell him the truth. That after council, we have decided not to fight with him against Trolland.'

Lord Arval nodded and I caught his eye.

'Very well. That's our strategy.' I gave up on my idea of double-crossing King Wace in the middle of a battle. It had seemed smart at the time, but Lord Arval's points about the moral of the soldiers in the longer term had convinced me. 'Now, what about Rockguard and their attempt to bully us over our trade with Jomskar? Is there any difficulty with telling the Vikings the details of the trade, so that they might raid the Rockguard convoy?' Again, my attention was on Lord Arval.

He rubbed a hand over his bald head. 'I… We would be lying to Rockguard, even if no one actually told an untruth. It would not be a trade made in good faith.'

'They don't deserve such generosity of spirit,' said Carlena, 'and if they win their war with the Vikings, don't expect them to have any good faith or loyalty to us. We could easily be their next target.'

'I do see that,' said Lord Arval. 'An oath taken under duress is not the same as one given freely.'

'Exactly.' I slapped my hand down on the arm of the throne. 'I was forced to make this trade. They know it and we know it. I will give them the steel pickaxes. But I will also alert the Vikings and they can use the information or not.'

No one demurred and so we moved on to talking about the economic decisions I had recently made. My three summoners were very pleased with the news that our food crisis was averted, were equally pleased that our happiness was now allowing me to recruit three new people a day to the menus, but best of all was Carlena's reaction when I told her that I was building a scriptorium. She smiled a warm and genuine smile.

'I tell you, Sean, this is the path to victory. Keep moving along it.'

When I'd answered all their questions, I looked over at the Paladin. 'Lord Arval, please order the ballista unit to return to Carrick, they will be stationed at the new tower. And keep five infantry and five archers in the town. Everyone else, including the four of us, is to set out in the morning. We go to reclaim our lands and perhaps to battle.'

Chapter 25: Robert the Trooper

The number of troops who were with me as I set out down the valley from Three Ways was modest, more a skirmish party than an army. I had 20 light infantry; 12 heavy infantry; 27 archers; 18 light cavalry; and 4 heavy cavalry, 5 if I counted Lord Arval. Although it was a small force, I took encouragement from the thought that at a rate of 3 new people joining the menu a day I could expand the army fairly steadily until it hit a limit set not such by the question of food supply but also of cost. Currently, the army cost 24 gold and 2 silver a month, which was below my income by 19 gold and 8 silver (a gold Carlos was worth ten silver shillings). I knew that for archers, each new soldier cost 2 silver in wages a month and having looked it up, knights cost 1 gold in wages a month: so I could recruit, say, 54 archers and 9 knights, after which I'd be starting to drain the treasury.

Income was therefore something I'd have to keep track of more carefully as I grew the army.

The day was fine, only distant wisps of white cloud in a brightening blue sky. The soldiers marched in a regular step and I found myself matching them, using the Lance of Light as a staff. The cart with my gear was at the back of the convoy: sitting in it and jolting around over the potholes was far too painful. I really had to upgrade the road as one of my priorities.

It pleased me to be walking among the troops; the morale of the soldiers was high and for stretches of the march they would give enthusiastic voice to a loud repetition of the chants of their sergeants:

Robert was a trooper from Carrick city.

He left his girl though she was pretty.

'Sergeant called me up and I have to go.

'A soldier's life is not his own.'

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

Robert dug ditches and he dug some more.

Robert dug deep 'till his back was sore.

'Sergeant made me dig and that's my job.'

'A soldier's life is full of mud.'

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

Robert cut timber and he cut some more.

Robert cut timber 'till his arms were sore.

Sergeant made him work 'till the sun went down.

Thinking of his girl in Carrick town.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

And so it went on, with Robert's life clearly a miserable one, though the soldiers chanting about it did so with gusto and cheer. And there was an interesting twist at the end.

Robert struck down on the goblin's head.

Robert struck down and it was dead.

Sergeant got up and said 'good man,

'I owe my life to your strong hand.'

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

As a new chant rose up among the soldiers, my attention moved to the realm's menus. Having given Jarl Injeborg her 5 iron ingots the previous day, I had 5 in hand, which I probably needed to allocate to the smithy for steel pickaxes for my 'trade' with Rockguard. I could leave that decision for a while though. When sanitation had completed (unlocking options to build sewers and an aqueduct), I had chosen multi-story housing as my next project as I had been focused on happiness and that would lead to me gaining another 2, as well as increasing Carrick's population capacity. Multi-story housing was attractive too, as it took only a little over three days to complete.

When I was next able to choose a new subject to research, it should probably be something that led to an increase in the realm's income. Perhaps something to do with trade. There were nearly forty options to choose from and I found it best to work backward from what was my current priority to identify the most relevant ones.

I'd also used my time to work hard at weight training (which had yet to pay off in terms of an increase in Strength) and to see that the prisoners from Trolland were released. They departed with strict instructions to use the coastal path back to their realm, even though it was somewhat indirect. Although I was now aiming towards a direct assault on King Wace I still didn't want Southway spies or visitors to see them on the main route from Three Ways.

Over the course of the morning the landscape changed, with the hills to either side of us becoming gentler and covered in grass rather than rocks. To our right, the stream had been gradually becoming wider and deeper, on its way to being a sizeable river, when our path turned northwards and – after filling our canteens with water – we left it behind. I was feeling the strain of the march and was lagging behind the bulk of the army with the baggage, thinking about taking a seat on the cart, when I caught the scent of frying fish. To my great delight, the light cavalry who had gone ahead had made a temporary camp and there was food for us all. They'd even erected a tent for me, which now that the sun was directly overhead was welcome. It was a cool, autumn day but not cool enough to prevent me from having become drenched in sweat after all that walking.

It was while I was in my tent, talking with Lord Arval about siege equipment (another research option that appealed to me was Trebuchet), that a soldier brought in a woman who was dressed in fine, dark-blue woollen clothes. She had short, dark hair; tattoos of runes on her forearms; and eyes that shone with alertness.

'Scholar, sire. Says she's here to study with our Sorceress.'

'Very good soldier, please ask Carlena and the chancellor to join us.'

There were only the two camp chairs in the tent but having made her bow, our visitor didn't hesitate to sit down cross-legged. 'Greeting sire, my name is Soudicca and I come to your realm from Trolland in the hope you will give me permission to learn from Carlena, your esteemed Sorceress, and perhaps, even, in time, take me onto your menu as a scholar or librarian.'

Had this story been true, then several questions would have leaped to my mind about her goals and why she was pursuing them. Since, however, this was clearly the diplomat from Trolland I'd been promised, I was stuck for something to say. I was very conscious that everyone nearby could hear what was being said in my tent and I knew my troops were more curious than discrete.

'Welcome,' replied Lord Arval, when he realised I was stuck for a response. 'Would you care for something to eat?'

'Thank you, yes, I've been riding hard all morning.' The diplomat gave me a significant look.

Once Carlena and Chancellor Parrin had arrived and our guest had picked the flesh from a fried fish, the Sorceress and the scholar talked about magic and the various schools they favoured. While this circuitous conversation took place, Soudicca withdrew a scroll from within her tunic and quietly unfolded it. A map. She placed a finger down and looked carefully around to us all.

Lord Arval stood up to get a better view then nodded. The point she was marking was at the far side of our farming villages, where the road branched and the northern route bridged a river: Adelaide's Crossing. It was about a day away.

Once she had gotten nod from each of us, the pretend scholar folded the map up again and restored it to inside her tunic.

'It's no good,' I said, much to everyone's surprise, especially Soudicca's. 'This secrecy. There's no point. I'm not going to deceive King Wace. I am going to declare war openly and meet him fair and square in battle. If Queen Rorgesta will join me nevertheless, though the fighting will be harder, I'm confident we will prevail.'

'I see.' A strange look flashed over Soudicca's face that made me uneasy before she composed herself. 'The queen is very determined to deal a blow against King Wace and was most pleased with your earlier plan. She thanks you too for the release of our soldiers. I'm sure that she will have no hesitation in accepting this new approach. I suggest our armies rendezvous at the crossing all the same. From there we can march together into Southway.'

'Lord Arval?'

'Very good, sire.'

'Then I shall hurry back to my queen with this new information.' Soudicca sprang to her feet, gave a brief bow, and left us in the tent.

There was a silence among us, perhaps the others felt like I did, that a battle was approaching. What manner of person deliberately walked towards the risk of violent death? One with a cause. Was my cause sufficient? This was not my world and although I had a sense of comradeship with the people of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms, Lord Arval especially, it was insufficient. Only when I remembered how empty I felt at home and how complete I felt here as I led the charge at Three Ways did my thoughts settle. I might die here, but at least I had a purpose. Here, doing this, I was happy. And embracing my presence in this world left me with no choice but to march towards war.

***

That afternoon the clouds gathered and the day turned distinctly cooler. Having reached the limit of my ability to walk, I was suffering in the cart when movement up ahead resolved itself into a body of horsemen: several of our light cavalry, Lord Arval, and Lord Oseso of Southway.

Snorting and panting, the horses gathered around my cart, which came to a halt. I stood up. 'Greetings Lord Oseso.'

'And to you, King Carlos the wise.' The ambassador from Southway bowed as deeply as his saddle permitted and looked at me with an insincere smile. 'Well met, ally and comrade. King Wace is but half a day away, on the road to Arrak.'

'Lord Oseso, I owe you an apology –,'

'Not at all, sire.'

'– for having deceived you at our last meeting. I have no intention of being an ally or comrade of King Wace. As far as I am concerned, we are still at war.'

Lord Oseso gaped at me, with alarmed eyes and an open mouth that had been shaped to speak: making me recall the expression on fish I had earlier eaten.

'Go back to King Wace and tell him I am on the march and intend to defeat him and take his lands from him.'

There were tears forming in the ambassador's face. Then he rallied himself and spat. 'King Carlos the wise I said. I am a fool and so are you. You will regret this decision and these words. Save this moment in your memory and mourn it forever!' He wheeled his horse about and moving quickly from a walk to a trot was soon cantering away down the road.

'There,' I said to Lord Arval. 'Satisfied?'

'Don't let his curse trouble you sire. Our army will fight well.'

'Ask Chancellor Parrin to scout ahead please, Lord Arval, and bring us a report on the strength and disposition of King Wace's army.'

With a salute, the Paladin rode up the road once more, taking the light cavalry with him.

As we continued, it seemed to me that the army was not as cheerful as earlier in the morning. Perhaps they too felt the presence of battle and death as a growing reality that they were moving towards. Certainly, there was less of the chanting that had enlivened our earlier walk. That began to change, though, as we reached villages and cultivated fields. There the farmers and their families ran over to greet us. Little children on the shoulders of parents looked on with amazement. The older men and women waved, while others called out.

'Praise Miya!'

'Blessings on you all!'

'For Miya and Greyland!'

There was a noticeable response among the soldiers, who now walked more proudly and resumed their hearty chanting. One or two of the farms we passed were flying our flags: crudely made versions where the rhino looked more like a horse. All the same, it was heartening and when we made camp for the night we were visited by local well-wishers bringing food. I felt that no speech of mine would have been as effective in providing clear evidence to the soldiers that the people here were glad to be back in Miya's realm and that our cause was worth fighting for.

Chapter 26: The Battle of Adelaide’s Crossing

After an uneasy night in my tent, I woke with the dawn and washed. Hungry, I had to wait for breakfast and did so listening to the sounds of cockerels and the lowing of cattle from a small herd that was already on its way to be milked. None of my servants had travelled with me and I was stuck waiting for the porridge that was being prepared for the rest of the soldiers.

During the night the scriptorium had been completed. I'd gained a new person – a scholar – who seemed to be an addition to the population on the menus, as I had the figure of 12 unassigned people which I had anticipated. The only other information I gained about the completed building was that I had unlocked the possibility of researching level 1 spells. I looked into that topic.

Spell Research Level 1

At the end of three days the scholar will have researched a random first level Wizard spell. This spell may be cast as a one-use item from a scroll or inscribed into the spell book of a Wizard for repeated use.

I wasn't too keen on the random element, but with Carlena having so few spells, it was almost certain I'd generate a new one for her. I'd probably make that my research project when later on, around midnight, multi-story housing completed.

'Oh!' My exclamation must have been loud because the soldiers nearby looked up at me with expressions of curiosity. I'd been browsing the menus and noticed that the grain yield due in seven days had jumped from 0 to 260 units. This was it! We'd made the turn from crisis to stability and growth. Regaining the harvest made all the difference. I wouldn't have to worry about food supply for a long time. At last, I had the capacity to really expand our population and army.

Feeling cheerful, I walked along the stretch of road that ran between our tents, until I found Carlena. Her silver-haired figure stood out among all the soldiers who were much younger and mostly male (we had women among the archers and light cavalry).

'Good morning sire, excuse me a moment,' hands behind her head, Carlena was pulling hard on the cords that tightened the tunic of her combat clothes: the practical trousers and shirt that contrasted so much with the elegant robes she had worn when I had first seen her after being summoned.

'Can I help with that?'

'If you would sire.'

Standing behind Carlena and moving her long hair to the side so I could pull the leather cords tightly through the eyes of her tunic was a strangely intimate moment. I wasn't even sure I liked Carlena yet our fates were completely entwined. We stood or fell together and for a moment as I finished tying the cords I felt a wave of empathy for her.

'Have you discussed their spells yet with Lord Arval or the Bard or the Cleric?' she turned to face me, buttoning her sleeves.

'Let them have their porridge first.'

'But they are all meditating now. It will save time if we want changes to talk with them now.'

'Oh, good point. Very well, where are they?'

'That way,' Carlena gestured and we walked together further down the road; all around us was the hubbub and scents of a busy army preparing its horses and equipment for battle.

At a tall, slender birch tree on which had been fastened a burnished copper symbol of Miya were gathered our divine casters. They were standing with heads bowed and I was hesitant to interrupt them. Carlena, however, called out, 'morning friends, before you settle on your spells for the day, can we talk about them?'

Lord Arval looked up and smiled at us. He must have been awake even earlier than me, for he was dressed in his heavy armour and had already shaved. I had not bothered and ran my hand over my rough cheeks. 'My usual battle spells are two Cure Light Wounds and Miya's Blessing.'

'I was going to ask for Cure Light Wounds,' murmured the new Cleric, Ava.

Anthea was not yet dressed in her chainmail, but had bound her brown hair up and out of the way of her grey eyes. 'Two Cure Light Wounds, two Cure Moderate Wounds and Regeneration.'

I turned to Figus, who said, 'Cure Light Wounds twice sire.'

I laughed. 'Well, it is fortunate we are having this conversation. That's too much by way of heals. If Lord Arval were toe-to-toe with one mighty monster, this might make sense. But if we fight today it will be among a mass of opponents.

'Figus, let's start with you, what are your other options?'

'Detect Magic, Disguise, Melodic Voice, Calm.'

'What does Calm do?'

'Removes fear and uncontrollable rage effects, sire. From those within hearing of my voice.'

'Take that and … Disguise.' I turned to Anthea. 'If I recall correctly, you have a second-level spell, Miya's Courage, what does that do?'

'Grants one person per Cleric level a small increase in chance to hit, damage and resistance to mind-influencing spells.'

'Take that instead of a Cure Moderate Wounds. Ava, you can keep your cure. And Lord Arval, remind me, what alternatives do you have to the cures?'

'Bless Food and Drink; Detect Demon; Miya's Growth; Miya's Purity; Protection from Evil and Rally.'

'Let's hope we won't meet any demons today.' I thought that was funny, but no one smiled. 'Rally' sounds promising, what does it do?

'Gives wavering troops greater morale and fleeing troops a chance to stop and stand.'

'Range?'

'Twenty metre radius on me.'

'Take a Rally then please.'

'Yes sire.'

'For completeness sake,' Carlena spoke up, 'mine are Detect Magic; Fire Dart, Freeze, Push, Flash of Light, Telepathy, Solid Air, Shatter, and Doppelganger. Depending which ones I use, I have enough mana for four or five spells.'

'Good. And I have three Holy Light spells from the lance.'

It was an impressive range of magic that we had among us and I hoped that King Wace couldn't muster anything like the same.

***

It was mid-afternoon when we neared the junction of the roads to Trolland and Southway. Here the farms had given way to less cultivated land and some hills to our east. There was a wide variety of trees all about us, not dense enough that I feared ambush but together with the hills it did mean that I felt closed in. To the left of the road was a hill path that led up to a ruined keep, perhaps once a watchtower over the crossing.

We had halted at the base of that path, where Chancellor Parrin was waiting. 'He's here, sire and he means to give battle!' Parrin had rode through our soldiers to get to the cart in which I'd been forced to travel for the second part of the day. The soldiers all around me were listening intently and even the driver of the cart had turned around to watch. The chancellor's face was pale and a sheen of sweat made him seem feverish.

'Go on,' I said.

'The fork in the road to the east rises over a hill and it is there King Wace has chosen to make his stand. He has a slope on his left flank but we could climb it if need be. A body of about thirty spearmen are drawn up alongside ten axemen. He has fifteen archers on his right flank and he waits behind those troops with a mix of light and heavy cavalry but only ten horses. There too is a Cleric and Mage.'

We had the advantage, especially in archers, but I wasn't going to be overhasty.

'Call for Lord Arval and the ambassador,' I shouted to a rider nearby. He hardly had to move because riding towards us was the Paladin and in his wake the Clerics, Figus and Carlena.

'What news sire?' asked Lord Arval, looking at Parrin for a clue.

'Wace is over the hill to the east, where the road goes, with about sixty infantry and ten cavalry,' I said. 'Chancellor Parrin has the details.'

I listened to our scout repeat his report and when the figure of fifteen archers was given, I saw a grim smile on Arval's face.

'What do you think?' I asked him.

'I think we have the advantage. Our archers will annihilate theirs, forcing them to stand and suffer casualties or move and be vulnerable to our cavalry.'

'I agree, but let us not be complacent. Figus!'

'Sire?'

'Use your Swift Travel feat and take the northern road to find Queen Rorgesta, tell her that if she hurries, we can give battle to King Wace before nightfall.'

'I am away sire!' And he wheeled around on a fine-looking white mare, to clatter on up the road.

'Lord Arval, arrange for the soldiers to rest. But in a rota that keeps a guard in the direction of the crossroads. And serve out some food.' It had been a long day's march and the soldiers needed to refresh themselves before battle.

'Very good sire. And I'll station two soldiers with a banner on that ruin up there, to wave if there is movement ahead.'

'Excellent.'

I had anticipated it would be several hours before Queen Rorgesta would join us, perhaps even that we'd have to spend the night in arms and give battle the following dawn. Instead, it was less than an hour before Figus was returned, his white mare galloping past the curious faces of our troops.

With a loud snort and with steam rising from her flanks into the cool autumn air, Figus's mount came alongside my cart. He smiled. 'She was already on the march sire, I met her half way to Adelaide's Crossing.'

'Very good. How strong is her army?'

'Not much under ours, some sixty in all, about half light cavalry.'

'Well done. In this coming battle, Figus, I'd like you at my back. If Wace has a Rogue or Assassin I'll need protection.'

'It will be an honour sire.'

I had the driver move my cart to the middle of the army and ordered the troops to gather around, the riders dismounted so that all could hear. I looked across the plane of pale faces and saw no fear, only solemn determination.

'Beyond that rise is King Wace and an army that is less than ours. Soon Queen Rorgesta will arrive from the north and increase our advantage. Today, therefore will be the day we pay him out for the attack on our lands, for the attempt to despoil us and make us starve.' A murmur of agreement. 'Our plan is simple: our archers will defeat theirs then turn on their infantry. If they stand, we will weaken them with every arrow we have then attack. If they move, the cavalry will wait Lord Arval's command to flank them and charge. The infantry will hold fast.

'You were all with me at Three Ways and I'm proud to be among such resolute soldiers again. This time wielding the Lance of Light!'

Lord Arval shouted, 'a cheer for the goddess!' and got a decent roar back.

'Soon the banners will wave us on. When they do, breathe deep the air and fill yourself with energy. Be tigers, be lions. Bring a fierce and terrible look to your eyes, such that our foes will quail. Set your teeth and raise yourselves to your full height. Let them see we are fearless and it is they who must scatter again, as they fled from us before!'

'A cheer for King Carlos!' cried the Paladin and this time the response was a thunderclap that might even have travelled to our enemy.

'The banners, sire! The banners!' someone called and as one everyone turned their faces to look past me to the hill. Our two scouts were stood on the walls of the ruin waving eagerly and pointing to the north, from where a cloud of dust had grown visible over the treeline.

The soldiers hurried to their positions, checking their equipment and weapons. Our 27 archers made the first body, then came 18 light infantry with the 12 heavy infantry with them on their right; next our 18 light cavalry with Lord Arval and the heavy cavalry on their left. Finally, I brought up the rear alongside Carlena and the two Clerics, Figus at my back. Chancellor Parrin had slipped away with instructions to try and get in a sneak attack on their Mage.

Eager not to miss the battle, the two soldiers up at the tower ran down the hillside track with their banners and to the cheers of their mates had caught up to the light infantry by the time we reached the junction of the roads and caught sight of two armies. Ahead were the ranks of the troops of Queen Rorgesta, many of them riders whose spear tips were tinged with orange from the late afternoon sun. To our right and up a slight rise was the line of soldiers drawn up by King Wace, the sun was in their eyes and picked them out clearly, again giving a burnish to those – only a few – who wore metal armour.

There was more room here at the junction and I watched as Lord Arval brought his fellow knights up to walk on the left flank of the archers as they wheeled to face the army of Southway. The ground beyond the road was uneven but there was room for Queen Rorgesta to advance. In fact, if she sent her cavalry to overlap Lord Arval, we'd be able to flank and even encircle King Wace. The slope on Wace's left gave him some protection but there was a real opening on his right. I was tempted to send Figus to urge her to take this action. But already the battle was underway and really, it was up to her and her commanders to respond to how it unfolded. Any attempt to co-ordinate our action at this point risk confusing my own army.

Arrows flew through the air with a heavy rush, in volleys at first and then individual fire. Soon sounds of groans and cries from the wounded accompanied the twang of bow and rush of feather. We had double the volume of shots to theirs and it told. After a few minutes of these exchanges, their archers were all down, with the loss of ten of ours, not all dead either.

'Cheer for the archers!' called Lord Arval from his position on the front left and we all joined in a huge roar, three times. 'Now take your time, make every arrow count!' He pointed his sword to the line of Southway troops. I looked beyond the Paladin to where I could see the glittering spear tips of Trolland. They were still not moving and I felt a pulse of anxiety.

All of a sudden, provoked by the fact their men were being hit with impunity, the army of King Wace was on the move. Roaring they ran down the road towards us.

'Archers fall back!' So loud was the bellow of Lord Arval I could hear him over the yells of the incoming enemy spearmen.

'Save your spells for when they commit their cavalry,' I said to Carlena and then pointed the Lance of Light towards the Southway soldiers, focused on the ground just ahead of them and more than twenty metres from our own line, then triggered a Holy Light from the lance's menu. Even while the sphere of blazing light shot through the air, the refresh on the spell completed and I managed to launch a second. The two silent explosions of white light filled the area between the armies and even from my position at the back left me blinking away an afterimage of two large spheres.

As the lines of warriors clashed together ours reeled back but held, theirs although bigger, was a confusion of spear points and waving axes. I'd probably blinded more than half of them.

The smashing of sword on shield and shrieks of the wounded were only a few metres ahead of us and my view of the melee became clearer as our light cavalry dispersed from in front of me to ride around the sides of the enemy line. There was no doubt we were winning, even without the help of Queen Rorgesta, as far more of the Southway men were falling than were ours.

At last, I could see the spears of Trolland moving into the battle. I was angry it had taken them so long, but delaying made sense for her. She was letting me take the brunt of the fighting to come in at the end and scatter the enemy with minimal losses. It was the approach I was planning to take only a few days ago and while it would serve her well in this battle, I could now see that it was flawed for the longer term. I felt none of the warmth or comradeship I would have for a genuine ally. The cynicism of her strategy was too cold.

'Lord Arval is down!' cried Carlena, horrified. And it was true, he was nowhere to be seen. Had it been the enemy Mage? A chill ran through my body and my guts clenched as I realised what was really happening. The horsemen of Trolland were everywhere stabbing at my soldiers. Queen Rorgesta was attacking me!

I could see again the scene on the pier when the ambassador of Trolland jostled with Lord Oseso of Southway and it suddenly seemed contrived. I could see again the look on Oseso's face as he seemed to cry in dismay when I broke our alliance. Behind his eyes was cunning. And I could see again the pretend scholar in my tent, suddenly alarmed when it seemed I was going to change the plan, then relaxing as she understood I still meant to come to battle. I'd been fooled. They had planned this the whole time. They knew they could not defeat me at Three Ways, so they'd drawn me out and into ambush by pretending to have become enemies.

'Betrayed!' I screamed. 'Ware Trolland!'

I was in a pocket of fighting soldiers, horses rearing all around. 'Buffs now! Everything you've got!' I triggered the feat Charge! so that all the soldiers near me got additional 10 hit points and then used the skills Battle Cry and Stonewall.

'What?' Anthea was grim faced, throwing up her shield against a lance blow.

'Use your spells now, the courage one.'

My Lunge box appeared and I took it, stabbing forward with the lance.

You have hit an axeman for 11 hit points.

You have killed an axeman!

You cannot become better at Lunge 7.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 5 (10)

You have gained 75 Experience.

I got a message about Miya's Courage and Regeneration. A spear smacked against my helmet and another tore open my shoulder.

You have been hit by a Trolland rider for 3 points of damage!

You have been hit by a Southway Spearman for 8 points of damage!

'We have to try to get away!' Carlena was pressing into me as our own men fell back against her. 'Follow me!'

Fire darts sprang from her fingers and killed two riders to my left. As their horses reared to throw off the unwanted dead weight, she bravely dashed between their angry hooves and I felt a push from behind as Figus shoved me in the same direction. Another two Fire Dart spells and a Freeze on an enemy knight and we were suddenly free of the press, Anthea was with us too but the other Cleric had been swallowed up in the melee.

'Come on! Come on!' Carlena ran to the base of the hill with the path up to the ruin. There, about a dozen of our archers had rallied and were taking shots when they could.

'Run, sire, run. You have to live,' one called as I lumbered up, gasping.

'Hurry sire. Go on up now. We'll cover you.'

I had no breath to thank them but I did clap one of the archers on the back as I passed her.

'I'm staying here,' said Anthea. 'You have to live or Miya's cause is over. We'll hold the path as long as we can.'

Panting, feeling the heat in my cheeks, I hurried up the hill, surprising myself with how fast this big body could move when full of urgency. As we turned the bend, I could see the archers below me with the Cleric among them, out of arrows now and with just daggers drawn. Just a dozen paces in front of them the battle continued furiously but it was impossible to make out our troops in the throngs of enemy soldiers.

And beyond the knot of struggling figures were a group of riders with the banners of King Wace and Queen Rorgesta. One of them was pointing at me.

Chapter 27: Escape

'Stop,' we were at the top of the hill and I just could not breathe, no matter how much I wanted to keep going.

Both Bard and Sorceress halted and both shared the same expression: urgency.

'Come on, sire,' said Figus.

I lifted my hands from my knees, picked up the lance from where it had dropped and at least managed to walk. Carlena ran back past me to see what was happening below. It seemed to me that the sounds of battle were lessening and as I drew rasping gasp after rasping gasp I checked the menu. Most of the army were dead, although there were still a dozen archers. The Cleric, Ava, was gone but character sheets for Lord Arval and Chancellor Parrin remained on the menus, Arval on 0 hit points. Anthea was… no she was gone too, her character sheet disappearing as I was in the act of looking at it.

'We have to run. Six knights are through.' Carlena hurried back to me and took my arm. I shrugged her off. I could see from my character sheet I had another four minutes of Regeneration and Charge! and three of Miya's Courage. And despite my earlier wounds, the regeneration had brought me up to 67 hit points: my full 57 plus the temporary 10 from my feat.

'I can take six knights with the help of Figus.' I drew yet another deep breath. 'You dodge behind the tree there and meditate for mana.'

'Don't die.' The Sorceress shook her head but did as I instructed.

I lumbered on to where Figus was standing, short sword drawn. With his shield and chainmail, he was AC 14, which wasn't too shabby, and his hit points were at full plus ten: 35. There were a hundred yards between us and the crest of the hill. While the distant cries and metallic clashes of battle grew more faint, the pounding of horse hooves towards that line of grass grew louder.

Two minutes of Regeneration and Charge! and one of Miya's Courage remained.

'There he is!' the first rider was up, his black stallion covered in foam. At once he brandished his sword high and urged the labouring animal to come towards us: but the best the horse could manage was a canter.

'For King Wace! For Jasthus!" A second topped the rise. Then the third.

'For Queen Trolland!'

By the time the sixth knight was up, they were less bunched than I would have liked. Still, the moment had come for my last spell: I raised the lance, pointed the tip at the first rider and triggered Holy Light. The vivid white flash caught the front four at least and not just the riders: a horse screamed in dismay, two planted their front hooves and came to a vicious halt that caused their riders to lurch heavily in the saddles. Their front rider was still coming on regardless, though at a trot now. Although the stallion still looked formidable as it came on, I was easily able to take two steps to the side of its path and, when the box opened, Lunge, hitting the knight at the hip and knocking him right out of the saddle.

You have hit a knight of Southway for 9 hit points.

A knight of Southway takes falling damage of 4 hit points.

You have killed a knight of Southway!

You have become better at Lunge: 8.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 6 (11).

You have gained 125 Experience.

Good, they only had around 13 hit points; this was a winnable fight, though I knew I had to make the most of their blindness while it lasted. With my terrible armour class, even three or four low level knights could hack me down fast.

While the second horse was already past us both (Figus having taken a swipe as it passed), the two knights on the horses that had planted their front feet were vulnerable. Finding energy from desperation and the return of hope, I ran up to the nearest of my enemies and again triggered Lunge. Another hit, the point of the magical +3 weapon sinking deep into my enemy's chest, despite a thick chainmail surcoat.

You have hit a knight of Trolland for 14 hit points.

You have killed a knight of Trolland!

You have become better at Lunge: 9.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 7 (12).

You have gained 125 Experience.

Committed to the follow-through of the Lunge attack I could do nothing about the rider who came through from the back and knocked me sideways with a blow of his sword that cut deep into my shoulder for 12 damage. It took him longer to wheel about than for me to regain my balance and here the fact that the lance had a leaf blade as well as a point stood me in good stead. Holding the lance near the base with both hands and using my heavy body for momentum I pivoted and swung the lance with ferocious speed, it connected with the neck of the horse and went right through.

You have hit a warhorse for 16 hit points.

You have killed a warhorse!

You have become better at Wield Lance: 8 (13).

You have gained 40 Experience.

As the dead animal collapsed the knight went sprawling: on seeing Figus running to strike him, I turned to the other knight who was stationary and blind. I took the extra few seconds needed to line up the Lunge box on his ribs, just below the armpit and triggered it. Another hit and another kill as the knight was flung off the horse.

Two were left, one in the distance who would be blind for some time still and the other, who was beating down on Figus's shield.

'Surrender!' I shouted.

'Never, you are doomed.' But I'd caught his attention and now he spurred his horse towards me.

Although I didn't manage to get into position for a Lunge, I was able to slice the lance across the knight's thigh as he dealt me a wallop on the helmet for 6 hit points. My head was ringing for the whole time it took him to turn and come at me again; even so, I got the lance orientated successfully for a Lunge box to appear as he came within range. The impact of his momentum and my thrust was devastating.

You have hit a knight of Southway for 18 hit points.

You have killed a knight of Southway!

You have become better at Lunge: 11.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 9 (14).

You have gained 125 Experience.

'William? Balco?' The blind knight had turned his equally blind horse and sat on it about a hundred yards away. 'What's your condition? Have you killed King Carlos?'

I walked steadily towards our remaining opponent and Figus hurried to catch up. Hearing us, the knight tried to urge his horse to move, jabbing his spurs into its sides until the blood was pouring down its flanks. Even so, head down, the destrier wasn't for budging. Treading quietly, we came closer still. The knight raised his sword and his head jerked from side to side as he tried to track us by sound.

The knight's large kite shield meant I couldn't get the Lunge box to cover a lethal part of his body but I trigged it all the same, the Lance of Light shattering the wood of the shield and sending my opponent sprawling to the ground where Figus struck him twice and killed him.

There was silence, but for the whinny of a horse.

Figus wiped his sword on the body and slid it back into his scabbard then looked at me. 'You fought well, sire.'

'Are you wounded at all?'

'I took one bad hit, but I must have levelled up, because it healed fully.'

Footsteps and the sound of horses' hooves caused me to whirl around ready to fight. But it was only Carlena, who had the reins of the two horses with vision and was leading them to us. 'Well done.'

With the disaster that had just occurred below, I was in no mood to take praise. And I looked at the horses with dismay. Even if we somehow got my bulky body up onto one, it could hardly carry me far.

'Figus, use your quick travel feat to get to Carrick as quickly as you can. Bring the ballista crew back to Three Ways and I'll set everyone I can to archery training too, it might be enough to hold the wall. They are weakened: Wace has lost most of his infantry; Rorgesta mostly has just light cavalry left and they are not the right troops for an assault on the walls.'

'I will sire. But first, here.' He waved his arms and muttered a spell. A moment later, I felt myself change, as though I were being squeezed in every direction, and I looked down to see that I appeared to be a knight from Trolland.

'Your Disguise spell?' I asked.

'You have fifty minutes; enough, I hope, to get you clear from the chase. Fare well, sire. And I'm sorry.'

'Sorry?'

'I'm your diplomat. I should have seen the danger and warned you.'

'I'm the fool, Figus. This is on me. But I swear this, if I survive – if the realm survives – I will avenge everyone who died here today and I will show no mercy to our enemies.'

We clasped hands and I could see the determination in his expression. This was a harder side to the man than I had ever seen before. Then the Bard was off, galloping west.

With this much lighter body, I found I could grasp the saddle of the other destrier that was not blind. Placing my foot in the stirrup, I pulled myself up only to find the horse moved as I did so, causing me to hop after it before I could try again.

At last I managed to get into the saddle, gaining a skill up in Ride Warhorse: 2 (7). Carlena had mounted the nearest of the other horses. As I trotted westwards, she tried to get it to move, with as little success as its former owner. Shaking her head, she dismounted. 'It's no good, let me try to lead it after you.'

I paused, and was about to suggest Carlena mount behind me, when her horse responded to a tug on the reins and a kind voice. Jogging, she ran up to me, leading the animal after her.

'Where to?' I asked.

'First, through those trees, let's get as much cover as we can.' She was indicating a copse of young birch whose leaves were a vivid scarlet.

Not long after exiting the cluster of trees – to a wild, hilly area of large rocks and more copses of trees and bushes – the blindness wore off Carlena's horse and we were able to trot together, side by side.

'Now which way?' It was easy to tell that we were headed slightly north of west by the setting sun, which was close to the horizon. 'Do we turn south and make for the road?'

Carlena let out a sigh. 'I think not, they will be expecting us to try that. And in less than an hour you will resume your usual shape. We won't be able to keep our lead.'

'Then westwards, to the sea and the coastal path to Carrick?'

'I believe that wisest.'

'It's a shame I can't let Figus know. He could send a ship for us.'

'I have enough mana for Telepathy sire.'

'Oh that's welcome news, but will he be in range?'

'I'm not sure how fast the ambassador's feat carries him, but the spell range is a mile per level.'

'Nor I, but that should be enough. Tell him to send a ship to the border with Rockguard, looking for us on the way.'

'Before I do, Sean, tell me is Chancellor Parrin alive?'

There was something in the way that she used my name, rather than the word 'sire' that made me look at her pale face before I checked the menus. She was grim.

'He is and on full hit points.'

'Then I would rather use the spell to talk to him.'

'The ship would save me having to walk, I'm slow…'

'Understand me Sean. You only tell me what to do when there are others present. I want Parrin with us for what will be a difficult journey and so that's how I'm going to use the spell.'

Although I felt a flush of heat in my cheeks and a desire to respond to her aggressive tone, I said nothing. Underestimating the diplomatic skills of Trolland and Southway had been a big mistake and of course Carlena judged me harshly for it. But she had been fully informed of my thinking and it wasn't as if she had alerted me to the possibility of a betrayal by Queen Rorgesta.

She looked away. 'I have to dismount to cast this spell. You should make your way to that large rock.' The stone she was pointing at was beyond the nearby rise and at the top of the following one. It was a very distinct shape, like the index finger of a giant.

In the time it took for Carlena to communicate with Parrin, I was able to have a long, hard look at the state of Greyland.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building:

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income: 55 gold

Treasury: 7 gold, 5 silver

Daily food consumption: 11 units

Grain yield: 260 due in 7 days

Vegetable yield: 35 food units due in 9 days

Wool yield: 3 bales due in 22 days

Meat yield: 7 units daily

Timber yield: 17 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 6 blocks daily

Smithy yield: ...

Weaving yield: …

Research: Multi-story housing

Resources:

Wheat: 94 food units

Vegetables: 52 food units

Meat: 6 food units

Fish: 38 food units

Wool: 0 bales

Timber: 136 planks

Iron: 10 ingots

Stone: 27 blocks

Cloth: 20 bolts

With the scriptorium having been completed, I could begin a new project and the one that felt the most urgent was an upgrade to the road from Carrick to Three Ways. As I trained new troops, I would want to move them quickly to what might well be the last point at which we could hope to make a stand against our enemies. Upgrading a cart track to a stone-pathed road cost 5 blocks of stone per mile and building progress was made at 2 miles per day. I chose to upgrade the first 5 miles, which was as much as my reserves of stone allowed for.

Hurriedly, I moved on to training more archers. I had 12 idle people, whom I had been saving for the crew of the merchant vessel. Now I assigned them to the barracks for training and to make the most of my 10 iron ingots, I took 3 farmers away from their roles and made them into archers too.

You have insufficient funds in the treasury for this choice. The cost of 15 archers is 15 gold. You have 7 gold, 5 silver.

Gritting my teeth, I changed my instruction to the creation of 7 archers and put the farmers back, hoping there had not been time for the farming guildmaster to trouble anyone, my happiness score was likely to take a big enough hit after this defeat as it was.

The army was pitiful. Including the new archers it read:

Military

Light infantry: 2

Heavy infantry:

Archers: 14

Light cavalry: 5*

Heavy cavalry:

Ballista: 1

(*veterans)

Hospital: 9

Military upkeep cost: 9 gold, 4 silver

Currently training: 7 archers.

Buildings: keep level 2; curtain walls level 1; towers level 1; town walls level 1; tower machicolations

Currently building: tower, 14 hours

It seemed that the only soldiers to have escaped the battle were five light cavalry. Hopefully, they would make it back to help Figus at Three Ways. Both Clerics were gone from my menus, dead presumably. Lord Arval's character sheet remained. My guess was that he was a prisoner.

There was a line of mountains to our north east, rising above the hills and the trees. They were sharp-peaked and severe, rising more dramatically than any mountain range I knew about on Earth. That was the border with Rockguard and already the sun had descended behind them so that I was riding in their shadow, the sky above me turning purple.

By the time I reached the column of stone, Carlena had caught up with me. There was no sight or sound of pursuit beyond her.

'Let's send the horses away,' she said, dismounting.

'What are you thinking?'

'You'll be large again soon and on foot. The hoofprints are an easy trail. And we've a Ranger, an Assassin, and a Warrior after us.'

'Chancellor Parrin?'

'He's following them. When they get here, hopefully they will follow the horses, while we go north.'

It took some effort to drive the horses away, we had to shy stones at them before they finally moved off at a trot into the darker shadows of some trees, then we set off northwards. A pair of crows flew overhead cawing as they went westwards. And as I followed their flight, I saw in the cool purple twilight a column of dark birds circling over the battleground. For a moment I was envious. They were free of all concern and all sense of failure. For them my defeat was an invitation to feast.

Chapter 28: Bodies Among the Heather

After a cold and uncomfortable night spent back-to-back under the thick foliage of a bush which, like a rhododendron, had some room at the core once you pushed through the outer leaves, Carlena and I got up with the dawn and continued our march. I was hungry, of course, but our thirst was met soon after we set out thanks to a small stream of very cold water coming down from the mountains.

We trudged over the hills until the sun was high and its warmth on my shoulders was very welcome. Using the lance as a staff, I picked my way over a peaty turf that was full of rocks. Each hill we crested took us higher, like a series of ever greater waves, and the landscape changed, with the tall trees thinning out, being replaced by stunted yews and bushes of gorse.

'Can we rest?' I asked at last.

'Very well, I have enough mana for a Telepathy spell. I'll use it now.'

Selecting a rock wide enough to accommodate me, I sat and watched Carlena cast her spell, after which her eyes closed and her lips moved as though she was talking. Her hands, too, waved about as if in expression of her thoughts. But I couldn't hear her speak any words. After several minutes a tender expression came over the Sorceress. And then her eyes opened and upon seeing me, her face became hard again.

'Our enemies were not fooled by the horses for long, less than an hour. They are travelling much faster than we are. We will have to fight. Parrin will stay as close behind them as is safe and attempt a sneak attack when the time comes.' Carlena sounded despondent and I could understand why. Without mana, she had no ability to protect herself, nor me.

'Let's find a good spot to surprise them. Does he know what level they are?'

Carlena shook her head.

'Let's go to that higher ground.' I gestured to my left where there were boulders much taller than my height, dozens in fact that were capable of providing full cover. I was soon breathless from hurrying up the slopes of what was quite a steep hill. There were animal trails around the boulders, with small, round black droppings in several places.

'Stop here,' I said to Carlena, having selected a boulder with thick heather around the base, 'and watch what I do.' I carried on walking to the next big boulder and beyond it, making sure to scuff some of the droppings on the way. Then I took a wide circuit back to Carlena, approaching her from a line that would have been out of sight to anyone coming directly up the hill in our path.

'I see,' she said and copied my route.

On her return I sank down on my big haunches and leant back against the boulder. 'Can you lie down in the heather and make a hole through them, so you can watch downslope and tell me when to act.'

'I can.'

Full length on the ground, Carlena's body was very well covered by the heather she lay among and after a short while during which I could see the heather in front of her swaying, she lay perfectly still. The only movement I could see in her direction now was a very slight ripple across the heather whenever the wind picked up, that and the erratic flight of a hardy, small white moth which caught my eye.

'I'm sorry Carlena. This wasn't the place you anticipated being in when you summoned me. But we have the lance. We will win this fight. And I am determined to make this right. To get our revenge.'

She didn't answer, nor did I expect her to.

I was in the shaded side of the rock and was feeling the cold of the ground creep up my feet and the cold of the rock spread along my back. It was easier to wait standing, leaning on the lance, and I did that for some time. Ahead of me, the hill rose to a top of bare, grey stone and it was steep enough that it blocked the view of the mountain beyond. The only sounds here were the gentle ones of the breeze over the bushes and a very faint hum from the bees that sometimes flew across my gaze.

At last Carlena spoke, 'I see them on our trail. Three, as he said, with their Ranger out ahead.'

'Can you see Parrin?'

'I should hope not.'

Our wait continued, with me checking for the hundredth time that I had the menu with the lance's spells ready.

'They've turned and are coming up the hill,' Carlena's voice was a whisper. 'They are spreading out and the archer has her bow out.'

My heart was pounding and I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. 'Say when,' I whispered.

'I can only see the Assassin, he's half way.'

Listening as acutely as I could, I did make out the faint clinking of an armoured soldier on the march. It was directly behind the boulder but still some way off.

The clinking drew near. Near enough? Almost.

'Now!' hissed Carlena.

I triggered Charge! and stepped around the boulder, lance pointed in front of me.

About thirty yards downslope was the Warrior: human male; chain hauberk; kite shield; longsword; conical helmet. Some fifty yards to his right was their Ranger: a white-haired human female; leather armour; longbow in hand and arrow at the shaft. I couldn't see their Assassin.

It only took an instant to appreciate how things stood but even so, with incredible fluidity their archer raised her bow and fired. The arrow flickered in my vision and hit me in the stomach at the same time as she shouted, 'he's here!'

You have been hit by an arrow for 8 points of damage!

My Holy Light streaked across the heather tops and the ball of white light blossomed on the Ranger's head.

'Blind!' she called and after a moment's hesitation began to go back down the hill. The Warrior was rushing up towards me with a fierce expression, punching the air with the fist in which he held the sword. My Holy Light countdown was quick, but even so there was barely room between us for the ball of light that flew into him. I was dazzled, but I wasn't blind. Had I been lucky enough to get the Assassin too?

While the warrior kept up his run despite being blind, I was away, lumbering down the hill after their archer and barely keeping my balance. King Carlos could move like a rhino without the need for a Polymorph spell when bounding over heather and rocks down a steep hill (no doubt helped by the 25% movement rate buff from Charge!). As I caught up with the archer, she must have heard me coming because she whipped around and, although blind, shot me in the chest.

You have been hit by an arrow for 12 points of damage!

I had no idea how critical hits worked, or whether I'd escaped one. I was relieved only to have suffered 12 hit points from an impact that felt like it might have been lethal. Now I was close enough: holding the lance at waist height I adjusted the angle of attack until the box for Lunge appeared.

You have hit a Ranger for 14 hit points.

You have become better at Lunge: 13.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 11 (16).

The Ranger dropped her bow and pulled out a longsword from her sheath, screaming at the top of her voice. 'I'm blind and he's on me! Help me!'

As my follow through from Lunge left the lance high, I slashed at her with a chop downwards, which caught her shoulder and caused her to stagger back.

You have hit a Ranger for 11 hit points.

So long as I kept out of reach of the slashes she made with her sword, there was no danger to me and I got in another Lunge hit for 13 hit points (and two skill ups) before their warrior arrived upslope of me.

'I'm blind too, we have to wrestle him. Get hold of him and tear his fat head right off.' The Warrior sheathed his sword, dropped his shield and opened his arms wide.

I ran downhill to put the Ranger between me and the new arrival. Head turning towards the sounds of my crashing through the heather the Warrior charged, caught his own comrade, and the two of them fell to the ground.

'That's me. Get off!'

Stabbing hard and fast, I got in three uses of Lunge before they were up, all were hits and the last of which gave me the message I had been desperate to see:

You have hit Ranger for 14 hit points.

You have killed a Ranger of Trolland!

You have become better at Lunge: 15.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 13 (18).

You have gained 4,300 Experience.

Now it was one on one and I was fine. The Warrior's idea of grappling me wasn't a threat because I just had to keep the lance point between us, aimed at the centre of his body. Every time he tried to rush me, he just impaled himself and had to pull back.

After four tries to get his hands on me, and taking 48 damage, the Warrior stopped and backed up. Drawing his sword he said, 'You win. I surrender. You can take me prisoner. Exchange me for your Paladin.'

Because of the way in which he was standing, ready to strike, I didn't believe him. He was stalling for time, hoping the blindness would wear off or the Assassin would strike.

'Throw down your sword then,' I said.

'Swear by your goddess you will honour my surrender and I'll put my sword down.'

'Honour? Your queen betrayed me and sacrificed all right to honourable treatment.'

'I'm from South…' he began to say, when I triggered Lunge and interrupted him.

You have hit a Warrior for 14 hit points.

You have become better at Lunge: 16.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 14 (19).

King Wace's Warrior backed up the hill, weaving from side to side as he did so and holding the longsword defensively. One foot, then the other searched the ground around him. He was trying to locate the shield he'd dropped but it was a long way to his right. Stealthily, I closed the gap between us.

You have hit a Warrior for 11 hit points.

You have become better at Lunge: 17.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 15 (20).

Now he tried charging at me, sword lashing out ahead of him. I stepped to the side, letting him past, and swung the lance into his back with all my strength, hitting him for another 12. Again, the Warrior ran towards me and this time I aimed the lance at his stomach, fending him off and inflicting 16 damage to him before he pulled back.

'Coward,' he spat blood. Then groaned in pain as Chancellor Parrin stuck a short sword into his back. I hurried forward to assist but it wasn't necessary.

A Warrior of Southway has been slain!

You participated in the fight.

You have gained 2,400 Experience.

'The Assassin?' I looked across the body of the Warrior to Parrin. Although he was elderly, with grey in his beard, he looked formidable in his leather armour and with his sword covered in blood up to the hilt.

'Dead.'

'Carlena?'

'She's wounded but will survive.'

'Good to see you.'

'You too, sire.'

I looked at the dead Ranger and Warrior. Then back up the hill to where Carlena was leaning against the rock we had hidden beside. I waved at her; she didn't respond. I cupped my hands and called out. 'Do they have magic items?'

That caused her to push herself forward, then kneel, presumably alongside the body of the Assassin, though I couldn't see it from here. Standing after a minute, she came down the hillside to join us holding his boots.

'These are magic.' She studied the corpse of the Ranger next. 'So is her bow. And the Warrior… his sword. And amulet.'

The three of us sat by a boulder, Carlena with the magic items in her lap, studying them carefully one at a time. I lay back in the heather, tired. And although the day was cool, the sun on my face and chest was warm enough to make me feel drowsy. I had slept so poorly the previous night that my body wanted to catch up.

'The bow is plus one, has plus one Dexterity and no penalty for shots at long range.'

I grunted my pleasure at that news.

'The boots are plus two protection.'

'What does that mean?' I wondered aloud.

'About a twenty-percent increase to your natural chance of resisting spell effects or the effects of poison.'

'Very nice.'

'The sword is a plus one longsword. And the amulet is plus two Constitution.'

'A pretty good haul.'

No one spoke. I glanced over at them. Carlena's face was hidden by her long hair, Chancellor Parrin looked pale and exhausted. 'Chancellor, would you use the sword?'

'I would sire.'

'And I suppose the boots would help you in a duel with other casters Carlena?'

'They would, Sean.'

'Well then, I suggest you have those and I'll take the amulet and the bow.'

'Very well.' The Sorceress started to work at the cords tying her boots, leaving the other items on the heather.

With some effort I rolled to the side and pushed myself up. Helping myself to the amulet – a gold oval with a relief of a bull – and the bow, I then went over to the archer and unstrapped her quiver of arrows. 'Right so,' I said, 'we've a long march home.'

Chapter 29: Any Port in a Storm

On the third day of our march, when the cloud of mist that marked the western edge of the world had become visible, I experienced a shock that nearly stopped my heart. I opened the menu to the following message:

You have lost control of the Kingdom of Greyland

To restore your access to the realm’s menus you must occupy the town square at Carrick for five hours without opposition

We had been making our way carefully across scree that had built up from the mountains to our left; there was a real risk here of putting my foot into the gap between the rocks and twisting my ankle. Cautiously, not wanting to trigger an avalanche of stones, I sat down in order to concentrate.

The only sub-menus available to me were characters sheets. I could see my own, along with that of Carlena, Parrin, Figus and Lord Arval.

'What's the matter?' asked the chancellor as he came up to me.

'Disaster. Our enemies have conquered Carrick.'

'Oh no.' Testing the nearby rocks, Parrin sat beside me. Tearful. As if to illustrate his feelings, a patch of drizzle that had been emerging from between the peaks chose that moment to descend the slopes and cover us. The day became grey, cold and wet; our horizon limited to just a few hundred yards.

'I'm kicking myself, of course. If I had just sat tight behind the walls of Three Ways, there was nothing Southway and Trolland could have done to defeat us.'

'Kicking yourself?'

'It's an idiom we have back home… Punishing myself for my bad choices.'

'We have the opposite. Dwell not on mistakes but lessons.'

I managed a smile. 'Nice. Well, the lesson is don't trust Queen Rorgesta and King Wace. I hope I get a chance to show I've learned it.'

'Is our cause utterly lost, do you think?' Elbows on his knees, head held in his hand, fingers rubbing his grey beard, Parrin was not looking at me but down the slope of boulders.

'No. But it is not in our own hands any more.' Who, I wondered, might one day be victorious over Queen Rorgesta and King Wace and be willing to restore Greyland to me? It seemed that there were three options and we should make for one of them: the shadow giants; the Necromancer; or the Vikings. 'You should understand something about me, chancellor.'

He met my eyes at last, his still tearful.

'I won't give up.'

'She's going to be furious with you.' Chancellor Parrin looked further along our route where Carlena had been leading the way but was now at a stand, having noticed us.

'And you? Are you furious with me?'

'No, we all share the blame.'

'Come on!' Carlena shouted. 'That's no place to rest.'

'She's right,' I got up, wobbling and sending a rock rolling down the slope, then I continued on safely, still thinking about which ruler to approach for support. The Vikings were much further off and, last I knew, were losing a war. The shadow giants weren't likely to want to leave their island and re-join the world they had rejected. That left the Necromancer. The border to his lands was about two hundred miles north of us, beyond the forest that lay at the foot of the mountains and then across a river.

Once we were all safely across the scree, I called out to Carlena. 'Wait there. We need to turn north.'

'North?' She wrapped her cloak tight against the drizzle. 'Why north?'

As I explained that Greyland was lost, I could see that Parrin was right. The Sorceress didn't scream at me, in fact she was obviously attempting to master her feelings. All the same, I could see her anger in the stiff pose, the clenched teeth, the set face and above all, in her indigo eyes which looked at me with hatred.

'… and that's why I think the Necromancer is our best hope.'

'You have no hope Sean. This is the end.' Her voice, too, was filled with hostility.

'So long as I'm alive, there's hope.'

'A fool's words are emptier than the wind.' She looked past me to the chancellor. 'We have to leave Miya and her absurd choice of ruler and find another god to serve.'

'Can you do that?' I asked.

'Not easily. Miya will never forgive us – not that this matters now – and the other god will never fully trust us. But there are not so many Sorceresses in the world and certainly few at my level. Somewhere there will be a ruler who wants my service and who will build my scriptorium. You failed me, Sean.'

A distant look came over her face. 'There, it is done.'

'And what about you, chancellor?'

'I'm sorry Sean. I am your chancellor no longer. I go with Carlena: wherever she takes me, our fates are entwined.'

'Even if that means you one day find yourself on the same battlefield as me but on the opposite side?'

'We won't.' Carlena almost spat with contempt, 'unless the Necromancer uses you as a particularly large and stupid zombie.'

The wind felt very cold on my flushed cheeks. 'Very well,' I said at last, holding tight to the lance, suddenly uneasy at depth of her scorn. Could they even try to rob me of the artefact, to get themselves a gift with which to ingratiate themselves with a new ruler? Anxious as I suddenly was to get away from these two former comrades, I couldn't resist looking into Carlena's eyes and saying, 'remember this moment Carlena. Fix it well in your mind. The moment you left me, mocked me, and betrayed your god. You'll want to revisit it often to appreciate what a catastrophic mistake you made.'

For a second, the Sorceress looked at me, surprised. Then she shook her head, silver hair swaying. 'I could never have expected that Carlos would have made a better king than you, Sean.' She turned her back on me and started walking. Then called back, 'don't try to follow us.'

Parrin held out his hand, 'good luck Sean.'

I felt a surge of anger when I faced him. 'You summoned me to your world. I did my best and, fair enough, I made a mistake, but it was one that we all shared in. And now you leave me alone on the bare slopes of a mountain and wish me luck.

'At least Carlena isn't a hypocrite.'

Parrin had the self-awareness to wince at that and he lowered his hand. Then he hurried after Carlena and I watched as they continued on, westwards. After a while, my heart steadied and my anger dissipated. What did I feel? Nothing as devastating as the day I had learned of my parents' death. Then, it was as though the sun had gone out and I was a ball of ice, flying through empty space with no hope of ever feeling warm again. Ever since, I understood myself to be fundamentally alone, even when surrounded by people. So it didn't trouble me to be abandoned here in this RPG world. I wasn't here to make friends.

And now I had a cause even stronger than that of serving Miya. My own. I was going to prove Carlena wrong, prove Parrin mistaken, and destroy Queen Rorgesta and King Wace. That or die trying.

Part II

Part II Chapter 1: A Game of Chess

My morning always began with a run. Every single day throughout the seven months since I had staggered into the realm of the Necromancer, I set out from his castle regardless of rain or snow or howling winds. I always ran for about thirty minutes and then turned and began the return journey. The Necromancer's keep was set on a mound that gave me a steep road to run up for the very final push. A push that I made sure always left me flushed and gasping. My current run was at least more than five times the distance of my early waddles.

I followed a cart path that was overlooked by tall hedges for a mile, then crossed a fence to an open field and ran to a riverbank, which had a firm path made by the horses and farmers who used it daily. This path I could follow until a muddy section made the running unpleasant. Then I cut back across a field that had been left fallow for a small herd of goats. The animals were used to me by now and hardly even bothered to get out of my way. My best run had yet to take me past the fence at the far side of the field, but it wouldn't be long until I pushed myself towards a copse of trees in the distance. My next goal.

After I had recovered from the run, I did weight training. The Necromancer's smith had understood my drawings right away and my purpose. So I had a pretty decent set of dumbbells, kettlebells, and bars with a range of plates. With my strength at 15 (without the magic of the lance), I was lifting what I guessed were plates whose weight, together with the bar, was around 200 pounds. And I was improving steadily, even with the exponential rise in effort needed to hit the next increase. If he wasn't needed elsewhere, the Necromancer's general, Strakigos, would often join me and with him on Strength 15 we had good motivation to train hard and try to outdo each other. Even Sicaria – the ambassador of the Kingdom of Lost Souls, whom I had since learned was an Assassin class – sometimes participated in my improvised gym. Her strength had risen from 11 to 13 in the seven months I'd been with them.

Following weights, I would go fighting. Assuming the Necromancer had mana to spare, I would kill real shades, semi-shadowy warriors with the armour and equipment of an army that reminded me of that of Alexander the Great. The Necromancer said these were shades of soldiers who had fought in one of the earlier eras and that he was drawing their ghosts into existence for ours. If I was in a hurry for some reason, I would simply destroy them with the lance, getting my daily experience increase that way. But much better was to actually fight, because it maxed up my skills. I had capped all the important combat and riding skills and was currently working on wielding two blades and using lamellar armour.

This daily grind would have been even faster if the Necromancer had a good supply of bodies, as I could have destroyed hundreds of zombies with Holy Light, but as corpses were – currently – in short supply, it had to be shades that I fought. They were much more mana intensive to summon but required no corpses. Again, Strakigos and Sicaria (if she were not away on a mission) would often join me.

On days where the Necromancer had no mana for our training, I would spar with Strakigos or I would do weapons practice with his human troops. This never brought me experience, but it did still generate skill ups.

Following a light meal, I would read a chapter or two from the book I had borrowed from the Necromancer's library, The History of the War of Grimtooth Mountain, which was written by an officer in the army of Queen Toxota, by all accounts a formidable Warlord. Like me, she had taken Charge! as her fifth level feat. And her choice of Tactical Strike guided my decision at level 10, when I unlocked a second feat.

Then, in the afternoon, I'd work at the weights again and follow that up with Dexterity training. The course I'd designed of a balance beam and various swinging hazards as well as a series of jumps whose distance and direction I widened with practice didn't work as efficiently for Dexterity increases as the weights did for Strength training, but I'd managed all the same to work it up to 11.

In the evening, I'd share the table with the Necromancer's officers and afterwards he'd often invite me to his study, where he would try to persuade me that evil was good. For my part, I had taught him the game of chess, which he liked so much that in recent days we had been playing it almost every night. As he'd yet to appreciate the depths of the game and how much coaching was needed to be good at it, he just couldn't understand how I kept winning.

We were mid-game when he looked across the board and said, 'In some ways, the game of chess works as a metaphor for our world.'

'Go on.' I was slightly distracted by having to make an assessment as to whether it would prove worthwhile in the long run to exchange my white-squared bishop for one of his knights.

The Necromancer was dressed relatively simply for him: purple shirt, leather waistcoat, dark suede trousers, polished leather boots. The shirt was closed at the top by a cravat so narrow it was almost a tie. He was loosening this now, always a sign that he was relaxing and enjoying himself. Topping up his glass of red wine, he continued, 'let us suppose the white pieces you fight with are good. And let us suppose that my black pieces are evil. Yet from the perspective of the gods, the battle has no moral quality. What does it matter that most of my troops are raised from the dead and yours pray to a goddess of fertility? It is immaterial to the actual game that the gods are playing.'

'It matters a lot,' I said, deciding to keep the bishop and moving a pawn instead to create more room for it. 'As my former general and Paladin, Lord Arval, once said, the means you use will determine the ends you achieve. If you raise armies of zombies, you are not going to create paradise. If your people value harmony, rebirth and healing, then you might be able to.'

'Lord Arval was wise.' The Necromancer withdrew his knight, which I thought unnecessary as if I'd have wanted to take it, I would have already done so. 'But he wasn't thinking on an appropriate scale. He was like this pawn, whose horizons are but two-dimensional. The pawn is passionate about the white cause because he cannot see the gods at play. If he could, he might get angry at the gods and realise that it is not a matter of black and white, evil and good, but of how to destroy the board and the rules that bind him. Of how to defeat the gods themselves.'

Whenever the Necromancer talked about the gods, he gained the same intensity as the queen of the shadow giants. His dark eyes shone with the fervour of the religious, yet he was thoroughly an atheist from the shining toes of his black boots to the tips of the black and silver hairs of his swept-back hair. For him, the gods were not divinities but powerful enemies and his ambition was to bring them down.

'Even Scrithax?' I asked, knowing the answer he would give, one that I was never sure whether to believe. I moved my queen's knight, my goal being a beautiful square at my queen five: if the knight arrived there, it could not be dislodged by any enemy pawn.

'I am fortunate in serving a god who shares my goals. Scrithax would end the game forever if he could impose his will on the other gods. Something that can only happen if I conquer the twenty-five kingdoms.' The Necromancer's queen move was good and carried a threat, but I still had time and I moved the knight again. Fortunately for me, the move looked like an attack on an undefended pawn and as soon as the Necromancer brought up a pawn to defend its comrade, I placed the knight on king three. There was nothing now could stop it reaching its goal.

The Necromancer's eyes narrowed as he realised my intention. He took another drink. 'I have good news for you.'

My heart began to pick up speed.

'The moment you have waited for has arrived. We march to war tomorrow.'

'At last!' I looked into his dark eyes. The Necromancer believed that as soon as he struck out, all eighteen kingdoms would unite against him. Even though several rulers traded with him out of necessity and even though there were nine other evil gods, all the other rulers feared the danger of a runaway undead army growing larger by accretions of strength from the corpses created at each battle. He was probably right but all the same, it had been a long, frustrating wait for him to create his army and develop his economy to the point that he was ready to act. 'You will invade Rockguard?'

Pushing forward the king's rook pawn, the Necromancer nodded. 'Despite your reservations, you will fight for me?'

'That's our agreement.'

'Then I will assign my knights to your command. You will have a body of twenty-eight heavy cavalry with you on the battlefield and you will use your lance followed by the Charge! feat to wreak havoc on our enemies.'

'Thank you.'

'No Carlos, thank you. I cannot do this alone. When you have your kingdom back, there will be at least one other menu-user I can depend upon.'

We continued to play out the rest of the game of chess, but my concentration had lapsed. It didn't matter, the key moment had passed and I didn't need to be at my best to win.

On the day I had been brought to the Necromancer, starving, with blistered feet and ragged clothes, I'd said, 'I have lost my kingdom and need help.'

He had dismounted and taken my hand. 'Can you still use the menus?'

'I can.'

'Then welcome. I need you as much as you need me.'

Ever since that day, I had devoted myself to becoming fit and levelling up, so as to be ready for war. If I ever began to slack in my training routine, I just brought to mind Carlena's departing sneer, or Lord Oseso's trickery, and the adrenaline surged through my body.

At level 11, and with maxed skills, I was a force to be reckoned with. And I couldn't wait to demonstrate that to my enemies. As I lay on my bed thinking about that prospect, I studied my character sheet with grim satisfaction.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Warlord, Level 11         HP 124          AC 0

Str15 (17)

Dex12 (13)

Con18 (20)

Int20

Wis18 (20)

Cha9

Magic items:

Lance of Light

+2 rapier

+1 Bow of Accuracy

Bracers of Archery

Ring of Wisdom (+1 Wis)

Amulet of the Bull (+2 Con)

Exp 672,000 (1,350,000)

Top Skills

Wield Longbow 55 (60)

Wield Lance 55 (60)

Ride Warhorse 55 (60)

Wield Rapier 55

Lunge 55

Grapple 55

Kick 55

Lightning Draw 55

Heavy Armour Mastery 55

Medium Armour Mastery 55

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

Tactical Strike (Int)

I no longer saved my attribute points on levelling, not now I understood my class. As a Warlord my main role was to be in the thick of battle, inspiring my troops. I was not the kind of tank who went toe-to-toe with bosses but someone who could make quick, smart decisions and crash into the ranks of our enemies. Given that my Strength and Dexterity could be raised through training, I'd spent my attributes on Wisdom (learning in the process that there was a hard cap at 20) and Intelligence. Of my physical attributes, Constitution was the one that was hardest to develop, to raise it required me to take too much time off from my other progressions. Increasing Constitution also saw me pile on the hit points, which was of course crucial. Hence I had spent all my remaining attribute points on pushing it to 18, which with the Amulet of the Bull brought me to max.

Whether it was my new attribute scores or the effect of hard training, my body would have been unrecognisable to anyone from Greyland. I was lean, strong, and I could ride as well as anyone in the world. When I next took to the battlefield it would be in full plate-mail. The idea that I had fought in my clothes, on foot, with just a helmet and shield for protection now seemed absurd.

Then there was my new feat:

Tactical Strike

Minimum Intelligence requirement 14.

For 1 minute per Intelligence point over 13, troops under the command of the Warlord and within hearing strike as if flanking (+2 to hit, +2 damage). If already flanking this effect is doubled.

Cool down was a full day, so this was a one use feat, essentially designed for the Warlord to influence the most critical part of a battle. In the book about Queen Toxota, she used it to devasting effect, holding back her chariots until the front lines were engaged, then identifying where the crisis was and charging in, firing her bow as she did so, then swapping to spear and triggering Tactical Strike to swing the decisive moment in her favour. She was my role model.

Sleep did not come easy. Normally, I was exhausted and fell asleep at once. Now, however, I couldn't help but think about the coming war and the opportunity it presented for me to return to Carrick. My agreement with the Necromancer was simple in principle but had the potential to be difficult in practice. He would restore me to control of Greyland in return for my alliance. I had sworn to this with the utmost sincerity, with one important proviso. If it ever seemed to me that either he or his god, Scrithax, had other goals than to end the rule of all the gods, I would leave his cause.

Even though I wanted to prove myself and see Queen Rorgesta and King Wace brought down, I was not so eaten up with the desire for vengeance that I would be an instrument of evil. The Necromancer was hard to read and while I was inclined to trust him (and repay him for his kindness), I would wait to see how he behaved if he was victorious over his neighbour before committing to his long-term goals.

Part II Chapter 2: The Black Knight

On the second day of our march into Rockguard, their ambassador came to the Necromancer's tent. Almost certainly, he would not have recognised me: I was a completely different shape; wore black plate mail armour; had a beard and long, dark hair (I had been so focused on my morning run and subsequent routines that I had decided it was better not to waste time by shaving); and on hearing of his presence I had placed the lance under a blanket at the back of the tent. All the same, I closed the visor of my helmet before he came in.

It was the same arrogant young man who had demanded I cease trading with the Vikings and I was reminded of his name when the Necromancer said, 'Connchobair mac Gille Coemgáin, welcome.'

'Welcome? You mock me. My cousin, King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin, demands to know the meaning of your actions. Do you dare bring an army – with undead – across our lands without permission? Where are you taking it? Who is your enemy?' His haughty expression suddenly changed to a leer of complicity and his voice dropped. 'King Cillian expresses a willingness to join you and share the spoils if your goal is to take Greyland away from Trolland and Southway.'

For the march to war the Necromancer wore more practical clothes than he did in his castle. Even so, with his dark velvet cloak and high chair and the fine, powerful forehead of his, he radiated a regal authority. It helped too that he had a skeleton warrior on either side of the throne, each with the focus of their empty eye sockets on the visitor. Even I wasn't comfortable with them and I could see the Rockguard ambassador giving them wary glances.

'I am going to conquer Castel Sliabh.'

This was the capital of Rockguard and the ambassador took a step back, eyes wildly searching the tent, perhaps in the hope he'd see smiles and that the Necromancer was joking. If so, the steady gaze of General Strakigos and the icy one of Sicaria the Assassin would not have given him any comfort. When he looked at me, the ambassador stared for a long time as if trying to see into my visor, then turned back to the Necromancer.

'But why? What about our trade agreements?'

'Because the time is right.'

'You have a large army. But the outcome of war is always uncertain. We can give you better trade terms. You can have more iron.'

'Enough. I'm going to have all your iron. Tell King Cillian this, if he surrenders himself to me and is willing to use his menu as I dictate, he may participate in my conquest of the world. Otherwise, I will kill him and despoil your lands.'

The youth swallowed and his lips moved as though he was speaking a reply, but he evidently couldn't find the words. Face angry now, he swirled his cloak about him and strode from the tent.

After a moment, I opened my visor and spoke a question that had occurred to me on the loss of Greyland and which had returned to mind after hearing the Necromancer's offer. 'It's not possible for you or I to get control of the menu of a conquered enemy?'

'It is not,' said the Necromancer. 'On the death of a ruler, control of the menu always passes to an heir chosen by the god. You can never wrest it from their faction but you can destroy their capital city and occupy it with enough troops that whoever controls the menu is helpless.'

'I wonder who my heir is.'

'You don't have children?' Servants had entered the tent bearing food on trays and the Necromancer gestured to a foldable wooden table in the other half the tent to his throne. 'Let us eat.'

'Not that I'm aware of.' I needed a lot of room to sit with my armour on and took up the whole of the opposite side of the table. Strakigos was at the left end, Sicaria on my right.

'Probably a cousin or other relative. That's how it tends to work in feudal countries like yours. In ours, it will be the most senior scholar of Necromancy in the academy and have nothing to do with bloodlines. Really, it's up to each god.'

The fish was good, it must have been recently caught from the river we were marching towards. If you didn't mind the whiff of decay in the air from the presence of hundreds of zombies nearby, travelling to war with the Necromancer could be considered pleasant. He was not travelling at a demanding pace, just the opposite. He had a large baggage train: hauled by the uncomplaining undead, it included two disassembled trebuchets as well as furnishings to allow for a relatively comfortable journey for him and his officers.

'You said the time is right, why now?'

The Necromancer was a slow eater and took his time with his mouthful of food before responding. 'Several reasons. Last week I completed Counterweight Trebuchet in my research options; you and Strakigos recently levelled and will not do so again for months; but above all, because every grave in the kingdom is now empty. If I want to expand the number of zombies under my command – and I do – I need more bodies.'

'What's your happiness score?'

He raised a hand and I felt a momentary pang of jealousy that he could scroll through active menus, while I had nothing to see. 'Fifty-two.'

I was finished with my meal and pushed the plate aside. 'How do you manage that, when you have dug up the families of your citizens and turned them into mindless undead?'

The Necromancer smiled at me. I'd learned that his black eyes could sparkle with genuine merriment and they did so now. 'I can see how it appears odd to you. But the people of the Kingdom of Lost Souls share my beliefs.'

'They want to turn the world into hell?'

He laughed aloud now, white teeth flashing in his neat beard. The other two were smiling as well. 'This world is already hell. Right now. A hell to which several million souls are bound and forced to reappear again and again, to suffer while twenty-five gods play out games of war. We are not bringing about hell, we are ending it. My people know this and they want to give Scrithax the power to force the gods to leave us in peace. So long as the people judge me to be competent and on course to defeat the realms of the other gods, my happiness score will remain high.'

As always, this sounded admirable. And as always, I wanted to believe him.

***

The following day our scouts reported that the army of Rockguard was drawn up against us. We were out of the mountains and nearly out of the hills and into a flat plain that led to their capital city, Castel Sliabh. They had chosen the last significant hill to overlook the road and set their standard on it.

The Necromancer, General Strakigos, Sicaria and I had ridden out ahead of the army and were studying the position. It was a bright sunny morning with the occasional cloud passing overhead, causing a shadow to slide over the grass and up the hill to their army and beyond. King Carlos had sharp eyes and I could make out the glitter of individual spear points and shield bosses as they caught the sun.

Beside me, it seemed as though the Necromancer was finding it more difficult to appraise the enemy army; he was blinking and shading his brow with a slender hand, the velvet sleeve of his shirt falling back to reveal tattoos of indecipherable script on his forearms. 'What is their disposition?'

I answered him, 'Two hundred longbows, behind which is a shield wall of roughly a hundred axemen. On either side are large numbers of light cavalry with spears, about a hundred and fifty on each wing. In reserve, a dozen knights beside their banner: I believe the one with the silver helmet to be their king. Plus whatever is hidden behind the hill.'

'No hidden reserves sire, say our scouts.' Like me, General Strakigos was in full plate armour, though his was a conventional metallic grey. Unlike me he fought with a shield and sword. His visor was up and his brown face was sombre.

The Necromancer dropped his hand. 'Well, we outnumber them. Thoughts?'

'Those archers prevent us from assaulting the hill.' The general's horse snorted as if in agreement with him. 'We therefore either cut across open land and force them to choose different ground to stop us reaching Castel Sliabh, or we assemble the trebuchets.'

'Do you have a preference?'

'The trebuchets. Their light cavalry could prove problematic if we attempt to move away from the road and onto rougher ground.'

'Sicaria, any considerations?'

'The trebuchets will not be ready until tomorrow. I am concerned for your personal safety in the event of an assassination attempt during the night. If that's our plan, I'd like to take some precautions including the construction of a trench and palisade, also the deployment of caltrops.'

'King Carlos?'

'Thank you for asking my opinion, but I have nothing else to add. Trying to march your slow-moving army into volleys of arrows from those archers is bound to be disastrous.'

'I agree. Very well general, see to the construction of the trebuchets and the camp defences.' The Necromancer turned his horse (a beautiful black stallion) and rode back through his army. 'You might come to my tent for a game of chess, Carlos, if you were so inclined.'

My own stallion was called Goncendor and was another gift from the Necromancer, a powerful beast, all black from his forelock to the tip of his tail, and strong enough not only to carry me in my armour but wear barding over his chest too. None of the Necromancer's own knights had been able to win the respect of the war horse, who had shaken them all off. But I'd approached him, lance in hand and my 60 skill in ride warhorse must have counted for something, for he tolerated me once I was in the saddle. Now, I simply called his name and sat up in the stirrups, and he looked up from where he had been searching the grass for something worth chewing and trotted after the Necromancer.

While we were playing chess in the Necromancer's tent – I'd taught the Necromancer the Sicilian Defence, which he took to immediately – a servant announced the reappearance of the ambassador from Rockguard. Again I hid the lance and closed my visor and took a place beside the skeleton guard before the ambassador entered the tent. Sicaria was at his side, watching him warily.

The ambassador bowed.

'Connchobair mac Gille Coemgáin, welcome,' said the Necromancer, without a trace of sarcasm as far as I could tell.

'Thank you. I shall be direct. King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin offers to spare our armies the mutual destruction that comes from battle and instead proposes a duel of our champions. Your General Strakigos against our Conal mac Tíre. Level eleven against eleven. To the death.'

'And the terms?'

I was surprised that the Necromancer would even consider this offer. His army was twice as large as that of King Cillian. And once the trebuchets were constructed, King Cillian would have to retreat from the advantageous ground he currently occupied.

'If we win, you must leave and agree peace and a restoration of our trade agreements for a year and a day.'

'And?'

'And if your champion wins, King Cillian will do your bidding. He will allow you to direct his choices on the menus of this kingdom for a year and day and to deploy our army as you see fit.'

'I see.' The Necromancer sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand across his black, well-sculpted beard. 'And must my champion be General Strakigos, or can it be the black knight?'

'What level is he?'

'Eleven.'

The young ambassador looked at me, unable to hide his curiosity. I did not move, though my heart was beating fast. 'Is he undead?'

'No,' said the Necromancer.

'Let me see his face.'

I shook my head.

'Is this a trick?' The youth from Rockguard took a step in my direction, but stopped when both skeletons raised their swords.

'No trick,' I said and reluctantly I lifted my visor. The ambassador looked at me, then his lips twisted in a sneer.

'Very well. This man can be your champion.'

'Leave us now, ambassador, to discuss this offer. If the black knight takes the field before sunset, then we accept your terms.'

With a last curious look over at me, the cousin of the king of Rockguard left the tent, as haughty in his pose and walk as ever.

Sicaria remained with us and when the ambassador was out of earshot said, 'Conal mac Tíre is a Warrior with magical platemail, a magical longsword, and the Duelling and Advanced Duelling feats. It's a trick.'

The Necromancer shrugged. 'We have our own tricks. King Carlos can blind him.'

I wasn't keen on the idea of a duel and said so. 'I'd rather avoid revealing the power of the lance until absolutely necessary. And surely King Cillian is not to be trusted? Even if I win, won't we still have to give battle?'

'Perhaps. Although I think King Cillian knows I can destroy him. He might prefer submission for a year in the hope someone else will stop me in the meantime. And if we can move the entire army to Greyland without losses, we will achieve our main strategic goal, which is to restore you to your menus.'

'Would I be allowed to fight from horseback?' I asked.

'Everything is allowed.'

'Then if he is an expert duellist, I could try leveraging my riding and archery skill to chip away at his hit points without letting him get close. Do you think that would work?'

'Possibly.' The Necromancer smiled. 'But I also think you can stand toe-to-toe with him. No one has been as dedicated to their skills and attributes as you. Even I am intimidated by you.'

I laughed. 'Really?'

The Necromancer nodded.

'Must just be the chess.'

'Don't underestimate yourself, King Carlos. You are formidable and I would like you to demonstrate that today by accepting the duel.'

'What if I lose?'

'Then you'll be dead and I will return to the Kingdom of Lost Souls for a year and a day.' There was a hint of a smile on the Necromancer's face and I could see that he really did not think that I would lose. I was not so sure. Then again, all my training, all those tough mornings, they were all about moments like this one. I realised that wanted to test myself against the most powerful characters in this world. I felt ready.

'All right. I'll fight him.'

'Excellent!' The Necromancer slapped the arm of his chair. 'This will be worth watching.'

We left the tent and Sicaria helped me mount Goncendor. Her pale grey eyes drilled into mine, demanding my attention. 'Don't get too close to their people. King Cillian has a Druid, level seven, and they might try to cheat with some spell that would be hard to spot from our side.'

I nodded and adjusted the lance, so it was tied across my back with quick release knots.

Sicaria walked around my stallion, testing all the buckles of the harnesses. I warmed to her for this, for her consideration. 'Also, Conal mac Tíre is right handed. His favoured moves include a feint to the head and the moment your shield comes across your vision, a bash with his own shield. He has a range of trips and throws and always closes very fast, preferring to grapple and topple his opponents than perform sword dancing. His hit points are unknown but probably are around a hundred and fifty.'

I didn't ask where Sicaria got this information, as ambassador for the Necromancer, she had travelled extensively and often to the court of King Cillian, so I had no doubt it was accurate.

Soon I was walking Goncendor beyond our foul smelling ranks of zombies, beyond our thin line of human crossbow users and up to where the Necromancer and General Strakigos were sat on their horses, facing the enemy. Strakigos leaned over as I drew alongside and clasped my forearm.

'Fight well, my comrade.'

I gave him a nod, closed my visor and urged Goncendor into a canter, before coming to a stop, half way up the hill upon which their army stood. A light breeze caused their banners to flutter. And then there was a rustle and a clatter of weapons. Their ranks parted and marching down the hill came a large human warrior, taller than me, in iron platemail. He stopped about twenty yards away, helmet under his arm, long brown hair kept out of his eyes by a headband.

'I am Conal mac Tíre, champion of King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin. What is your name, champion of the Necromancer?'

'I am the black knight and I am your doom.'

Part II Chapter 3: The Duel

'Dismount and face me then, black knight.'

'We fight on horseback.'

For a minute the Rockguard champion did not respond. The shadow of a cloud crossed us, reminding me that I had an advantageous position: when the cloud passed, the sun was in his eyes.

'Dismount, sir knight. And let us begin.'

'On horseback, or not at all.' I turned Goncendor as if I was about to ride away.

'Very well.' Conal mac Tíre walked back up the hill, armour clanking.

I was close enough to their archers to see their faces: human, long-haired (often braided), many with tattoos. They were alert, arrows notched and it occurred to me that I would suffer greatly if for some reason they were ordered to fire upon me. Then there was movement.

Conal mac Tíre returned on a fine, brown destrier, which wore barding. His reins were held in his left hand, the same arm as his shield, his right held his sword high. 'Defend yourself, black knight!' And he charged.

I was ready for this and Goncendor leapt away to our right, quickly moving through a canter to a gallop. As I guided my mount with my knees, I picked up my bow from where it rested against my saddle, drew an arrow and notched it. I'd learned, from hours and hours of practice, that the perfect moment to fire was when Goncendor launched himself from his rear right leg, the other three legs being in the air. For a moment we were weightless and in that moment I loosened the arrow using a thumb draw: the arrow skittered along the barding of the chasing horse and wedged into mac Tíre's leg.

You have hit Conal mac Tíre for 9 hit points.

You cannot become better at Wield Composite Horsebow.

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse.

'Fight me, coward!' the Rockguard champion roared.

My answer was to send another arrow in his direction, which struck a shoulder pauldron and ricocheted away. Galloping hard, Goncendor had the advantage in speed and I found myself laughing aloud with delight. This was an incredible experience, one with an intensity like my charge as a rhino. All my months training was proving worthwhile in just these few seconds. I released arrow after arrow, just as I had done so when riding around the grounds of the Necromancer firing into targets, only this time I was aiming at a man who was determined to kill me.

After some fifteen shots, inflicting about 50 damage, Goncendor was winded and dropped out of his gallop to a trot. I barely had time to clip my bow back on the saddle and pull the lance into my hands before the Rockguard warrior was upon me. Steering Goncendor with my knees, we turned to face the onrushing enemy and I triggered Charge! and Tactical Strike.

Both of us landed our attacks and a loud clang rang out as he rode on past.

You have hit Conal mac Tíre for 19 hit points.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse.

You have been struck by a longsword for 17 points of damage!

We wheeled about to face each other once more and again he galloped to me, swinging his sword. I thrust the tip of the Lance of Light at his armpit.

You have hit Conal mac Tíre for 21 hit points.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse.

You have been struck by a longsword for 15 points of damage!

These kinds of exchanges would give me victory: not only was my lance doing more damage than his longsword, but I had the head start my mounted archery had given me. Understanding this, on the next pass Conal mac Tíre took a hit from me on his way in and pulled hard on the reins of his horse, so that our mounts crashed together and we were face to face. His intention was to lash into me with fast blows of his sword, at a range too close for effective use of my lance.

By urging Goncendor to leap away and pushing away his sword arm with the haft of the lance, I drew clear and even managed to land another hit, swinging the lance one-handed behind me and feeling it smack on the back of his helmet. He was probably down to around 50 hit points. I was at 92.

'You slippery, orc-faced son of a harpy!' He was panting with fury. Whatever his skill at duelling, even if he had maxed his Ride Warhorse (which I didn't think he had, not by a long way), I had the higher riding skill thanks to the lance. And I had Goncendor, who although foaming with effort, had the better heart of the two horses.

'Dismount, sir! And fight me man to man.'

Again I urged Goncendor on, this time back to the fight and again my mount responded heroically. I feinted at Conal mac Tíre's face and then cut down with a two-handed slash to his nearside thigh.

You have hit Conal mac Tíre for 17 hit points.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse.

The Rockguard champion closed the gap to within sword range and we exchanged blows, before I rode on and turned. With each pass, his efforts became more and more desperate as the blood started to stream down his iron armour. Yet he could think of no better tactic than to keep trying to win these exchanges. Without pity, through gritted teeth, and using all my strength I cut into the enemy warrior again and again. While he was able to match me, he was never able to do me so much harm that he could turn the duel around. I still had 52 hit points left when Conal mac Tíre toppled from the saddle with a clang.

Soon after, a deep and mighty roar came from behind me. It was the Necromancer's army, saluting my victory.

Dismounting and patting Goncendor on the shoulder, I shooed away the horse of my enemy and stood over his body, opening his visor with my boot to see if he was still alive. I had not received any experience yet. In different circumstances this man was one of the few people in this world who might be able to defeat me in battle. I therefore had no hesitation in plunging the blade of the lance into him to make sure.

You have hit Conal mac Tíre for 36 hit points.

You have killed Conal mac Tíre!

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You have gained 27,600 Experience.

***

That evening, I was surprised when King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin, along with his ambassador, came to the tent of the Necromancer. Despite the Necromancer's confident assurances that Rockguard would respect the terms of the duel, I had been anticipating that we would still have to battle their army. The two men were not armed.

Through my closed visor, I studied the king of Rockguard with interest. He was youthful for a king, late 20s perhaps. Like all of his people that I'd seen, his hair was long and curly, held back in a headband. It was brown, as was his short beard. His clothes were of dyed wool: green cloak, brown tunic, brown trousers.

'I have come to surrender my menu choices to you.' King Cillian bowed to the Necromancer. 'From this day, five short of midsummer, to the fourth day short of midsummer next year.'

'Welcome, King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin. I appreciate a man of honour. Take a seat and let us plan a successful year for us both.'

Two servants brought over folding chairs for the new arrivals. I was standing in my usual place beyond the skeleton guard on the Necromancer's right. In her usual black leather clothing, grey eyes monitoring every movement, Sicaria was on the opposite side. The Necromancer and the two men from Rockguard were served a goblet of wine, which I think our guests held only out of duty. Neither looked anything but dour and miserable.

The Necromancer put his goblet down on a table that was placed by his right hand. 'Please recap the main headings for your realm.'

King Cillian raised his arm and his gaze became unfocused. 'I am currently building Mines level three. My monthly trade income is seventeen gold, three silver. My monthly tax income is sixty-two gold. My treasury is twelve gold, three silver. My daily food consumption is sixteen units. My grain yield is one hundred and eighty-two in sixty-one days. My vegetable yield is sixty-seven in fifty-four days. My meat yield is five units daily.'

The king of Rockguard ran through the various menu categories. I noticed that his iron yield was five ingots daily, like mine had been. Presumably, his miners too had steel pickaxes. That, or he simply had a better concentration of iron ore. His iron reserves were at fourteen ingots and it was these that the Necromancer was interested in once King Cillian had finished speaking.

'A well-balanced realm. You will send me your gold reserves and your iron reserves. And from now on, whenever they reach ten gold or ten ingots you will also send those to me. From now on, too, you will cease trading with Trolland.'

'Understood,' said the king. 'Anything else?'

'Build a scriptorium. And upgrade it at every opportunity. Once the scriptorium is complete your research projects will be spells.'

'But ours is a realm of Druids, I don't have a Wizard or a Sorcerer.'

'Exactly,' the Necromancer gave a smile and not one of his warm ones. 'I could have conquered your lands and gained the physical resources of your mines and fields. Which is still tempting. And this would effectively remove Dagda from any hope of conquering the other gods. So consider yourself fortunate that I preferred your offer of the duel and command of your menu choices.

'You will send the spells you research to me as scrolls as soon as they are available.'

'Very well. Are we done?'

'One more instruction. My ambassador will accompany you everywhere from now on. Try to conduct any of your affairs without her presence and I will consider you an oath breaker.'

If I felt a surprising pulse of disappointment that Sicaria would be leaving us, King Cillian equally was dismayed by this order. He looked over at Sicaria, frowned and then sighed. 'Thus is my fate and I must bear it. Tell me,' his attention suddenly turned to me and I saw how he strained to make out what he could through my visor. 'How did you unlock an additional warrior for your realm? One with such extraordinarily high riding skills.'

'Stables level four,' said the Necromancer at once. 'Though I should not share that with you, in case a year and a day from now, you turn against me.'

'Thank you. I am going to need a new warrior. Though it will take years for him or her to reach level eleven.'

With that, King Cillian bowed and his ambassador followed suit, saying, 'We obey your biding. We honour our oath.'

When they had gone, Sicaria going with them, I lifted my visor. 'Stables level four?'

The Necromancer laughed, this time with real mirth in his eyes. 'A good improvisation, was it not? When King Cillian turns against me, whether soon or a year from now, he will spend weeks upgrading his stables.'

I found myself smiling at the thought of the king of Rockguard finally reaching level four in his stables, only to realise he had been deceived. 'I've a feeling you are going to beat me at chess,' I responded. 'And sometime soon.'

Part II Chapter 4: The Second Battle of Three Ways

'Fire!' General Strakigos lowered his arm with enthusiasm and the huge block of a counter-weight trebuchet slammed to the ground, sending up clouds of dust. By contrast with the violence of the falling weight, the sling that swung around and over the top of the arm of the trebuchet seemed almost gentle, casting its heavy missile in an elegant throw which we all followed as it soared through the air and smashed into the wall just above the gate.

'Perfect!' cried the general. 'Keep that tension and reload.'

While the Necromancer's troops set about hauling up the block to the top of the frame of the trebuchet, General Strakigos turned to me, smiling. He had removed his helmet and looked far older than his thirty-five years due to the sprinkling of dust that had turned his hair grey and his brown cheeks pale. 'Apologies, King Carlos, for the destruction of your wall.'

'Oh, don't worry about it. I can rebuild easily enough.'

The wall we were talking about was that of Three Ways. The very wall that I had considered my bulwark against my foes. Only now I was facing it from the wrong side. As the Necromancer's army had made its slow way through the farms and fields of Greyland, the troops of Trolland and Southway stationed there had retreated up the valley and behind the wall. Perhaps they had thought they would be safe, with my old ballista in place on the tower to pick off slow-moving zombies.

In fact, my former defences were much more vulnerable than I thought. There was room on the path on the east side of the bridge for the erection of a trebuchet, well beyond the reach of the ballista. Once I had regained control of Greyland, I would have to prepare some counter-measures against this possible strategy by my enemies. For now though, I cheered every time a stone smashed into the defensive wall.

'Ready!' called the sergeant in charge of the trebuchet team. He was human, though most of his crew were zombies with a supernatural strength that made them very efficient at hauling the heavy block into position.

'Fire!' Again, General Strakigos dropped his arm and against the crash of the falling block was followed by the swish of the arm sweeping up to a large wooden crossbar, hitting it with a shudder, and sending the contents of the sling through the air to crash into the metal-bound gates, causing them to buckle. 'Good hit! Again. Restore the tension to exactly that pitch.'

I blinked away the dust. 'General, I shall retire and leave you to it. Have fun.'

'Oh, I will.' A grinning Strakigos was in his element and he rubbed his hands together as he turned back to the siege engine.

As protection against a possible desperate sortie, a body of zombies with two-handed axes had been stationed in front of the trebuchet and on the valley hillside beside the machine were the Necromancer's twenty crossbowmen. My knights were all further back, dismounted. When we went into action it would be on foot into the breach made by the trebuchet.

I had hardly reached my own section of the Necromancer's army when the crossbowmen on the hillside above me started cheering. As the dust cleared, I could see that the last boulder from the trebuchet had smashed into stonework that fixed in place the left side of the iron gate and it had fallen forward at a drunken angle, kept up now only by the bar on the far side and the hinges on the right.

Almost at once, a white flag was waved from the main tower. They must have had it prepared for some time. 'No surrender terms,' the Necromancer had said that morning, 'I need the bodies.' I had not let him use the graves of my people as we passed churches to Miya. Not because I was horrified at the prospect of the dead being raised as zombies but because of the impact on my happiness score. Unlike the Necromancer, my people believed in reincarnation and rebirth. Nothing would alienate them more than their families becoming undead and therefore being prevented from joining the spirit world and awaiting a return to the Twenty-Five kingdoms in the next cycle.

From up beside the trebuchet General Stakigos signalled with his arm (a windmill-like gesture) and I echoed it. I could just make out the white of his teeth as he turned and once more the siege engine launched its boulder. This one also hit the gate, which now fell to the ground with a crash. There was daylight beyond.

Instead of taking refreshment, as I had planned, I turned around and walked back up to General Stakigos.

'What now?' I asked. 'Shall we charge the breach?'

'I think it better we adjust to hit the tower and destroy their ballista. I know you are in a hurry to reconquer Carrick, but we have the advantage, let's use it to soften them up before risking the soldiers.'

'Of course.'

Next came the difficult task of levering the trebuchet until it faced the tower. Both the sergeant of the team and General Stakigos stood behind the massive siege engine, making sure the arm of the trebuchet was going to swing along the exact line they wanted.

The first shot of the new trajectory was surprisingly good, going a little bit past the tower, but not by much, and right over the centre of it.

All that time, the white flag had been waving vigorously. After that shot over the tower, however, it stopped. Our next cast came up just short, crashing into the base of the tower, and as the reverberations of the blow died away, a soldier wearing the surcoat of a warrior from Southway stepped over the ruined door and waved the white flag some more.

General Stakigos shouted up to the crossbowmen: 'give him a couple of warning shots and then kill him.' He grinned, 'I wouldn't even give the warning shots except that you are here.'

He was right, my policy would have been to accept the surrender. Not because I felt any kindness towards these soldiers who had killed my troops, but simply because the sooner I regained control of the Greyland menu the better. There was no question though that the Necromancer was in charge and he was clear about what he wanted: corpses and plenty of them.

***

It was late afternoon when a messenger came from General Stakigos that it was time for our assault to begin. I brought my twenty-eight knights up to the bridge. There, the trebuchet had fallen silent and there was an air of expectancy among the Necromancer's troops. Ahead of us, the walls of Three Ways were ruined and the area around the main tower and above the gate were just jagged piles of stone. There was only enough of the walls remaining to accommodate some twenty enemy archers.

They must have been dismayed, however, when a body of sixty zombies with wicker shields shuffled towards the broken gate. Even when an arrow got past a shield to strike into the body of the zombie, the undead soldier hardly faltered. In a matter of minutes our force, bristling with arrows, had reached the gate. Throwing down their shields, the zombies drew axes or simply used their magical strength to grab opponents and drag them down.

I put down my visor and lance in hand jogged forward. A good shot from someone up on the walls led to an arrow rattling off the top of my helmet. But apart from the temporary ringing in my ears it did no damage. I was AC20 and really tough for a low level soldier to wound.

Once in range and very careful to keep the sphere of impact up and well away from the zombies, I fired a Holy Light and then another. The enemy archers on the walls were blind and I could bring all my soldiers across without risk. 'Advance!'

Running to the melee at the gate, I plunged into the battle, lashing out repeatedly with the lance, the game messages flying past as I typically ended a soldier's life with just the one hit. There was one message, however, that caught my attention.

You have resisted Freeze.

Without ceasing to stab and slash at the soldiers desperately trying to hold the gate entrance for Trolland and Southway, I tried to see through to the press to spot the person who had tried to cast a spell on me. A Sorceress presumably, since Carlena had that spell. It took me a dozen more strikes and I was through to the space beyond the gate. There he was! A bald, elderly man in red robes, standing on a rock that might well have been one of the spent missiles from our trebuchet.

You have been hit by four Fire Darts for 15 damage.

As my knights poured through the breach behind me, I took off towards the caster and like a frightened rabbit he leapt from his rock and began to run back towards where a small cluster of people stood by the banners of Southway and Trolland. Was I running into danger? Probably not, but I checked myself at thirty metres and fired the last Holy Light over the group, then followed up with a sprint that allowed me to Lunge into the caster as he stumbled in blind panic.

You have hit a Sorcerer for 15 damage.

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

It took two more hits to kill him and the 5,500 Exp reward suggested he was about sixth level, maybe seventh.

The group of people ahead consisted of a Cleric and a Warrior for each faction. One of the Clerics was shouting and pointing at me, 'all on him. Get the black knight!'

I killed this Cleric first and although the two Warriors were high enough level to wound me, I remained comfortably over half my hit points when the fight was over and I found myself standing, panting, heart beating, in a moment of relative quiet.

Behind me our army was pouring through the gate, the enemy forces having completely disintegrated. It was everyone for themselves on their side and abandoned bows, spears and axes littered the ground. I felt no sympathy for them and strode on up the road towards Carrick, killing anyone who got within Lunge range of the lance.

After several minutes, some twenty light cavalry of the Necromancer's army overtook me in pursuit of the fleeing soldiers and I turned around. They would do a much better job than me of preventing the enemy from rallying.

When I returned to the walls, the Necromancer himself was there at the ruined gate, directing his zombies into making two piles of corpses. The larger one was of relatively whole bodies. The other was of limbless or decapitated bodies, which I guessed were of less interest to the Necromancer.

'A good victory,' he said, staring at me. I looked down, my armour was covered with splashes of blood.

'More butchery than fighting, but I'll take the win.'

'I will have at least sixty more zombies from today and plenty of armament for them. But tell me, King Carlos, did many get away? What troops of mine will you need to secure Carrick?'

'I'd say about fifty escaped, none above first level though. If you allocate me your light cavalry and your knights, that will be enough.'

The Necromancer nodded. 'Very good. It suits me not to march my whole army up to Carrick and down again, I'm conscious of how far I am from Nekis.'

Being a careful ruler, the Necromancer had assigned over two hundred zombies to the defence of his capital, Nekis, before departing southwards. Even so, I knew he must feel anxious – I would – about the risk of being cut off from his own lands and I appreciated it all the more that I owed my return to Greyland entirely to him.

As though aware of my thoughts, the Necromancer came over to me and held out his gloved hand, which I shook most heartily.

'When you ride to reclaim your menu, we will not meet again in person for some time. We've talked at length about our plan and I rely on you to implement it.'

'I will, of course. And know this, I'm not the kind of person who once he gets what he wants, forgets everyone who helped him. I know I owe my return to control of Greyland entirely to you. And I won't forget that.'

'I appreciate you saying so but you must also credit yourself. You are a very admirable man, King Carlos. Your determination shines from you like the sun: you didn't spend a day without improving yourself by one means or another the whole time you were in my kingdom. Your enemies have no idea what you have become.'

'I look forward to them finding out.'

'As do I.' The Necromancer gave my hand one last squeeze, then he returned to the task of sorting out the bodies to obtain all the useable ones. 'Oh, Carlos.'

I paused.

'I have a present for you.' The Necromancer gestured to the gate where a soldier was leading Goncendor towards me. The destrier had bags slung behind the saddle and when I got to look in them I found dark material. Curious, I unfolded one of the cloths. It was a flag: a dark knight wielding a bright lance, against a turquoise background. 'Take the destrier, he won't let anyone else ride him in any case. And I thought you might want a new banner to mark your return.'

Hand running along the neck of the black warhorse, I patted him near the shoulder, then turned to the Necromancer. 'Thank you once more. My enemies will fear this banner even more than the last.'

Part II Chapter 5: Raising the Flag

It was the evening of the day following the battle when I entered Carrick and the sky was already dark with a rain that kept everyone off the streets. That, or they were fearful of the Necromancer's troops. At the head of twenty-eight knights, I entered the town without any resistance. Any survivors who had escaped the pursuit of the light cavalry had scattered in all directions, making no effort to reform.

I rode to the square in front of the keep and as I did so, a message appeared:

You have undisputed control of Carrick. If no-one from a rival realm arrives in the square, you will obtain full integration with the menus of Greyland in 4 hours 59 minutes and 59 seconds.

The seconds began to count down but stopped almost at once.

You no longer have control of Carrick.

'Sergeant, stable the horses and see to their feed.' I dismounted from Goncendor and having taken a flag from the saddlebag, led my horse to him and handed over the reins. 'Then see to the men. You can find beds and a canteen at the barracks. If there are any problems I'll be here for five hours, then inside the keep.'

The sergeant, a young knight with light hair and pale eyes, saluted me with his free hand and then urged his own mount into motion. The clatter of their hooves died away quickly in the dampening effect of the rain. Once they were clear of the square, the countdown message appeared again, starting at the full five hours once more.

The flag of Southway was a rather unimaginative silver chevron against a red background. Soaked and without much of a wind, it was only moving a little at the top of the flagpole in the square. I untied the cords by which it could be raised and lowered and substituted my new flag, which I hoisted high. It was a satisfying feeling. Back at last. All those months of exercise had been focused to this goal, of regaining my land and being able to prove everyone wrong about me.

The rain didn't trouble me and I took off my helmet. Then I planted the haft of the lance in the ground with my left hand on it and triggered the Light spell. At once the blade began to emit a warm yellow light. Bright, but not uncomfortable, it cast my shadow across to the far side of the square.

While I waited – impatiently, but what could I do? – I studied the town and such people as hurried across the square. Many of the buildings I'd seen on the way through the streets were damaged. The church, for instance; I should have been able to see the spire but it was gone. The tower of the Sorceress, into which I had been summoned, had lost its upper floors. The keep seemed undamaged though and as the sun descended, lights appeared behind the windows.

Although I must have made a remarkable sight, a knight in black plate mail carrying the magical lance of their former king, no one dared approach me. In fact, those who came into the square invariably ran off on seeing me.

Long after dark, when the countdown had a little over two hours left, a servant came out of the keep, leading two greyhounds, which I recognised. King Carlos had them as pets. Even though the young woman was clearly confused, the dogs strained to come over to me.

'Bring those dogs here,' I called out.

With an expression of great fear and uncertainty, the servant edged closer, the dogs were eager and dragged her step after step until they could jump up at me, scratching at my thigh plates. I laughed and held out my right hand for them to lick.

'Well?' I recognised the servant but did she recognise me?

Still anxious, she looked down to the dogs, then up to my face. Then to my stomach. Then back to my face. All at once, she dropped the leads and put her hands to her mouth. 'It's the king! Oh, tell me you have returned! Am I dreaming?'

'You're not dreaming.'

'Thanks be to Miya! You have come to save us from their cruelties? Or are you a ghost?'

I probably did look supernatural, bathed in the light of the lance. I tipped it away so my face was not so sharply lit. 'Yesterday, my ally, the ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls defeated the garrison of Southway and Trolland. They have fled and in a matter of two hours, when the menu allows, I will be your king again.'

There were tears in her eyes now. 'May I tell the others? They must know their torments are over.'

'The enemy were harsh?'

'Terrible sire, especially to the women.'

'I'm sorry, it was my mistake that let them capture our lands. But now I have a second chance and we will wreak terrible vengeance upon them.'

She gave me a nod, then turned and ran, leaving the dogs with me. 'It's the king! The king is here! He's back! And he's turned into a hero!' I could hear her voice from the corridors of the keep and soon they all came running out to see. The greyhounds sensed the excitement and ran among the new arrivals with giddy, sharp turns as if there were rabbits to be chased.

There was the chef, looking at me with an open mouth; the woman who had met me that first morning; the guard from my bedroom door; and many other familiar faces. Having hurried outside, they were slow to approach and slow to believe.

'Can it be?'

'It's his face.'

'What happened to his body?'

They were muttering as if I wasn't even there. I laughed. More people came to look at me and someone had found a hand bell, for I heard it ringing in the streets.

Against a moonless, dark night sky I held my lance higher, illuminating the faces of the gathering crowd: stunned; happy; incredulous faces. The people were thin and many of them bruised.

'Sire, Alfonso, the head of the baker's guild that was.' I recalled the man from the night that Figus had sang The Tale of King Carlos the Rhino. Only then he had been well dressed in velvets with silver buttons on his waistcoat. Now his clothes were little better than rags.

'Greetings Alfonso,' I offered him my hand and tentatively he shook it.

'It is really you then? What happened? Have you been reborn? Did the goddess return you to us?'

'After the realm was lost, I found my way to the Kingdom of Lost Souls where the Necromancer gave me sanctuary and more. He supported me while I trained and he cleared the way to my return.'

Everyone had surged closer to hear my answer and more people were arriving all the time.

'It's him. It's really King Carlos.'

'Those horsemen are with him.'

'That's the lance of the goddess.'

There was a hubbub of sound now as finally the people allowed themselves to believe I had returned and everything I said was relayed so that those at the back could hear what I had said. I could no longer make out individual voices but the overall tone of the crowd was enthusiastic, excited even.

Several other former guild leaders pushed their way through the crowds to take a good look at me and always I shook their hands. I remembered the Chief Carpenter who had become my Shipbuilder: bald, discerning eyes. After studying me carefully, he gave a slight smile. 'Welcome back sire. We missed you.'

There were a few bitter laughs at that.

I explained that there was still nearly two hours to wait before I regained control of the menus but no one wanted to leave. Instead, torches were found and soon bottles and wineskins began to circulate. A flagon of beer came my way, but I shook my head. Soon enough I would have the menus back and I wanted to have crystal clarity when making my first decisions.

Songs broke out, hymns to Miya mostly, but some lively, light-hearted love songs too.

Again and again I told my story as the group of people closest too me constantly renewed, with newer arrivals wanting to get up close and see me for themselves. When I described how Carlena and Chancellor Parrin had abandoned me – for some reason, I hadn't wanted to talk about them but I was asked a direct question – there was real shock and dismay. I could sense it spread like a ripple, dampening the party spirit.

All the same, as the timer finally ran down the good cheer of the crowd had returned.

'How long left, sire?' asked my former huntress.

'Twenty seconds.'

'Twenty!' she shouted.

'Nineteen!' came another, quick-witted voice.

'Eighteen!' lots of the people around me caught on.

'Seventeen!' now the count was loud enough to fill the square and by the time the people had reached ten, each number was like a merry thunderclap.

'Three!'

'Two!'

'One!'

The depth of passion behind the cheers that now broke out gave me goosebumps and just when I was blinking back a tear, a new chant emerged from all around the square: 'Carlos! Carlos! Carlos!'

You have regained control of Greyland

Economy

Currently building:

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income: 0

Treasury: 0

Daily food consumption: 0

Grain yield: 0

Vegetable yield: 0

…

Of course all production was 0, but my enemies had abandoned some supplies of food, wood, stone and even 4 iron. The sub-menus on the buildings were encouraging too, for example, the church was still level 2. It seemed like it only needed repair, rather than the construction of a level 1 church followed by the level 2 one again.

Church level 2. Broken.

20 stone, 35 wood required for repair.

Priests: Senior Cleric*

Benefits: heals one person per day of minor wounds (cannot cure diseases, heal victims of poison or remove magical curses). Other healing and benefits according to the spells of the Senior Cleric. Increases town Happiness by 3.

* Repair unlocks a Cleric level 1 who can progress in level.

While the crowd continued to cheer, I opened the People menu.

People

Citizens: 0

Happiness: 0

Tax Level: n/a

Health: n/a

Specialist roles

General: Lord Arval, Paladin Level 8

Royal Wizard:

Steward:

Ambassador: Figus, Bard Level 7

Well, that was interesting. Wherever he was Figus had gone up a level.

More interesting, and a matter of urgency, was the following message.

You may repopulate the menu with any willing persons you touch in the next hour, after which the menu population will increase (or decrease) according to your Happiness score.

'Who wishes to join the menu?' I asked.

Immediately everyone within earshot cried in the affirmative. I shook the hand of the nearest, a middle-aged woman, 'and what trade do you want to practice?'

'Whatever the realm needs sire.'

I laughed. 'Everything.'

'In that case, brewing sire.'

'Hunting for me sire.'

'Building, if I may, sire.'

The people crowded in and I had to create a queue for them. It was heart-warming, the eagerness I saw in the faces of those who shook my hand and joined the menu. They seemed to share my determination to get the realm back on its feet. And especially when I looked into the eyes of those who wanted to be soldiers, I saw a fire to match my own.

It took me nearly the hour, but by the time the queue was empty I had recruited over six hundred people to the menus: more than a hundred above my previous menu population. All of a sudden, the euphoria that had been sustaining me began to be dispersed by that part of my brain performing calculations. Ideally, I would be lying in the bath, cleaning the days of dirt from the Necromancer's campaign, and carefully making plans for a rapid growth in Greyland's economy and army. First though, the people expected me to say something.

I made my way to the stone stairway that lead up to the entrance of the keep, still bearing the lance with the Light spell. Turning, I waved the glowing blade above my head. Soon all the lively cheer of the crowd fell to one or two voices and then all was stilled. Everyone drew close, so that I was looking an undulating plane of pale faces: men and women, young and old. All threadbare, hungry and yet hopeful.

'In the affairs of people and in those of kingdoms, there is a tide. For seven months, the tide was withdrawing from us but now it has turned and is in flood. On this full sea we are afloat and we must use this moment well.' As I shouted these words, I could see the people straining to hear me, many of them nodding.

'I have returned, stronger, fitter, and better suited to battle.' There came a cheer.

'My return owes everything to the Necromancer, who gave me succour in the Kingdom of Lost Souls after we were betrayed by Trolland.

'I have returned determined to ally with the Necromancer and wreak vengeance on Trolland and Southway. And then go with your help to make Greyland unassailable.'

Encouraging shouts and calls of my name greeted this last.

'We can only make this journey together. And make no mistake, it will be a hard one. There will be blood, toil, tears and sweat for us all. Let us swear to each other now, every man and woman, that we will not shirk from the tasks ahead of us. That will we work together and secure our futures together.

'Many of you have chosen to be soldiers. Not all of those with us today will live through this journey and the battles to come. Here, today, we recognise this and we honour each and every person who made the choice to be a soldier of Greyland.

'And for everyone else, when you are working hard in the mines, or on the farms, or in your workshops, remember those who have volunteered to be your striking arm in battle.'

Cheers again, but in a lower key than before, deep and serious.

'I value every single one of you and will choose the time and place of the battles to come with the utmost care for the minimum losses to us and the maximum destruction of our enemies.'

'Our foes believed Greyland to be lost: that you all were doomed to be a subject people for the remainder of your lives. They were wrong. And now we become their nemesis. Together, from this day, we are reborn. Reborn to war and retribution.'

With that, I ended the Light spell and stepped back, then turned for the door of the keep. Out of the silence behind me grew a roar that filled the square and must have reached up to the heavens.

'Carlos! Carlos! Carlos!'

Part II Chapter 6: Rebel Tactics

I had forgotten how large was the bath of King Carlos. Had I really been so big as to fill it up? It was wonderful to stretch out and wash away days of marching. And with considerable satisfaction in my muscular, fit body, I rested my arms on the wooden sides of the bath and swished myself around. I soon discovered, however, that there was a downside to being unable to wedge myself against the sides of the bath: it was harder to relax and study the menus without slipping below the water. So I dried myself off, wrapped myself in an absurdly voluminous dressing gown, and lay on the bed.

The top level People menu had filled up:

People

Citizens: 646

Happiness: 72

Tax Level: 0

Health: 46

Specialist roles

General: Lord Arval, Paladin Level 8

Royal Wizard:

Steward:

Ambassador: Figus, Bard Level 7

My Happiness score of 72 was amazing. Clearly, the people were delighted to have escaped the rule of Trolland and Southway. I wondered too whether by starting completely afresh from the bottom up and assigning people to work that suited them, I'd also contributed to the high Happiness score. A 72 allowed me to bring me 12 new people a day onto the Greyland menu. Ultimately, having a large army and a large economy was all about the population score. If I could balance the questions of food supply and Happiness in a way that allowed continual growth, that would be the route to victory.

Up to now, I hadn't seen a cap on the absolute numbers who could join the menu, only on the rate of increase. Probably there was one. Or perhaps overcrowding would lead to disease outbreaks and that was a built-in limit to growth. I'd already seen that by researching sanitation and building sewers I could reduce the risk of an epidemic, so that was definitely a danger to be aware of.

Opening the People menu, I could see a list of the distribution of the people to the various roles they had volunteered for, even though half of them would not be able to work just yet, with their buildings having been damaged: Soldiers 172; Farmers 38; Builders 40; Shepherds 24; Hunters 58; Miners 84; Clothmakers 27; Bakers 37; Brewers 32; Carpenters 40; Stonemasons 40; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 10; Idle 56.

The builders, hunters, miners, carpenters and stonemasons were all at the maximum capacity their level of buildings allowed for. I would have to upgrade their workplaces or tools if I wanted to increase the figures in those areas.

Perhaps in an attempt to benefit from their output, the enemy occupiers had kept several of my buildings intact: bakery; brewery; clothmakers' workshop; docks; farm buildings; hunting lodge 3; mine 2; quarry; sawmill.

I gave a sigh, however, when I looked over the damaged city buildings: barracks; church 2; hospital; library; scriptorium; shipbuilders; smithy; wizard's tower 2. Naturally, all the military menu constructions were broken too.

At least I had a stock of stone (34) and wood (120) with which to begin the repairs. After reading over all the buildings once more, I elected to begin the restoration of the smithy, which required 18 stone, 46 wood, and 3 iron. In part my decision was based on the fact it only needed two day's work to repair. The other consideration was that my iron yield was at 5 a day and with a smithy I could convert ingots to improved tools and weapons.

Taxes could be set to low, medium, high and exorbitant. I experimented with each and chose medium. High would have brought me 61 gold a month but at a cost of 2 Happiness. Medium made no change to the Happiness score and brought in 45 gold a month, or approximately 1 gold, 5 silver a day. Low would increase my Happiness by 2 but the drop to 29 gold a month didn't seem worth it, especially as I would need a gold reserve to recruit troops quickly.

After these decisions, my high level economy menu looked as follows:

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: repair smithy

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income (medium): 45 gold

Treasury: 0

Daily food consumption: 16 units

Grain yield: 260 due in 8 weeks and 6 days

Vegetable yield: 35 food units due in 11 days

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 19 days

Meat yield: 7 units daily

Timber yield: 17 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 6 blocks daily

Smithy yield: Unavailable

Weaving yield: Unavailable

Research: Unavailable

Resources:

Wheat: 48 food units

Vegetables: 32 food units

Meat: 6 food units

Fish: 0 food units

Wool: 0 bales

Timber: 74 planks

Iron: 1 ingot

Stone: 16 blocks

Cloth: 0 bolts

Once again, I was a little behind on food production. Nothing too difficult to address in the long term, as when I factored in my wheat and vegetable production, I was only 2 units down per day. And I could trade iron for food with the Necromancer at 10 to 1, so there was plenty of room to grow my population and have food to spare, once I was past the initial challenge. Until I had some grain stocks of my own to last until harvest time though, I'd have to ask the Necromancer to send me some of his considerable reserves.

The other issue that I focused on was the question of arming my 172 soldiers. It would take a very long time if I had to do it through the menu. First, the smithy would have to be working, then I'd have to have a reserve of iron. The alternative of paying coin to recruit new, fully armed troops, which was how I'd recruited in the past, wasn't available just now either since I lacked a treasury. I needed to build up a gold reserve once more.

The quickest way to gain military equipment would be to take it from my enemies. The scene as the soldiers of Trolland and Southway fled the walls of Three Ways came to mind again and I could picture their abandoned gear lying on the ground. No doubt the Necromancer had made good use of it in arming his zombies.

When Irish nationalists had fought the British Empire in the Rising of 1916, there had been one of them, Thomas Ashe, who led about fifty men into battle north of Dublin with very little by way of armaments. They started by attacking two police barracks, which netted them ten rifles, and used those to win a battle against much larger forces and gain enough guns and ammunition to arm the whole unit. What brought this to mind was the thought that as an eleventh level Warlord I should have no difficulty fighting low level soldiers. So if I brought my troops with me to Southway, I should be able to arm them from raids on small garrisons and those whom I killed single-handedly.

I resolved to set out with my troops in the morning. This would also assist my ally the Necromancer, as I'd promised to try to do my best to divert the soldiers of Southway while he invaded Trolland.

It had been a long day and sleep wasn't far away. One last menu that I wanted a quick look at before I let my dreams overtake me was my own character sheet.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Warlord, Level 11         HP 124          AC 0

Str15 (17)

Dex12 (13)

Con18 (20)

Int20

Wis18 (20)

Cha9

Magic items:

Lance of Light

+2 rapier

+1 Bow of Accuracy

Bracers of Archery

Ring of Wisdom (+1 Wis)

Amulet of the Bull (+2 Con)

EXP 786,000 (1,350,000)

Top Skills

Wield Longbow 55 (60)

Wield Lance 55 (60)

Ride Warhorse 55 (60)

Wield Rapier 55

Lunge 55

Grapple 55

Kick 55

Lightning Draw 55

Heavy Armour Mastery 55

Medium Armour Mastery 55

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

Tactical Strike (Int)

Over half a million EXP was needed for me to reach level 12. That was a huge ask. Like, killing the champion of Rockguard twenty times over. I wondered if there were quests suited to my level that would net decent experience rewards? Sometimes, despite my bitterness, I regretted the loss of Carlena and Chancellor Parrin. They would probably know the answer to that question. Maybe Figus too? Where was he? I could really use him at my side again, especially for my planned raid for weapons.

Then I was asleep and dreaming that Figus was trying to sing a song in praise of the Black Knight, but kept making mistakes, apologising and starting again. Carlena was there and looking scornfully at me.

***

As always, I was up with the dawn. While eating a light breakfast, I wrote out a letter to the Necromancer, explaining the state of my realm's economy and asking for a loan of 150 units of food as a reserve and suggesting we resume our 1 for 10 trade in iron and foodstuffs. I also explained my plan to raid Southway and gave him the approximate region where I intended to base myself, should he wish to try to find me with a messenger.

After finishing the letter, I went to the barracks and to the sergeant of the light cavalry of the Necromancer. Having encouraged him to make haste in catching up with the ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls, who would need his troops as scouts, I handed over my letter. 'Don't let this fall into enemy hands.'

Next, I spoke to the Necromancer's knights. I had them saddle up with all their gear and I rode Goncendor back and forth in front of their line as I spoke to them. 'Knights of the Kingdom of Lost Souls, it has been an honour to be your captain. But it is an honour I must now relinquish as I build and lead my own army.

'Ride on down the valley, you will catch up with your true lord, who will be grateful to have you back in his army.

'I am sure we will be comrades on the battlefield again and until we do, stay well my friends.'

I gestured with my lance, indicating they should set off. But before they did so, I was pleasantly surprised by their sergeant shouting: 'All hail King Carlos!' following which cry, the knights drew their swords and hammered them on their shields, creating a metallic crescendo of sound that caused all the crows to fly off from the tops of the nearby buildings.

Only then did the knights of my ally ride out of Carrick.

It was still early when I assembled and paraded my 172 soldiers. They stood arranged in a square shape, facing inwards, while I walked Goncendor around the interior.

'Soldiers of Greyland. You have volunteered for battle, and battle you will have. We will march to Three Ways today, then down the valley to our farms and on to Southway. The Necromancer, our ally, is two days ahead of us, aiming for Trolland. Our task, both for our own vengeance and to aid our ally, is to engage the troops of Southway.

'How can we do this, you wonder, when we have little or nothing by way of arms and armour? In the land I come from there was a famous raider who lived off the enemy's resources and stores. We are going to emulate him and attack small outposts and set ambushes to obtain everything we need at King Wace's expense.

'You ten,' I pointed, 'come with me to the keep, where there are a few weapons still. The rest of you gather your gear and assemble at the gate in an hour.'

At the keep, we conducted a systematic search through all the rooms but it was only the armoury that yielded anything of value: 7 helmets, 15 shields, 8 short swords, 8 battle axes and 6 bows. Before the enemy occupation of Carrick there had been a great deal more gear in the keep, including several chainmail hauberks. These had gone and I supposed myself to be lucky to have anything left behind at all.

Still, I consoled myself, we had something that no military force back on Earth had ever experienced: a warrior with levels and magic items. Thanks to the progression system here I was so far ahead of an ordinary soldier, I reckoned I could take on ten or more and hope to win, even if they hadn't been blinded by a Holy Light of Miya from the lance. That advantage was precisely what I intended to leverage in the coming weeks.

Part II Chapter 7: The Rider on the Bridge

The river Darkwater marked the border between Greyland and Southway. It ran from mountains in the interior of the world down to the southern sea and for most of the way it was as black and fast-flowing as the name suggested. The two bridges between our kingdoms were crucial crossing points: to try and bring troops and equipment across the swift, cold water anywhere else would be difficult and dangerous.

I had marched my 172 troops to the more southern of the two bridges, the one that was more or less directly east from Three Ways on the road that connected King Wace's capital to mine. Stopping well short of the bridge, we made camp in a dip between some hills and I'd ridden on to view the crossing before sunset.

The bridge itself was a construct of stone and wood. Out in the river were two thick stone pillars, about fifty feet apart, and on them rested a wooden structure that was wide enough for three riders to cross side by side. On the far side of the river, on a small hill near the road, was a square stone tower, the setting sun giving it an orange sheen on the side facing me. A Southway flag – a silver chevron, also seeming orange in the evening light – flew from a flagpole on the roof.

The tower was not large, just the ground floor and a floor above it, then the roof, with its crenellated battlements. It was tall enough, though, to overlook the bridge and even a handful of archers could inflict a lot of damage on my troops if I simply tried to rush across. And how would I break in to the tower afterwards? I'd suffer more casualties as I piled up wood against the iron-bound door in the hope of burning it down.

How big was the garrison? As I studied the tower, lights came on in the interior of the first floor, visible through the two narrow slits in the wall facing me. Around ten, I would guess, which was also the figure I felt myself capable of taking on and defeating in person. Making the decision to try to draw their soldiers out in the morning, I turned around on Goncendor and rode back to camp.

There, I passed the word for any strong swimmers in the army to identify themselves.

As I sat looking into the flames of a log fire, a sergeant brought three men and a woman to me. 'Your swimmers sire.'

I stood up to talk to them. 'Can you swim the river do you think?'

'I can,' said the woman confidently. She was in her mid-thirties, I would guess, with shoulder-length brown hair; a long, sombre face; and with muscular shoulders that convinced me she could manage the river.

'As can I.'

The other two nodded.

'Each of you take a short sword from our stock. In the pre-dawn, as soon as it is light enough to make your way, swim across the river: downstream of the bridge and well out of sight of their tower. Then, staying hidden, get as close to the tower as you can but not within twenty feet of it, nor the bridge. You might get blinded.

'I will try to draw out the garrison. If you think I have done so and I have their attention, you are to run to the door of the tower and enter it and bar it against them. Concentrate on gaining control of that tower. Do you understand?'

They nodded, all serious-looking.

'Do any of you have previous military experience?'

The woman raised her arm. 'I was an archer in the army, before they took Carrick.'

'What's your name?'

'Isabella, sire.'

'Right so. Isabella is your sergeant. You may offer advice to her but she makes the call and when she does you run with all you've got and do your best to get inside.'

More nods.

'Any questions?'

'What if the fighting around you is in the balance, should we come aid you?' Isabella asked.

'If you've secured the tower and I'm in trouble, I'll try to ride away, which I won't be able to do if you have tried to be heroes. Concentrate on getting inside the tower. And then perhaps you'll find bows and be able to fire from safety. That would be the best way to help.'

Isabella had another question. 'If we succeed, do we take prisoners?'

I hesitated. What did Thomas Ashe do? He let those who surrendered go after disarming them, knowing he'd be long gone before they could raise an alert. 'I intend our campaign to involve fast and frequent movement. We can't keep prisoners and nor are we the kind of realm that simply kills people for the convenience. So I'll probably let them free in due course. But for now, if you have any prisoners in the tower, guard them extremely well until the whole army is across the bridge and we are ready to move off. Understood?'

I looked around the small group and there were no more questions. 'Good luck.'

'And to you, sire,' said one of the men, a remark that was met with mutterings in the same spirit from the others. I shook hands with each of them before they departed.

While the fire crackled and I felt its heat, I no longer watched the flames, my attention was on the town menus again. Exactly four days had passed since I'd reclaimed them and in that time I'd completed the repair of the smithy and had nearly repaired the shipbuilders. My plan was to construct fishing vessels. Every three days I gained 51 timber; each ship cost 52 timber and took three days to build. I could keep producing fishing boats pretty much indefinitely and with my surplus population (12 a day!) this was a very different scenario to the previous time I'd been in control of Greyland's economy. In a matter of weeks, I should be self-sufficient for food thanks to a regular supply of fish. And thereafter, I hoped to be able to keep up with the food requirements of a fast-growing population.

This commitment to a fishing strategy guided my production from the smithy. If I was assigning all my new timber to fishing vessels, I wouldn't be able to build up a supply for more repairs or building upgrades. So while I set 2 iron ingots per day aside for trade to the Necromancer (and to build a small reserve), I allocated 3 iron ingots a day to 'fine steel saws', which would improve the output of my 40 carpenters. At 15 new saws a day, I would already be at 30 in the morning and would therefore just need to assign 2 more ingots to equip all the carpenters with those new tools.

My reserves of iron stood at 15, again a healthy figure. Having met my goal for trade with the Necromancer, I'd be able to create a significant stockpile over the coming days.

With these calculations still swirling in my thoughts, I took to my tent and fell asleep almost at once.

***

Dawn was lively. Out in the wild, the birds were noisy and plentiful, seemingly in competition with each other as to who could trill the loudest and most elaborately. There was not a cloud in the pale blue sky and already the cool of the morning was beginning to dissipate under a yellow sun. Helped by a soldier, I strapped on my black plate armour and thought of Thomas Ashe on the day he set out to fight in 1916. His was a bright day too, although a spring one not a late summer one. Did he check his equipment and gun that morning, wondering if this was his last day? The prospect this might be my last day certainly made me appreciate each breath of morning air.

The sergeants of the army had their instructions, which was to break camp and set off with the troops directly after my departure. I reckoned this would give me about thirty minutes to deal with the Southway garrison before my troops arrived; time enough to find out whether or not my plan would work. I had something to eat – two boiled eggs and bread that was still fairly fresh – and then went to my destrier. Goncendor had been equipped with his barding and once I'd been helped into the saddle I set off, intending my departure to be without ceremony.

Although the soldiers were busy taking down their tents or hurriedly eating their porridge, they broke off from their activities to salute me as I rode through the camp and a cheer began that grew in volume and which I could hear continuing until I was over a hill and out of sight. It was heart-warming but I also felt a weight of responsibility. The soldiers of Greyland trusted me to deliver.

Other than a few short trots to warm him up, I rode at a walk, preserving Goncendor's energy for the fighting to come and also giving my advance party time to get into place.

A last turn of the road and there was the bridge. Trees and bushes along the riverbank either side of it, tower on the far side. A horse-drawn cart was on the bridge, cloth-covered contents strapped down by ropes. The driver was leaning over, talking to a soldier in lamellar armour. Two spearmen in leather armour were watching the exchange and up on the roof of the tower were two archers. I looked carefully, but could see no sign of my four soldiers. I assumed they were nearby though.

After the man on the cart made a payment to the soldier, he was allowed to proceed on, away from me towards the capital of Southway, and now the bridge was empty. No one else was in sight so I made a clicking sound and urged Goncendor to step forward. Lance in my left hand, reins in my right, I drew up when Goncendor's heavy, iron-clad hooves rang out on the planks of the bridge.

'What's your business, knight?' The soldier in lamellar took several steps onto the bridge, he had a shield across his back and a sword in its scabbard. It would take him several seconds to be ready for battle.

Two possibilities were running through my thoughts: I could ride past this guard and try to cut down the spearmen before they got their dangerous weapons into a position from which they could fend me off; or I could blind all three of them and hope that this did not deter other Southway soldiers from rushing out of the tower. I needed that to happen, or the tower would be a real pain and obstacle to my plan to raid deep into Southway.

Although my heart was pounding with the imminence of battle and the fact I was on the cusp of violence, in fact, I held my position and waited.

Back on Earth I'd learned early that if ever challenged on the streets, it was always best to say nothing at all. Let the other kids jeer and shout and even let them throw things without giving them any comeback. As soon as you open your mouth, they'll have the measure of you and even if you come out with something half-decent, like, 'you have your entire life to be a jerk, why not take the day off?' you give a lot of information away by your voice, your accent, your tone. Better was to look over without a word. It meant you were harder for them to judge, which in term made them uneasy. And in truth, the really hard kids didn't bother with the banter. If they were in the humour for a fight they just ran up and clocked you.

What did he make of me, this enemy soldier? A lone black knight on his bridge. Saying nothing. Mounted on a fierce-looking horse. The river gurgling as it parted against the two stone pillars. He looked up at the tower, to check the archers were awake. Then he looked to the spearmen behind him. Then he drew his sword and brought his shield around. 'I'll ask you again, knight, what's your business here?'

Goncendor snorted but I said nothing.

'Reckon this one doesn't want to pay the toll?' the man might have taken comfort in this belief. That my goals were simply to avoid losing a few silver. Did he sense the alternative? That he was already dead?

'Come on then, big man; try and cross without paying.'

I continued to wait, to watch, to listen.

'Or are you one of the Necromancer's knights? There's a stench of rot about you all right. Don't you think lads?'

'I'd say he is,' said one of the spearmen. 'That black armour is a giveaway. Turn back, zombie-lover, you aren't crossing here.'

There was motion from within the tower and – yes! – the heavy door opened for a group of soldiers to come out, the first of them looking across at me.

Now all the different possibilities collapsed into just one.

Launching a Holy Light into the open doorway, I immediately followed this by triggering Charge! and Tactical Strike. As though he had been anticipating my command, Goncendor leap forward eagerly and I dropped the reins to take my lance in two hands, and slice through the lead guard's neck.

You have hit a Sergeant of Southway for 14 hit points.

You have killed a Sergeant of Southway.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse.

You have gained 7,600 Experience.

An arrow struck my shoulder like a hammer blow, but my armour sent it ricocheting away. Another rattled off Goncendor's barding as we came on to the spearmen. Their jabs were dangerous and I was more afraid they'd get a lucky hit to my horse's eyes than to me.

A clash of weapons and I'd cut the head off one spear. Goncendor shied away from the other, bringing me back into the saddle with a bump. For a second Lunge appeared over the disarmed spearman and I took it.

You have hit a spearman of Southway for 22 hit points.

You have killed a spearman of Southway.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse.

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You have gained 3,800 Experience.

While the other spearman and I sized each other up, I caught a glimpse of my four troops, they had dashed across from a grove of bushes and were attacking the group of blind Southway soldiers at the entrance to the tower. It wasn't quite the plan but the door to the tower was still open so it might work.

The spearman beside me followed my gaze and all of a sudden dropped his weapon and vaulted over the side of the bridge to splash into the water. At the same time, an arrow rattled off my helmet, making me dizzy. When I got my vision back, I launched a Holy Light onto the top of the tower. At least one of those archers was too good to ignore.

Then I swapped the lance for my bow that lay alongside the saddle, using Quick Draw to notch an arrow. Standing in the stirrups, I drew a deep breath at the same time as pulling the bowstring back to my ear. The swimmer was moving fast downstream, spinning in the current. He was looking at me when the arrow hit his face.

You have hit a spearman of Southway for 9 hit points.

You have killed a spearman of Southway.

You cannot become better at Wield Composite Horse Bow.

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse.

You have gained 3,800 Experience.

Good, I didn't want any of them to get away.

Over at the tower entrance, there was quite a melee. My unarmoured soldiers were up against the blind but properly equipped Southway troops. Crucially, the door was still partly open. Quickly swapping the bow back for the lance, I dismounted and hurried to help.

When I got there, the tussle was over the body of a dead Southway soldier. His body was preventing the door from closing and the soldiers inside, although blind, had realised this and were trying to pull it back in. Two of mine had the legs of the body and were doing a good job of stopping them clearing the jam.

Stepping up, pushing my way into the crisis, I lined up a Lunge and instantly killed one of the defenders. Then I shoved hard on the door, getting it to open wide enough for me to enter, though a couple of the Southway soldiers quickly pushed it back as far as they could.

'There's one in here with us!'

'Get him! Get him!'

'Where is he?'

'I have him!'

The press made it difficult to fight with the lance and there were hands grabbing at my arms and legs. Punching and kicking (both maxed skills) I made enough room to smash the base of the lance into a leg, breaking it, and follow up with a jab of the blade into a throat. Among the confusion of blood and screams, I was remorseless. With full plate, 11 levels, maxed fighting skills and 17 strength, against blinded soldiers of level 1 and 2, I wasn't in any danger and in fact, even when a blow or two struck me, nothing got through.

All of a sudden, there was no more fighting. Seven bodies lay strewn on the ground and my own people were able to get into the tower.

'What's going on down there?' A woman's voice came from up high.

There were stone stairs in the far corner, leading up to the floor above and I ran for them, bounding up to a narrow corridor which ran along the wall, a closed door at the half way point, which I ignored as I ran on.

'Osmund, are you there?' The voice from above sounded nervous, as well she might be.

The corridor passed an arrow slit, turned at the far corner and again with a door half way, led to more stairs. There was a shadow at the top of them. Making no pretence at stealth, which was impossible with this armour, I continued my run. The Southway archer pulled back, but too late as my Lunge box appeared and I caught her in the stomach.

Despite hitting her for 15 hit points of damage, she didn't die on that hit but I was up on the roof now and easily able to avoid her dagger. Just the two archers were there and both were blind. Their shots were well wide.

The woman died on the next hit, she was probably third level, and the other in just one blow.

And all was quiet.

I let out a long breath and felt elated, despite the grim hand-to-hand fighting I'd just experienced. We had the tower and the precious weapons on the bodies of the slain soldiers, along with any stores that the building had to offer.

Part II Chapter 8: The Spoils of Victory

As a result of capturing the tower on the border of Southway, I had made some useful gains. For a start, they had a small chest of silver coins, which had been accumulated perhaps as taxes collected from users of the bridge: mostly they were stamped with King Wace; some were of Queen Rorgesta; and quite a few were old and worn. I didn't need to count them as my treasury showed that I now owned 245 silver.

There was a pantry in the tower, with bags of flour, eggs, dried beans, and strips of salted beef which altogether was worth 18 food units, very useful indeed until my fishing strategy and resumption of trade with the Necromancer solved my food shortage.

The weapons of the dead garrison, plus those stored in the tower itself amounted to 7 bows (with some 200 arrows); 14 spears; 3 longswords; and a lance. I had also gained 8 shields, a suit of lamellar armour, and 12 suits of hardened leather armour. Also, beside the tower was a field that had been fenced off and held two horses that were broken in. Their tack was stored in the tower.

Once I had allocated the equipment to my soldiers, my small army improved a little:

Light infantry, shield and battle axe or shortsword, leather armour: 8

Light infantry, shield and battle axe or longsword, no armour: 6

Light infantry, shield and dagger: 4

Heavy infantry, shield, longsword, helmet, lamellar armour: 1

Spearman, leather armour: 4

Spearman, no armour: 10

Archers, no armour: 13

Light cavalry, shield, short sword or lance: 2

Unequipped (dagger only): 120

One of my soldiers had discovered a large ledger and I read it with interest. Firstly, it confirmed my belief that the soldiers here had been taxing traffic on the bridge. There were entries like this:

29th Sriathus. Cloth merchant (Rockguard) 1s.

Ibid. Grain merchant (ours) -

Ibid. Trolland messenger -

Ibid. Cleric -

Ibid. Timber merchant (Trolland) 1s.

It was also clear from looking back through the pages of the ledger that on the last day of the month the garrison was relieved, or at least the officer was changed. Someone with different handwriting would add up the total number of coins and their calculation would be countersigned another person. Each new month began with a new name at the top of the page and the handwriting in the book clearly varied from month to month.

We didn't stay at the tower. My plan was to be mobile. If an enemy army caught up with me while we were so poorly equipped they would slaughter my troops. We had to keep moving, keep raiding and in that way, arm all my soldiers.

After an early lunch, drawing on the welcome supply of eggs and bread in the tower, I departed, leaving the flag of Southway flying over the tower and four of my leather armoured, light infantry to pose as tax collectors.

We were about four days march away from Montrose, the capital of Southway, which meant that the party of troops sent to relieve the garrison in the tower and bring the silver back were on their way as they were due to arrive in two days. They would be my next target.

That evening, as we camped by a stream some distance from the road, I called on my sergeants to find me someone who knew the land here. In due course a young man was brought to my tent. He was about nineteen years old, I'd guess, with long, black hair, and had the confident air of someone filled with self-belief. He looked me in the eye without any of the usual anxiety that King Carlos's people displayed.

'What's your name?'

'Hernán, sire.'

'And you know this land?'

'We have a farm near the river. Sometimes my father would take me along this road to Montrose for the market.'

'Tomorrow, we need to find a place for an ambush of troops that I expect will be arriving from Montrose. Ideally, a place where the road passes through a forest or between cliff walls.'

The young man looked doubtful. 'There's never a place like that, sire, not if you walked ever so far. It is as flat as a plank all the way. And as for trees, well, I suppose there'd be a few copses here and there, but nothing as to what you could properly call a forest.'

'There must be someplace.'

It was clear that the lad wanted to please me but equally clear, he was struggling. He looked to his left, then his right. 'I suppose there is a place not too far from here. Wouldn't do for us all, being just a few old cottages, but some of us could be inside them. Four or five in each anyway.'

'It's near?'

'I'd say no more than three hours marching in the morning and we'll come across it.'

'Thank you Hernán.' It did not sound promising, but it would have to do.

After eating more of the bread and eggs we had captured, I retired to my tent and checked on the menus for Greyland. With the shipyard repaired, I could start building my first fishing vessel, which I did at once (for 52 planks and 2 iron). That would take three days. I could now repair another building and the one that appealed to me most was the Wizard's tower 2. There was no question but that one day I must repair the barracks. Right now though, I had more troops than I could equip. Unlocking a Sorcerer or Sorceress brought something new to the kingdom and even though whoever it was would be low level, I felt it important to have as many people advancing in level as I could. The main alternative was to repair the church and that was attractive too for the same reason; I'd be glad to have a Cleric progressing in level. Cures though, did not seem as urgent to me as the variety of spells that a Sorcerer could bring to a fight.

The cost of the repair to the Wizard's tower was 44 planks and 26 stone blocks and the timer was two days, twelve hours. Having made that choice, I was left with 98 planks and 26 stone blocks in my stores. I could upgrade a building and it seemed to me that hunting lodge made the best sense. A level 4 hunting lodge cost 90 planks and 3 iron, which was a substantial part of my remaining timber. Even so, long term and short, it appealed to me to increase food production. Not least because the 12 new people every day were adding up. So I made that choice and looked forward to that being completed in 4 days and 8 hours.

My last decision was in regard to the smithy. Having completed the upgrade of saws to fine steel, I'd accumulated 31 ingots, but then spent 2 on the fishing vessel and 3 on the hunting lodge level 4. Setting aside 15 of the remaining stockpile for a trade with the Necromancer, that meant I had 11 for the smithy. The overall strategic choice here was between weapons and armour or something to assist with the economy. For a while I browsed through a long list of swords, spears, polearms and bows, as well as looking at the costs of full suits of chain mail (2 ingots each, no wonder iron was precious!). But much as I need armaments, my current plan was working; plus the new equipment would be four days away from where it was needed. In the end I opted for fine steel pickaxes for my 40 stonemasons (at a cost of 10 iron). Both timber and iron production had increased by just over twenty-percent when I'd upgraded their tools to steel, so I was hopeful this choice would do the same for my output of stone blocks.

As I pulled up a blanket and fell asleep, a sense of achievement and satisfaction infused my thoughts. The realm was in good shape. Having a decent happiness score was making all the difference. Before my defeat at Adelaide's Crossing, I'd been trying to build the economy while constantly hampered by the fact so few people were available as workers or soldiers. Now, so long as I didn't create a bottleneck, I had a much more balanced set up and the main limit to growth as a serious power was simply that of time.

***

A flat wooden bridge crossed a small stream, which Hernán identified should be our ambush spot. While the army took a break and refreshed themselves from the cold, fast-flowing water, the young man and I walked along the road to an abandoned village. Most of the ruins were simple, one room affairs and with their roofs caved in or walls toppled were not suitable for concealing troops, the two nearest the bridge, however, had potential.

The smaller cottage was on the south side of the road and was a square shape, no longer with a roof, but the walls facing the road were still high enough to conceal two or three people. It helped, too, that a bush had grown up between the cottage the road. On the other side of the road was a larger ruin. This cottage was also missing its roof but had all four walls intact. There was a gaping doorway facing us, with the door itself lying flat on the ground in a state of decay. I could probably assign five soldiers here.

'Well, sire?' asked Hernán, anxiety in his dark brown eyes.

I sighed. 'It's something. But you're sure there's nowhere better? We can only get about eight soldiers set up here.'

'I understand sire, but there really doesn't be anything like what we want.'

Looking around, the problem was that for the rest of the army to be concealed, they'd have to be behind some slight rises that were about a mile away. Far too distant to be useful.

'Very well, let's go back.'

The day was grey, but so far without rain and I walked side by side with the young man on the dusty road.

'Sire, if you don't mind me asking.'

'Ask what?'

'If it's all right with you, sire, I'd like to be one of those in the ambush.'

Hernán was slender in build and while fit, would not have been my choice for a participant in the ambush, seeming to be more suited to archery than melee. Nor was he one of the soldiers with decent equipment.

`Perhaps, I admire your willingness to fight. You'll have to be given leather armour and a sword though.'

'If you can, sire, I'd be terribly grateful.'

Back among the troops, I gathered together the sergeants and explained my plan. The two light cavalry were to ride ahead for about thirty minutes to somewhere where they could watch down the road for the enemy without being observed. Our one heavy infantryman (Fanon, a veteran from the old army ) along with four armoured spearmen, was to occupy the northern cottage, three armoured axemen the southern. I would station myself just east of the stream and attack the enemy as they turned a corner and approached me from about a hundred feet away. Once the rest of the enemy troops hurried to join the battle, our ambushers were to charge into the fray. The rest of the army would be distributed in a great circle, more than a mile away, ready to intercept anyone trying to escape.

'Thoughts?' I asked.

'It's not so many of us, sire, if you were to be incapacitated, it's not enough,' said Fanon, who was the sergeant I'd assigned to lead the ambushing troops, 'we need a better spot.'

'The land is flat here all the way to Montrose,' I answered. 'This is as good a spot as we can get.'

'The archers could hide by lying along the stream bank. I don't believe they would be seen by an approaching enemy.' I'd made Isabella the sergeant for the archers of the army and was glad that she had no hesitation in speaking her opinion.

'We can test that. Remember, they will be on horseback. So you'll really have to get low down. After this meeting, we will try this.'

'And prisoners, sire? Same as before?' Isabella turned her brown eyes to mine. Hers was a long, earnest face, somewhat equine.

'Same as before. In fact, I'd like to talk to them.'

There were no more questions and I dismissed the meeting, firstly to test whether our thirteen archers could remain hidden by lying down under the cover of the river bank. The answer, unfortunately, was no. Or rather, it was possible, but the occasional bobbing head or movement of a bow demonstrated that there was a real risk of our losing the element of surprise. So I had Isabella take her soldiers much further off to the south, about three hundred yards away, where they definitely could not be seen.

Then I made myself markers at twenty metres from my soldiers (I had decided to stick with the ones who were already armoured and leave Hernán out of the ambush). Just a stone upon a stone, nothing untoward, but enough to guide me for when I came to launch a Holy Light. After that, it was just a case of waiting. And while I had the option of reading the menus to help me pass the time productively, it was still a long wait under a dull grey sky.

My heart began to beat faster when I saw one of our advance riders returning, but he drew up only to report that a single rider was on the way and back some distance, a farmer's cart. I ordered my scout to carry on back to the tower we had captured and tell our garrison there that they should arrest the sole rider and re-join the army with his weapons, armour and horse. Then I rode for a mile and watched from behind a tree until that rider was through (without seeing our soldiers) and sometime later, the farmer.

On returning to my ambush position, I spotted Hernán hiding behind a tree to the north of the little bridge.

'Hernán, come here.'

The young man looked very guilty, as well he might.

'Does your sergeant know you are here?'

'He does sire.' Hernán blushed. 'But he thinks it is on your orders, sire. I'm sorry. I just want to fight. They won't see me until the time is right.'

'If everyone ignored their orders, it would be a disaster. I'm going to get your sergeant to put you on a strict regime of the toughest duties after this.'

The young soldier looked so downcast I felt a little sorry for him. And I did admire the fact he wanted to fight. 'Seeing as you are here,' I could hear that my voice had changed in tone, becoming more conciliatory, 'go up to the soldiers in hiding and refill their canteens. Check they have something on them to eat.'

'Thank you sire!' Immediately, he ran down the road to the ruins.

It was over an hour before our other scout came galloping down the road and my whole body must have reacted to the sight, as Goncendor's head came up fast, seemingly as ready as I for the coming battle. I had allowed Hernán to stay nearby in a copse to the north of me and I gestured at him to get properly under cover, right down under a bush.

The scout drew up, foam on the flanks of her horse. 'They are coming sire,' she drew breath. 'Two knights, four archers, six spear.'

'Nothing else? No possible spell casters?'

'No sire.'

That was good news. Spell casters could completely change the tactics of an encounter like this.

'Keep riding until you are out of sight; return once the fighting begins.'

The scout looked disappointed but gave me a salute, then moved out behind me, now at a trot rather than her fast gallop of earlier. Signalling to Goncendor that I wanted him to walk forward, I rode well past the ambush position, then turned and came back, looking for any giveaway signs. There were perhaps more hoofprints and footprints on the road here than was usual, but other than that, my soldiers were well hidden.

'Soldiers!' I called out from a position mid-way between the two cottages. 'This is your last chance to relieve yourselves. Then stay hidden, stay silent, until you hear the sounds of battle or see a Holy Light. Then surprise the enemy, strike hard, and strike to revenge your comrades who fell at the hands of King Wace's army.'

Back at the bridge, after another fifteen minutes or so, I could see the gleam of the helmets of the incoming troops emerge from a turn in the road about a kilometre distant. If they had seen me, it didn't seem to trouble them as on they came at a steady pace. In time, I could hear the tramp of their feet, see the dust they were raising. My scout's report was correct. There were two knights with lances at the front of a column of ten infantry.

On and on they came, now passing between the two cottages. My breathing had sped up as they did so and I forced myself to relax and breathe more deeply as the front two riders turned a final bend to look at me across about a hundred yards of road. I urged Goncendor to take a few steps towards them and their leader ordered a halt. They were not yet all past the ambush point but it would do.

'Who are you, black knight? What business do you have on the roads of King Wace of Southway?'

Goncendor continued to walk towards them and I gripped the Lance of Light more tightly in my left hand. Their commander said something I couldn't make out and two archers ran up, stringing their bows.

At once I signalled to Goncendor to charge and he leapt forward, from trot to canter to gallop in just a few strides. Their knights couched their lances and came on too. Without the magic of my lance, this would have been dangerous. Taking a blow from a charging knight might even send me crashing to the ground. But of course I had Holy Light and I launched the spell. The sphere of light flew from the lance and its silent explosion took in knights and archers and a couple of the infantry.

Almost at once a roar came from the back of the ambush, a hearty one that sounded like there were more than just my eight soldiers.

As I pounded up the road, I used my riding skill to edge Goncendor to my right and onto the grass, skirting the blinded knights and their mounts, also the archers, and soon I was near the enemy troops that were not blind and whom were turning their spears on my troops. Just a few metres from the clash and cries of battle, I triggered Tactical Strike. Now either I would get the double flanking effect or, if the enemy soldiers focused on me, my soldiers would get it.

Tactical Strike

Minimum Intelligence requirement 14.

For 1 minute per Intelligence point over 13, troops under the command of the Warlord and within hearing strike as if flanking (+2 to hit, +2 damage). If already flanking this effect is doubled.

And of course I triggered Charge! for the extra ten hit points for my men

Charge! All friendly units in the vicinity get a 20% increase to base movement and a temporary 5 hit point increase. Charge! is a Wisdom based feat and each point of Wisdom above 15 increases the buff by 1% in movement and by 1 hit point.

Although this only took a second or two, three of the enemy spearman were striking out at me, jabbing the points of their spears towards me and causing Goncendor to shy away sidewards. None of them were in a position for me to Lunge at them. And although I parried one attack with the lance, another slid over the plate on my right thigh and got through to damage my hip.

You have been hit by a spear for 6 points of damage!

Nothing too serious, not with my 124 hit points; in fact, he hadn't even removed my temporary 10 from the Charge! buff. But quite apart from the momentary flare of pain, it was a warning that I could not be complacent about my advantage in levels. In the confusion of cries and clatter of weapons, I kept my focus on the three spearmen who were thrusting their blades at me with all their strength. I took two more blows before finally landing a decent one of my own, for 13 damage, which killed the man.

Then Fanon, the leader of my northern group of soldiers, pounded up the road and chopped down with his longsword, killing another.

I felt Goncendor shifting his weight forward and balanced myself accordingly. One of the blind archers had walked into the back of the stallion and lashing out with his back right hoof, my horse smashed the man into a crumpled bundle.

All of a sudden, I was surrounded only by my own men and there was no more fighting. Behind me the blind soldiers were hesitantly waving their weapons and calling to each other.

'Surrender!' I shouted. 'It's hopeless. There are two hundred of us.'

'Don't surrender,' shouted their commander. 'He's lying and this blindness will end soon.'

'No, no it won't! Throw down your weapons!'

Their leader was about to reply when he suddenly slid from the horse with a crash, saddle and all. Looking very pleased with himself, Hernán came around the horse and into view, then pounced on the fallen soldier.

'Your captain is down!' he shouted. 'Throw aside your weapons!'

The other knight flung down his lance and their archer did the same with his bow, as did the remaining two spearmen. The fight was over. And a quick check on our numbers confirmed my hopes. None of my soldiers had been killed or badly wounded.

Part II Chapter 9: The Prisoner’s Account

The gains I made from the battle were modest enough, but it all helped. Four longbows, with leather armour and a quiver of 16 arrows; 6 spears and leather armour; and, best of all, the plate mail, lances, swords and trained warhorses for two knights. After talking to my sergeants we identified two men with the riding skills to become my first heavy cavalry since regaining control of the Greyland menus.

There was still a long way to go, even to arm this force that I was raiding with, but it certainly was progress:

Light infantry, shield and battle axe or shortsword, leather armour: 12

Light infantry, shield and battle axe or longsword, no armour: 6

Light infantry, shield and dagger: 4

Heavy infantry, shield, longsword, helmet, lamellar armour: 1

Spearman, leather armour: 10

Spearman, no armour: 10

Archers, leather armour: 4

Archers, no armour: 13

Light cavalry, shield, short sword or lance: 2

Heavy cavalry, shield, longword, lance: 2

Unequipped (dagger only): 108

Due to the hours we had spent waiting for the enemy to arrive, it was late, so we did not march much further, just away from the road to the south, where copses of trees and some gentle hills were sufficient to provide the army with enough cover that it wasn't likely that we'd be spotted from a distance. Having posted scouts in every direction and eaten a meal of venison stew (our army had disturbed a herd of deer and I had been quick enough to shoot two), I interviewed our prisoners, one at a time.

For his quick thinking in unbuckling the blind knight, I had invited Hernán to my tent for his dinner and, as someone with local knowledge, had him stay to be of possible help. Isabella and Fanon were also present, I had my eye on them as potential officers of larger forces for when the army grew and I needed people to undertake operations independently of me. I had seen the sturdy Fanon in melee and there was no doubting his courage; Isabella had struck me as quick on the uptake in the two briefings she'd participated in. I wanted them in my presence more often, not just so I could appraise them, but so they would get more used to addressing me and feeling free to speak their minds.

At first the interviews were frustrating, the two Southway knights refused to say a word to me and I had the feeling I was going to learn nothing from the prisoners, but the Southway archer took a seat and chatted to us as though we were all his friends. His name was Guy, he was about thirty years old, had a reddish tinge to his brown hair and beard, and alert, knowing eyes in a thin face.

'Have some stew, Guy,' I said after introducing him to the others present. I gave a nod to one of the soldiers who had brought the prisoner in to provide him with a bowl from my table.

'Thank you, King Carlos; don't mind if I do. We can't eat venison in Southway. Not the poor, not legally anyhows, with the deer being the property of the king. And it's a rich-tasting meat all right.'

'Tell me about King Wace, what manner of person is he?' This was far from the important questions I really had in mind, but I wanted to begin as if we were having an ordinary conversation.

When Guy had finished swallowing, he gave a shrug. 'I've never spoken to him. But if his officers are a reflection on him…', the archer rubbed his beard and his face darkened. 'Let me tell you this, they like nothing more than to dress up in the most expensive velvet cloaks, gold and silver clasps, purple plumes waving from their helmets, and torment the people with their behaviour.'

'Is he competent? What's Southway's Happiness score, do you know?'

Now Guy gave me a shrewd look. 'I can't give you the score, he doesn't share that information. But I can say about one person a day joins the menu.'

This was useful, it meant King Guy's Happiness was similar to that of my score before I had lost control of the menus. That was good news, because it meant Southway was struggling and had not necessarily raced away from me during my absence. 'I'd like to know how many troops he has and where they are. Can you tell me? Or would that make you feel too much like a traitor to your king.'

Guy laughed. 'I have no loyalty to King Wace. Those officers I told you about. They got my brother drunk for a game – he's a good lad but a bit simple – then made him walk on the balustrade of a high bridge and bet on whether he'd fall. He broke both his legs and was lucky not to have drowned.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' I answered, and I was, but if King Wace was making trouble for himself by the license he gave his officers, then that was a weakness in Southway I might be able to exploit, starting with this moment.

'No,' Guy continued thoughtfully, 'no loyalty to King Wace. But I feel differently about Herrastius.'

'Your god?'

'That's right. The one-armed god of war. King Wace's nobles forget that he's also the beggar god, who helps the lowest of the low. The sick and the injured. If it's true what the priests claim, should Herrastius win the war and rule over all the other gods, all will be healed and none shall be poor.' Looking into his near-empty bowl, Guy then tipped it up into his mouth, leaning back to get every last drop. 'That was good.'

'Another one?' I offered.

He laughed. 'Are you trying to corrupt me with venison stew? Because if so, I'm very partial to it.'

'Do you believe your priests are right about Herrastius?' I signalled the soldier beside him to fetch Guy another bowl.

'Who can really know the mind of a god? They all promise the world to their followers. Your Miya, Rockguard's Dagda, even the Necromancer's demon god, Scrithax. But it's my belief when this conflict is over, the world just ends and they start their game again.'

'Interesting. Then it doesn't matter to you who wins?'

'I'd prefer Herrastius to win than any other, certainly not Scrithax. If an army of undead captured Montrose, the devastation and suffering would be something cruel.'

'Would it though? We have yet to see how the Necromancer treats conquered people. But we already know how you soldiers from Southway treated mine. Especially the women.' I spoke angrily and Guy looked alarmed.

'That was no doing of mine, sire. I'm only recently in the army.'

'Help me now, Guy, and I swear that if I ever capture Montrose, my troops will treat your people as if our own. And you won't have to wait for the end of the world to stop the mistreatment of the poor.'

Gratefully accepting another bowl of stew, Guy pretended that it fully occupied his attention. But I could see him glancing up at me from time to time. 'All right,' he said at last, 'but take me with you, onto your menu, as an archer in your army. A free man, not a prisoner.'

Could I bring someone onto the menus from here? I'd always thought that my Happiness score allowed citizens of Carrick to join it and that they got the opportunity to do so in the city itself. While Guy continued to eat, I searched the menus of the army. On the recruitment tab was a source sub-menu, whose default was 'idle people' but it cascaded to show other options such as builders, carpenters, shipwrights, etc. This was how I could transfer people into the army, albeit at the same cost as a new recruit and presumably a hit to Happiness if the person ordered to the barracks wasn't keen on their new role. On that list were also other types of unit in my army and an 'other' option. Perhaps 'other' was the option I needed in this case but I had a problem. All of them were greyed out, presumably because the barracks needed repair.

'Would you even fight against your own people?' I asked him.

'Set me against King Wace's officers and I'll relish every shot.'

'Your friends, though, like these men we've captured.'

'I've no grudge with them. Other than what they did in Carrick, which I don't agree with. But you could spare me having to fight them. Give me some other task if it ever comes to that.

'What do you think Isabella?' I gestured to her. 'If she'd have you, Isabella would be your sergeant.'

Her long face initially showed surprise, then Isabella took a deep breath, composed herself, and moved her brown hair to the side, as if allowing herself a better look at the man. 'I'd have him,' she said at last. 'I think he's honest. What I've heard so far is the straight talking of a man I could rely on.'

'Thank you sergeant,' Guy replied, looking pleased.

'Very well Guy. You are welcome to join us as an equal. I can't say how well the army will receive you, there is an understandable anger towards soldiers of Southway among us, but fight well and they'll warm to you. And I'm afraid I can't take you onto my menu just now. I hope that becomes possible in a few days. Give me time to repair the barracks at Carrick. In the meantime, you can camp with our archers.' I walked over to the former prisoner and held out my hand.

Unprepared for my gesture, the Southway archer hastily wiped his right hand on his trousers and then shook mine, looking into my eyes for a moment as though searching to see was I sincere. As I returned to my seat, I glanced at Fanon and Hernán. While the veteran infantryman was impassive, Hernán was smiling encouragingly at Guy.

Guy proceeded to tell us what he knew about Southway's army, which was a mix of units about four hundred strong. Only two days previously, most of the troops of Southway had departed in a hurry, up the north road towards Trolland. Rumour was that the Necromancer had set up a siege of Callondum and King Wace was rushing to assist his ally. According to Guy, there were only twenty infantry left to guard the town. Although we had lost the battle of Adelaide's Ford, we had inflicted a lot of casualties on Southway and because of his low level of recruitment, King Wace was stretched to both lift the siege and cover his home city.

'Could we raid Montrose itself?' I wondered aloud.

Guy nodded. 'From what I've seen, you could if you could get inside the walls.'

After Guy had told us all he knew and left to find his new tent, I had the other prisoners brought in. Although I believed Guy, given my experience of betrayal in the past I wasn't going to blindly walk into another trap. But the testimony of the two captured spearmen confirmed his story. They weren't as forthcoming as Guy, but when I revealed how much I already knew, their responses were consistent enough to make me think a raid on the capital was a real possibility. This was attractive for several reasons, an important one being that I owed it to the Necromancer to create sufficient a diversion in Southway that King Wace was obliged to turn back and could not come to the relief of Callondum.

When the interviews were finished, I had the four prisoners sent under guard back to the tower at the river, with instructions that they could be released after five days. By then, whatever raid I had planned would have been carried out. And a growing excitement inside me said that the target probably would be Montrose itself.

'What do you think?' I asked the others present. There was a long silence. None of them wanted to speak. Although I began to feel impatient, at least this wasn't like my experience of consultations with Carlena and Parrin, where I had felt pushed around, certainly in the early days.

'It's very risky,' offered Fanon at last, after a glance from under his bushy eyebrows must have convinced him Isabella and Hernán were not going to speak, 'we are doing well with these small battles but if we come up against a large army, then all that we've gained will be undone.'

'I think we should strike as soon as we can,' said Isabella, 'we've found ourselves in a fortunate moment and those who spurn such are punished by the gods.'

I smiled. 'Where I'm from we have a phrase with something like that idea, only the other way around, Fortune favours the bold.'

Although I looked at him with an invitation to speak, Hernán said nothing. He probably felt that it was not his place to do so.

'Back in my world,' I continued, 'in my country, a long time ago, there was an attempt by a small rebel army to take over the capital city that had been ruled for centuries by an invading army. The rebels were so intimidated by the enemy that they assumed the headquarters of their opponents, which was in a castle, would be too well garrisoned to capture. Had they only known it, however, there were just a handful of soldiers there on the day they rose up. A strike on the headquarters would have succeeded and netted them a massive public impact, not to mention valuable documents and valuable prisoners. As it was, they missed their chance.'

'I understand you, sire,' said Fanon. 'We should take the risk.'

'Good. Call a meeting of the sergeants and I'll brief them. In the morning, we'll set out for Montrose.'

Part II Chapter 10: The Gatehouse at Montrose

The journey to Montrose had taken us the best part of four days. We had marched fast, hoping to stay ahead of anyone bearing news about our presence in Southway. I'd taken to riding at the front of the army with the chevron pennant of Southway at the tip of my lance and whether that deceived anyone or not, none of the farmers and merchants we passed on the road did anything other than hurry on by. Three times, however, I'd made owners of sizeable carts stop and using the silver from the chest we had captured, bought their entire stock along with the horses and carts. I'd also persuaded the merchants to renew their activities at Carrick, providing a note with my seal for their permission to trade.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, I rode at the head of a small convoy, with Hernán beside me on a cart, dressed in the garb of a merchant. The young man was nervous but excited and I could hear this in his voice as he called out to me, 'I remember this windmill sire, just an hour to go.'

On his advice, the army gathered in a dip about twenty minutes away from the city. I then sent my four cavalry to skirt around the outside of the city and watch the road to Trolland. Next, trying to show nothing but calm, I arranged for my best equipped infantry to lie in the three carts, eight in each, with canvas thrown over them. We were going to try to seize the gatehouse of Montrose with the goal of raiding the city itself and hopefully its armoury in particular.

With my soldiers hidden, I ordered the three carts forward, aware this at this moment I might just have ordered them to their deaths. There were a lot of unknowns in this enterprise, yet on balance, I felt it had a reasonable chance of succeeding. Again, the driver of the front cart was Hernán and I rode beside him on Goncendor, as if a knight protecting the goods of the merchant.

We progressed under a grey sky, occasionally finding ourselves covered in a fine spray of cold rain. Ahead of us, the walls of the town were massive. Much larger than those of Carrick and with a round tower about every hundred yards. King Wace must have upgraded them to level 2. On the far side of the city was a rectangular keep, whose upper floors were higher still than the town walls and on which the flag of Southway was stretched out by a cool wind that was blowing from the north.

As we rode steadily closer, more details became visible: the heavy portcullis inside the stone arch of the great gate that faced us, currently raised; the gleam of light from the helmets of six soldiers on the roof of the gatehouse; streams of smoke from the many houses and workshops inside the walls of the city.

'Nearing the walls,' I called back over the carts. 'Everyone lie as still as you can now.'

With each step of Goncendor a weight in my stomach grew heavier and I felt more and more anxiety. My big fear was this: five days ago, King Wace would have seen the disappearance of 1 heavy infantry, 9 light infantry and 2 archers from his army menu. The day after that, he lost 2 knights, 4 archers and 6 spearmen. Assuming he was paying attention – and I knew he was no fool, having outmanoeuvred me in the past – he'd understand that his outpost at the river had been lost and then the relief unit.

The gamble I was taking was that he hadn't immediately turned around and reoccupied Montrose with his army. What would I have done, having seen units drop from the menu? Being a loyal ally, I would have wanted to continue to the relief of Callondum, but I'd have sent plenty of light cavalry back to find out and report on what was going on. And I would have reinforced the garrison of Montrose and put them on high alert. Was King Wace cautious? Selfish? I really didn't know him in the slightest; all the insight I had came from the insufferable ambassador Oseso. If I was dealing with Oseso, I'd expect the walls of Montrose to be packed. But although I kept scanning the walls, I could only make out the six helmets gleaming on the battlements of the gatehouse towers.

Was this a trap, to lure me in?

There was a queue at the entrance to the city, where two soldiers in full chainmail stood underneath the raised portcullis, waving through farmers and other citizens. Southway had a similar culture to that of Greyland, except that their people were perhaps a little wealthier than ours: their clothes having been dyed with a greater variety of colour and made with a finer display of silver in the buttons and buckles.

The anxiety I was feeling was unbearable but I made myself relax as much as I could: poor Goncendor was snorting unhappily at the mixed signals I was communicating to him with the tension in my legs and tight grip on the reins.

Then it was our turn.

'Business?'

'Three carts of olives for the market.' Hernán grinned at the guard and spoke with a confidence I certainly didn't feel.

The guard looked at me for what felt far too a long time. 'Please raise your helmet, good sir.'

I did so and gave him a slight nod.

'You are not a knight of Montrose.'

'Greyland, originally, now for hire.'

To my immense delight, the guard waved us on.

'Wait.' From the far side of the cart, the other guard had his hand on his sword hilt and was scowling. 'I know those horses. And that cart. But I don't know that youth, nor that knight.'

'Everyone out!' I gave a roar and using Quick Draw pulled the lance from across my shoulders and into my left hand.

As the confusion of sound behind me welled up, the alert guard shouted, 'drop the portcullis!'

Without hesitation I urged Goncendor forward and only after the massive iron gate slammed to the ground between me and my soldiers, did I appreciate that in a moment that had allowed for no reflection, I'd made a choice. And as I closed over my helmet preparing for the fight ahead, I felt no fear only resolution.

'Guards! Guards! Seize this knight!'

'Alarm! Alarm! Enemies at the gate.'

To the sound of feet running down stairs and the noise of my men scrambling from the carts, the two Southway heavy infantrymen drew their swords and unstrapped their shields.

'You just made a big mistake, sir knight, choosing to come our side of the gate. Your men can't help you now.' The guard who was further away from me jeered and began to move around to my shield side. Despite his mocking words, he was cautious though, keeping some distance away. And his comrade too was staying well back, too far for me to lunge.

Slipping my right foot from its stirrup I caught the two by surprise when I dismounted. I ran to an open door through from which I could hear the tramp of several feet. It was a simple room: wooden table; four chairs; the debris of a meal; a stack of old ledgers. In the far left corner was a stone stairwell that curved up and out of sight and that's where the noise of the onrushing guards was coming from.

Although the two men outside were following fast, I was faster still and running up the stairs, two at a time, lance point in front of me, crashed into the oncoming guards.

Lunge!

You have hit a swordsman of Southway for 24 hit points.

You have killed a swordsman of Southway.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You have gained 3,800 Experience.

I had caught the oncoming guard completely unaware with a powerful strike to his throat. The body collapsed, tripping the man behind him who fell face first into my legs. Stamping on the shoulders and head of this fallen guard, smashing him into the ground, I jabbed at the third arrival. I didn't have room to swing the lance as a slashing attack, but my thrusts kept the newcomer at bay while I used my powerful strength to deliver devastating kicks to the man underneath me: on the fourth proper stamp to his head, he died.

You have kicked a swordsman of Southway for 7 hit points.

You have killed a swordsman of Southway.

You cannot become better at Kick.

You have gained 3,800 Experience.

From behind, I took a sword blow to my lower leg and lost 7 hit points. The two guards from outside had arrived.

'He's trapped! He's trapped! Get into him!' came the cries from below. I didn't feel trapped. I felt like I had them where I wanted, unable to circle me in large numbers. Now I scrambled further up the stairs, clambering over the two dead bodies and although the soldier above me tried to interpose his shield, a feint to his head opened up a thrust to his ribs, which was an 8 hit point blow.

Again, I took 7 damage from the stab of a sword into my lower leg but a vicious reverse strike with the base of the lance connected with the man's shoulder and he reeled back. Another step upward and as the Lunge counter had reset, I feinted and feinted until the box appeared and I could strike right through the chainmail armour of my opponent and into the softness of his ribs. That made three dead.

Three more Southway soldiers waited for me above, crowding on the stairs, unable to come at me more than one at a time. And the first was hesitant. So I span around and brought the lance through an upright position and then down, to give me a killing blow into the upturned face of the man I'd stunned.

The other guard below me came on undeterred, shouting up the stairs, 'come on boys! He's just one.'

'Did you ever wonder what happened to King Carlos?' I asked him as I parried the guard's attacks and drove him back down to the room below.

'You're not him. He's fat. And he'd never come here with so few troops.' But the man looked worried.

'Surrender.' By way of encouragement, I used the Light spell of the lance to make the blade glow as if white hot.

'I don't believe you.'

That was his last thought; I used a Lunge to stab into his heart.

Leaving the three soldiers upstairs, who showed no desire to come after me, I ran back out of the room and into the entrance tunnel. My soldiers were trying to lift the portcullis and were having some success, it was a foot off the ground. Nearby, however, two enemy crossbowmen were frantically winding up their bows.

'Drop those bows and surrender.'

This time, the Southway soldiers took me more seriously. Perhaps because by now my black armour was covered in blood; also too, the effect of the Light spell was strong here, under the dark walls of the city's main entrance. It threw everyone's shadows against the walls in an ominous fashion.

They dropped the bows.

'Lie face down.'

Although reluctant, the moment I stepped forward, lance poised to strike, both archers hastily got to their knees and then the ground. Keeping an eye on them, I moved to the portcullis and bending at the knee, got a shoulder under one of the cross bars and shoved. No good. Somewhere high up in the apparatus was a bolt or something stopping the heavy iron structure from rising.

Now I ran and collected the crossbows, sliding them under the small gap beneath the portcullis. Then, after eager hands on the other side had picked them up, I made the two prisoners lie down near to the gate and gave all their bolts to my men.

'I'll find the mechanism. Shoot these if they get up.'

There was a door on the other side of the entrance tunnel to the one I'd been in. I took it and found a similar room with stairs on the far side. Running up those I came to a corridor that stretched back across the entranceway below it. Light came from arrow slits on my left. Half way along on the right was a door and the room with the three soldiers I knew about was at the far end.

'He's here,' one of them said, turning to me, sword raised.

'Surrender. I'm King Carlos. I'm level eleven and I haven't even got warmed up.'

The sword clattered to the ground.

'He's lying.'

'No, he's got that lance. I saw it at Adelaide's Crossing.'

'What? When the fat man ran from us?'

'He's not fat now.'

The other two soldiers came into view. They dropped their swords.

'Go down and lie on the ground by the portcullis.'

When they were shuffling off down the far stairs, I turned my attention to the door. It opened in the direction of the portcullis, so surely this was where the mechanism was? There! There was a complex wheel and gear system, but it was clear enough where the handle was for raising the metal gate. Placing the lance on the ground, I leaned into the vertical bar that should have moved a large gear around, but of course the portcullis was blocked. Every second was precious and I was cursing until I found the obstructions. There were two bolts slotted into the system so as to prevent the portcullis from being raised: one on each side.

Having pulled them out, the gear turned easily enough and with a rattle of metal chains the gate rose. From below came a cheer that was really loud, echoing around me in this confined space. I brought the portcullis all the way up, threw a leather loop over the handle that seemed to be designed to hold it from moving further and slammed home the two bolts for good measure. Then I picked up the lance and ran back down.

'What are your orders, sire?' Fanon was there, teeth showing white in his thick beard as he grinned at me.

'Send a fast rider for the rest of the army to hurry up. Secure this entrance tower and get ready to receive more prisoners.'

'Don't you want us at your side?'

'It's a big town and there are more soldiers. You could easily be overwhelmed while I'm fine. Wait until the rest of the army gets here. Then you can order an advance on the keep.'

'Good luck sire. Riding underneath on your own was brave. It's an honour to be with you this day.' The burly infantryman held out his gauntleted hand and I shook it.

'Thank you, Fanon. Let's make it a day to celebrate.'

Part II Chapter 11: Jailbreak

Leaving my soldiers to secure the gatehouse, I ran up the tunnel and out into the daylight. Ahead of me, a long, straight road led past houses and shops towards a square. There were several citizens on the streets and a few were staring at me from a distance. Goncendor was here and his ears pricked up as he saw me.

'Hey there, my true friend.' I patted my stallion's shoulder and – first ending the Light spell – slotted the lance across my back so I had my two hands to haul myself up into the saddle. No sooner had I remounted than I saw a party of a dozen swordsmen emerging from the square at run towards me. Immediately, the civilians on the street scattered.

Drawing my bow, I picked off the first with a fine hit at long range, he was down but I didn't get a kill message. The next died, arrow in his throat. After the third was hit in the chest and died, the others realised their charge was futile and scattered into the side streets and shop fronts. While I studied the street, bow raised and arrow nocked, a crossbow bolt skittered off the armoured flanks of Goncendor, causing him to whinny and jump sideways.

Where had that come from? There was movement from the town walls to my right. Ten or so soldiers were running along the wall-walk from a nearby tower, aiming for the gatehouse, while on the tower itself, a crossbowman popped up and pulled the trigger of his bow: instinctively I released at him, my arrow flashed past his bolt as the two missiles crossed each other. Both of us hit, but where his smacked into a plate of my lower abdomen with the ricochet taking it away, my shot struck him in the head and killed him.

Even before receiving the death notice of the crossbowman, I had used Quick Draw to bring another arrow into position and caught the leader of the soldiers running along the wall-walk in his right shoulder. The arrow went deep and the man fell against the wall, his mates making the mistake of stopping to lift him and bring him along with them. This gave me time to kill two more Southway heavy infantry before they arrived at a door that should have given them access into the gatehouse tower. But when the lead soldier pulled at a large, black metal handle, the door didn't budge.

The reason why soon became clear, as on the top of the tower, two of my men appeared with the captured crossbows and took aim at the figures below them. The cries of the dismayed Southway troops reached my ears and as one of the soldiers lifted up a shield to protect him from the bolt from above, I loosed my arrow and caught him in the ribs under the arm, killing him. Caught between missiles arriving from two directions, the others now turned and ran back towards the safety of the tower they had come from. My next shot killed a straggler, but the two bolts that came from my men both missed.

Both the Greyland soldiers gave me a salute and I waved back to them. So far, so good.

How many Southway soldiers was that now? I'd killed the initial two guards, three more on the stairs and taken five prisoners. Coming from the square I'd seen about twelve heavy infantry and running along the wall there had been ten, plus a crossbowman. Thirty infantry and three crossbowmen so far. Whatever the totals I was facing in the town, it wasn't just the twenty infantry that Guy had told me about.

While my attention had been on the walls, the party in the street, or at least some of them, had been moving towards me, still trying to take advantage of the cover of stalls and shopfronts to encroach on me without being targets. I restored the Bow of Accuracy to its sling at my saddle and drew the Lance of Light once more.

Goncendor was eager to have a purpose and he snorted with apparent approval as I urged him forward. Cantering toward the first of the enemy soldiers, I feinted as though intent on striking him in the head, but in fact dipped the lance at the last moment to get under his shield and strike his thigh. The soldier span away and while I didn't get a death notice, he was lying groaning and clearly unable to rise.

With impressive courage, half a dozen infantry charged toward me, wielding swords and shields.

I heard myself laughing as Goncendor led me straight down the middle of the road towards them. Twirling the lance above me, I slashed down left and right as we charged past one opponent after another at a gallop. By the time we had reached the square, I had left a trail of wounded and dead Southway soldiers in my wake, at a cost of just 16 hp loss. At 30 down in total, I was still on 94.

Similar to Carrick (were all city centres the same?) the large, central cobbled square adjoined a keep that had obviously been upgraded several times. The keep was more impressive than that at Carrick, with an iron-bound door; crenellated walls; and even small corner towers. The square itself was empty, but standing on the top of the wide stone stairs that led up to the keep door were three people. A woman in chainmail – wearing a hauberk with a chevron and holding a book in one hand and a mace in the other – stood between two knights in plate mail.

I looked carefully around the nearby buildings, then studied the roof of the keep, and judging it safe to do so, walked Goncendor across the square and to within hailing distance of the group. Assuming the woman was a Cleric, I was going to use a Holy Light to blind her, rather than risk her having a spell like Hold Person that might undo me.

'Black knight,' called the woman, 'what realm are you from and what do you seek here?'

I lifted my helm. 'I am King Carlos of Greyland and I seek revenge.'

She sneered. 'Don't try to fool me. I have seen King Carlos, running away from the field of battle. He couldn't even ride a horse. And his realm is in ruins.'

I cast Light and the lance flared up brightly, even in the daylight it was strong enough to cause her to blink and shield her eyes with her book.

'You have his lance, but you are not King Carlos. I ask again: what realm are you from? Because King Wace will not forgive this assault and your ruler has made a terrible mistake.'

'I am the same man whom you saw run from battle. If you were truly there, you'll remember the ruined tower on the hill. You'll remember that you sent a Ranger, an Assassin, and a Warrior after me. Well, I killed them and escaped. And in the months since, I have had but one thought. To prepare myself for victory over you and Trolland.'

'Even if you are him, you realise that you cannot hold this city? That King Wace will return soon?'

Why was the Cleric talking to me? Instead of trying to fight me? My guess was that despite her bravado, she was afraid. Probably, I should just kill her and the knights, then enter the keep to see what valuables were stored there. But there was something cold blooded about that, which despite my determination to eliminate Southway from the game was unpalatable. She would have to make the first move.

I walked Goncendor around in a circle, checking that there was no ambush being prepared while we talked. Other than civilians, who quickly ducked away from the doors and window from where they were watching, there was no movement. I came back to face the Cleric. 'But what will your king return to? His troops killed? His Cleric dead too? His workshops on fire? I have hundreds of soldiers at the gatehouse, soldiers who remember what your army did to Carrick, did to their sisters and wives. We will take what we want and burn the rest.'

'If you do that, you will never see your Paladin alive again.'

My heart began to beat faster. Obviously, it had occurred to me that Lord Arval might be imprisoned somewhere in Montrose, but I hadn't dared raise my hopes.

'Go on,' I said.

'I have a soldier at his cell. If I give the word, your Paladin will be executed.'

'I don't believe you have him here, you are bluffing. I see no reason to call off the attack.'

'Fetch the prisoner,' the Cleric called out to someone inside the keep.

Again, I scrutinised the walls and the buildings around me. Two of the swordsmen I had ridden past, and who had avoided my charge, entered the square. I watched them carefully as they skirted me to join the Cleric on the steps. By the time they had reached the keep, two other Southway infantry had appeared, holding Lord Arval between them.

My former general was in a grim state. His body was emaciated and covered in bruises and sores. I knew from the character sheet I had access to that he was only on 12 hit points. They must have been beating him regularly to keep his health low. That thought made me clench my jaw in anger. Chains around his wrists and ankles, though, meant it would be difficult to force an escape and if I cast Holy Light I would blind him along with his captors.

'Lord Arval,' I said and the Paladin raised his head to look at me for some time. What was in that expression? Exhaustion and pain at first; then puzzlement and disbelief; and last, before his head sank down once more, a nod of recognition and hope.

The Cleric waved towards the building and Lord Arval's two guards hefted him up to his feet and turned to leave.

Goncendor shuffled uneasily and I had to look over my shoulder to address the leader of the Southway forces. 'Release Lord Arval to me and I will spare you and the remaining soldiers.'

'Agreed. But you have to leave the city first.'

I laughed. 'You ask me to trust you? Never.'

'Then we are at an impasse,' observed the Cleric. Behind her, the two guards and Lord Arval disappeared from view. The swords of the soldiers were in their scabbards, so that both their hands could lift the Paladin by his upper arms.

Again, I ran over the idea of blinding the group and trying to force a rescue. This time taking the idea more seriously. The difficulty would be getting past the Cleric, two knights, and the two swordsmen, so that I could reach the men holding Lord Arval before they killed him.

Excited as I was to see the person who was the closest thing I had to a friend in this world, I reminded myself that the main point of this raid was to get arms and equipment for my army. Judging the situation by the behaviour of the Cleric, I believed this was possible. If she had many more troops to command, she wouldn't be negotiating with me at all. Probably, there was nothing to stop my troops from making a raid on the armoury, barracks, keep and stores, nothing other than consideration for the safety of Lord Arval.

I sat there on Goncendor, still alert to my surroundings: aware of a pair of starlings, flitting in and out of the thatched eves of a nearby bakery; aware of the flag of Southway on the pole in the middle of the square, struggling to raise itself in a light, cold breeze; aware that if King Wace were checking his menus regularly, he'd know I was here and that time was against me. And I was aware too that my teeth were grinding against each other, that my hand was clenched tight around the lance and that I had calculated the size of the doorway, the height of each stair, and made some kind of decision.

'Come on!' Goncendor responded at once, charging for the door, and I launched a Holy Light of Miya that went streaming from the lance to explode above the group standing there.

'Guards! Guards!' the Cleric was shielding her eyes as if that could possibly help her. 'Kill the prisoner!'

As I'd anticipated, the stairs were wide and broad enough that Goncendor could take them at a canter and while any of the five figures would have made an easy target, I simply rode right through the middle of them, retaining my lance position for the guards inside. To the groans of those knocked away either side of my stallion and the clatter of iron hooves on stone, I ducked under the lintel of the keep door and rode on down the corridor.

They were still in sight; Lord Arval, momentarily freed by the motion of the guards towards their swords, had shoulder-barged the one on my right, so I targeted the one on the left with Lunge.

You have hit a swordsman of Southway for 20 hit points.

You have killed a swordsman of Southway.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You have gained 3,800 Experience.

Vaulting from Goncendor, I hurried to help Lord Arval. Despite his arms being chained behind his back and despite his weakened condition, he had managed to knock over the soldier, who was swiping with his sword at the Paladin from the floor. I stabbed the guard in the chest, killing him, and quickly searched the man's belt and pouch for keys. There were none, nor on the other body.

'Cut them with the lance?' suggested Lord Arval and, lying down, spread his arms wide above his head, giving me plenty of scope to slash down without risk of hitting him.

Surely a +3 artefact was capable of this? Even though I convinced myself all would be fine, I felt enormous relief when I struck hard and the iron chains split (and the stone beneath was scored) without the blow leaving a mark on the lance blade.

At once Lord Arval snatched up a longsword.

'I have to deal with that Cleric,' I said.

'I have heals; you go on, I'll catch up when I've cast them.'

Running past poor Goncendor, whose black eyes were showing some alarm at his relatively tight confinement, I emerged into the grey light of day to find the Cleric running away. Somehow, she had removed her own blindness and was guiding the other soldiers away. They had formed a train, holding on to each other's shoulders. They were far too slow and I caught them before they'd reached the nearest lane exiting the square.

'Surrender and you won't be harmed.'

'Sod you, Carlos! And sod your Paladin! And Greyland! And Miya!' The Cleric was in tears. Despite her furious words, she sat down in resignation and the other soldiers followed suit. I took their swords and looked back at the keep to see a cheerful Lord Arval with the reins of Goncendor in his hands. The stallion baulked at returning down the stairs.

'Can you guard these?' I shouted.

'With pleasure.' The Paladin came over at a brisk walk, although I could see he was limping.

Only after I had talked to my destrier, reassuring him with every step, did Goncendor allow me to lead him down the stairs. He was a brave animal in battle, but these steps disturbed him greatly. I loved him for his courage and willingness to follow me and soon I was mounted again, patting him on the neck and telling him how brave he was.

'You're looking well sire.' Lord Arval was grinning broadly enough that I could see missing teeth. 'I hardly recognised you.'

'Seven months of intense training, with not one day missed.'

'Well done sire, well done indeed.' He saluted me with his sword and I gestured back with the lance. 'I knew you were going to come.'

'How so?'

'About ten days ago, I found my meditations to Miya were answered. That I could learn spells again. Until then, I thought you dead and all hope for Miya lost.' Understandably, there was a sense of query in his voice and expression.

'I've a lot to tell you,' I replied, 'but not in front of our enemies.'

In the distance I could hear the distinct sound of troops marching towards us from the direction of the gatehouse and for a terrible moment I thought it was the returning King Wace. They had no banners to distinguish them from the enemy. But almost immediately after I had that awful thought, I recognised Fanon at their head.

'Now,' I turned to the Cleric, 'here comes my army. Tell me, where are the keys to the treasury?'

Part II Chapter 12: My Best Friends are a Necromancer and a Paladin

Some ten miles south of Montrose, a short distance inside a forest, the soldiers of Greyland made camp for the night. Around me, the men and women of the army were in good cheer and I could hear laughter and even singing from those grouped around the various fires that had been started.

We had come away from the city under the sullen gaze of the disarmed and unarmoured soldiery of Southway with carts laden with booty. King Wace, it seemed, was something of a hoarder. The chests of coin with us amounted to a value of 713 gold. We had 23 ingots of iron; a dozen sacks of wheat, amounting to 24 food units and not only had we armed everyone present, but I'd brought away 14 extra spears and 18 battle axes. My raiding army looked like this:

Light infantry, spears, leather armour: 38

Light infantry, shield and longsword, leather armour: 58

Heavy infantry, shield, longsword, helmet, lamellar armour: 18

Archers, leather armour: 26

Crossbows, chain armour: 4

Light cavalry, shield, short sword or lance: 16

Heavy cavalry, shield, longword, lance: 9

At some point during the raid of Montrose, I had lost 4 leather armoured, light infantry from the menu. Clearly, these were the soldiers I'd stationed at the tower by the river. Which was a likely indication of where King Wace had marched with his army. My current guess was that he'd sent a small force to reinforce Montrose and marched the bulk of his force to see what had happened at the tower. I couldn't be sure of this until my scouts had made contact with his army; all 16 of my light cavalry were assigned that task. It was also quite possible he'd continued on to Trolland with the bulk of his forces, having only sent light cavalry to investigate the situation at the tower. But I had to assume the worst-case scenario: that his main army was in the vicinity.

Not that I was worried, just cautious. It was King Wace who was surely suffering and anxious just now, wherever he was. I'd given strict orders to my soldiers not to harm any civilians and that meant not damaging the workshops of Montrose, tempting as that was. We had, however, set fire to the barracks and the piles of wood and cloth that were too bulky to remove from his stores. The Montrose keep itself had a huge blaze going inside of it before we left. It would be a long time before King Wace next slept in a bed there. With the authority of Lord Arval helping me, it had been easy to restrain the troops from pillaging civilians or stealing wine, beer and spirits. We were not like them, as Lord Arval put it.

If King Wace's happiness score had already been at the point where only one or two people joined the menu daily, it must surely have stalled now? He had lost a lot of troops. And the prisoners we had left tied up had no weapons or armour; nor had King Wace any iron or coin with which to begin rearming them. The thought of the captured Cleric reminded me that I had taken her book from her and it was a nice item:

Book of Spell Resistance (Wis)

If this book is held (in either hand), it confers a 5% resistance to magical attacks per point of Wisdom over 15.

I was probably being greedy in wishing that the book's powers worked while in a saddlebag or backpack. Most of the time in battle, I needed both my hands for the lance or my bow. It was the sort of item that should have gone to Carlena for her duels with other spell casters and perhaps I'd give it to my new Sorceress, once she'd levelled up a few times. As I was a long way from her and had no better options here, I kept it for myself.

Thinking of my new Sorceress reminded me of how quickly Carrick was recovering from having been conquered. Thanks to my high happiness score and the abundance of people, I was making rapid progress. Two fishing boats were already at work on the seas and the shipbuilders had just started work on the third. After completing the repair of Wizard's tower level 3 on the march towards Montrose, I had unlocked the option of recruiting a new Sorceress, which of course I did. All I could learn about her was the information on her character sheet:

Jacintha, Sorceress Level 1

HP 4

AC 5

XP 0 (100)

Str 7, Dex 10, Con 9, Int 17, Wis 12, Cha 10.

Spells: 1 x 1st

Spell Book: Detect Magic

I was amused that Jacintha's stats were slightly better than those of Carlena, although not in the crucial one for wizards, where they shared a score of 17 Intelligence. I just wished I could have ordered her to do the town quests and get her level moving upwards. Even better would have been if she could have done so alongside another new character I'd unlocked: a Ranger.

Although there had been no indication in advance that completion of the hunting lodge level 4 would unlock a Ranger, as soon as the timer expired on that construction I got the option of upgrading the current guild mistress to a Ranger who could progress in level. Of course I did so but I also wondered what other level 4 buildings might unlock class options for the guild leaders.

Valeria, Ranger Level 1

HP 8

AC 10

XP 0 (100)

Str 14, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 8, Wis 14, Cha 8.

Top Skills

Wield Longbow                    5

Wield Longsword                5

Medium Armour Mastery 5

Tracking                               5

Spot Hidden                        5

After completing the repairs of the Wizard's tower, I had ordered the repair of the barracks, which took 3 days 12 hours at a cost of 14 stone, 42 timber and 2 iron. Once it was ready, the various options under the 'source' menu became live and under 'other' I found that I could recruit local people to the army, which allowed me to bring Guy onto my menu.

My subsequent repair choice was between church 2; hospital; library; and scriptorium and I had picked library, which needed 8 stone and 48 timber, taking 3 days 8 hours to complete. True, church 2 and a new Cleric was very tempting. But I was weeks away from returning to Carrick and getting the best use from those who could now progress in a class. In the meantime, I'd become uneasy about the fact that I wasn't researching any new technology and would therefore be falling behind the other rulers in that respect.

I could upgrade a building at the same time as making repairs, so I had gone for farm buildings level 2 (12 stone, 40 timber, 2 iron) as even though the Necromancer's delivery of 150 had arrived, I knew I had to keep a focus on food supply with my population growing so fast. Then when the upgrades to the farm buildings were completed after 2 days 16 hours, I'd upgraded the sawmill at a cost of 8 stone, 18 timber and 14 iron so as to lift the cap on the number of carpenters I could recruit. That took four days. And I was currently doing the same for the quarry at a cost of 8 stone, 24 timber and 8 iron.

The overview menu for Greyland's economy therefore displayed:

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: repair library

Currently upgrading: quarry level 1

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income (medium): 60 gold

Treasury: 980

Daily food consumption: 22 units

Grain yield: 260 due in 6 weeks, 2 days

Vegetable yield: 44 food units due in 12 weeks

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 1 day

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 4 units daily

Timber yield: 21 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 8 blocks daily

Smithy yield: …

Weaving yield: Unavailable

Research: Unavailable

Resources:

Wheat: 59 food units

Vegetables: 50 food units

Meat: 2 food units

Fish: 24 food units

Wool: 0 bales

Timber: 32 planks

Iron: 53 ingots

Stone: 60 blocks

Cloth: 0 bolts

The allocation of people to their various occupations looked like this: Soldiers 169; Farmers 60; Fishing Crew 16; Builders 40; Shepherds 24; Hunters 80; Miners 84; Clothmakers 27; Bakers 40; Brewers 40; Carpenters 60; Stonemasons 40; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 10; Idle 108.

Everything was rocking along and there were no obvious pain points, not like my first time around. In the last 12 days, I'd added 144 people to the menu, with a food cost increase of 4. This meant each person required about 1/40th of a food unit daily. That was very manageable and in fact I was already increasing my food stores rapidly: by at least the 4 units a day that the fishing vessels were supplying. In other words, my total population could be 160 higher, before I would be running at an even rate between food creation and consumption.

After realising that I had some scope to look beyond food supply, I decided the time had come to turn my attention to building up my army. I had ample coin and population for this, as well as a reasonable surplus of iron, even after trading with the Necromancer. If the report of King Wace's army was correct, I was about two hundred soldiers behind him and as his production was stalled, it was realistic to hope to catch up quickly.

If it was the case that King Wace was between me and Carrick with his army, there was a danger that instead of returning to Montrose, he'd march on my capital again. Deep down, I didn't believe he would. Rather, he would be panicked by the unexpected raid on his capital. It would be a brave ruler who despite that, kept going on the offensive. And if he were to move too far away from Montrose with his army, whether to the siege at Trolland, or towards Carrick, I could hit his city again, this time perhaps staying until King Wace lost control of his menus.

Whatever the actual scenario ahead of me, it made sense to provide some level of defence for Carrick while I was in the field. I therefore called on 60 of the idle population to train as archers, at a cost of 40 iron ingots, 60 gold and 12 gold to the monthly army cost, bringing the total monthly expense to 58 gold 4 silver. This was 1 gold 6 silver under my current income. I'd worked out that every day on medium tax rates, the 12 new people on my menu brought me an additional 8 silver, so I'd plenty of scope to keep growing the army. I had ample reserves of gold, too, thanks to King Wace.

That evening, enjoying a glass of fine wine – another reason to appreciate King Wace's hoarding habits – I caught up with Lord Arval as we sat at the camp fire before my tent. Also present were Fanon, Isabella and Hernán and while they were perhaps getting used to speaking in front of me, it was clear they were intimidated by the presence of Lord Arval, for they did little more than nod to his words.

Lord Arval had changed. He was not the confident, resolute Paladin I remembered. As he described his captivity, his speech was hesitant and there were silences where we listened to the crackling of the burning wood and waited for him to continue. My general's story was as grim as I had imagined: daily beatings, keeping his hit points to a minimum; a cold, damp cell with insufficient food; constant abuse; no hope once his connection to Miya was broken and he could no longer pray for spells.

Lord Arval was being kept alive, he believed, in the expectation he would either to give in to King Wace and take an oath to serve the king of Southway, or else that his body could be traded to the Necromancer to provide a fresh, high-level corpse out of which a Grave Knight could be created, with the same level as the dead Paladin.

Then, twelve days ago, he found that Miya was able to grant him spells once more. And he guessed that someone, perhaps me (despite the lies he'd been told about my death), had regained control of the Greyland menus. From that moment, he'd taken new heart. Made an effort to walk around his cell and get his strength back. Learned his full complement of spells every day.

'And I said to myself, if King Carlos is alive, he will come for me. I know your heart is true and you don't ever give up.' After a momentary glance that showed me the sincerity of the look in his eyes, the Paladin looked down to tear apart a loaf, eating a fistful with eager appetite. 'Miya's blessing, but this bread is good.'

While Lord Arval ate, it was my turn to go over all that had happened. I found that I could not disguise the bitterness in my voice when I recalled Carlena's departing words: 'I could never have expected that Carlos would have made a better king than you, Sean.'

Lord Arval was horrified at this part of my tale. 'To summon you to this world and then abandon you, after all your efforts on our behalf, that is heartless beyond belief. I always understood her to be ambitious, but never that her ambition would lead her to abandon her king and her god.'

I noticed Fanon shaking his head, face grim; Isabella looked appalled; and Hernán was literally open mouthed. I was glad to see it. For months I had been carrying this incident in my own thoughts and while I firmly believed that Carlena leaving me was an act of utter betrayal, it was a relief to share this feeling and see it was reciprocated.

The mood lightened when I told Lord Arval about my time in the Kingdom of Lost Souls: my daily runs; my grinding out the levels and skill improvements; my focus on building up Strength and Dexterity.

'I can see it,' Lord Arval's smile was admiring. 'At first, I didn't believe it was you when they dragged me to the door and I saw this black knight on a fine stallion. When I last saw you, no horse could have carried you. Now, you are as impressive a warrior as I've ever laid eyes on.'

'There's something I want you all to understand,' I looked from one to the other. 'We owe our recovery of Greyland to the Necromancer. And I personally am indebted for his hospitality and kindness. I am determined to be his ally, through thick and thin. We don't share his beliefs and you will not approve of his animating the corpses of the dead for his army, but he has always behaved honourably, spoken the truth, and from his own perspective, he is doing what is right.'

'I do understand,' replied Lord Arval, nodding seriously. 'I loathe necromancy and desire to return the undead to their proper resting places, but I will consider him an ally if you do.'

For a short while, nobody spoke, then Fanon asked, 'what kind of man is the Necromancer?'

'Thoughtful and careful, I would say.' I cast my mind back to the months I spent in the company of the Necromancer. 'Cold and distant; very earnest; a quick learner; considerate of his people… Perhaps a little too cautious.

Lord Arval chewed another mouthful of bread, then looked over at me. 'You trust him?'

'As you know, it's not wise to trust any other faction in this world. And I certainly don't trust his god, Scrithax. But the Necromancer is a decent man, an ally and, I'd even say, a friend.'

Part II Chapter 13: The Necromancer’s Letter

A good night's rest had restored 8 hit points to me and while I did not feel any more aches than after a hard football match back home, I could see that I was still 22 down at 102. I wouldn't trouble Lord Arval for a cure though, he needed them for himself and a few days without fighting would have me maxed. Soon after breakfast – fresh bread rolls and bacon – I gave the order to break camp and march west.

Thanks to Guy's knowledge of the region, I was following a line of hills, which ran slightly south of direct west. Ten miles to the north – well out of sight – was the road from Montrose to Carrick and the terrain between my army and that road was mostly peat bog. The ground under foot where we were was firm, rocky even. And while I'd abandoned the carts in favour of using packhorses, we still didn't make it to our indented camping spot until very late: near sunset.

Guided by Guy, I had set two points as campsites for a journey back to the river Darkwater. These were the places where my scouts were to rendezvous with us if they could not intercept us as we marched. Against the silhouette of an orange sky, three riders were waiting at a cairn on the top of a small rise. As I had sent out the scouts in pairs, I wondered at the odd number.

For a while, the riders disappeared from view, moving down towards us through the dark shadow of the hill. I made my way through the busy campsite of the army to the western edge of it in time to hear a sentry challenge the riders and their correct response. Two of them were indeed my scouts, the third was a light cavalryman with the equipment and colours of the Necromancer.

'What news?' I asked my men.

'No sign of King Wace on the road north of Montrose, sire. This fella has come the length of it and has a message for you. So we thought it our duty to bring him here.'

There was a questioning note in his voice. And I responded at once. 'You were right, well done. You've ridden hard. Take it easy. No camp duties for you two. Find a tent and a meal and stay with the army until I have more orders for you. You sir –' this to the Necromancer's man – 'come with me.'

'Thank you sire.' My scouts dismounted, while I took the bridle of the newcomer and led his horse back through the camp to my tent. We got plenty of curious looks and I reminded myself to brief the army later. I didn't want to be one of those rulers who kept everyone in the dark; unless there was a particular need for secrecy, I was happy to share my thinking with the troops.

The rider from the Necromancer was a young lad, who could barely bring himself to look at me, so reverential was his manner. When we were both in my tent, he produced a letter, still sealed with the skull design of the Necromancer and as he offered it to me said, 'King Carlos, I had the honour of witnessing your triumph in the duel with Conal mac Tíre, the champion of Rockguard. It was the greatest accomplishment of archery from horseback I have ever witnessed. Beyond what I thought possible.'

'Thank you.' His words were kind, but I did not wish to begin a conversation about that duel as perhaps he wished. Impatient as I was to read the contents of the letter, I ensured only that the youth was provided with food and drink. Then I sat on my camp stool and broke the seal.

To King Carlos of Greyland,

Greetings, my friend and ally. I write on the third day of the new moon to inform you of everything that has occurred since we parted company. For, like captains on ships that sail side by side, the waves that threaten to engulf us and the currents that seek to drag us to the edge of the world are the same. And by sharing with you my knowledge of the weather, wind and tide as I see it, I hope to assist you in your navigation.

Putting aside the naval metaphor, as I am no poet such as to be able to sustain it further, and speaking rather more directly, for which no doubt you will be grateful, I marched for two days towards Callondum, where my scouts reported I would find Queen Rorgesta and the bulk of her army. Still while well within the borders of your realm, I was re-joined by my cavalry, both light and heavy. Thank you for releasing them so promptly. I learned from their reports that you were fully restored to your proper place and I heartily welcomed the news.

That evening I filled a glass in your honour, took out the chess pieces, and thought fondly of the many evenings we spent together. Ours is a lonely position, my friend: at odds with the rest of the world and isolated by responsibility within our own realms. You can understand, therefore, when I say that there are very few people with whom I can converse in quite the same way as I did with you.

I had a secret plan to apply myself to the game of chess with some of the diligence with which you worked to reform your body and acquire the levels and skills you now possess. My thinking was that even a small measure of the determination you showed would increase my skill at chess. Perhaps even to the point that I could surprise you when we next met. I soon came to realise to my dismay, however, that the game of chess is not amenable to self-discovery: my left hand always knew what my right was planning. We have a saying in my kingdom, 'you cannot climb on to your own shoulders'. We use it usually to mean that one must have friends to scale a height and I now believe that it applies to those wishing to learn the game of chess. You may or may not therefore be pleased to know that your advantage in this game remains.

As you know, my army makes slow progress but after three more days with no sight of the enemy I left your domain for that of Rockguard. Our erstwhile but entirely untrustworthy ally King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin resupplied me as was his obligation following the defeat of his champion. The memory of that duel prompts me to express in writing the thoughts that I believe I articulated on the day, but am happy to do so again here. You, sir, are one of the greatest warriors in this world. I knew when you stepped forward for the fight that I would witness a memorable duel and I was not disappointed, no indeed. I pride myself on having a ride warhorse skill of 47. Not many spellcasters will have devoted the time to achieving such a high figure. Your mastery in the same skill was evident that day as was your understanding with Goncendor, whom I hope continues to serve you as valiantly as when he carried you again and again into the savage trading of blows that took place between you and Conal mac Tíre.

I crossed the river Everwald at Castel Sliabh, taking the opportunity to receive a full report from Sicaria, whom, you will recall, I assigned to the task of making sure King Cillian stays true to his agreement. I do not believe my ambassador is particularly pleased with the assignment, but she appreciates its importance. So long as Rockguard is even nominally serving our alliance, our realms are connected by friendly territory and I can risk advancing into Trolland and beyond. As far as Sicaria is aware – and she is no fool – King Cillian has no secret communication with any other ruler. She asked after you and sends her congratulations and respects.

Taking the road east, I then entered Trolland and encountered very little resistance. Queen Rorgesta had some light cavalry monitoring my progress, but we scattered them with my own considerable numbers of cavalry and thereafter had no interruption in the march to Callondum, where Queen Rorgesta makes her stand. I can understand her thinking. Callondum has been built in the foothills of the Snowfell Mountains, a near-impassable range of severe peaks. It would be very hard to surround the city and attempt to starve it into submission, because my troops would be stretched out too much among the hills to the east of the city. The walls of the town are tall, with round towers after every hundred-and-fifty feet or so. Strangely, these walls have been built with a local sandstone that is full of silicates that glitter, especially when the sun is bright or setting. It is like besieging a fairy castle.

I had, of course, no thought of conducting a long siege. No, I intend to go in through the front gate as soon as possible. Having first dug trenches and built a palisade to General Stakigos's satisfaction (he also sends his greetings along with his heartiest handshake), we set up our two trebuchets behind the safety of our defences. You may have observed that the common soldier is a creature of ready wit and those of my army who are not undead have christened the two machines of war Carlos and Shamas. My proper name, which I haven't used since the school in which I trained before becoming Necromancer, being Šamaš-zeru-iqiša.

Daily, and throughout the night too, Carlos and Shamas hurl their heavy rocks against the gatehouse of the city without reply. We are vigilant, it hardly needs to be said, against an attack from the city. It seems that Queen Rorgesta does not have sufficient forces to allow her to take the risk of a sortie. Or perhaps she anticipates the arrival in the near future of her ally. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, our winged gifts have been making their mark. The fairy castle is no longer so fair. Her crenellations are all battered down. Her first gate is mere frame, with the wooden heart smashed through. Her stonework is scarred all over the gatehouse and the walls beside.

At the end of every day, at sunset, I give a crate of wine to the crew of the team that scored the finest hit. The judgement is by acclamation. I invite my knights to cheer for Carlos and then for Shamas and decide upon the loudest. The morale of my army is high and in a matter of days my zombies will be able to storm the entrance to the town. You might not appreciate my saying so, but those cultures who bury their dead, rather than burn them, are more vulnerable to my magic. The graveyards of Trolland that lie within my grasp have provided me with another fifty troops and it will not be a happy day for the citizens of Queen Rorgesta when their dead return.

My one concern was that King Wace would appear from the south and that with a timely sortie by Queen Rorgesta, I would face a stiff challenge. You know better than I that there is no sure outcome to battle and it has often happened that the larger, stronger army has fled the field. Too many considerations come into play at the actual moment of impact for anyone to be confident of the result. Naturally, I sent very many scouts southwards and they did indeed make contact with the enemy. The first report put King Wace at two days away, with an army approximately four hundred strong (half light infantry, which is not too disturbing, but along with fifty archers, some thirty crossbowmen in chain armour make this force formidable in circumstances when missile exchanges are allowed to take place for some time).

I write to you today having received the wonderful news that King Wace's army has abruptly turned around and departed, leaving the road in a direction that I can see would take him to the southern crossing of the Darkwater. It is my belief that you have made some kind of diversion, as you had promised you would. It is so early in your repossession of the menus of Greyland that I can scarcely expect you to offer me substantial military assistance and I would have quite understood had you secured your own defences before taking to the field. Yet I know you well and especially from the way you play chess. You prefer action over caution, even if the action comes with associated risks. If I am right, then I shake your hand with gratitude. You have caused King Wace to change direction at a critical moment and now, even if he rushes north again to aid his ally, I believe he will arrive too late.

If you are in the field, if you read this, then know, your actions have been sufficient. Do not feel obligated to make any further sacrifice or take any further risk. The army of King Wace will be too great for you to tackle alone at this time. Retreat now, my friend, satisfied you have played your part in the siege of Callondum. If all goes well here now, I shall be on the march southwards within a week and that will be the time for you to show your hand and assist with the destruction of Montrose. Until then, keep safe my friend and keep away from King Wace's army.

One last note, your ambassador, Figus, was here. He spoke to me at length and took a particular interest in your duel with the champion of Rockguard. Understandably, he found it hard to credit that you could ride at all, let alone release arrows with unerring accuracy while at a gallop. He asks me to put in this letter that he will return to Carrick and await you there.

And so my account is done. You will understand from this how the weather lies and what decisions to make. May we meet again soon and until then, be safe.

Your friend,

The Necromancer

Part II Chapter 14: The Bard’s Return

As soon as it was light on the morning following the arrival of the Necromancer's letter, I sent the messenger from the Kingdom of Lost Souls back on his way with my reply. Given that I was not a great writer and that some of what I wanted to say to the Necromancer would have been useful to the enemy if the rider was captured, I limited my reply to my ally to four points I made verbally: I had successfully raided Montrose while King Wace was absent; I had with me a relatively fast-moving force of about 170 soldiers, all armed; I was well supplied and intended to stay in the field while avoiding battle with King Wace's army; and I would rendezvous with the Necromancer on or soon after his arrival at Montrose.

Having checked that the messenger could repeat these four points accurately, I sent him on his way with sufficient food and grain for him and his mount. Then I called on my two light cavalrymen and ordered them to Carrick. Firstly, they were to order Figus to try to join me. I provided a list of landmarks and approximate dates for my plan to reach the river – compiled with Guy's help – then, depending on the position of King Wace's army, I intended to go north for two days, and then east to be able to watch the road from Callondum to Montrose.

I also gave the riders a message for the new Ranger and Sorceress: they should concentrate on performing the town quests and levelling up.

Lastly, I implemented a plan I'd been mulling over in regard to communicating with Carrick from a distance. Not long after I'd arrived in Carrick, I'd met the guildmaster Carpenter – a bald, stocky man, who had looked at me with thoughtful eyes – and asked him did he wish become the guildmaster Shipbuilder instead. Which he did. That man seemed a steady sort and the kind of person whom I could trust to understand my idea, which I wrote out three times, once for each messenger with a copy for myself.

Transfer of 5 Shipbuilders to the Smithy: beware enemy approaching.

Transfer of 5 Shipbuilders to the Library: send all available troops to Three Ways.

Transfer of 5 Shipbuilders to Clothmakers: send all available troops to the southernmost bridge on the Darkwater.

Transfer of 5 Shipbuilders to Shepherds: send all available troops to Adelaide's Crossing.

To alert me to hurry back to Carrick for an emergency: set fire to the Clothmakers' workshop.

It was basic and no doubt I could evolve it to be more sophisticated over time (was there a way of spelling out letters even? Transfer one person to Alchemist for A… and so on) but this was a system that I could use to at least cover the most likely scenarios that I might want to manage from a distance.

Once my riders were away, I walked to the field where I would find Goncendor and began to groom him ready for his armour and our day of riding. Knowing he responded well to the sound of my voice, I talked to my warhorse as I ran the brushes over him. While I browsed the menus, I explained to Goncendor the state of the Carrick economy. There was just one more day and twenty hours until the library was repaired, after which I could resume researching technologies like Trebuchet. When the library repair timer ran down, I would almost certainly repair the church level 2. There was still two days and twelve hours to go on the upgrade of the quarry. It wasn't so obvious what my next upgrade should be after that. The fact that the option of obtaining a Ranger had unlocked when the hunting lodge reached level 4 was intriguing. I would have to take that into consideration and think about whether any of the other buildings might be associated with a class progression on reaching level 4.

I had 76 stone in the stores, which I needed mostly for the church; yet the other consideration was my military menu. Under the buildings sub-menu, I had a lot of repairs to make: keep level 2; curtain walls level 1 (Three Ways, breached); towers level 1 (quayside tower damaged; Three Ways tower damaged); town walls level 1 (gatehouse damaged); tower machicolations (incomplete Three Ways, quayside and gatehouse). The sooner I started to ramp up stone production and fix these defences the better, especially as there was not only a chance of King Wace trying to exploit my absence but also one of the other rulers I had yet to meet could easily mount a raid by sea.

When Goncendor was ready and two soldiers came with his barding and harness, I sent out the order to assemble the army before departure. The intensity of sound around me increased as men and women hurried to take their tents down and pack equipment onto our train of horses and ponies. Sergeants cried to their troops to hurry up and soon, after a cold flurry of rain, they were ready.

I took up position in the centre of a circle of my soldiers and explained that we had already achieved a great deal by causing King Wace to interrupt his march to the aid of Queen Rorgesta. The Necromancer, I said, was now confident of taking Callondum, after which he would march on Montrose. My plan, therefore, was to try to stay in the field and join the Necromancer in that attack. We had already delivered a sharp blow to King Wace, whose happiness score and economy must be in crisis. Without giving him the opportunity to close with our army, over the coming week we would circle around to the north of Montrose.

There were no cheers at the end of my speech, but then, it wasn't the kind of pre-battle rallying moment that invited a rousing roar or two. The mood of the troops as they moved out seemed cheerful enough though. With Lord Arval riding alongside me, I took up a position in what was roughly the midpoint of the army.

The weather was distinctly cold even though we were approaching mid-summer. I wondered whether the thin-looking Lord Arval would benefit from a cloak and he caught my concern.

'Three Cure Light Wounds and two Cure Moderate Wounds a day will do wonders for a person,' he smiled and I decided he'd prefer me to make light of his suffering than be solicitous of his health.

'Shame they don't put the colour back into your beard.'

'Aye,' he laughed and rubbed his chin. 'There's a lot more grey here these days.'

'You're looking well though.' While his physique was more frail than I was used to, back on horse in a suit of plate mail we had captured from Montrose and holding a lance, Lord Arval still had the air of a formidable warrior.

'I just wish I had my ring, shield and Trueblade.'

Unfortunately, we had not been able to find Lord Arval's magic items in the keep at Montrose. No doubt they were serving King Wace or his best fighters.

'That reminds me, I have a Ring of Wisdom, you can borrow it until a Cleric joins us. It might help you skill up more swiftly.' I dug around in my pouch and produced it.

'Is it not of use to you sire? Your Charge feat is Wisdom based, is it not?'

I threw the ring across, which he caught adeptly enough. 'It is, but I used my attribute points from levelling up to increase Intelligence and Wisdom. My base Wisdom is eighteen now and the plus two from the Lance of Light puts me at the cap.'

'At the cap? At twenty? That's incredible,' Lord Arval took off his left-hand gauntlet and placed the opal ring on his middle finger. 'Thank you sire.'

Our campsite goal was a deserted village at the end of the range of hills we were following, where the land then became stony and difficult before reaching the banks of the Darkwater. Four of my scouts were waiting at the village and long before we arrived at our destination, they must have seen us, because they came riding along the left hand side of the column, calling my name.

With a wave of my lance, I signalled my presence and they rode up fast to me. The entire army came to a halt, Lord Arval drew nearer and of course all the footsoldiers ahead of us shuffled back to listen to the reason for their haste.

'Sire!' an eager scout reported, 'we have contact with the army of Southway. He is marching west.'

West. 'Blood and thunder!' I could hardly believe it. King Wace was displaying extraordinary daring and boldness to march for Carrick and away from Montrose. I'd underestimated him. And I wouldn't be able to stop him. So I'd have to counter by hitting Montrose again, harder this time, occupying it. The end result would probably be that both of us would lose control of our menus. We'd be occupying each other's capitals, to our mutual destruction. This was awful news.

'Sire, he means east,' said another scout, an older woman.

The first one blushed. 'Sorry sire, I do mean east.'

I drew a deep breath to calm myself. 'East. Back towards Montrose?'

'That's right sire,' the second scout took over. 'He's almost directly north of us now, on the road, perhaps a little east. His army consists of two hundred and twenty spears; a hundred and twenty axemen in chainmail, fifty longbows, twenty crossbows in chainmail, thirty light riders and twenty-four knights.' The woman spoke with evident satisfaction in her own thoroughness.

'Give these scouts each a bottle of King Wace's finest and give that woman two.' I gestured to the speaker. 'Well done scouts. Do we have riders following King Wace's army?'

'Aye sire, four.'

'Camp with us tonight and receive your new orders in the morning.'

***

For the next four days, I followed the army of King Wace, always keeping at least ten miles between us. Not that he did anything other than take the road directly towards Montrose. When at last he entered his capital, I moved north, along the road to Callondum, until, a day and a half from Montrose, I went east, to set up camp in the forest whose edge came to within a few hundred yards of the road. Based there and still with ample supplies, my soldiers enjoyed a rest from all their marching, all except the light cavalry, who were stationed as scouts both north and south of my position. For the others, though, it was a rest that was made all the more replenishing by the beautiful summer weather.

On the evening of our second night in the forest, one of my scouts brought a rider into camp and I found a real sense of warmth rise up in my chest when I realised it was Figus, the realm's ambassador. When my life had been in danger at the battle of Adelaide's Crossing, the Bard had done all he could to save me. And he had not abandoned me in the aftermath of my losing control of the menus of Greyland.

When Figus came over to my tent, I stood up and clasped his outstretched hand in both of mine. Then I had a close look at him. Still the same striking, bleached hair, combed up and across his confident forehead; still the same lively blue eyes; and still the same expensive quality to the clothes he wore (a finely worked leather tunic with silver buckles; a cape of velvet; black leather trousers; shining, high boots). But the expression was different. The usual reservation and scepticism was gone. His was as heartfelt and as earnest a greeting as I'd ever experienced.

'I had imagined this moment in my daydreams,' Figus said, 'only to thrust such thoughts aside as hopeless illusions. Yet, here we are. Greyland is restored to Miya. And you, sire, you are so transformed that it seems to be the work of magic.'

'There was nothing magical about my morning runs. I went out every day, throughout winter too, whether rain or snow.' If there was a boastful tone in my voice, I couldn't help it. I was proud of my efforts to turn King Carlos's body into that of a serious warrior.

'You must recall for me everything that has taken place,' said the Bard and I could tell from the expression of eagerness in how he spoke, that his goal was not just to find out for his own sake, but also for the sake of his epic tale about King Carlos. Well, I didn't mind being mythologised, but I also wanted to learn from him all about the events at Carrick.

Summoning food and drink, I also sent for Isabella, Fanon and Hernán. Lord Arval, too, was alerted of course, and the joy with which the two former comrades clasped each other was a real delight to see.

When we were all settled at the campfire, with many other soldiers finding excuses to linger in the vicinity and listen, Figus explained to us what had happened after he left me.

'I rode hard for Three Ways and reached it well ahead of the enemy. Although we had only fourteen archers to defend the walls, I still had hope. As you had said to me, we had done damage to our opponents, especially King Wace's army. Our troops were dismayed by my news, of course, but I saw in their eyes a determination to fight and hold the line until you found your way back to us.

'Leaving them to wait on my return – I made a mistake sire, I should have given up on Three Ways and concentrated on the city – I rode on to Carrick and ordered the ballista crew to move to Three Ways. While they worked through the night by torchlight to lift the machine down from the quayside tower, disassemble it, and pack it onto a cart, I managed a few hours’ sleep. Although I was exhausted, I did not sleep well.' Figus paused, then gave a self-depreciating shrug. 'My nightmare was that I was to give an important performance of your song, but I wasn't ready. I couldn't remember the words and I couldn't find any clothes to wear.

'At dawn, I accompanied the cart to Three Ways and with me were the very last of our troops, just two light infantry and five light cavalry, veterans from the battle at Three Ways.

'Not long after midday, we saw dust ahead over the road and my heart sank. It takes a lot of soldiers marching to create that much of a cloud, especially on a damp morning such as it was. I ordered a halt and sent the riders ahead. Soon they were galloping back with the grim news, the walls of Three Ways must have been overrun, because there were about a hundred infantry on the road, mostly spearmen from Trolland. And they were carrying tall ladders.

'Abandoning the cart, we turned back for Carrick, those on foot running as best as they could manage. Our hearts sank even further though, when we heard the hammer of hoofs on the road behind us. A dozen enemy cavalry were coming up fast. "You go on sir," the sergeant of the ballista crew said. You'll remember him sire, he was the young who man you joked with after the battle. "You and the two riders." Even though they only had daggers and the two infantrymen with swords, our men on foot formed a line.'

Figus paused, mouth twisted, a very unhappy expression on his face, took a mouthful of wine and gathered himself again. 'They did their best sire, while we three riders raced ahead to Carrick. There, we closed the gates and got the people to bring rocks and items to drop on the enemy up the gatehouse tower.

'As the sun was setting, the Trolland infantry arrived and their officers urged them on straight away, correctly guessing we had no remaining troops to oppose them. With an ugly roar, they came to the walls, raising their ladders at a dozen points.

'The three of us fought as best we could, though I think from the look in their eyes, the other two knew it was hopeless. We got one ladder down and killed several on the next. But soon the enemy were everywhere and had even gotten the main gates open. Then it was just me and I was surrounded and wounded. In the confusion of the wall-walk melee I managed to cast my Disguise Self spell and appeared to be one of them. "Got him," I said and rolled a body away over the drop with my foot. Then, head down, I made my way from the walls and through the streets.'

For a while the Bard said nothing and I heard, quite distinctly, the warble of a blackbird and the crack of a branch in the fire. One tear rolled down Figus's left cheek, which he rubbed away. 'It was terrible cruel, I'm sorry to say. What I saw and heard. The enemy weren't at Carrick to conquer, they were there to destroy. Our women suffered, and if any man responded to their screams, he was butchered. I walked across streets whose gutters were running with blood.

'Still disguised, I hurried down to the quays and ordered a terrified young woman there to accompany me. The merchant vessel you were building was afloat and once on it, I ended my spell and having reassured her, together the girl and I were able to get the sail up on its foremast. The main mast and spanker had yet to be erected but the one sail was enough to get us moving. The girl wanted to go back for her parents, but I could already see soldiers running towards us and in fact they even managed a few bowshots from the end of the pier before we were out of range.

'I'm no sailor and the ship was slow to respond to the rudder. That night we made some progress north but the next day I wanted to come back to shore and could not because of the direction of the wind. Without a crew, it was impossible to row and we were entirely in the hands of a fair wind. There was a slight drift too, away from land, even after we had gotten the sail down.

'Thanks to a heavy rain, we filled some tubs with water, using canvass to direct it. And that was just as well, because it was three days before we got the wind we needed and ran heavily into a rocky beach, breaking the mast. I'm afraid I had to abandon the ship there.' He shot me an apologetic look.

'There's more I could say, of how I travelled to the Vikings and entertained them in the long winter nights with the tale of King Carlos the Rhino. Of their struggle with Rockway. Of my journey to the Necromancer. But tell me sire, is there cause to hope again? It seemed to me that Carrick was back on its feet. That the people were working hard to provide you with all the materials you need to avenge them and protect them.'

'There is cause for hope.' I stood up and addressed not just the Bard but all the troops who had gathered closer to listen. 'We are still recovering, but our economy is racing forward; our buildings are being restored; our army is growing. King Wace is stagnating. Our ally, the Necromancer will soon be marching to Montrose and we shall join him. Greyland is on the march again.'

Part II Chapter 15: Revenge is a Dish Best Served

Two days after the return of Figus – two very pleasant days in which the army recovered from its hard marching – I returned from my morning run to find my scouts had encountered a group of riders from an advanced party of the Necromancer's army. Their report was that the main army of the Kingdom of Lost Souls was just four hours away, marching south on the road from Callondum having conquered that city and captured Queen Rorgesta. Delighted with that news and feeling that the course of events was continuing to run in our favour, I gave the order to strike camp and soon the shouts of my sergeants rang out among the trees.

Pleased with the speed with which tents came down and the soldiers formed their lines, I left the forest and under a clear blue sky led our troops across cultivated fields, our bright green flags fluttering in a light, refreshing breeze. Most of the Greyland banners were of the white galloping rhino, but also I could see the new one given to me by the Necromancer, of the black knight against a turquoise background.

The news of the Necromancer's victory over Queen Rorgesta had obviously spread through the ranks, because the soldiers were in great humour. As I rode to the head of the column, there were many men and women who called out their greetings to me and many others who met me with smiles and nods, ignoring the yells of their sergeants to keep in step.

Once we had arrived at the road after a march of around two hours, I had the army line up either side of it in two equal parts, then set the cooks the task of making food enough for both armies. As a scent of garlic and onion drifted over us, along with the tendrils of smoke from the fires, a cloud of dust took shape to the north; from out of it came the steady tramp of a large, marching army and soon enough after that, the first of the Necromancer's riders came up to us, confirmed that we were the army of Greyland and rode back to make their report.

The Necromancer himself was riding at the front of his army and I was glad to see him. It being a warm day, he wasn't wearing his usual cape. He rode on a large, black stallion, tall in the saddle: regal head of black hair, with a streak of silver at either temple; supple, black leather armour; long, shining leather boots with silver buckles. This was a serious man, whom you would not wish to cross. He radiated authority. Yet his smile was warm enough when he reigned in before Goncendor and I, then raised his arm, causing the tramp of the soldiers behind him to halt.

As the sounds of the soldiers died away, I gave as loud as shout as I could, 'Three cheers for the Necromancer and his soldiers! The conquerors of Trolland! Hip hip!'

'Hurray!' My troops responded to my call with a great shout.

'Hip! Hip!'

'Hurray!' The next response was even louder as they all joined it.

'Hip! Hip!'

'Hurray!' The last was best of all, with the clap of weapon on shield to reinforce the shout.

'Well met, King Carlos.' Looking pleased with the reception, the Necromancer leaned forward to offer his hand and I walked Goncendor a step to join him. 'I appreciate the risk you took to prevent King Wace from attempting to relieve the siege of Callondum.'

'That was a consideration, surely, but my main goal was to equip my army at King Wace's expense.'

The Necromancer gave a polite chuckle.

I gestured either side of the road. 'I thought it would be good for our alliance if our troops shared a meal. Perhaps half of your army with half of mine on this side of the road and same on the other.'

A quick glance at the position of the sun and then down the road ahead was followed by the Necromancer giving me a nod of acceptance. 'Very well, but we are a slow-moving army and I want to reach Montrose before King Wace improves his defences. The zombie horde and the baggage can continue down the road while the living soldiers take a rest.'

He issued orders to his sergeants and then accepted an invitation to my tent, outside of which a trestle table long enough for eight had been set up. There, we were joined by Lord Arval, Figus, Fanon, Isabella, Hernán, and, seated beside the Necromancer, General Strakigos.

King Wace's forests were well stocked with deer, Guy had explained to me that they were for royal hunts only. Which meant a plentiful supply of venison for us and soon bowls of hot stew were served. I was pleased to see the appreciative expressions on the faces of the Necromancer and his general.

General Strakigos was his usual affable self and became especially animated when giving an account of the storming of Callondum. The two trebuchets, Carlos and Shamas, had first of all knocked in the gatehouse. Then, rather than funnel the entire army into the one breach, they had redirected their fire a hundred yards left of the gatehouse and when that wall was sufficiently knocked about, a hundred yards right. That gave them three points of entry and probably did a lot to demoralize the defenders too.

Naturally, the zombies led the way and took a lot of casualties, despite their supernatural strength, but Queen Rorgesta was short of troops and her main force being light cavalry was of little use for street fighting. Eventually, the zombies on the right hand breach cleared the infantry in front of them and General Strakigos committed his reserves to that opening, pouring into the city and surrounding the Trolland troops at the other two battle spots.

'Like you,' said the general looking across at me, 'Queen Rorgesta is a Warlord. Something we hadn't known until that battle. She had the Battle Cry skill and was at the gatehouse trying to rally her soldiers when we overwhelmed her.'

'Did you kill her or capture her?' I asked. It would be interesting to talk to her, given that fate had brought me up and her down.

The Necromancer gave one of his genuinely cheerful laughs. 'You'll see her soon. We have her with us.' With a glance around the table, he added more quietly, 'if I can research the appropriate spell, I can kill her and raise her as a Skeletal Champion. I need a fresh, high-level body for that. Moreover, had she died, control of the Trolland menus would have passed to someone else. And as you have demonstrated, King Carlos, a fall is not the same as a burial.'

As I looked down the road, I noticed a change come over the soldiers. There had been a cheerful tone in the background to our conversation, as you'd expect when a well-fed and well-rested army mingles with the victors of a historic siege. Now, however, all the lively chat and banter ceased. Even the birds, so lively under the summer skies, ceased their calls as a repugnant stench washed over us. It was the division of zombies, whose shuffling tread made for grim viewing. Many of them wore the tunics of the army of Trolland and often I could see on their bodies the wounds that would have meant their deaths.

I pushed away my stew, as did Isabella and Hernán. The others, it seemed, had not lost their appetites and of course Strakigos was as hearty an eater as ever. My efforts to unite the armies were perhaps not as successful as I hoped. How would my soldiers take this vivid reminder that our allies were from no ordinary realm, but that of a demon god and a Necromancer king?

Eventually, some distance behind the zombies, came the baggage train of the army of the Kingdom of Lost Souls. And among it was a cart carrying the dark-skinned ambassador of Trolland, Brythilda, and a fair-haired woman in heavy shackles around both wrists and ankles, presumably the queen herself. I had only seen her briefly, while running away from her soldiers, so wasn't completely sure it was her until the Necromancer stood up and gestured to the cart to stop.

'Would you like to meet Queen Rorgesta?' he asked me.

'I believe I would.'

Both women in the cart were alert and curious as I approached. 'Queen Rorgesta, I presume?' I put one foot on a spoke of the cart and pulled myself up, holding on to the side of the vehicle. 'And Ambassador Brythilda, greetings.'

'Do I know you?' asked the queen.

'No, but your ambassador does.'

'I do?' Brythilda squinted against the brightness of the sun.

'Indeed. You played a masterful deception on me.'

'King Carlos?' Her mouth opened and closed twice in surprise and amazement.

'Himself.'

'This will be unexpected for you to hear,' Queen Rorgesta struggled with her chains to sit up more and turn her surprisingly bright, green eyes to mine, 'but I'm very glad to see you, Carlos.'

'Oh, really?'

'You are my hope. If a ruler can lose contact with his god and yet regain it, then perhaps the wheel of fate will turn for me too.'

'Perhaps.'

'And perhaps you might even be the instrument of that turn in my fortune.' Now she smiled and I almost laughed aloud as her eyes fluttered in a fashion that might have been coy, had she not been bedraggled by her circumstance.

'What on… in the Twenty-Five Kingdoms, makes you think that I could have the slightest interest in helping you, after you betrayed me so cruelly?'

'You've seen his army,' she frowned as she tipped her head toward the Necromancer, who was standing nearby. 'It's unnatural, abhorrent, evil and disgusting. Sooner or later, you'll come to realise that he has to be stopped. His army can be rebuilt from the dead of his battles. If you don't see that this is a danger to the whole world then you are letting the desire for revenge blind you.'

'Unnatural, I'll grant you that. And foul smelling, too. But as for evil, I think you are wrong. I believe the Necromancer is a good man: if goodness means striving to make the world a better place for all and honouring your word.'

Both women looked at me with incredulity and then Queen Rorgesta began a scornful laugh. 'King Carlos, you can be forgiven for having been fooled by me, the webs I weave are complex. But to be fooled by him, that takes a special degree of idiocy, one unmatched by any other ruler.'

I was stung by her words, as she clearly intended, so I drew a deep breath and composed myself before speaking. 'The day I ran up the hill at the battle of Adelaide's Crossing, a group of archers and my Cleric remained at the bottom of it, to give me time to escape. You killed them all, of course. They meant nothing to you. I felt their loss deeply. They could have run, but for my sake and especially for the sake of Miya, their goddess, they chose instead to die.

'I came away from that day determined to avenge them and to fulfil the hope that must have been in their minds at the end: that there was a way back for Greyland.

'Rockguard has surrendered. Callondum has fallen. Montrose will fall. And that's only the start. Together the Necromancer and I are going to conquer the Twenty-Five Kingdoms and release the world from the game of the gods. And I understand why it can appear to be idiocy to help the Kingdom of Lost Souls, but if I'm wrong about him – and I don't believe I am – at least I'll face him in the endgame with a chance of ultimate victory. Your hopes, despite the greeting you gave me, are over.'

With that, I dropped back from the cart and the Necromancer ordered it onwards. The motion caused Queen Rorgesta to slide back down and the last I saw of her was a look of deep misery.

'You're not wrong about me,' the Necromancer said.

***

That evening, the two armies camped near each other about a day away from Montrose. There was a real risk that King Wace would attempt some kind of night-time raid – if I were him I would attempt to destroy the carts carrying the parts of the trebuchets – and perhaps we should have formed one camp out of the two armies. I did not, however, fancy a night among the stench of the zombies and I doubted my soldiers did too. We therefore built our own camp and doubled the watch in case of trouble.

The Necromancer had invited me to his tent and leaving Lord Arval in command, I did of course ride across to see my ally. We were playing chess and enjoying my present, a bottle of King Wace's finest, when it occurred to me that the Necromancer could help inform me about the scriptorium's value in researching spells. Chess still came more easily to me than to him and while waiting for my opponent's move I had been opening my menus and thinking about my choices.

I had repaired my library and already completed the research of multi-story housing as a result. I'd then begun to research Trebuchet. I'd seen how easy it had been for the Necromancer to demolish the walls of Three Ways and whether for defence or offence, I clearly had to have this technology. Following the repair of the library, I'd rebuilt the level 2 church (32 stone, 24 timber, 2 iron) and this had brought me a new level 1 Cleric: Leonora.

After completion of my quarry upgrade, I had 60 people at work as stonemasons, which had been bringing in 11 blocks daily, until I'd spent 10 iron on providing them all with fine steel punches and chisels, bringing my output up to 13. I'd therefore had plenty of stone for the repair of the hospital (living under COVID restrictions made me value every building that reduced the chance of a disease outbreak, which the hospital did) and had just completed the repair of the scriptorium. Which brought me back to the tent, the chess game and the Necromancer.

'My scriptorium is restored and wonder if you can help me: should I devote research time to spells or to economic and military technologies?'

'Umm?' the Necromancer blinked twice, before raising his eyes from the board. 'In your case, almost certainly not spells.' He returned his attention to the board, moved a knight back to provide additional cover for his king, then sat back. I knew my next move, but I delayed it, pretending to study the board so that he wouldn't have to gather his thoughts on my question while also trying to play the game.

After a sip of wine and a nod of encouragement from me, he continued. 'I've spent months on spell research and on the whole it has been disappointing. Let's suppose I do eventually obtain a masterful spell, say Summon Horned Demon, it is not quite the decisive achievement I might hope it to be. In the same time, you could have unlocked and even built several carroballista and scorpions. On a battlefield, the demon might be a match for five or six of those machines but not more. Thus, the gods, as you might expect, have kept the rules of their game in balance.'

'Carlena thought that should I discover Fireball, that it would give Greyland a distinct advantage in battle.'

'Even if you did – and I believe that spell to be very rare – the balance is maintained by the fact her mana pool would permit of only three or perhaps four casts of that spell. Devasting, to be sure, but more devastating than a hundred heavy rocks thrown by a row of four trebuchets over the course of a battle? Now that you have lost your high level spellcaster, I believe you should focus entirely on your military and economic research.'

I thought about this and played my move. 'I might research a few low level spells, which won't take up too much time and might at least allow my Sorceress to level more quickly.'

'There is that,' he muttered, attention lost to me again.

When at last our game was done (another victory for me) the Necromancer showed me a map of Montrose. 'You've been there. Is this accurate?'

I studied it for a moment, recreating my raid and retracing my movements. ‘I believe so.'

'I was thinking of setting up my trebuchets against the western wall, well away from the higher ground to the north. Did you notice whether King Wace had any siege machines of his own?'

'I don't believe he did.'

'Good. Even if he has researched trebuchet in the meantime and even if he has the idle people to create an artillery unit, I believe you took all his treasury and his iron?'

'I did indeed, with great satisfaction.'

The Necromancer smiled back at me. 'Then perhaps we will be unopposed again by any artillery created by King Wace and can repeat the tactics that worked at Callondum. I don't supposed you spotted any graveyards outside of their walls?'

Putting down my own glass, I started to replace the chess pieces on their home squares. 'Is there any limit to the number of zombies you can create?'

'Why do you ask? Is it because of what Queen Rorgesta said? That I'm a danger to the world?'

'Not at all. I was wondering what stops you from sending in your zombies at the first opportunity. I didn't see a graveyard but neither do I see the need for one: can you not just keep recreating zombies?'

He looked solemn now. 'I described earlier how the gods ensure the game they play with us is – from their point of view – a fair one. My strength is limited in two ways: Create Zombie is a fourth level spell, I can only cast it three times a day before depleting my mana pool. Each cast raises up to twenty-four zombies. Perhaps seventy-two zombies a day would be enough to quickly defeat King Wace, but the other issue is a supply one. The bodies I need have to be in a fairly good condition: all four limbs and the head have to be attached to the torso. Unless we find a graveyard, the zombies who are killed trying to storm a breach will not be in sufficiently good shape to re-raise.'

'I understand.' The pieces were all back in place and I stood up. 'Thank you for the hospitality and the game, I had best return to my army.'

'Thank you for the game King Carlos.' The Necromancer stood up and shook my hand. 'And for the confidence you show in me as your ally. I anticipated being entirely on my own in this journey to remove the gods from their control of the world. It makes a great difference to be sharing it with a friend.'

Part II Chapter 16: Lord Oseso’s Plea

'Pull!' cried the sergeant of "Carlos", and, well back from the mechanism, a soldier yanked on a rope to release the heavy blocks at the core of the trebuchet. The weights fell, bringing the sturdy arm of the device upright, to slap against a crossbar and cause the whole machine to shudder. In contrast to the violent motion of the wood and metal casting arm, the net it drew in its wake came swinging around in a motion that was almost elegant as it cast a boulder high into the blue sky.

A hundred and more eyes watched as the projectile flew silently into the distance and descended just over the top of the pole that was mounted on the western gatehouse of Montrose and which was flying the chevron flag of Southway. Half as many groans came from the Greyland soldiers around me.

'Pull!' cried the sergeant of "Shamas" and the machine adjacent to mine launched its own missile, one that shattered the flagpole, causing it to fold like a man punched in the stomach. Cheers rang out from the Necromancer's troops. Of course, they had the advantage of having fired their machine more than a hundred times before, my crew were still learning. There were no hard feelings, therefore, when I presented a straw-packed crate of wine to the grinning Necromancer, who stood near to the machine named in his honour.

We had been at this task for three days and yet no one showed any sign of boredom. When it came to smashing up the carefully constructed works of their fellow beings, soldiers seemed to have the capacity to keep at the task with relish.

'Another?' said the Necromancer. He shaded his eyes and looked towards the gatehouse. 'There's an arrow slit on the right hand tower that is still intact.'

'Let's make that the target all right. But I don't want to lose my last crate to a bet. Your soldiers are just too good.'

As the Greyland crew grunted with the effort of ratcheting up the weights again, my sergeant acknowledged the new target and ordered the team to make small but labour-intensive efforts to the position of the trebuchet.

While the two trebuchet crews worked hard, I took a seat nearby, close enough that I hoped my presence was encouraging, although my attention was really on the Greyland menus.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building:

Currently upgrading:

Monthly trade income: 4 gold 5 silver

Monthly tax income (medium): 67 gold 7 silver

Treasury: 979 gold 5 silver

Daily food consumption: 26 units

Grain yield: 260 units due in 4 weeks, 5 days

Vegetable yield: 44 food units due in 10 weeks, 3 days

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 11 weeks, 6 days

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 6 units daily

Timber yield: 21 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 13 blocks daily

Smithy yield: …

Weaving yield: 4 bolts daily

Research:

Resources:

Wheat: 29 food units

Vegetables: 18 food units

Meat: 1 food unit

Fish: 2 food units

Wool: 11 bales

Timber: 143 planks

Iron: 48 ingots

Stone: 53 blocks

Cloth: 4 bolts

The country was really thriving. I'd completed my third fishing vessel (bringing in 6 units of food a day) and only yesterday had finished the construction of my own merchant vessel (120 wood, 5 iron, 8 days to complete). Now the Necromancer could allocate his merchant ship to any duty he liked and I would still be able to sustain our fortnightly 150 food for 15 iron exchanges. This morning I'd begun a fourth fishing vessel (52 wood, 2 iron, 3 days). My food reserves appeared low but 150 grain from the Kingdom of Lost Souls was due in two days. Factoring in that trade, I was in fact gaining slightly on food production over consumption, even before the grain and vegetable crops ripened.

I'd completed the repair of the wall at Three Ways (90 stone, 7 days) and was currently repairing the tower at Three Ways (60 stone, 4 days).

My finances were excellent. I'd already grown them to cover the cost of the 60 archers I'd recruited and there was a new source of income: tax on monthly trade was bringing in 4 gold and 5 silver. I hadn't made any menu decisions to have brought this into being so it was either the consequence of my growing menu population or the letters and encouragement I'd given to the merchants using the Montrose–Carrick road to sell at my capital city. Overall, I was currently gaining a little over 4 gold a month. Now admittedly, that was only 4 new knights for the army or 13 heavy infantry a month, but at least it was all moving upwards and perhaps there was scope for greater trade income when I understood the mechanism better.

My researchers at the library had completed Trebuchet and I currently had them working on a new level 1 Wizard spell for Jacintha. Thinking of her and Greyland's Ranger, Valeria, my message about questing must have reached them, because they were both level 3. Jacintha, I could see, had unlocked Fire Dart at second and Freeze at third. She had the same spell book as Carlena had at that level and that was a positive. Freeze, I'd seen, was a very useful spell.

The important decisions at the front of my mind were the questions of what to build or upgrade and whether to assign iron to the smithy for a tool or weapon improvement. Since my current defensive priority was to build a trebuchet and situate it at Three Ways, I needed Barracks 2 to be able to construct the machine and to assign crews. It occurred to me too that pushing on to Barracks 4 in due course, as well as unlocking the training of advanced units might bring me another person capable of advancing in class, a Warrior perhaps. The main alternative that I toyed with was to continue upgrading the road from Carrick to Three Ways. I had only managed the first five miles before losing control of the menus.

In the end, prioritising the trebuchet, I chose Barracks 2 (80 timber, 24 stone, 4 iron, 9 days). That left me only 29 stone for new buildings and the attractive options available as a result were Stables (unlocking cavalry units and chariots); Forum; Aqueduct; and Town Houses.

Forum: An enclosed trading area with storage facilities for up to eight merchants.

Aqueduct: A channel for natural spring water to be brought in to the city. Benefits include a happiness increase and a reduction in the chance of a disease outbreak.

Town Houses (units of 12): Allows population increases without overcrowding. Reduces the risk of fire.

The information I could see in advance of my choice was somewhat frustrating. It was only after a building was complete that I could see the precise effect. Aqueduct had been unlocked after I had researched Sanitation and Town Houses after Multi-Story Housing, so it made sense to reap the benefits of the research. Both looked very worthwhile, but I went for the twelve units of town-houses at 24 stone, 48 wood, and 4 iron (7 days). While I had already made some choices that mitigated against a disease outbreak this was the first mention of fire I'd seen on the menu.

Since I had a surplus of 33 iron ingots even after trading with the Necromancer, I decided I could afford to put the smithy to work. Allocating 10 iron, I commissioned 800 fine steel arrowheads, delivery due in four days.

As always, I didn't have the resources and time to make progress in every direction. I wondered, for example, whether I was being dragged by immediate concerns to the detriment of planning for the endgame. A Cathedral level 9 was needed to bring a god – in my case Miya – into the world. Was that a game-winning strategy? Was it desirable? Should I be focused just on that? Should I be picking a building type and pushing it up to the maximum level as quickly as possible? Or advancing all the buildings more or less evenly? From the Necromancer's comments about his spells, it seemed that there would be no obvious exploit to win an advantage. But a lot about the game was hidden from the players and maybe, for example, I ought to keep going with Hunting Lodge, now that it was at level 4? Perhaps at 9 my hunters would not just get more meat but something particularly impressive would be unlocked, such as an option for them to capture a dragon on which I could fly into battle.

Having made myself dissatisfied with my planning, yet unable to see any more clearly the right way to manage my growth, I got up and went to help my trebuchet crew each time they needed to raise the weight at its core. I was easily the strongest person there and while cleverly designed pullies allowed even a small group of soldiers to raise ten times their own weight, my pulling on the ropes made the process easier for them. I took satisfaction too, in the subsequent release of the weapon and joined the cheers when our missile fell from the sky to smash into the gatehouse with a hollow clap that was audible even from where we were watching.

***

That evening, I was talking to Figus in my tent, providing him with the kinds of details from my memories that he really appreciated for the colour they gave to the epic song about me, whose composition he had resumed. A guard lifted the flap and announced, 'ambassador from King Wace, sire, at the edge of the camp.'

'Allow him in.'

Figus looked over at me. 'The last time I saw Lord Oseso, it was from the top of that hill after the battle at Adelaide's Crossing: and didn't he look pleased with himself.'

It was indeed Lord Oseso, still wearing a thick fur-lined cape, despite the warmth of the evening, and with immaculate, well-oiled hair. He came inside the tent, straightened and looked around. 'Well met Figus, where's your fat king? And who is this?'

Standing and giving a bow, Figus smiled with apparent grace. 'Good to see you too my colleague. Allow me to introduce…' He paused for effect. 'King Carlos.'

'King Carlos the Second?' Oseso looked confused. 'Did I not yet learn of the death of the first? Congratulations, sire. There is a likeness I see now, though you are a lion compared to a lame dog. Were you close to your… uncle? Am I wrong to assume he was standing in your path to a deserved responsibility for Greyland's menus?' He gave a low bow and smiled at me uncertainly.

In no hurry to drop the hammer, I looked over at Figus, who was struggling to supress his delight at the misunderstanding of his fellow ambassador.

'If I may speak, sire?' Figus offered and I nodded. 'As you are probably aware, the role of ambassador allows us to gain experience for successful quests, such as to establish a trade agreement. It is a small amount, compared to that from combat, but can be noticeable. I'm sure, for instance, that when Lord Oseso deceived King Carlos – and me, if I'm being honest – and led the army of Greyland into a trap, he got a substantial reward.' Figus paused and looked invitingly at the ambassador for Southway.

'About half a level,' Lord Oseso was frowning now.

'I don't believe that he will earn anything like as much from this mission, but I'm curious to learn more about why he is here.'

I waved a hand. 'Go ahead, Lord Oseso, please.'

'Well,' the representative from Southway gathered himself and smiled winningly once more. 'King Wace understands that those realms like Rockway and Greyland, who have surrendered to the Necromancer, are in a difficult position. You dare not pursue your own goals for fear of the grim consequences. Even so, he has three unassailable observations that have no doubt occurred to you already.

'Firstly, if no one stands up to the Necromancer, his unique and evil magic will soon allow him to become as unstoppable as a mighty avalanche that carries away all its path. Secondly, you are only postponing a day of reckoning in which you will be destroyed and thirdly, if we all act together, we can yet easily overcome the Kingdom of Lost Souls.'

'I see where you are coming from.'

Not entirely encouraged by my response, Lord Oseso gave a wince, then continued. 'King Wace proposes that tomorrow, he leads his army from the city and that when the opportune moment arises, you strike from behind against the Necromancer and we crush him like a shell in a vice.'

'Like Queen Rorgesta and King Wace crushed our army last year?'

'Well, that battle does provide an effective example of the impact of such a manoeuvre, even if it is a painful memory for Greyland. Were you there sire?'

'I was.' I stood up now, done with the game. 'Look upon me properly now Lord Oseso, recognise me, and despair. I am King Carlos and I shall shatter your walls and bring your king to a ruin even greater than that which you inflicted upon me. Your civilians will not suffer but you, King Wace, and those of your officers who do not surrender to us tomorrow can look forward to an afterlife as a zombie, serving our cause until you lose your limbs or your head.'

Part II Chapter 17: The Storming of Montrose

Rain at last, drumming on the roof of my tent when I awoke.

The Necromancer had made the point that to attempt the storming of Montrose on a damp day would favour us. Bows would lack their full strength and attempts to set fire to zombies with mangonels loaded with combustible materials were less likely to succeed. When I heard the rain and saw the lines of water running down the canvass, I therefore called my assistants and equipped myself in my full plate armour, saving only for the helmet, which I carried under my left arm.

After a light breakfast, the field army of Greyland marched out of camp and took up a position opposite Breach Number One, the most northern of the breaches in the western walls of the city. A hundred yards to my right was the Necromancer, in position before me, mounted, head hidden beneath the hood of a black cape. And with him was half his army facing Breach Number Two, the western gate of Montrose. A hundred yards beyond my ally was the rest of his army, facing Breach Three, the southernmost gap that we had smashed in the town walls.

For some time there was still motion as soldiers hastily ran to their positions in their units; sergeants bellowed orders and everyone checked their equipment. It took the best part of an hour too, for our allocation of zombies to move into position ahead of the Greyland soldiers. For all the disgust that the sight of the dead Trolland soldiers still brought – I doubted I would ever get used to the smell, let alone the spasmic movements by which they walked – I was hugely appreciative of the fact that they would be our spearhead, hopefully using their unnatural strength to force a way through the defenders.

All of us, myself and Lord Arval included, were dismounted and I decided not to bring my bow, in case it reduced my manoeuvrability in a press at the breach. My 38 spearmen were at the front of the Greyland army, their weapons best suited to pushing back an enemy from rubble and improvised wooden defences. These troops were under the command of Fanon. Then came Hernán and 58 sword-wielding infantry with leather armour and shield. Although Hernán was young and somewhat slender in comparison to the tough men he was leading, I felt he'd earned his promotion by his desire to fight. And I knew that his men shared my feeling: they adored their young Achilles like a talisman.

I had dismounted my 9 knights and added them to my 18 heavy infantry to make a unit of shock troops under the command of Lord Arval and they came next. The moment either myself or Lord Arval committed them to the fight would probably be the moment that decided the outcome of the battle, at least at Breach One.

Isabella had both the 4 crossbows and the 26 archers under her command at the back. I did not want or anticipate a long exchange of missile fire, something which could only favour the archers of the city, given they would have the advantage of height and the protection of their crenellations. The archers' role was to move fast, run through the battle if necessary, and find positions from which their fire could be effective. For now, their bowstrings were still wrapped and stored inside their tunics against the rain.

As for myself, I had to go ahead with the zombies. Once they were fighting at the walls, I wouldn't be able to launch a Holy Light without blowing them all apart. And I hadn't been able to dissuade Figus from taking his place at my side.

With rain falling steadily and running down my face and neck, I walked along the rows of my troops, lance in hand, Light spell on the blade so that my face was well lit. 'Soldiers! Today we return to Montrose, this time to conquer the city. In your thoughts will be the memory of the day they sacked Carrick and all the harm they did to our people: to your families and loved ones. Remember too that Lord Arval was beaten in their prisons every day for all those months.

'Steel yourself for the grim work ahead. Summon up your courage to face their blows. And together we will beat them down and avenge our people.

'But remember this too: we are not them. Our blades strike on soldiers, not on civilians. We will not harm any of their citizens, who suffer from the arrogance and entitlement of King Wace and his nobles. The people of Southway are not our enemies. King Wace and his army are.

'Soon we will advance. When we are close to the walls we will have to endure the arrows and missiles of the enemy, but once at the breach, you'll have the opportunity to pay them back. Our allies will be forcing the other entrances and King Wace will not have the troops to hold us back at every point.

'Now, give a roar, to let our allies know we are set. For Greyland!'

'For Greyland!' the soldiers shouted back and I raised the cry twice more, the volume of the response increasing both times. To our south came an answering roar of our allies.

Taking our places behind the contingent of zombies, Figus and I had to wait for the army of the Kingdom of Lost Souls to finish their preparations. The Bard was in plate armour and wore a helmet, so that he looked nothing like his usual self. Gone was the bright hair and expensive clothes. Only his sharp blue eyes were familiar.

'What spells have you prepared?' I asked him.

'Disguise, Calm and Send Thoughts.'

'Send Thoughts? What does that do?'

'It's one of my third level spells, the only one that I think might be useful today. Once I cast it, I can concentrate on a person known to me and send a short message or emotion across a range of about a mile per level.'

'Very useful. And can you pick up the person's response?'

'I cannot, sire. I believe master Bards, those who have reached level nine, can acquire a Telepathy spell for silent communication at a distance.'

'All the same, I'm glad you are at my side. Do you know the Necromancer well enough to be able to send him a message?'

'I do, and General Strakigos.'

'Excellent.'

We waited patiently. I was growing to learn that a soldier's life was mostly waiting, followed by short, intense moments of battle, and then a lot more waiting. I watched the raindrops landing on the shining breastplate of Figus, forming into rivulets and dripping to the ground.

At last a horn sounded to my south and the black banners of the Necromancer began to wave. Our zombies suddenly lurched forward: the Necromancer must have given them the order to attack. Although I had been told they would obey my orders, the Necromancer must have retained overall command of them.

'Advance!' I shouted. Lord Arval and the sergeants repeated my command and our own green banners were waved in the air. Under a heavy grey sky, three columns of troops were marching to the western wall of Montrose. Our pace was slow, so as not to close the gap to the zombies.

Slowly, the walls of Montrose began to fill the horizon, until they were looming over us and the first arrows flitted from the battlements to drop to the ground just ahead of the zombies. The breach we were aiming for looked like a narrow crack in a great immensity of stone, but it was wide enough for five or six zombies to enter it at once. In order to shore up their defences, a wooden wall had been made out of logs, stacked across the inside of the walls to about twice my height.

As I walked on, conscious of my army at my back, I felt there was something wrong about the ground between us and the breach. I stopped and called over my shoulder to the sergeants to halt and soon the tramp of my soldiers ceased. We were still out of range of their archers on the ramparts, but the zombies were the targets of flaming arrows, some of these managed – despite the rain – to set fire to three of the advancing force of fifty.

That ground near the breach: it was a trench. The defenders must have been hard at work during the night as the first zombies who reached the ditch slid down until only their heads could be seen, and it extended for a good twenty yards either side of the breach. The zombies were having trouble clambering up the far side and as they reached up and tried to scramble over each other, more and more flaming arrows scored hits.

Had the trench not been there, it would have been time to launch a Holy Light of Miya at the wooden interior wall, to blind the defenders who were on and around it before the zombies arrived. Now, though, the spell risked being wasted, because the zombies were not co-operating with each other and were really struggling to climb out the far side of the ditch. With the rain having made the earth slick and muddy, the twenty or so who had gone first were in real danger of being stuck.

I ran up to those still waiting to move into the ditch. 'Come on! This way!'

For a long moment I thought something had gone wrong with the Necromancer's instruction that they obey me, but it was just that the undead soldiers were slow. Heads turned at last, and I moved twenty yards to the end of the trench. 'This way.'

I was very close to the walls now and a knight leaned over the top. His helmet was very distinctive, with the cone of the visor curved like an eagle's beak. He shouted down at me, 'The Necromancer is dead. And you're next King Carlos.'

Following these disturbing words a large rock fell from the battlements, took two bounces off the batter – the thicker slope at the bottom of the wall – and would have smashed into my thighs, had I not leapt clear. A zombie beside me, however, was carried away and buried beneath the stone. Another rock came tumbling down the walls… and another.

'This way!' I shouted at the zombies, leading them along the foot of the walls along a narrow strip on the inside of the new ditch to where the breach was. Looking up into the rain, I could see the stones coming down and sped up or waited to avoid them, but the zombies were too slow and by the time I got to the relative safety of the broken walls, only five were left.

'Try to break down that wooden wall!' I shouted at them. Then I turned my attention to the ones in the ditch. Fire arrows were continuing to flit through the sky, streaks of orange in the grey, and something like half of the zombies had oily, blue flames burning their skin.

"Come on!" I lay on the wet ground and hauled up a cold, undead soldier, my arm hooking under his armpit and giving him enough of a lift he could grab at me with his cadaverous fingers and scramble across my back. Another one immediately took his place. On the far side of the ditch, the figures of my first corps of infantry came into view.

An arrow struck me for 4 damage and a moment later another for 3. From behind me I felt a wave of heat roll over me accompanied by a flash of orange. The five zombies who had been chopping into the logs ahead of them with their weapons were all on fire. My heart sank. This was no good. My feeling was we should fall back and prepare to bring ladders for another day and rush that interior wood wall, having filled the ditch during the night.

I continued to haul undead soldiers out of the ditch, but I also continued to take damage from arrow fire, 25 altogether (leaving me on 92) by the time I'd gotten ten zombies up to my side. The remainder were in too poor condition to be worth saving.

'What are you orders sire!' shouted the burly Fanon from the far side of the ditch.

'Get back! Get out of range of their archers!' I had a feeling this day was going to go badly and I should preserve my soldiers for a better-prepared attack.

'Aye, sire!'

Once between the broken walls, I actually felt a little safer. Behind me was the ditch; ahead of me was a group of burning bodies and a ten-foot high wall of tree trunks. Either side of me were broken walls and only one archer had a line on us, from high up to my right. Figus had made it here too. The Bard was standing among the ten zombie soldiers who were not on fire, his once-shiny armour coated in mud.

'This is tough,' I said to him. 'But we owe it to our allies to keep trying. Can you get Lord Arval to hurry here? Just him. Leave the soldiers.'

'Shall I use my Send Thoughts spell?' The Bard leaned close, an arrow flashing off the back of his breastplate as he did so, causing him to stagger.

'Good idea, you should.'

'King Carlos!' The same mocking voice, the same eagle-helmet, now peering over the wooden stockade. 'A gift for you.'

Another head, this one a woman covered in a red hood, came into view beside him and then a pair of hands waving as they cast a spell. I ran to my left, mainly to get away from Figus in the event an AE spell was coming. Instead, I experienced the burning stings of a Fire Dart; it was only two-dart version of the spell, the caster was low level. My hit points dropped by 7 to 85.

An arrow struck me near the knee, taking another 2 hits from my total. I regretted now that I had left my bow in my tent, thinking it would have gotten in the way of the melee that I anticipated at this breach.

The knight at the wooden wall shouted down at me. 'I've destroyed the undead army and their burning bodies are blocking the other breaches. Give up Carlos. You'll never take Montrose.'

'King Wace?'

The knight pulled up his eagle-visor. I was looking into the dark, hate-filled eyes of a bearded man. 'I'm going to kill you today Carlos and when I stand above you, sword in your chest, this is the last face you'll ever see.'
Wace appeared to be full of rage, I, on the other hand, felt cold, calculating. There was still a chance of taking this breach but if we could not, then I could retreat and make the arrangements for a renewed attempt tomorrow.

A dozen soldiers came into view on either side of King Wace and began hurling stones, axes and even shovels and picks down at the bodies of the ten remaining undead. Fortunately, my dodge and parry skills were sufficient to avoid taking any more damage myself; I could see, however, that Figus was suffering from the barrage.

Out of the rain and confusion of missiles, Lord Arval appeared, having made his way along the same narrow strip of ground between wall and ditch that I had.

'Lord Arval! Good to see you again!' King Wace yelled down at us. 'Your cell is waiting. This time we won't keep you for long. Just enough to have some entertainment.'

I ran to the Paladin, pulling at Figus to join us as I spoke, head down, so that no one could read my lips. 'I'm launching Holy Light. As soon as I do, stand side-by-side at the wall, cup your hands and lift me up. Then Figus, help Lord Arval get up top.'

A glance. A nod of grim determination from Lord Arval; a look of concern from Figus. And I straightened, judging the distance, and launched the flare. As it flew through the air, I slung the lance over my back.

Boom!

Even though I had closed my eyes, I found myself blinking back the afterimage of a vivid sphere of light. Running over the bodies of the burned and destroyed undead, I came to where Lord Arval and Figus were side by side, backs to the wall.

'Cleric! Cure Blindness.' From up high.

A hand on each of their shoulders, left foot to Lord Arval's hold and then a heave up, placing my right into Figus's cupped hands. They flung me high and it was an easy matter to vault right over and into the blind soldiers who I now saw were standing on ladders. Hands grasping at the top of the wall, I hung and dropped. Then I yanked at the ladders either side of me.

'He's here!'

'Help!'

'Over here! I'm falling!'

Pushing through the crowd of troops around the base of the wall, I kept toppling ladders and men, causing them to crash on top of their fellows. Only one ladder would not budge and that was the one where King Wace gripped hard to the wall top. He looked at me, really looked at me. Not blind.

'Those of you who cannot see, get out the way!' he bellowed furiously, 'the rest of you, help me cut him down.'

Once I was sure that King Wace was coming down (and therefore that Lord Arval would be able to climb up unopposed) I drew my lance and backed away, using the butt of the lance to send soldiers sprawling. There were more than a hundred Southway soldiers in the streets around the wall and while all the ones near me were blind I knew that those further away would be pushing through, intent on surrounding me.

'I stole your treasury, your food and your weapons and it was me who personally set fire to the silk sheets on your bed!' I laughed at King Wace, who gave a roar and drawing a blue-tinged sword, charged towards me.

I ran away, triggering Charge! It was a waste, in that not even Lord Arval was in range to benefit from the extra hit points but I needed the 25% speed increase. There was no way I could defeat a warrior at least a level higher than me while his troops were coming in from all sides. Then I cast another Holy Light, this time at the bottom of a stone staircase that led up to the wall-walk of the town's defences.

It was easy to knock blinded soldiers aside and get onto the stairs. And having gotten there at a sprint, I allowed myself a look back. King Wace and two dozen heavy infantry were pounding after me. Beyond him, both Lord Arval and Figus were on the wooden wall, looking at me. I pointed the lance at the stone walls to their left, then made a sweeping gesture all the way across to the walls above me.

Up I ran, comfortably ahead of the chase, with time to cut down several soldiers and get onto the wall walk. Now I had a choice. Turn towards the breach, which was a dead end and where I would be trapped, but which would allow me to clear the archers and bring my army safely up to the wooden wall? Or keep going towards the gatehouse and lend my assistance to whatever was happening there? Everything depended on my confidence in my ability to stand up to King Wace. To stay would mean facing him.

I turned toward the breach. My high skills were potentially worth more than his level advantage. Moreover, he was angry.

There were some twenty archers on the walk-way and they had no chance. Their daggers didn't make a dent in my armour or my hit points, they were crowded in on each other and completely ineffectual. And the last three I simply rushed and shoved off of the broken end of the walls. Using the Light spell I waved the lance as vigorously as I could toward my army and was heartened by the roar from my soldiers on the far side of the ditch.

'For Greyland! For King Carlos! For Miya!' A tide of Greyland infantry flowed around the ditch toward the gap in the walls. On the far walk-way, the other side of the breach, were cries of consternation, which I hoped indicated the progress of Lord Arval and Figus.

'I have you now, scum that you are.' King Wace was close and I had no option other than stand and fight. This walk way ended at the breach just a few metres behind me. 'This is where you die, falling to your death with enough time to regret your whole life.'

'I thought I was to have the pleasure of one last look at your face.'

'Screw you Carlos!' and he came on, flourishing the magical longsword in a very deliberate fashion. I felt my concentration drawn to the pulsating blue lights that grew ever brighter and was completely unable to lunge, parry, or riposte when he suddenly broke the pattern to hack into my right shoulder for 12 damage.

'Dazzling Attack.' He laughed. 'And I've another feat too. You'll find out all about soon enough. What's more I have twice your hit points. I'm near maximum in shield mastery and heavy armour mastery. You won't be able to touch me. It's hopeless Carlos. Throw down your weapon. Beg for mercy.'

There was a power in those words and a darkness in his eyes that sank deep into my head. A part of me was drowning and swimming up from impossible depths.

Even when he struck at me and the spell eased somewhat, my reactions were sluggish and again I failed to parry or riposte. Somewhere, on the training ground of the Necromancer's castle, was a King Carlos who had maximised his skills and could deal easily with King Wace's far from expert blows. That was the King Carlos I once was. Now I was a clumsy fool who couldn't touch the mighty King Wace.

Almost effortlessly, King Wace cut and thrust repeatedly through my defences and after my hit points dropped below 50, it seemed to me that I should throw down the lance and beg for mercy, even though the part of me that was drowning was urging me to resist, telling me that my demoralization was only the consequence of his feat.

Dazzling Attack must have reset, because another swirling blue pattern created by King Wace's blade caused me to lower my guard and receive a chop down on my helmet that set my head ringing.

With just 37 hit points remaining, everything changed.

A cool flow of healing washed over me, for 8, and at the same time my panicked mind grew calm once more. I knew exactly what to do. If I tried to duel King Wace, even without his feats resetting, I'd die. So as my opponent drew back his sword for another swing, I dropped the lance and ran into him, forcing him backward and as our bodies clashed together, I reached for the edge of the plate covering his right thigh.

King Wace was smashing down on my shoulder with the hilt of his sword and struggling desperately. But with 17 Strength and Grapple 55, I had him off balance and he realised too late my goal. Arm into his throat, I tripped him. King Wace was on the ground and placing a foot to his ribs, I gave a strong shove and rolled him off the wall-walk. Even his own soldiers paused to watch their screaming king hit the ground with a decisive clang.

You have successfully grappled King Wace of Southway.

You have killed King Wace of Southway.

You cannot become better at Grapple.

You have gained 395,000 Experience.

Behind me, Lord Arval and Figus, who were at the very edge of their side of the broken walk-way, were cheering loudly. I stepped back and picked up the Lance of Light before shouting at the Southway soldiers.

‘Drop your weapons and surrender! Or you follow your king.’

No fools, the soldiers in front of me gave up.

Part II Chapter 18: For Whom the Bell Tolls

The morning after the surrender of Montrose was a dry one, albeit still overcast. Two flags flew from the keep: a charging knight on a green background for Greyland and a red serpentine symbol on a black background for the Kingdom of Lost Souls. Gathered in front of the keep was a crowd of several thousand people, mostly citizens of the city but several hundred of their soldiers too.

A stone church – level 2 – adjoined the keep and from the round bell tower came the mournful clanging of a copper bell. A column of finely dressed nobles had taken the coffin bearing King Wace's body into the church and the ceremony having been concluded, the corpse was placed in the royal mausoleum, with the moment marked by the ringing of the bell. This had all been agreed with me in advance and I waited patiently for the last peals of the ceremony to end before standing up.

I was on a small balcony that projected from the keep just above the entrance. It had been designed for King Wace to address his troops and there was a movement in the crowd towards me as I began to shout.

'People of Montrose, do not fear, I am not here to destroy your homes and farms. Nor to exploit them. I once made a promise that if I conquered Montrose, I would treat you all as citizens of Greyland and I will honour that promise.

'For most of you, in fact, life will become easier. I am reducing taxes to the same level as for the people of Greyland and you will be paid for the goods you produce that I send to Carrick for my stores. Your own people – the guild leaders – will be your governors.

'I am, of course, disbanding the Montrose army and navy. Soldiers will surrender their arms and armour and begin new lives as civilians. Any archers who were not present at the sacking of Carrick and wish to serve on the menu of Greyland can report to Guy over there and I will take you.

'Your nobles –' I gestured to where the city's rich citizens were gathered in front of the church – 'offered to serve me as officers and administrators in the same roles as they played for King Wace. That man, Lord Oseso, wanted three gold a month simply to be a courtier and stand at my side to offer me his advice. That one in the white fur cape offered to manage the tax collection for me for ten percent of the collection. That one with the peacock feather in his hat offered to take charge of the prison for two gold a month.

'I don't need their services. And you don't need them either. I declare them banned from this city and liable to arrest if found here after this day. And my advice to them is to learn to farm their country estates. I will pay them for their produce, the same as any honest farmer.

'Lastly, let me say something about the gods' game that we play. As you know, the goddess of Greyland is Miya, a goddess of fertility, spring, reincarnation, and health. Should we conquer the twenty-five kingdoms and give her control of the world, I believe there will be a golden age for all of us, and your children and grandchildren and all the generations to come.

'What of the Kingdom of Lost Souls and their demon god, Scrithax? Why have I allied with those who interrupt the cycle of death and rebirth by creating an army of undead? Because the Necromancer believes that we are living in a hell that constantly resets after every game. That we are pawns doomed to fight each other again and again. And he also believes it is possible to free the world from all the gods.

'The Necromancer promises that if Scrithax inherits the power that comes with victory, the demon will break this cycle and allow the people of this world to choose their own path free from the warfare of gods. I don't know anything about Scrithax but I do know and believe the Necromancer. If his beliefs are proven then I will support his aim.'

I took a deep breath and waited, listening to a murmur grow up in the crowd. The tone of it did not seem hostile. Nor should it be. I was giving them a good deal and had been up very late into the previous night with the guild leaders, working out the future relationship of Carrick and Montrose. No doubt they were unhappy that their god, Herrastius, was out of the running. And they would probably be unhappy to see their walls come down along with all their military buildings. But from now on they'd keep more of their own resources than they were allowed by King Wace and the ordinary citizens would be wealthier than before.

There were currents of motion within the crowd. It seemed like a substantial body of archers were making their way towards Guy. Under the watchful eye of my infantry, the rest of the Southway troops were discarding their arms and armour in piles. And to my left, by the church, the combined knights of Greyland and the Kingdom of Lost Souls were shepherding the nobles away. Satisfied that trouble seemed unlikely, I went inside and up the stone stairs to one of the few rooms in the keep undamaged by fire.

Two of the Necromancer's guards saluted me and moved their polearms to allow me through the door to a chamber whose interior was coloured deep blue by sunlight coming through a cloth that covered the window. On a simple bed lay the unconscious Necromancer, shirt open to the navel showing a body that was appallingly bruised. He'd been knocked flying from his horse by a stone from a mangonel.

In attendance on my friend was a male Cleric from the Kingdom of Lost Souls, only level 3 unfortunately.

'How is he?' I asked.

'A little better, I think.'

'And do you still think he's about minus four?'

'Minus four or five.'

I had learned something new and important about the combat system when I'd been brought to the Necromancer's tent after the storming of the city. If your hit points were reduced to between 0 and minus your level, you are unconscious, not dead. Once on minus hit points, you could only recover at a rate of one a day, regardless of whether you receive magical cures. Or, at least the cures available to me. Ninth level Clerics could obtain a Restoration spell that allowed immediate recovery from negative hit points as well as the return of levels drained by undead.

When the Necromancer's Cleric had explained these matters to me, I'd had to sit down, troubled. All the other rulers were probably trying to level up their senior Clerics as fast as possible. I'd lost nearly a year on them through the death of Anthea and Ava. And it was the thought of their sacrifice that had me feeling weak. I sat for some time, watching the Necromancer's chest rise and fall. At least I was doing all I could to achieve victory for the goddess to whom they had been devoted. Whether they would have wanted me to end the game-system should that prove possible was something I would have to talk about with Leonora, my new Cleric.

While I kept company with my stricken ally, I revisited my menus and plans.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: Town-houses, 5 days 18 hours

Currently upgrading: Barracks 2, 7 days 18 hours

Monthly trade income: 7 gold 8 silver

Monthly tax income (medium): 69 gold 5 silver

Treasury: 984 gold

Daily food consumption: 27 units

Grain yield: 260 units due in 4 weeks, 3 days

Vegetable yield: 44 food units due in 10 weeks, 1 day

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 11 weeks, 4 days

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 6 units daily

Timber yield: 21 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 13 blocks daily

Smithy yield: …

Weaving yield: 4 bolts daily

Research: Wizard Spell Level 1, 18 hours

Resources:

Wheat: 89 food units

Vegetables: 54 food units

Meat: 19 food unit

Fish: 13 food units

Wool: 9 bales

Timber: 81 planks

Iron: 43 ingots

Stone: 31 blocks

Cloth: 12 bolts

Again, Greyland was in a very healthy state, with no obvious pain points (perhaps I needed to replenish stone more quickly, but I had agreed with the guild leaders a plan to dismantle the walls and military buildings of Montrose and ship the stone to Carrick). Income now comfortably exceeded army cost (68g 4s) and I had expectations that my trade income would rise. I'd written licenses to trade in Carrick for twelve merchants from Montrose.

This brief moment of being ahead of my army expense was ended when I checked the military menu. Thirty-four archers from Montrose wished to join my menu and I accepted them at once. Not only had I saved the cost of equipping them, but they were here, with me, not days away in Carrick. This added 6g and 8s to my army's wage bill, meaning I was running at a monthly gain of 4g and 1s. I could easily afford to increase the army size and I probably should.

Food supply was good and there was only one more day to go before I had my fourth fishing vessel. The countdown on my rebuilt tower at Three Ways was 1 day 18 hours. And there was less than a day before my research delivered a new first level spell.

Really, the only choice I had to make just now was what to do with the smithy. Improving axes, pickaxes and quarry equipment had served me well but upgrading the equipment of other workshops, such as for clothmaking, didn't seem so urgent. I was tempted by the option of creating another batch of arrows. They'd never go to waste. But then too, following my thought about having the finances in place to increase the army size, I looked at the military menu, then back at the smithy sub-menu.

This was the option that interested me:

Greyland Heavy Infantry

Fighter level 0

Ranged attack: 0

Melee attack: 18

Armour Class: 15 (full chainmail)

Hit Points: 5

Skills:

Wield Greataxe variable, according to experience

Wield Greatsword variable, according to experience

Heavy Armour Mastery variable, according to experience

Monthly Upkeep: 6sp

By assigning idle people to train as heavy infantry through the military menu, I could recruit 10 heavy infantry at a cost of 20 iron ingots and 15 gold. The full chainmail armour and their weapons being supplied by merchants presumably. But if I built full chainmail via my own ore at the smithy, along with the weapons the iron cost was only 10 and the gold cost was zero.

I had a look at the trebuchet option, which had become visible after completing my research into the weapon.

Greyland trebuchet crew

Eight Fighters level 0

Ranged attack: 20

Melee attack: 4 (dagger)

Armour Class: 2

Hit Points: 5

Skills:

Operate trebuchet variable, according to experience

Monthly Upkeep: 4sp per person (full crew 3 gold 2 silver)

To build the siege weapon, I needed barracks level 2, 18 iron ingots, and 40 timber. It seemed to me that in order to hurry along with the increase of my army, but at the same time keep enough iron for the trebuchet and building, I should mix direct purchase of troops with some assistance from the smithy. I tasked the smithy with creating ten suits of heavy chainmail and ten greatswords for 10 iron. That order would take 5 days. Under the military training menu I recruited 10 heavy infantry, complete with gear, for 20 iron and 15 gold. They would be ready in fourteen days and by starting the training of 10 more as soon as their gear was ready, I'd have 20 new heavy infantry in 19 days.

Before then, I'd send the arms and armour that had just been surrendered to Carrick and would then be able to recruit at a fairly low cost a great many more soldiers, mostly infantry.

After I had completed these choices, I found myself looking at the prone Necromancer and thinking that his severe face still leant him an air of authority, even when unconscious. The loss of four or five days wasn't so bad, especially as I wouldn't want to leave Montrose until everything had stabilised. The nobles would be the problem. The ordinary citizens, as represented by the guild leaders, had seemed happy enough with my plans for a new regime. But one of the royal family would have inherited the ability to control of the menus of Montrose and no doubt he or she would be hoping to make a comeback. That's why I was demolishing the walls and military buildings. Even if at some point the square at Montrose were recaptured by the royal who could use the menus, hopefully, they wouldn't have time to do much with them before we regained the place.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and a guard tentatively looked in and caught my eye.

'Sorry sire, there's a carriage with an envoy for the Necromancer.'

'Send him into the yellow room; I'll meet him there.'

'Certainly sire, except she won't get out of the carriage. She asks that the Necromancer comes to her.'

'Oh?' I got up. 'Find Figus and ask him to join me at the carriage.'

'Yes sire.'

The day was bright and it took my eyes a moment to adjust upon leaving the great doors of the keep. There it was in the centre of the square where earlier hundreds of townspeople had gathered: a large dark carriage, drawn by two black stallions, each carefully groomed, with manes in plaids. The carriage was completely enclosed and had deep blue velvet curtains covering the small windows to either side of the doors. A driver sat up front, long whip in hand.

With two of my knights as guards and the Lance of Light in hand, I walked confidently up to the carriage. 'This is King Carlos of Greyland. Who is it that requests an audience with the Necromancer?'

'Where is the Necromancer?' The voice from within the mysterious enclosure was female, soft and had a distinct accent that reminded me of the French accent back home.

'He is unavailable. Who are you?'

'Tiil-ša-Zabdānia, ambassador for Queen Simara, servant of Asārte, goddess of the underworld. Please, enter the carriage, but respect the fact that I find light unbearable.'

There was something about the voice and the carriage that made me uneasy. The unnatural stillness of the horses, perhaps? The leer in the brazen expression of the pallid-skinned driver who was staring at me from his seat? The carvings in the black, polished panels, that were of thorny vines entwined around each other? All the same, I was curious. And the fact that this ambassador declared herself vulnerable to light meant that I was carrying just the right weapon.

Opening the carriage door, I parted a heavy, velvet curtain sufficiently to squeeze through (although even that drew a sharp intake of breath from the ambassador), and when the curtain fell back, found myself in near complete darkness. A purple-tinged glow from an armband on a very pale arm was all the light we had. The base of the lance was caught on something and I felt clumsy and awkward, trying to move it around without scraping the blade on the roof. At last I was settled into the seat that had been at my back.

'You are the king of Greyland?' she asked. 'Worshipper of Miya?'

'I am.'

'Why are you here? Where is the Necromancer? Have you harmed him?' There was something compelling and even appealing in her soft voice. From almost nothing my imagination had created a petite, white-haired elven woman.

'He's fine. We are allies and until he is available, which will be in a few days, I am in charge of our joint forces. So please, address me as you would him.'

'A most extraordinary development, Miya and Scrithax, almost opposites.' Her tone was sceptical now, but still alluring. It felt very intimate being in the dark carriage this close to her. 'Very well.' Her arm began to move about and she muttered strange words.

'Wait, are you casting…?'

You have resisted Charm of the Underworld

For a moment a fury welled up in me, mostly that she had dared attack me, but also out of anger at my own stupidity in meeting her on her own terms without thinking of the risk. In that moment my hands clenched tight and I nearly triggered a Light spell, which in this confined space would surely do her great harm. Instead, my rage found a cold, calculating channel. 'How can I help?'

'You wish to become an ally of Queen Simara.'

'I wish to become an ally of Queen Simara,' I repeated woodenly.

'You wish to aid her by invading Cantreth.'

'I wish to aid her by invading Cantreth.'

From outside, footsteps ran up to the side of the carriage. 'Sire, Figus here, shall I come in?'

The sweet (but poisonous, as I now realised) voice whispered urgently. 'That human must wait for you. You will not be long.'

'Wait there Figus please; I won't be long.'

'Where is the Necromancer?'

'He is in the keep.'

'Is the truth that you have him captive?'

'The truth is I have him captive.'

'I thought so! Miya would never ally with Scrithax. Very well. You must release the Necromancer.'

'I must release the Necromancer.'

'Tell him I will meet him tomorrow at midnight at the Gryphon's Obelisk.'

'I will … the Necromancer is injured. He will not be able to meet you for six days.'

'Very well. Six nights from now. You can come too, King Carlos, but just the two of you.'

'The two of us will come to the Gryphon's Obelisk at midnight, six nights from now.'

'Well and well. You may go.'

Part II Chapter 19: The Gryphon’s Obelisk

The river Sarrois runs to the east of Montrose and if you ride out upstream along it to the north-east the river approaches a line of foothills that rise towards the mountains from which the river has its source. About ten miles to the north-east of Montrose was the first of these hills and although not that high, it had a very distinctive double peak. On the slightly higher of the two peaks was a sculpture: a thick grey column, on the top of which was a gryphon. The monster was depicted as a lion leaping into the air, but with the wings and head of a huge eagle.

It was here that the meeting with the ambassador of Queen Simara was due to take place.

Once the Necromancer was fully recovered, he shared his knowledge of their civilisation. If he was surprised by my ignorance, he did not show it. The Underworld was the realm to the north east of Cantreth, where the surface of the land was wild and full of roving monsters. Beneath the ground, however, was a civilisation of inferni. These somewhat-elven people drank the blood of surface dwellers and worshipped an evil goddess, Asārte, who demanded regular sacrifices on the obsidian alter of her ziggurat church in their capital: Dūr-Abihâr.

When I described the ambassador's attempt to cast Charm of the Underworld on me and my pretence that the spell had worked, the Necromancer gave his genuinely hearty laugh. And it was good to hear it. The man had lain prone for four days, bruises turning to extraordinary shades of purple and yellow. Even now, healed up to the maximum, he still winced as though in memory of the pain.

'Well done, Carlos, we must now turn this to our advantage. I had not thought to war against the inferni for some time. Their caves and underground towns are well defended. But if we can meet their forces on open ground and with the advantage of surprise, it might be possible to eliminate them from the game.'

We had arrived at the Gryphon's Obelisk during the day with a small but high-powered force. Lord Arval and Figus had come with me; General Strakigos and his Cleric with the Necromancer. Having scouted widely we took our supper in a small copse of willow, where the slender, overhanging branches created a canopy around us and our horses.

'Here,' I brought out my magic book and glanced at it on my menu before passing it to the Necromancer.

Book of Spell Resistance (Wis)

If this book is held (in either hand), it confers a 5% resistance to magical attacks per point of Wisdom over 15.

'Impressive and valuable.' The Necromancer was dressed in his purple shirt and despite the hours of riding, looked as composed as ever, his cravat perfectly tied to close the neck of the shirt, his polished black leather boots clean of any dirt. A friendly expression on his face, he lifted the book, noted its effect, before inviting me to take it back.

I shook my head. 'I'd like you to have it. You have a hand free in battles and duels and you are more likely to be the target of spells.'

As the Necromancer realised that I meant to give him the book as a gift, I could see from his surprise and the look he then gave me that he was deeply moved. 'I cannot. It is too much.'

'Not at all. I owe you everything I have, this book included. And we are allies until the end. Thinking of our people as one, it is clear you should have this. In battle, only a caster class will have a hand free for the book, and it is you who is likely be the target of enemy spellcasters. Then too, the ambassador of Queen Simara might try to charm you tonight.'

'This is very generous, King Carlos, and much appreciated. I will take it then, though I think it highly unlikely the ambassador will try to cast any spells on me.'

'Because she won't want to risk falling out with you?'

'That, and the fact that I am level twelve. She will probably not be level ten or I would have heard of her. And her wisdom is unlikely to be higher than mine. So I will probably be able to resist her spell.'

'Wisdom helps resist spells?'

'Mind influencing ones.'

This was good to know and explained why I'd resisted the inferni's charm and perhaps too, why I had eventually been able to shake off the effect of King Wace's feat.

The Necromancer must have seen the smile on my face because he acknowledged it with a smile of his own. 'Your opponents will always underestimate you in regard to your Intelligence and Wisdom, King Carlos.'

'Lord Arval?' I turned to my Paladin.

'Sire.'

'Please lend the Necromancer your Ring of Wisdom. At least for the encounter tonight.'

'Of course; I should have offered.' Lord Arval slid the opal-inset ring from his finger and held it out to the Necromancer, who hesitated. I looked at him and nodded.

Placing the ring on his own hand, the Necromancer drew a deep breath of satisfaction.

'What's your Wisdom now?' I asked.

Glancing first at Figus, as if to weigh up the risk of speaking candidly in front of the Bard, the Necromancer said, 'with this ring, eighteen.'

'So an extra fifteen percent resistance from the book. You should be good.'

'I should indeed.'

We spent the time until sunset talking over the possible scenarios arising out of the meeting at midnight. Most involved me triggering a Light or Holy Light spell and Figus, Lord Arval and General Strakigos coming charging out of their hiding places to assist. Yet, if my deception had worked and could be sustained, I very much hoped that battle would not be necessary.

The Necromancer had a much better understanding of the movement of the moon and of the stars than I did, so when he said it was time to go, I followed him out of the grove. I was on foot, Goncendor walking behind me, my horse showing no sign of anxiety. I, on the other hand, certainly felt anxious. There was a great deal that could go wrong here. If it was some kind of trap, we'd probably be overwhelmed, despite our high levels.

A moonlight hilltop. A fluttering sound. And from the gryphon statue a darkness descending fast. Somehow, I managed not to recoil or trigger a Light spell. An impression of a red-eyed giant bat. And then the ambassador was standing in front of us. Beneath a black cape was a figure who to me looked like a pale-skinned elf with long white hair.

"Well met Necromancer, I am Tiil-ša-Zabdānia, ambassador for Queen Simara, servant of Asārte, goddess of the Underworld and I have saved you from captivity. King Carlos was wrong to imprison you.' She turned to me, 'weren't you?'

'I was wrong to imprison the Necromancer,' I said tonelessly.

'Thank you Tiil-ša-Zabdānia. The people of the Kingdom of Lost Souls will be grateful to you. What can we do to help? Why did you want this meeting?'

'Straight to business then? Very well. Ivus Khan, ruler of Cantreth has a unique ability. As you know, his is a horse-people. We have discovered that towns are much less important to Cantreth than the itinerant tribes and that there is no way to wrest control of the menu of that realm from him without taking control of a particular horsehair banner.'

'You have been at war with Ivus Khan?'

'Over a year, and our campaign has been victorious. We scattered his army at the battle of Arkad, killing hundreds of his riders. Unfortunately, Ivus Khan escaped with his banner and we have not been able to capture him. Queen Simara sent me in search of you to help. She says that the dark powers must work together, for there are not so many of us compared to those of light. And she says that we are an effective compliment, because we march by night and you by day.' The ambassador paused to check that her words were well received.

The Necromancer nodded, eyes glistening with dots of silver as they reflected the moon. 'Go on.'

'I have said my all. If you can enter the territory of Cantreth and help us hunt Ivus Khan, that will be the start of a long and effective alliance.'

'Very well. I will do this.'

'What about King Carlos? Would you like him to come with me?' She gave the Necromancer a very knowing glance that I did not react to.

'Ask King Carlos to assist me please. My army is slow-moving and not really fitted for your current goal. He has light cavalry that will be of enormous value.'

The ambassador studied me then turned her dark eyes back to those of the Necromancer. 'You do understand that every week he will… reconsider his loyalties?'

'I understand but by tomorrow I will have the possibility of a change perfectly in hand.'

Satisfied, the ambassador turned to me. 'King Carlos.'

'Ambassador Tiil.'

'You consider the Necromancer your ally.'

'I consider the Necromancer my ally.'

'You will assist him to the utmost.'

'I will assist him to the utmost.'

The ambassador gave a wicked laugh. 'Scrithax and Miya! An absurd alliance. The extremes of evil and good. King Carlos was so doltish that he thought I might believe such an alliance possible.' She looked at me and I laughed at myself dutifully. 'Well, now we have achieved the impossible.'

The inferni unfasted a wineskin from her side and offered it to the Necromancer.

He shook his head. 'Apologies, let us find another way to celebrate our agreement, I do not drink wine.'

'You misunderstand. This is not wine but enchanted quicksilver. Poor it into a bowl and call on Simara, her likeness will appear in the liquid and for a short time you will be able to converse. It can only be used once so save it for a matter of great import, such as the death of Ivus Khan. In addition, an ambassador from the queen will attend you again in the future: either myself or another if I am sent elsewhere.'

The Necromancer took the skin and carefully attached it to his horse then returned to stand at my side.

'Thank you again, ambassador Tiil-ša-Zabdānia. Is there anything else I can help you with?

'Not at this time. But remember always, who it was who rescued you.'

'Oh, I certainly will.'

Part II Chapter 20: The Plains of Cantreth

Two days after our meeting with the ambassador of the inferni we were on the march eastwards. One benefit of having a ride warhorse skill of 60 was that I could switch off while in the saddle, drowse even. And that meant being able to manage my menus while leading the long column of the combined army.

Two of the timers that interested me the most were still counting down. There was 18 hours left to complete the construction of a block of town houses and 2 days and 18 hours for Barracks 2. I was really anxious about that latter timer: only when I had a trebuchet set up on the tower (now restored) at Three Ways would I feel that I was relatively secure from a raiding army. Sixty archers and a trebuchet would have easily seen off the invasion that had conquered Carrick. Admittedly, all the other rulers would have had time to increase their armies but still, my vulnerability to invasion would lessen a lot when I had trebuchets.

The smithy had just completed its ten suits of chainmail and ten greatswords, so I started another ten people on training as heavy infantry, these joining the first batch of ten who would be ready for action in 9 days. Then, since I had a surplus of iron, I assigned another task to the smithy: to assemble twenty more suits of heavy chainmail and twenty greatswords, for 20 iron. Forty heavy infantry would be a noticeable addition to my army. And the only limit on building up an even bigger force was the time it took. My supply of iron and people was ample.

Four days ago, I had completed my fourth fishing vessel and assigned a crew. And then built another! Perhaps it was a legacy from my initial struggle to solve my food supply problem, but I just couldn't see a downside to increasing my supply of fish. I was tempted even to go for a sixth, but held off from that choice. If I'd have had the option of now building a warship, I'd have seriously considered it.

The idea of unlocking new types of ship was attractive. Presumably that would happen if I researched Shipbuilding 2. Supposing I then got some kind of raiding ship as an option, I could pack it full of the heavy infantry and … then what? Right now our immediate target was the realm of the inferni and as an underground race of a realm in the interior of the continent they were the least likely to fear an attack by ship. So I shelved that strategy for the time being and stuck to the plan of creating a self-sufficiency in fish. Another fishing vessel joined the construction queue.

The really interesting completion of the last few days was my research project of a new first level spell for the spellbook of Jacintha, my third level Sorceress. I had been checking that timer regularly and had opened the sub-menu as soon as it was completed to find she had gained… See Invisible. How disappointing. See Invisible was a spell which might be extremely useful in certain circumstances, but it seemed to me such circumstances were going to be very rare ones, perhaps such as when an Assassin was creeping up to attack me. Jacintha's spell book now read: Detect Magic, See Invisible, Fire Dart, and Freeze.

Having long since decided that I would not pursue the spell research strategy (in addition the point the Necromancer had made about the potential waste of research time, I was aware it would only pay off if I could be sure of having a high level caster for the endgame), I set my next research project to Drainage. This would give me an increase in agricultural output and would complete in six days.

Both Jacintha and Valeria – my third level Ranger – had caught up with the army at Montrose and were riding with me now. On my left, Jacintha reminded me of a young version of Carlena, at least to look at. She was slender; dressed in the dark colours that Carlena preferred; and had long hair, in Jacintha's case a striking red, rather than grey. Beyond appearance, however, there was no resemblance. Whereas Carlena was a dour, intense character, focused (as I'd discovered) entirely on obtaining power, Jacintha was vivacious, cheerful and perfectly willing to talk with enthusiasm on any number of topics.

On my right, Valeria was a young woman with very short, rather spiky black hair and who wore an embossed, grey leather armour. Back on Earth, she would have made an impressive punk type. Intimidating too, given the sheathed longsword and the bow hanging from her saddle. Smaller and more dark-skinned than the usual person from Greyland, I had learned from Valeria that her father was a hunter from Cantreth who had settled in Greyland after meeting her mother on a trade mission. He was dead now, sadly, killed when Carrick was looted by Southway and Trolland.

Having finished with the menus, I looked around properly. The landscape was one of undulating grassland. The grasses were yellow more than green, and you could see the movement of the wind in the patterns that formed and ran through them. A chessboard-like effect too was visible as beams of sunlight flowed across the plains, formed by a sky mottled with grey cloud.

Evidently seeing an expression of pleasure on my face, Jacintha asked, 'are you happier in our world or your old one?'

'At moments like this, riding a fine horse under a wide open sky, I'd have to say here.'

She laughed. 'It is a beautiful day, true. And what do you miss most about your world?'

That was a good question and an honest answer would have made me unhappy. I missed my parents so much; not that going back home would have helped me with that. Instead of treating Jacintha's question too seriously, I smiled at her. 'We have a type of food, pizza. It's a thin bread with a sauce made of tomatoes and with cheese melted on top.'

'Pizza?'

'Aye.'

'You are a king. Surely you can order your chefs to make pizza for you?'

'Oh, that's a good idea. Do you know, that might be a way to conquer the world. Pizza is so good, I could set up … stalls to sell it. And infiltrate the realms of our enemies, selling Greyland pizza, gaining their money.'

Jacintha was laughing again when Valeria stood up in her stirrups. 'Halt the army!' There was urgency in her voice.

'Halt!' I called back and heard the sergeants repeat the call until the tramp and shuffle of our forces came to an end. A cloud of dust was drifting above the lines of troops behind me. Ahead, however, the horizon was clear and on a distant rise was the silhouette of a rider.

'He wants to be seen.' Valeria's gaze was unwavering. 'Let us walk our horses towards him. Just the two of us.'

'Are you sure? Could it be an ambush?'

'I'm sure.'

'Jacintha, ride back to the Necromancer and say we have seen a rider and not to bring the army any closer for now.'

'Yes, sire.' She turned her mare away and cantered down the outside of the lines of infantry behind us.

'Come on then.'

Valeria and I had hardly walked our horses twenty metres when the rider gave a whoop and began to gallop towards us.

'What now?'

'Hold still.'

As the rider came closer, a line of trampled grass in his wake, I could make out the details of his appearance. With a round metal helmet and lamellar armour, he was a lot like a Mongol warrior from Earth's history. There were, however, thick bright stripes of orange and red paint across his face and also along the ribs of his armour, which also reminded me of an Iroquois warrior. As he came even closer, he dropped the reins of his horse and raised a bow, pulling back an arrow.

'Now?' I understood that this was probably a ritual, but the incoming warrior looked intimidating and as if he was going to fire in earnest.

'He'll miss and ride past. The rest of his tribe are in the grass, watching how you react. Don't flinch.'

That was easier said than done, especially as with another cry, the charging warrior released an arrow that whistled between us at head height.

Goncendor was eager for battle and took a step forward, on impulse I went with the motion and within ten strides he had reached his gallop.

'Wait…' from behind me.

But I was off, with a whoop of my own.

The Cantreth warrior was faster than me, but still well within bow range as our horses pounded through the grass and over a rise. As Goncendor exerted himself to the utmost, I drew my +1 Bow of Accuracy from its saddle sling and notched an arrow. The bow had no penalty for shots at long range and combined with my magical bracers, which tripled my ranges, meant I was close enough to strike him if I wished to.

Unexpectedly, the hollow over the rise was deep enough to hide the Cantreth rider completely and even more unexpectedly, some twenty more mounted warriors came into view as I rode up to the ridge. They were about five hundred metres from me and facing me. The rider I was pursuing yelled to them and waved his bow above his head.

Even while I signalled to Goncendor to turn to our right and ride along the top of the rise rather than descend the other side, I let the escaping rider pass the point that a normal bow could have possibly launched an arrow at him successfully, then I pulled back my bowstring with my full strength and released the missile.

A black flicker racing from me. And immediately after came a sudden halt to the cries of the distant rider. He pulled up and was looking at his bow in dismay. I had cut his bowstring.

I gave a loud cry in imitation of the shouts the rider had previously given when he had fired at me. I was genuinely proud of my archery and it sounded in the note of triumph in my calls. And I was prouder still when from the ranks of Cantreth riders came a roar and a shaking of their bows. This was not hostility, it was approval.

Part II Chapter 21: The Second Battle of Arkad

Slowly, the motion of the silver liquid that the Necromancer had poured ceased and as it stilled the viscous surface became as flat and reflective as a mirror. In it, I could see the Necromancer's face: long, earnest, with the grey at his temples and the concentration of his brow creating an impression of great authority. In the background were the faint amber reflections of the candles that provided a dim lighting for the tent we were in.

'I wish to speak with Queen Simara,' said the Necromancer in answer to a question no one else had heard.

There were five of us watching him use the enchanted quicksilver he'd been given by the ambassador of the Underworld: General Strakigos, myself, two guards and the tightly bound prisoner. I was wearing my full suit of black platemail, with the visor down.

All at once, as though a television had been switched on, the bowl lit up, casting a pale blue glow over the Necromancer's face and for a moment he pulled back sharply, only to lean close once more.

A white-skinned, elven female was looking around as though at a camera in front and slightly above her. Dressed in a voluminous, deep red blouse with dozens of folds, she had a silver torq around her throat, her hair was long and silver, tied back in a plaid. Apparently unperturbed by this magic, she looked steadily back at us with eyes that seemed to have a reddish glow to them. 'Is that the Necromancer I see? Who else is with you?'

'I am the ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls,' the Necromancer acknowledged. 'And you are Queen Simara of the Underworld?'

'I am indeed, loyal worshipper of Asārte, goddess of the dark. And it pleases me greatly to be speaking with you; I have always felt that our gods were natural allies and it has long been my... desire… to hear your words.'

'And I have always felt the same.' The Necromancer gestured to the guards, who forced the prisoner to bend over the bowl. 'But I have a particular reason for using your magical quicksilver at this time.'

'Oh, how you have exceeded my expectations.' Queen Simara was smiling now, although the lines around her mouth suggested she was more used to scowling. 'I knew that an approach to you would bring rewards, for us both.

'Greetings, Ivus Khan.' Her expression became wicked. 'Or shall I now call you Ivus the Forlorn, since you are Khan no longer?'

The prisoner muttered something indistinct through his gag.

'Do please, let him speak. I shall enjoy hearing what he has to say to me.'

After a nod from the Necromancer, one of the guards worked at the knot at the back of the gag, nearly forcing Ivus Khan to touch the quicksilver with his nose. At last, the cloth came free, by which time it seemed that the ruler of the tribes of Cantreth no longer wished to speak, for he glared at his enemy in silence.

'Did you capture his banner too? The one that gives him access to the menus of Cantreth.'

'I did.'

'Excellent.'

'And I would like to make a present to you of it, along with the former ruler.'

'Even better. I'm not a torturer by inclination. But – as a Necromancer, I'm sure you won't consider this amiss – I am something of a connoisseur of blood. And the blood of a defeated enemy general is as fine a source of sustenance as one can savour.'

I was watching the Necromancer and his only reaction to this unpleasant gloating was a smile: not his sincere one.

'Having eliminated Cantreth, I believe our co-operation should continue. If you agree, what is our next target?' The Necromancer was always direct.

'I'm heartened to hear you speak of co-operation. We who follow evil gods must work together, for we are shunned by all others. Tell me, should we consider Greyland a threat? Is their king still under our charm?'

'He is not. But Carlos is a spectre of his former self. Come here Carlos.'

I took a step forward, so that the glow of the bowl shone on my helmet and armour.

'Wonderful.' Queen Simara peered upwards. 'I heard he was a fat, useless fool in life. I hope he will prove more effective in undeath.'

'What is your relationship with Kezatka?' the Necromancer remained impassive.

The ruler of the inferni shrugged. 'We have a pact not to harm each other's interests.'

'As do I,' the Necromancer paused. 'It might be time to end these pacts.'

'It might indeed. If you have sufficient forces.'

'What happened to the bodies of the tribespeople of Cantreth after the battle of Arkad?'

'We drank their blood until satiated, then left them as desiccated husks for the wolves to chew.' She smiled.

'I believe it will be worth my visiting the battleground. Some of the corpses might still be useable.'

'It might.' Queen Simara nodded. 'Let us meet there in person and you can hand over your prisoner.'

'That will take me three days.'

'Sunset, three days from now at Arkad. And Necromancer…'

'Yes?'

'Unless this spell flatters you, you are a very handsome man.' With a sudden gesture of her hand, the image of the inferni ruler in the bowl disappeared and we were once more looking at the reflective surface of a bowl of quicksilver.

The Necromancer looked at me. 'I believe that went as well as we could have hoped.'

'I think so too,' I replied. 'You played the part very well. And…' I found myself grinning, though he wouldn't have been able to see me under the closed helm, '… you are a very handsome man.'

***

Arkad at sunset felt haunted. According to Ivus Khan, it was an old ruin long before the current cycle of the game began. Tall stone columns no longer held their roofs; statues – some humanoid, some animal – were rarely any taller than their knees; a once-huge ziggurat had collapsed, the long slope to its upper areas broken apart. The descending sun made the shadows of these jagged stoneworks fill the area like pools of black water.

The city marked the border between Cantreth and Kezatka, the realm directly north of Cantreth. The Underworld was the next realm to the east of Kezatka and the riders of Cantreth had been attacked near here, unexpectedly, when the inferni army had emerged from the cellars and catacombs below. Evidently, they had been allowed not only to travel through Kezatka but also find places to shelter from the sun during the day when they did so. Night battles were hopeless for an army dependent on archery and swift-moving horses and even flight hadn't been easy with so many horses stumbling in the dark. Ivus Khan had been lucky to escape.

We had formed up on the vast courtyard at the bottom of the broken ramp of the ziggurat. There was about ten metres of slope before the first major crack and I stood on it with the Necromancer beside me and our officers nearby, looking eastwards. Corralled below the ramp, on the south side, were all our horses.

To the north side of the ramp and ahead of me was the army of Greyland. My spearmen, with Fanon as their sergeant, were the northernmost unit of the front line, then came the sword and shield infantry with Hernán, who were about ten metres further forward than the spears. Behind them were the heavy infantry and dismounted knights with Lord Arval. Further back, two units of archers: those of Greyland with Isabella and those formerly of Montrose with Guy. As might have been expected, there was a coolness between the archers of Montrose and the rest of the army: they could hardly be expected not to resent our conquest of their city. Lastly, my 16 dismounted light cavalry were in reserve and watching to the north.

On the southside of the ramp was the army of the Kingdom of Lost Souls. At the foot of the ramp, protecting us, was the Necromancer's bodyguard of 32 dismounted knights. Ahead of these knights, their left wing adjacent to Hernán's troops, were 72 spearmen. To the right of the knights were a block of 58 zombies. Behind them the 30 archers of the Kingdom of Lost Souls and to their south, facing southwards, 68 dismounted light cavalry.

We had a fairly good idea of what we would be facing, but as a precaution the real heart of our combined army, the knights and zombies, were packed towards the centre, with our flanks on either side guarded by dismounted cavalry. To get to those of us on the ramp, the inferni would have to first fight zombies and knights, neither of which units would give way easily.

Just after sunset, while there was still a touch of indigo to the sky, we heard movement among the ruins. Then came the faint sounds of tramping feet. A clang, then another, of metal on metal. Straining my eyes towards the darkness, I saw faint motion. The tramping grew louder and the black within black resolved itself to four distinct formations emerging from the shadows. First came a body of over a hundred pale-elven infantry: black lamella on near-black leather; white hair; spears and axes with what looked like obsidian rather than iron heads. A little behind but on their right flank, to the north, was a unit of unarmed inferni, about fifteen of them in cloaks and with eyes that had a faint redness to them that you could only see from the edge of your vision. Directly behind the infantry, with the banners of their army and Queen Simara, were some forty knights in full plate mail. And on the south flank, again a little behind the infantry, were eighteen giant spiders, each with two riders on their backs, one holding reins, the other a bow.

'Blood drinkers on the north,' muttered the Necromancer. 'We need you to deal with them, they are untouchable by non-magic weapons.'

'Figus,' I said without turning my head, knowing he was directly behind me, 'if any of them escape Holy Light of Miya, run to Lord Arval and tell him to do his best to hunt them down with Trueblade.' The Paladin had been reunited with his magical longsword after the death of King Wace who had been keeping it on him.

'Aye sire.'

The Necromancer continued to scrutinise the arriving army. 'Poisonous spiders to the south. The zombies are immune, I'll order them to eliminate those enemy units first.'

The army of Underworld continued to march until there was just thirty or so metres between our front row of troops and theirs, then they came to halt with impressive co-ordination. A ripple among their infantry followed and Queen Samara came forward accompanied by three inferni holding banners. She stood at the bottom of the ramp in dark plate mail, a Shadow-Knight, we'd been told, level 11, and as full of wicked spells as she was of hit points and armour class. A truly formidable opponent. Beside her was the ambassador, Tiil, an inferni blood drinker.

She called up to us. 'Necromancer, well met! Shall we avail of the hours of darkness to march our armies north and enjoy one another's company as we travel?'

Placing Ivus Khan before him – the Cantreth tribesman came only to the chest of the ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls – the Necromancer steered the prisoner down the ramp and we all moved in his wake: myself, Figus, General Strakigos, and, further back, Jacintha and Valeria.

'Indeed, we shall, but first, I have the gifts for you that I promised.'

Queen Simara gave a wicked laugh of delight. 'Is there anything more delicious than to see the mighty fallen, especially if they are so foolish as to think that the rest of the realms will unite against the evil gods.'

She raised her voice, addressing Ivus Khan directly as he came ever closer, 'I used to laugh' – there was no laughter at all in her tone now – 'at your ambitions to lead a coalition against me. All the time you thought Kezatka and Southway and Trolland were with you, they were not. You just couldn't read the signs and so the army of the Underworld ambushed you here and brought you down.'

We were just ten metres away now, close enough to see the glow in her eyes that indicated she too was one of the blood drinkers. A vampire Shadow-Knight. I should have been afraid. Instead, I felt a desire to laugh welling up inside me. These moments where I was on the cusp of action were intense, like nothing I'd ever experienced before being summoned. And I relished them.

'Know this, Ivus once-Khan, after we've feasted on your blood, I'm going to keep your skull as a totem and …'

The description of what exactly Queen Simara had in mind for her defeated enemy was interrupted by Ivus giving a great roar as he spat out his gag and, throwing off the fake rope bonds, leapt the last few metres, a glowing scimitar in each hand. Ivus was a level 10 Rogue, with a very high dual wield skill. His weapons were a matched pair of +1 blades. And he had gone along with our plan with a fervent desire for vengeance.

'Treachery!' cried Queen Simara, falling back as the rapid moving scimitars clanged against her shield and armour. 'You fool of a Necromancer, I warned my troops to be ready in case you were stupid enough to think you could trick me and now you also will be slaughtered. My army can see. Yours cannot.' Horns rang out on their side and as one their troops advanced quickly across the whole battlefront.

Even while aware of these events below me, my concentration had been mainly focused on the fifteen blood drinkers to our north. They were well within range and as soon as Ivus had made his move, I had cast Holy Light of Miya. The pale orb flew like a shooting star to just above their heads and boom! A silent but incandescent explosion. I'd never seen the spell so powerful as now, when played after sunset and onto a group of undead.

You have dealt Holy Light damage to a blood drinker for 88 hit points.

You have killed a Blood Drinker!

You have gained 34,550 Experience.

You have dealt Holy Light damage to a blood drinker for 88 hit points.

You have killed a Blood Drinker!

You have gained 34,550 Experience.

The notifications stacked up until it was evident that I'd caught sixteen inferni blood drinkers in the sphere of light. Probably, there had been a dozen inferni infantry too who were not damaged as there were no notifications, but any within the flash of the sphere must have been blinded.

'Nooo!' Even while she parried and fought back against Ivus Khan, Queen Simara screamed at me with rage, her fangs showing.

With huge roars on both sides a massive clash of arms on armour rose all along the battle line. Ahead of us the knights of the Necromancer ran in to support the Cantreth king as at the same time the knights of the inferni hurried to join their queen.

While the overall numbers of the battle favoured us, the inferni had the advantage of fighting in darkness and here in particular their knights outnumbered and outperformed ours. This was where I had to play my part and I felt energy course through my limbs. Causing the lance to flare up with its Light spell, I charged downslope, skin tingling.

As I closed to within striking distance of Queen Simara the inferni ambassador leapt at my throat with unnatural power, her claws extended. All I needed do, however, was interpose the tip of the lance, with the Light spell glowing brightly from it. Immediately, the blood drinker screamed, covering her eyes with her arm and rolling to the side.

A quick glance told me that Ivus Khan was holding his own well enough. While the queen of the inferni was the better fighter and had landed several cutting blows, Ivus's fast moving blades were keeping her busy. I therefore had time to concentrate on the ambassador, who was now hissing at me but unable to get too close to the light.

'Remember thinking you had charmed me?' I clenched my teeth. 'I let you believe it.'

'Fear me!' There was power in her words, a spell, or a spell-like ability that made me want to flee, but I overcame that sensation.

You have resisted Fear

Several of our knights, however, suddenly turned about as though to run up the ramp and away from the inferni blood drinker. We were already outnumbered on the ramp, so it was with great relief I heard Figus from behind me, chanting his calm spell, with immediate effect. The Necromancer's soldiers returned to the battle.

Lunge!

You have hit a blood drinker for 17 hit points.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You cannot become better at Lunge.

Realising she was out of options, the ambassador flung herself off the ramp and into the air, her cloak fluttering and transforming into bat-like wings. She veered around behind the lines of battle, perhaps making for the spiders. I was able to make her out against the early stars and when she was more than 30 metres away cast my second Holy Light. The resulting flash didn't quite catch her in the centre of the incandescent sphere, but it dealt 88 damage and burned her up all the same. With a terrible shriek, she crashed to the ground, writhing in white flames until I got the experience notice.

I'd taken three hits from enemy knights while concentrating on launching Holy Light with accuracy and my hit points were at 98. Lashing out with blade and haft I made short work of the two in front of me and – shouting 'come on Greyland! Come on the Necromancer!' ran on into the thick of the melee, using a Lunge to impale a soldier in plate mail. Then the press was too tight for anything more than kicks, and head butts and elbows. My strength and maxed out brawling skills meant that for every blow I received I was issuing three or four.

It helped too that the lance was surrounding me with light, a sphere that while not damaging the inferni knights to the same extent as the blood drinkers, was causing them to look away or snarl as they tried to narrow their eyes. After my tenth opponent was downed – my own hit points having fallen to 74 – I was suddenly in a pocket of calm. All the action was behind me.

I turned to help with the duel with Queen Simara. There was no need. A glowing green tendril of pulsating magical cord was flowing around her and leading to the Necromancer's raised right hand. In his left was the book with magic resistance. Whatever the spell, the Necromancer was draining her of hit points or strength, because she was staggering around, barely able to defend herself, surrounded as she was by our knights. There was, however, no sign of Ivus Khan.

To my right, the zombies were bringing down the spiders. Although the monsters were terrifying to me, their mandibles could sometimes crush in the ribcage of a zombie, but the poison was no threat and nor were the arrows of their riders. A dozen zombies to a spider, they would hack at legs with axe and sword until the creature fell, eye-clusters shining in panic, and then the undead would clamber on up to overwhelm the riders.

To my left Greyland spearmen had enveloped the right flank of the Underground infantry, which had been left unprotected after my elimination of the blood drinkers. Fanon was no fool and must have ordered his troops to take advantage of the opportunity. As planned, every tenth soldier of mine carried a torch high and by the orange flames of these lights I could see the Greyland knights and heavy infantry deep inside the enemy line.

My belief that we were on the cusp of victory was reinforced when I turned to see Queen Simira stagger one last time and collapse, falling from my view.

Shouting again, I charged into the northern battle, this time with plenty of room to thrust and chop with the lance blade. Fighting my way through to the Greyland troops was relatively easy. The enemy infantry here were never more than level 2 and all one hit kills. 'Greyland! Greyland!' I roared, raising the glowing lance high.

As the thinning ranks of the inferni showed more and more Greyland knights and footsoldiers beyond them, I heard our soldiers shouting back to me. 'Carlos! Carlos!'

And then I was among them and bloody and fierce as they were, those whose faces I could see were full of grins and pride. After saluting me with brief gestures of their weapons, the Greyland soldiers redoubled their efforts. United together we were unstoppable. The remaining inferni knew it and all of a sudden, they dropped their weapons and tried to flee.

Lord Arval found me and clasped my shoulders. 'Well done, sire, we could see you on the ramp by your light. You were magnificent!'

Part II Chapter 22: The Middle Game

'It is sometimes said you have to win a game of chess three times to achieve victory.' I made this observation having exchanged queens and thus bringing the position towards an endgame. The Necromancer was continuing to improve at chess and sooner or later I would make a mistake and he would beat me. This game, however, was mine.

'Hmmm?' The Necromancer did not look up from the board. We were in a well-furnished room in an inferni fort, one that had formerly belonged to its commander. Oil lamps cast a warm yellow light onto wall tapestries that bore complex designs and depicted dancing demons in a style that reminded me of Tibetan art. Some of these demons, however, were most definitely lewd-minded. On the floor was a thin red carpet with an abstract design of lines and triangles of yellow. There was a large desk with a smooth marble top, several chairs made of a dark wood, and the Necromancer's new chess set. I preferred his old one, which had the classic chess pieces I was used to. These new figures depicted a variety of monsters on the black side and noble-looking knights and heroes on the white.

'You have to win the opening,' I continued, 'but also the middle game and the end game. Slip up at any stage and it can swing against you. Even if you won the opening and middle-game, you can easily lose the ending, which follows different strategies that you might be less a master of.'

The Necromancer was listening now and took a sip of the excellent inferni wine we had captured. 'Go on.'

'When I play against you, I am always better in the opening. Not because I am particularly strong at openings but simply because I know so many of them and have had the benefit of reading about them. Whereas you are best at the middle game, because you are no longer at a disadvantage in knowledge.'

'And the endgame?'

'A very tricky part of the game where there are lots of chess books and yet grandmasters still don't know it all: for example, whether a rook and a pawn in a certain setup can beat a single rook. I always found the endgame to be the strongest aspect to my play.' And it was true. I preferred the logical patterns of endings and the calculations of pawn chases to the messy middlegame.

'You are not from this world, are you Carlos?'

I looked at the Necromancer, heart suddenly leaping. As we were no longer on the march, he had returned to his civilian clothes and was immaculately dressed with a black suede jacket over an indigo silk shirt that was tied at the neck with a matching scarf. His shaved beard focused at his sharp chin and his eyes were steady on mine.

'I am not. What made you ask?'

'Often you speak about matters that betray a lack of knowledge of this world, of simple issues that everyone should know. Right now, however, I was prompted to raise the question because you made me think of Lord Arval.

'When I challenged your Paladin to a game of chess, he had never heard of it. No one has ever heard of it, other than you. Yet it is a game of such depth and you indicate that it has a rich history with hundreds of volumes of books devoted to it and many famous grandmasters over the centuries.'

I nodded. 'Good point, I get carried away when talking about it and forgot you don't have it here.'

'We do now. And I have been teaching General Strakigos. You might help him too.'

'Does this change anything? Our alliance? Our friendship?'

'Not at all, Carlos, if that is your name. In fact, it explains why my intuition is that I can trust you, even though a worshiper of Miya should be entirely opposed to the interests of the Kingdom of Lost Souls. You come here with your own values, otherwise you would never have had a mind open to making an alliance with me.'

'My name is Sean De Courcy and I'm from a world called Earth.'

He laughed, his warm laugh. 'I lost my name when I became the Necromancer. You gained one. And how are you here?'

As well as I could, I explained about the ceremony and the fact that Carlena, inspired by Miya, had reached out for someone they thought was the mightiest warrior on Earth.

'Fascinating. Well now.' Tipping his king in resignation, the Necromancer refilled both our glasses, took a sizeable drink and then topped himself up again. 'I've so many questions, I don't know where to start.' He looked at me with those thoughtful, penetrating, dark eyes. 'What should I ask you Sean De Courcy; what do I really need to know?'

'What manner of a person am I?'

'Oh, I have a good grasp of that. You are loyal, truthful and trustworthy.'

'Thank you.' I took a drink. 'I'm also happy. Back on Earth there is a pandemic, a great disease affecting every country. It's not too devasting, there have been worse plagues. But it's like my life came to a stop. I was studying but my college closed. My friends couldn't visit. I couldn't go out except to a few, limited places.

'I think I was lonely but didn't realise it because I was busy playing games.' I realised this required some explanation and tried my best to describe the online world in terms that the Necromancer might understand. He nodded patiently and allowed me to return to the main observation about myself that I wanted to make. 'And I discovered something about myself I never would have unless I'd come here. I relish battle. I've never felt so alive as when I was a rhino at the first Battle of Three Ways; or two days ago, on the ramp.'

'It is a wise man who knows what makes him happy.' The Necromancer stood up. 'But I wonder, Carlos – if you don't mind, I will continue to use that name – has anyone properly explained this world to you. For several times you've indicated a lack of knowledge about other kingdoms and gods.'

'Not really,' I acknowledged.

'Our world is essentially a square, divided between twenty-five gods, each with the same size of kingdom to support, at least initially. The land is surrounded by sea that forever flows off the edge of the world.'

'I did know that at least.'

He drew a parchment from its travelling case and used a knife and a candleholder to help prevent the sides from scrolling back up. 'We can picture the land as thus.' Taking up a quill and dipping it in ink he drew five strong horizontal lines and then five vertical ones. 'Let me number these.'

For a while there was silence, but for the scratching of his quill on the parchment. I moved to stand beside him, bringing my glass with me and placing it on the curling corner of the parchment. His was a very neat, small handwriting.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

'At the very heart of the world are the mountains of number thirteen. The dragon god, Kru, rules there through a small, but immensely powerful community of dragons whose queen is Scarratharat. Also, it is from there that the great rivers flow.

'Twenty-one is you,' he tapped the corner with his figure. Twenty-two is Southway, now effectively under your control. Twenty-three is Cantreth, very weak and currently without a ruler. Twenty-four is Arkine, tough soldiers, highly armoured and strong fleet. Twenty-five is Peyan, one of the evil races; they worship a snake god.

'Sixteen is Rockway, for now obedient to me, thanks you to,' he tipped his glass towards me, 'but who will rebel as soon as they think it safe to do so. Seventeen is Trolland, controlled by me. Eighteen is Kezatka, a slave society whose god, Ketizquatocl, favours human sacrifice. Nineteen was the territory of Queen Simira, until I killed her.' He glanced at me with a momentary ferocity, as if recalling the battle on the ramp and his Necrotic Touch spell that sucked the life out of her. 'Twenty is Fahim, which is mostly a desert, their god is Yehlios, the sun god, the same who punished the giants who used to worship him.

'Eleven is my kingdom and twelve Zorland, a jungle. On the other side of the mountains is fourteen, the Dwarven realm of Grimlar. Fifteen is Zatu, a fast-moving warrior culture. Coming back to the west coast, six is the Viking realm of Jomskar, still recovering from the loss of all but their coastal territory. Seven is Kaia, a rugged land with rugged human warriors.

'Eight is Ferrok, a realm of orcs and the news is that they have been conquered by realm nine, Hailand, a human culture with the finest swordsmiths in the world. On the east coast there is ten, Grrysthis, a kingdom of Lizard people. Along the north of the continent we have one to five: Langia, a wild people who hang sacrifices on the branches of their tree god; Sartas, bird people; Shadow, a ghostly realm; Northway, human castle builders, with powerful knights; and lastly, already conquered by Hailand and Northway, Tsichen, a human kingdom worshipping a kind god.'

I studied the picture and shook my head. 'Thank you, though I might have difficulty remembering what you have just told me. Could I trouble you to have a scribe write them all out for me to learn?'

'I had the very same thought.' He put the quill down.

I tapped on Greyland. 'If this were a game of chess, I would have survived a near checkmate in the opening to have obtained a good position for the middlegame.'

This brought a smile. 'If it were a game of chess, I would be more confident of the outcome with you as my ally.'

'What I mean is that I think we might have come to a point at which the nature of the game changes. Up until now it has been possible for rapid strikes with small numbers of troops to conquer entire realms, but I don't think that will remain the pattern for long.'

'I agree. We are going to need larger armies.'

'And also, we are going to need a better understanding of where we are heading. Do you have any idea what the endgame looks like? Is it a military conquest of the whole world? Or can someone win by holding a defensive position behind which they unlock a game-winning achievement? Such as a level nine church and summoning their god?'

The Necromancer began packing away the chess pieces into the velvet-lined box that he used to carry them in. 'According to historians, the previous ages of battle always ended with one victor, who had dispossessed all the other realms from their menus.' He paused, the black king in his hand and looked at it. 'It is not entirely clear what exactly happens each time. We know that one god then rules the next age as the supreme being, until war resumes again.'

I waited, while he continued picking up pieces and placing them in the box. Once he paused, as though to speak, but then continued at his task. At last, with the final pawn put in its place, he looked at me. 'It might be that a questline is completed, one that only the military victor can succeed in. Or it might be that a building project completion finishes the game.'

'We need to understand this better,' I said, 'because perhaps building defences and concentrating on a building strategy is smarter than pouring resources into armies.'

He nodded. 'You are right. When we are next returned to our realms, we must contact our respective gods with a Divination and ask them for a vision showing us the exact circumstances that the game is considered won.'

That night, lying on blankets on the floor of a commandeered room (inferni beds were too small for me). I began my review of Greyland with a look at the army menu. Ivus Khan had died before the Necromancer had felled the queen of the inferni. Even though this probably made the situation more favourable for me, I was sorry he hadn't survived. I'd attended his funeral: the khan's body was burned on a pyre by his soldiers. The king of Cantreth had respected me and had been an eager participant in our ruse that had deceived Queen Simira into meeting us overground. It would be years before his son, ten-year-old Rahus Khan, would inherit the ability to use the Cantreth menu. In the meantime, the riders who had accompanied us and fought in the battle were willing to reassign themselves to my menu.

Greyland casualties at the Second Battle of Arkad had been relatively light and accompanying me in this captured inferni town was Fanon with 31 spearmen; Hernán with 47 swords; Lord Arval with 18 heavy infantry and 9 knights; and 4 crossbows and 60 archers (those from Montrose much more integrated with the Greyland archers since the battle) under the command of Isabella. There were now 68 Cantreth light cavalry archers on my payroll and back home there were 60 archers who would soon be joined by 10 heavy infantry.

Switching to the economic menu, the situation remained healthy: although my food reserves were low, the Necromancer's trading vessel was due in four days and the countdown on the large grain yield was less than three weeks.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: Town-houses, 18 hours

Currently upgrading: Barracks 2, 2 days 18 hours

Monthly trade income: 9 gold 8 silver

Monthly tax income (medium): 77 gold 2 silver

Treasury: 984 gold

Daily food consumption: 31 units

Grain yield: 260 units due in 2 weeks, 6 days

Vegetable yield: 44 food units due in 8 weeks, 4 days

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 10 weeks

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 10 units daily

Timber yield: 21 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 13 blocks daily

Smithy yield: …

Weaving yield: …

Research: Pigeon Messaging

Resources:

Wheat: 17 food units

Vegetables: 22 food units

Meat: 4 food unit

Fish: 7 food units

Wool: 4 bales

Timber: 48 planks

Iron: 53 ingots

Stone: 63 blocks

Cloth: 48 bolts

The distribution of the people on the menu was: Farmers 60; Fishing Crew 40; Sailors 20; Builders 40; Shepherds 24; Hunters 80; Miners 84; Clothmakers 27; Bakers 40; Brewers 40; Carpenters 60; Stonemasons 60; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 10; Idle 232.

I'd completed my block of 12 units of Town Houses, with a raise on the population cap and a reduction in the risk of fire. And my upgrade of the Barracks was finished too, so that I could at last build a trebuchet. In fact, I put two into training at a cost of 16 people, 36 iron, and 80 timber.

For my next building project, I had selected Aqueduct, mainly for the fact that I was well aware that back on Earth the COVID pandemic would still be causing havoc and any reduction in the chance of a disease outbreak here had to be worthwhile. That cost me 64 blocks of stone and 44 planks. Taking 11 days in total to build from when I set that choice, there were 7 more days remaining.

For upgrades, I was still influenced by my recent conversation with the Necromancer and had chosen to take the church up to level 3 (57 stone, 36 timber, 3 iron). To be able to bring the goddess Miya into this world and converse with her had to be a crucial element in any winning strategy for Greyland. And while the prospect of reaching level 9 was far, far in the future, I wanted to bring the church up to at least its former glory.

In browsing the dense research trees, I'd been reminded of 'pigeon messaging', which immediately appealed to me now that I was so far from home. This research unlocked the Pigeon Coop building and in due course would mean I could send messages back to Carrick from wherever my agents had brought the pigeons. I could give one to the Necromancer, for example, if he and I were a long way apart. Having started on that, I had five days to go.

Lying back, I closed my eyes and let the menus fall away. There was still some work to assign to the smithy but I was too tired to decide and didn't want to rush into a project that might tie it up for weeks.

That night I dreamed that Queen Simira was laughing and drinking wine. She offered me some. 'Go on, it tastes delicious.' It was not wine, it was blood. She laughed again. 'Poor Ivus Khan.'

I spat the blood out and her laughter became more raucous.

'At least I'm alive,' I said. That shut her up.

Part II Chapter 23: A Slave No More

My first action on waking was to assign a task to the smithy: to make ten suits of plate mail. This was expensive, at 40 ingots, but I had plenty of iron even after taking into account the need to trade 15 to the Necromancer. And I had a full treasury. There was no reason, then, why I couldn't start a production line for knights. With both Lord Arval and I expert riders and equipped for leading a charge of Greyland knights, I really felt I should build up that body of troops. It would be our decisive striking arm on the battlefield.

Dūr-Abihâr was the capital of the Underworld and later that day (not that it was easy to keep track of time in the unchanging, dull luminosity of the vast cave system) we approached it along a wide, paved road which had grey fields either side. On the fields were slaves of all kinds and they were stood watching, their inferni overseers having fled.

I was mounted on Goncendor, riding at a walk with Lord Arval near the front of the combined army; the Necromancer was bringing up the rear with his army now complimented by sixty new inferni zombies. We did not anticipate resistance but all the same, I had the Cantreth fast riders scouting out several miles ahead of us.

'Send for Hernán,' I said to the aide behind me and soon the young man I'd promoted for his bravery at the ambush in Southway ran up.

'Sire?'

'You and your men go into the fields and release those slaves. If any of them want to come with us, we'll need their help demolishing inferni buildings.'

'With pleasure sire!' And Hernán hurried back to his unit, dividing it in two and sending the Greyland soldiers into the fields. Soon the sounds of chains being struck began to ring out on either side and I was pleased to see that the released slaves moved along with us. Most were humans, captured from Cantreth probably, and there were also many dwarves. All had expressions of hope and determination as well as an obvious energy in their strides.

We walked our horses at a very easy pace for the sake of the Necromancer's zombie contingent and that suited the former slaves of the fields around us, for more and more – carrying picks and shovels and hoes as weapons – were gathering on either side of the road.

'This does my heart good,' observed Lord Arval. His helmet was off and I could see the whiteness of his smile within his dark beard.

'And me. There's nothing like bringing an evil-slave empire to an end to make a day feel like a success.'

I glanced his way and Lord Arval was grinning back at me.

The city walls of Dūr-Abihâr were sturdy-looking grey stone, with a touch of translucence, as if they were stalagmites rising from the cave floor. At ten metres tall, they were not, however, as imposing as those of Montrose. Level 1 only. The iron-bound gates on the road ahead were closed and flanked on either side by rectangular towers. Above the gates was a crenellated walkway, with murder holes for dropping rocks on those beneath. There were helmeted inferni soldiers up there.

Our forces came to a halt, Cantreth scouts were waiting for me on the road. As their sergeant came riding over to report to me, the other Cantreth riders lost their formation as freed slaves ran up and greeted them. Soon it was a complete muddle on the road ahead, with cries of delight and even recognition as those on foot mingled with those on horse.

'King Carlos!' the Cantreth sergeant, Nurbolat, rode his small horse up to Goncendor, who snorted disdainfully at the new arrival.

'Report.'

'The gates closed not long ago. Before then, inferni were fleeing fields. They have a leader up on top who wants to speak with you.'

'Careful, sire,' said Lord Arval, 'they might want revenge. There might be a spellcaster or other threat if you get within range of their archers.'

'You are right.' I looked over at the sergeant. 'Nurbolat, how do feel about getting yourself blown up by an inferni spell?'

He grinned and slapped the neck of his horse. 'We would both consider it honour to be blown up for the sake of our ally and the rescue of our people who have been enslaved.'

'Grand so. Ride over to them and say I will wait here for their spokesperson to come out to me.'

With a cry, Nurbolat wheeled around in a tight circle and rode away, the effectiveness of his riding skills made less impressive by the congestion ahead and the fact his horse therefore could not go faster than a trot.

'Set up our lines here,' I said to Lord Arval. 'Two watches. Those not on duty to have their main meal now.'

'Aye, sire.'

Although I had been joking with Nurbolat, I found myself standing in the stirrups and watching with some anxiety as he reached the gate and exchanged words with the figures up top. Only when he was on his way back did I relax.

With a certain amount of justified pride in his wide face, he came up to me again. 'They will send a delegation under branches of truce shortly.'

'Well done sergeant. And am I to take it that many of these former slaves are from Cantreth?' I gestured to the growing crowds ahead and beside us.

'Yes, yes!' He nodded eagerly.

'I'm heartened to see them free and reuniting with their fellows, but can you try to avoid all that confusion? Get them organised behind the front lines that Lord Arval is setting up. They will be in the way if it comes to a battle. And send some scouts out to monitor our flanks on either side. I don't want to be hit by surprise.'

Suddenly serious now, Nurbolat saluted and turned to his riders, shouting at them.

I waited patiently as the muddle of soldiers and slaves gradually resolved itself into the Greyland army forming a solid line facing the city. Behind our troops the ex-slaves continued to gather on the fields, but they understood not to get in our way and were some ten metres away from the road on both sides.

While waiting on the embassy from Dūr-Abihâr, General Strakigos arrived with two riders.

'Good afternoon Carlos, what news? Is there to be a battle?'

'Well met general. I don't believe so, this is by way of precaution. The inferni are sending a delegation, presumably to discuss the terms of their surrender. Can you suggest that the Necromancer come join us for that?'

With a nod and a mutter, Strakigos sent one of his riders back.

At last, when the scent of cooking from dozens of small fires filled the air around me, making me hungry, the gates of the city ahead opened a fraction and three inferni riders came out: two of them holding branches and the one in the middle clearly unarmoured. She resolved herself to be of the blood drinker type.

The Necromancer had joined us, accompanied by two knights in black armour as a bodyguard. So there was a line of us on horse, facing their delegation as it drew up. For Greyland, there was Lord Arval on my left and Figus on my right.

'King Carlos?' she looked at me and I nodded. 'Necromancer.' Whereas she had some doubt, choosing between Lord Arval, General Strakigos and myself, she had no hesitation in identifying the Necromancer. After all, he was the only one not in armour, in his dark travelling cape with an embroidered waistcoat over a high-necked teal shirt. 'I am Lilis, Cleric of Asārte, goddess of the dark, and senior surviving noble of the inferni.'

'Go on,' I said.

'I have come to find out your terms for the surrender of Dūr-Abihâr and the Underworld as a realm.'

I said nothing. We had talked about this, the Necromancer and I, and our decision was that it was preferable to capture the square and thus remove access to the menu from the successor to Queen Simara, than to try to administer the realm through the surrender of their new ruler. But I could hardly tell them that.

The Necromancer evidently thought otherwise. 'We have no terms. We intend to destroy all your military capacity and effectively eliminate Asārte from the game.'

Given that she was already pale-skinned, it was remarkable that I could clearly see the inferni Cleric, Lilis, blanch at these curt words. She rallied quickly, 'It will not be so easy to capture these walls. You will lose many soldiers. But if you accept our surrender, we are willing to send you food and rare minerals.'

'Who will rule here? And use the menu?' asked the Necromancer.

'There is a young noble.'

'Would she be willing to reside in the Kingdom of Lost Souls, at my castle? Not a prisoner but a guest?'

'I… I don't know.'

'That is the least of our conditions. We will have several more if we are even to consider your offer. They will include the demolition of your military buildings and walls.'

'I will need to return to the council and discuss this.'

'Do so. You have until midday tomorrow. At which time we will storm the city.'

When the inferni envoy turned away, the Necromancer caught my eye as though asking a question. I shrugged. If they gave in to our demands, then perhaps such an arrangement as the one he was proposing was possible. Although, I preferred to simply take them out of the game by conquering the key square and disarming any remaining troops.

Our silent communication was interrupted by Lilis turning back and saying over her shoulder. 'And you should stop the slaves from escaping, or there will be no realm to share.'

***

That night I was woken by a call from Figus. Immediately, I grasped the lance, which lay alongside my blanket.

'Sorry, sire. It's not an emergency. But I thought you should see this.'

Groggy with a half-remembered dream about being back in college, I pulled on a sheepskin waistcoat to keep warm and left my tent. Although we were deep underground, the cave system was darker than earlier, as though the fungi that provided the luminous background were in a cycle that matched the movement of the sun over the land above, which perhaps they were. This dull background made it easier to appreciate why Figus had woken me. For, as far as I could see, all the way to distant pin-sized dots, were yellow and orange fires.

Nearby, I could see that the fires were those of the freed slaves. Counting quickly, I came to the figure of approximately five hundred fires. And if each fireplace had ten former slaves gathered at it, well, that was five thousand escaped slaves. That was a vast body of people, completely overshadowing the five hundred or so troops in the army of the Necromancer and myself.

They were lively too: music; shouts; conversation. No sign of tiredness.

'Why aren't they leaving?' I asked Figus, although I already knew the answer.

'They want revenge.'

'We won't be able to negotiate a surrender then?'

Figus shook his head. 'Our own troops will do whatever you command. These people won't.'

'Oh well. I didn't want a treaty with the inferni anyway.' I thought about the alternative. 'I hope there's a supply of wood somewhere. If we had enough ladders, with this many people they couldn't hope to defend the walls.'

A flicker of orange from the one dark part of the landscape ahead of us, the city. Then another, growing stronger and taller.

'What's that?' I asked Figus, pointing.

He studied the scene intently. I found that by looking from the edge of my vision, rather than directly, I had the impression of a tower on fire. Eventually, Figus expressed a similar view. 'I think there are fires inside the town.'

'Not camp fires, right? That's a blaze?'

'I think so.'

'Sound the alarm. Get the troops up and armoured!'

While Figus hurried away, I went back into my tent and began to strap on my armour. I was so practiced at this I could do it in the dark, but even with the utmost efficiency, it would take me the best part of fifteen minutes. Soon I heard the bugles of Greyland sounding and then the clangs of the bells that the Necromancer used for his signals.

By the time I emerged from my tent, the nature of the emergency was clear to everyone, dozens of fires were burning in the city. Lord Arval was there already mounted; another knight brought over Goncendor and helped me get up. In front of me were my sergeants, Valeria, my Ranger and Leonora my Cleric.

I shouted loudly enough for them all and additional troops watching on besides. 'The slaves inside the city must have risen up. If so, we must be ready to help them. Form up outside the gate beyond crossbow shot: knights and heavy infantry first with Lord Arval; Hernán, your swords next; then you Fanon and the spears; lastly Guy, Isabella and Nurbolat with your archers.

'If we get in, it will be ugly and confusing. We will take the gatehouse and stay there. No rushing through the town. With the gatehouse in our hands, the Necromancer can march his zombies through and they can finish the job without any unnecessary losses. Understood? Look after your troops. Keep close. Protect each other and hold that gatehouse.'

I looked around at the earnest faces and eyes that glittered in torchlight. Then urged Goncendor forward.

As I came closer to the huge gates of the city, the sounds of conflict beyond became discernible. It was impossible to tell what was happening though, other than the fact that there were more buildings firmly ablaze. Against the sheets of orange and yellow it was possible to see silhouettes of guards on the walls. Whatever the conflict inside the walls, the inferni hadn't forgotten about our armies outside.

As my soldiers fell into position behind me, the freed slaves also came up, group after group of grey figures clutching at their farming tools. I assigned a dozen of Hernán's swordsmen to urging them back away from the road. If the opportunity came, I wanted my armoured troops in the thick of the melee, not these eager but vulnerable people.

I was in the middle of briefing a Cantreth rider with a message for the Necromancer when Lord Arval shouted: 'the gates!'

'Just tell him to bring up the zombies.' I sent the rider on his way and turned about.

One of the heavy doors was open! The one on the left.

'Advance!' I shouted and caused the lance to glow incandescent at the blade with its Light spell. Waving it above my head, the whole army could see the signal despite the gloom.

Half way to the city walls, arrows began to flit past. One even glanced off my breastplate, but without causing any damage. Tempting as it was to order the knights to hurry on ahead, I kept our advance steady. There might be a lot of inferni beyond the gate and I didn't want any losses.

And I almost groaned aloud when the gate reversed direction and began to close again. We weren't close enough to intercept it… but then it became stuck. This time I didn't hesitate.

First, I triggered my Charge! feat giving everyone around me an extra 10 hit points and a 45% movement bonus. Then I gave the cry 'Charge!' and pointed the lance down the road.

There was no need to spur Goncendor, he leapt forward at the lightest urging and the other knights followed. Soon the hooves of our mounts were hammering on the road and in just a matter of moments I was at the gate. There I found a massive tussle of figures. Slaves were throwing themselves into the gap, wedging the door open with their bodies, whereas inferni soldiers were hacking them apart and trying to drag the corpses away. Goncendor had nowhere to land if we tried to jump through, so I let him slow up and used Lunge to kill an inferni soldier with a stab of the lance.

Immediately, I became the target of a dozen spear and axe attacks. Concentrating on defence while the rest of my knights caught up, I relied on my maximised Stonewall, armour and shield skills to block most of the incoming blows. I'd lost 15 hit points when Lord Arval joined me and a few heartbeats later the rest of our knights. Enough to make Tactical Strike worth triggering. We now had the same benefits as if we had arrived with a flank attack and it showed, two at a time, Lord Arval and I side-by-side at the front, we forced our way through the gap.

Blades rang out on my armour and arrows smacked off my hip, shoulder and helmet. But it was only another 12 hit points worth of damage and I began to revel in the press and the exchange of blows. 'Come on Greyland!' I shouted as loudly as I could 'Come on!'

Lashing down with the lance, I was killing inferni soldiers with each blow. Goncendor also accounted for two with his iron-shod hooves. It wasn't easy for him to find solid ground, there were so many bodies underfoot, but I knew the importance of getting a critical mass of troops through the entrance and urged him again and again to take a step forward.

All of a sudden, the door swung wide. Hernán's swordsmen had arrived and some had thought to bring ropes. They had attached these to the great iron bolt rings and working together in numbers had wrenched the door away from the grip of inferni guards. Now my heavy infantry were able to rush inside and their extra mobility and hit points really told.

Perhaps in an act of desperation, as the melee was clearly going our way, a blood drinker suddenly appeared, flying through the air towards me, clearly intent on wrestling me from my saddle. Yet all I had to do was raise the glowing lance and the creature had to fling its winged arms across its face, causing it to crash to the ground short of reaching me. Both Arval and I stabbed down, killing it.

With that, the last resistance of the inferni was over and their soldiers fled towards the city. None of mine followed more than a few paces. Instead, as ordered, they entered the gatehouse. Now both great doors were wide open, it was easy for the rest of my troops to come in and there seemed to be no fighting as my footsoldiers ascended the stairs on either side.

Following directly behind my archers were the former slaves, hundreds of them, and I had to wheel away out of their path as they ran on up the street and into the city. Men, women, dwarves and even the occasional elf, they hurried past with ferocious, bloody looks and also those of glee. More and more came past, a huge flow of angry and resolute former slaves. It would have been impossible to contain them or to have stayed ahead of them without losing formation.

Past me they ran and since they vastly outnumbered the inferni soldiery, I knew they would sack the city, regardless of the crudeness of their weapons.

After the freed slaves had finally all passed, a slightly sweet scent of decay heralded the arrival of the Necromancer and his zombies. Sending them on along the main thoroughfare, the Necromancer pulled up his horse along mine.

'Well done Carlos, very well done!'

'You don't regret that the opportunity for a surrender deal has gone?'

He laughed, 'not at all. Not in the slightest. This is much better, Asārte was one of the gods I was troubled by. This,' he gestured at the city on fire and in the hands of a vengeful mob, 'is her end.'

Part II Chapter 24: Out of the Ashes

The reek of the ruined city as I walked through it was choking. There was never much of a breeze in the cave system that was the Underworld and the smoke from the previous night's fires hung over us like a poisonous mist. My eyes were constantly watering too.

Using the lance to help me clamber over broken stones, fallen statues, and still warm, burned timber, I made my way to the main square of Dūr-Abihâr with Figus and Jacintha with me. The Necromancer was already there, dressed for war, which for him meant relatively plain black clothes. With him was a troop of 30 freshly raised inferni zombies.

'Well met, Carlos,' the Necromancer gave a nod also to my companions. 'There's something particularly … efficient, about getting the dead inferni to guard their own menu square, isn't there?'

'It's perfect,' I said. 'Saves wasting any of our own troops.'

'It does waste some perfectly good bodies though,' the Necromancer said with a resigned shrug.

There were plenty of unused corpses strewn on the cobbles of the square and we'd passed dozens in the streets too. As many slaves had died in the uprising as inferni, but of course the Necromancer had the good sense not to animate those as zombies. We would be relying on the ex-slaves to secure the city in the longer term.

'Shall we go in?' he asked.

'Wait,' said Jacintha. 'The smell of smoke is going to cling to my hair for a week.' She tied her long red hair tight into a scarf and, after taking a long swig of water from her canteen, dampened another scarf and tied it around her mouth. 'Now I'm set,' she announced in a somewhat muffled but cheerful voice.

Figus had been watching the Sorceress and looking thoughtful, ran a hand through his bright spikes. Then he too tied a scarf around his head. If I'd have had one, I would have put it over my mouth but I hadn't anticipated that the smoke would have lingered so much.

'Right so. Allow me.' I cast Light and my blade shone brightly, then I walked up the steps of the royal residence.

The Necromancer and I had agreed late last night that before leaving the Underworld we would search this building for treasure. Hence the presence of Figus and Jacintha, my two casters with Detect Magic.

The entrance corridor was grim: splashes of blood, still sticky underfoot; burned tapestries; fragments of pottery; and broken pieces of statues. A ballroom adjacent to it was the same, but with broken glass everywhere from the full-length wall mirrors that had been destroyed. Another room had been some sort of greenhouse, it had a pond at the centre with strewn flowers and burned bushes all around. Then we came to a large dining area, off which was a kitchen, storerooms and a much smaller room, one that might have also been for meals as the charred ruins of a table and several chairs lay in there.

I had been working my way around the ground floor, anti-clockwise in the main, having turned right from the end of the entrance corridor. We were towards the back of the house, about a third of the way along when we came to what had once been a large library.

'Oh, what a waste!' cried the Necromancer.

'Awful!' responded Jacintha.

As with the rest of the rooms we'd been in, the library was a ruin. Fire had ravaged the books and the shelves and any volumes that appeared to have survived were soon found to be nothing but ash inside a scorched leather binding. So intense had the heat been here that it had burned through the beams of the roof and collapsed the contents of the room above – chairs, sofas, tables – into this one and had destroyed them too.

'Shall I cast Detect Magic?' asked Figus from the doorway. He did not like the soot and ash but there was no avoiding it. We would be entirely black from head to toe by the time we left.

'I think Jacintha should here. Yours lasts twice as long.'

'Shall I?' the Sorceress raised her red-rimmed eyes to mine.

'Please do.'

After casting her spell, Jacintha raised her right arm and as though holding a torch in the dark slowly turned around, making sure to bring her attention to every part of the room. 'There!'

I stepped through debris to push aside burned furniture, with Jacintha behind me, eagerly pointing the way. Kicking apart the charcoal remnants of a what might have been a table with drawers, the Sorceress leaned into the black dust and picked up something that gleamed: a ring!

'Well done!' the Necromancer clapped and looked pleased. 'That alone is likely to justify our trampling through this filth. Is there any more magic here?'

After a pause to check, Jacintha shook her head.

'Then let us continue,' the Necromancer urged, his cravat now pulled up to his nose.

'Should I put it on? See what it does?' Jacintha asked.

'I suppose so. Is there a risk it is cursed?' I looked at her and then the Necromancer.

He shrugged and she gave a laugh. 'Well, let's find out.'

'Wait a moment.' I called up her character sheet and it was my turn to laugh. 'No need to take any chances, it's on your menu. That is a plus one Intelligence ring.'

Figus let out an appreciative whistle and both the Necromancer and Jacintha had sparkles in their strained eyes. Everyone needed Int for faster skill progression but for the Sorceress and the Necromancer, Int would no doubt play a part in some of the feats they could acquire at level 5 and 10. For now, Jacintha slipped it on, but I would happily give it to my ally if he was not yet at the cap of 20.

Beyond the library was a room that perhaps had been a music room, some kind of large stringed instrument had been destroyed here. Also in ruins were large glass doors that had faced a garden. It was a relief to step through them and for a moment breath the relatively cleaner air outside the house.

Having completed a circuit of the ground floor, we took the stairs up to the first floor, where our search at once became a lot more hazardous. Half of the rooms had nothing to walk on but beams and even those were insecure. It was actually safer, except in one particular quarter where the mansion had burned right through to the roof, to go up two more floors to the top of the building.

The top floor was mostly bedrooms and bathrooms, also rooms that might once have been suitable for intimate gatherings. All were badly smoke damaged and my eyes were watering heavily.

'Can you play Detect Magic please Figus. I don't want to stay up here any longer than I have to.'

'I feel the same,' the Bard replied and chanting in a low tone, waved his arms. Soon he was scanning the area, leading us along a carpeted corridor and quickly looking into bedrooms.

'Oh…' he stopped outside a pair of polished wooden doors that were significantly larger and better decorated than any others on this floor. 'In here.'

I turned the handle, but the doors were locked 'Stand back.' With my Strength at an effective figure of 17 I felt it worth trying a kick. And, indeed, after I'd lashed into them and used my Kick skill for good measure, the doors shuddered and a split appeared around the lock area. A few more kicks brought a widening of that split, until, with a great cracking sound, the right hand of the two doors swung back, leaving the lock still in place, but now suspended in the air, held there only by its being attached to the other door.

Beyond the open door was some kind of office or meeting room: tables, several small, one large and oval; a dozen chairs, mostly functional but two that were high-backed and covered with padded leather; maps on the walls, all now grey from ash and smoke; cabinets and a few bookshelves.

In case there was a trap, I walked in first. Nothing. 'Where's the magic?' I asked.

'Strange,' Figus was standing at the broken door, looking cautiously over at me. 'It's there, beyond that bookcase.'

I went to the wall and the bookcase the Bard was pointing at and tapped the top shelf – which was at eye-height – with the blade of the lance. 'Here?'

'Past you, I think?'

Now I tapped the lance on the wall. It sounded hollow. For a comparison, I moved to my left and tapped again. Solid. Then back to the bookshelf. No doubt about it; the sound I was getting indicated a space behind it. Perhaps a secret storage area with the magic item? When I went to pull the shelving unit to the side, so as to get at the space and perhaps use brute force again, it wouldn't budge in the slightest. The sides and shelves of the woodwork were merged tightly to the wall, unlike the other bookcases, where I could see the lines of separation.

I stood back. The smoke damage had given the leather bindings of the books a grey tinge, with the exception of three adjacent volumes that still had their colours: amber, green, and light blue. Taking off my gauntlet I touched them. Wood, not leather. I grasped the top of the wood and pulled. Nothing. My push, however, caused the block of wood to settle slightly. I placed my palm on all three spines and pushed hard.

With a click the wall and bookcase span around like a revolving door, my weight taking me forward into a dark room.

'Carlos!' cried the Necromancer.

'I'm fine.'

'Don't move! I sense a presence.'

Where the haft of the lance had prevented the door closing behind me there was a narrow rectangle of light that fell over my shoulder and picked out a man sitting in a comfortable, high-backed seat. He seemed Middle-aged by the lines around his eyes but not by his deep, black and very curly hair; he was extremely well dressed in a dark suit and would have been at home as a Renaissance nobleman, except he looked up at me with glowing red eyes. 'Would you mind closing that door? The light gives me a headache.'

'There's certainly a presence! Some kind of demon I reckon,' I called back. 'Can you and Figus come up? But Jacintha, stay back in case you need to get help.'

Instead of obliging the person or creature in front of me, I cast Light and my incandescent blade revealed a shocking scene. Desiccated bodies lay strewn all over the floor except for a pristine circle in the centre of the room, about five metres in diameter. It was in the centre of that circle that the sinister man sat. On the walls were symbolic designs carved into the stone, in several places they were covered by dark streaks of what could well have been dry blood.

'Whoever you are,' the man had covered his eyes with his arm, 'please stop that.'

'Who are you?' I asked, relieved that the Necromancer and Figus had opened the door to its maximum and had wedged it there with a chair.

'I'll tell you if you stop that spell. It is very painful to me.'

I did as he asked and after a moment's blinking to adjust, found I could still see him well enough by the light from the doorway.

'Thank you. My name is Ekimnu.'

'What are you doing here, Ekimnu?'

The Necromancer edged into the room, took my arm, and drew me back a step, away from the edge of the circle.

Ekimnu studied us, adjusting his cravat as he did so, as if smartening himself up for this encounter. It reminded me of a fighter pulling his silk dressing gown on more tightly before entering the boxing ring and I pointed the head of the lance towards him.

'Since you are probably my enemies, I shall not provide you with any information. Unless, that is, you provide as much to me as I do to you. I propose we alternate questions.'

'Very well,' said the Necromancer. 'Please start by explaining your presence here.'

'I am a demon, servant of the goddess Asārte. Queen Simara summoned me with a Divination spell so as to communicate with the goddess. And she sustains me here with regular sacrifice.' He stared at us with those disconcerting red eyes. 'I hope you'll agree that was a thorough answer without any evasion. Now yours should be the same: what are you doing here?'

'I am the Necromancer, ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls, and I am here because we brought an army to the city in order to conquer it, only for the entire city to be destroyed by an uprising of its slaves.'

The demon frowned. 'I suppose I must congratulate you. Though why a worshiper of Scrithax would try to conquer the realm of Asārte at this stage of the game is beyond my comprehension. When the good gods of the world unite against you, who will be your ally?'

'Miya,' answered the Necromancer promptly. 'And now it is my question again.'

'Hold!' Ekimnu swelled up angrily, his human form distorting slightly and unpleasantly. 'Mine was a rhetorical observation and your answer is absurd. If we cannot conduct this exchange in good faith, then I shall leave and you will miss the opportunity to talk to Asārte.'

'Talk to Asārte?' the Necromancer repeated slowly, mouth opening and closing.

The demon shrugged. 'That's why I am here.'

'What possible benefit could that be to us?' I asked. 'Won't she just wish to attack us, in her anger?'

'Who can know the mind of a god?' asked the demon, 'and don't answer that. It's rhetorical again. I believe Asārte will have an offer for you; and you are perfectly safe. I cannot leave this summoning sphere.'

'I don't see why we would take any risk here.' I looked at Figus. 'Is there any treasure here do you think?'

The Bard shook his head. 'The whole area is magical, especially in the vicinity of the circle, but I don't believe there are any magical items among those bodies.

'Then let's go.'

The Necromancer looked rueful. 'I agree. Though it is not often you have the opportunity converse with a god, I don't anticipate Asārte helping in any way and she might have some kind of lure to disorientate us into breaking the constraint on the demon.'

I turned to leave.

'Wait! Don't you have more questions? I can tell you all about Queen Simara's alliances; where she keeps her most valuable treasure; about the prisoner in the tower; and more!'

I paused. Those topics were definitely of great interest but why was the demon so anxious to detain us?

'Go ahead so,' I said, facing Ekimnu again.

'Most gladly. In return for your listening to what my goddess has to say and offer. You just need to bring her some blood so she can manifest through me. And I believe there are plenty of bodies nearby. Five or six would do.'

'No.' Again I turned to depart and this time followed Figus back out into the bedroom, the Necromancer close behind.

A groan, then a female voice like that of the roar of the corona of a star: not deafening but filled with such energy that it burned to listen to her. 'I need blood or I cannot stay. But you must hear me out. I know what Scrithax seeks to do and I won't allow it. I know he's a liar. That he will use you for his own pride and glory. That his victory will bring about a reign of horror and destruction.'

'While your reign would be joyful?' the Necromancer was cold and angry. I admired his ability to speak back to a goddess whose presence was shaking my thoughts apart. Beyond him, in the dark summoning room, I got the impression of a black cloud and the flicker of electricity.

'For some. For those deserving reward. But you have succumbed to Scrithax and will never see through him. It is Miya's servant I address. Yes, you! Tell Miya my warning, tell her Scrithax plans to overthrow the rest of us for all time, to break the rules of the game. Tell her to bring me back and I will be her ally.'

That last plea broke the spell, if a spell it was, for it sounded false and I was able to speak. 'Miya wishes for me to assist the Necromancer. Perhaps she understands Scrithax better than you.'

'Scrithax has been my consort; my chariot driver; my captain; my comrade; my muse; my patient; my collaborator; and I, of all the gods, know him. He will turn everything you love to dust.'

And suddenly she was gone: the pressure around me eased and with a groan the demon fell to his knees.

'You didn't believe her?' the Necromancer asked me anxiously.

'I don't know what to believe about Scrithax, I've nothing to judge him by. But it is true that Miya encouraged me to support you. And I've a lot to judge you by.'

'Asārte was desperate.'

I nodded, then I studied the demon. 'I don't think it wise to leave him here.'

'I agree.'

'I don't know what you are thinking,' the demon gasped, 'but you've nothing to fear from me.'

'Move back up the corridor, more than twenty metres.'

Figus got the point and left at once, Jacintha with him. The Necromancer hesitated, then looked at the lance. 'Ahh. You will manage?'

'Unless he has more than three-hundred and sixty hit points.'

The Necromancer clasped me on the shoulder and left me alone with Ekimnu.

'Clever,' whispered the demon, raising his red eyes to mine. 'Now release me and we will kill the Necromancer and halt Scrithax to the glory of Miya.'

I triggered a Holy Light of Miya and if the pain of the explosion of white light was like a stab to my eyes, how much worse must it have been for the demon. He was still screaming when the timer reset and I fired another. I was completely blind myself but had held the lance steadily pointing at him. Then all was silent.

You have killed Ekimnu!

You have gained 550,000 Experience.

You have gained a level! Your hit points are restored and your timers on skills and feats have reset. Please view your character sheet for other benefits.

Part II Chapter 25: The Prisoner in the Tower

Level 12! As far as I was aware, I had caught up with the highest-level people in the world. Even at Level 11, it seemed that I had surpassed most other rulers in the scores of my skills and now with the extra hit points and the increase in 5 on all my skill caps, I should be able to face anyone in the world.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Warlord, Level 12         HP 144          AC 0

Str16 (18)

Dex12 (13)

Con18 (20)

Int20

Wis18 (20)

Cha9

Magic items:

Lance of Light

+2 rapier

+1 Bow of Accuracy

Bracers of Archery

Ring of Wisdom (+1 Wis)

Amulet of the Bull (+2 Con)

Exp 1,740,000 (3,300,000)

Top Skills

Wield Longbow 55 (60)

Wield Lance 55 (60)

Ride Warhorse 55 (60)

Wield Rapier 55

Lunge 55

Grapple 55

Kick 55

Lightning Draw 55

Heavy Armour Mastery 55

Medium Armour Mastery 55

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

Tactical Strike (Int)

My new attribute point I put into Strength and even as I waited for my vision to return, I felt the benefits of this as well as the increased robustness of having 144 hit points. I remembered how as a level 1 Fighter I had gone out of the city with Carlena and Anthea to fight those ugly, sharp-beaked birds, Ciaterns. In my first fight in this world, I had been hit for more than half of my hit points! And I had been useless at using my bow to injure the creatures, despite them being held in place by Carlena's Freeze spell. It would be fun to ride through that area once more, but now on Goncendor, one-shotting them from horseback. That would really underscore how much I'd advanced in my time in the world of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms.

Having encouraged the others to carry on their search – hoping they might find the treasure the demon mentioned – I spent my fifteen minutes of being blind catching up with the Greyland menus. We'd gathered a fair amount of inferni weaponry and one option was to send it back to Carrick to allow me to recruit a quick and cheap body of infantry. The problem was that the lamella armour was on the short size for humans. The obsidian spears and axes were useable though. Another more immediate option was to see if any of the released slaves were fighters. Those from Cantreth would want to be on horseback again but maybe some of the dwarves would fight for me? The armour could be made to fit them.

Back home, my trebuchets were ready but frustratingly, they were listed as being in Carrick. Really, they should be set up at Three Ways. This was a situation in which a pigeon message would have been perfect. Or if I delegated authority to a senior officer back in my capital with a sense of initiative. Perhaps I should promote Fanon? He had a sensible head on his shoulders and was willing to go beyond his orders when he thought it necessary. Or push the Barracks up to level 4 and see if that unlocked a new progression path for one of my soldiers? Fanon, I decided, was a good officer to have with me. His spearmen seemed to follow him eagerly and he hadn't hesitated to charge the vulnerable flank of the inferni at the second battle of Arkad. Perhaps I should just send a fast rider back with my orders to move the trebuchets?

The timers I was keeping a close eye on still had a while to run. The aqueduct was 5 days from completion and the level 3 Church upgrade needed 2 days and 6 hours. Research into pigeon messaging still required another 3 days. Everything else was solid and my finances were still growing, even with the additional expense of the trebuchet crews.

At last, the blindness from Holy Light wore off and I could join my companions. Hoping to find the inferni queen's treasure, we continued to search the royal mansion until Figus and Jactintha were depleted of mana. Then we left, to the relatively cleaner air of the square outside.

Dūr-Abihâr was a low-rise city. All of the houses and workshops were single story (had their queen not researched two-storey buildings?) and only military constructions, like the walls and the towers, rose over ten metres.

Figus muttered, 'the prisoner in the tower' and gestured to a very distinct tower. Made of a reddish stone, it had a square shape for a base and rose about twenty metres to crenellations. Thin arrow slits were visible in the middle of the wall facing us. Looking around, there were only the towers of the walls and a large ziggurat to compete with the building as the possible one meant by the demon when he'd been trying to get us to talk to his goddess.

'Good point,' I replied. 'Let's have a look before we return to camp.'

Although our walk to the tower was short, I still had to step over several bodies. The fighting must have been intense here. And around the tower itself there were many more corpses and, interestingly, although there had been some effort to burn the doors, they were still locked.

As I squared up to kick at the doors, Figus brandished what looked like a packet of needles. 'I've been practicing my lock-pick skill and perhaps it's worth a try?'

With a wave of my hand, I gestured for him to come over. 'A useful skill for diplomats I imagine.'

Figus smiled. 'Many a locked drawer contains secrets worth knowing. You'll recall Injeborg the Red, the ambassador from Jomskar, she has great expertise in the art and taught me something of it.

While Figus kneeled beside the door, I had a look at his character sheet.

Figus, Bard Level 7

HP 53

AC 15

XP 177,400 (202,800)

Str 14, Dex 15, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 9, Cha 16

Scroll of Charm.

Ambassador feats: Speak Language; Swift Travel

Bard feat: Inspired Performance

Spells: 4x1st, 3x2nd, 2x3rd, 1x4th

And I opened his skills menu:

Climb 32

Dine graciously 34

Grapple 5

Heavy armour mastery 29

Lie convincingly 17

Medium armour mastery 17

Peacemaking 12

Pick lock 28

Ride warhorse 27

Riposte 12

Shield mastery 27

Sway audience 13

Wield rapier 22

Wield short bow 18

Dine graciously 34! I could see what Figus had been up to while I was getting up with the dawn every day for seven months, rain or shine.

'Got it,' he said with a look of triumph and taking hold of a large, circular knocker, pulled one of heavy doors outwards.

'Well done,' I said but with perhaps less enthusiasm than he deserved. I was still feeling incredulous that while my ambassador's bow and rapier skills were well short of their cap, he had nearly maximised dine graciously.

'Well done indeed,' the Necromancer strolled into the darkness beyond. I hurriedly followed and used Light from the lance to help illuminate the interior of the tower.

The square, stone building looked like it might have been used as a barracks and armoury. The ground floor had muddy boots in boxes; a rack of spears (toppled and the weapons strewn around); and shields mounted to the wall. It also had a large, dark patch on the stone floor just inside the door. The Necromancer was knelt beside it, dabbing it with a fingertip.

'Blood,' he announced, 'spilled last night.'

More dark patches led to a stone staircase and I followed them lance held high, the others behind me. The next floor had a wide room with benches, tables, chairs and a stove. Narrow arrow slits gave some light but it really needed the brightness of my shining blade to pick out details like gaming pieces that had fallen to the floor or a person-shaped target board with feathered darts in the eyes and two blowpipes nearby. Splashes of nearly-dry blood led to the one staircase up and I followed them, alert for a possible wounded enemy.

The next floor had twenty or so cots, laid out in a regular pattern, and each with a chest at the foot of them. And it was here that the source of the blood was resolved. It was an inferni warrior in lamellar armour who was dead and slumped over, perhaps on his way towards the next stairs. In his right hand was a set of keys and in his left a long, wickedly curving dagger. Blood had drained from a wound under his arm and formed a thin pool on the floor around him.

After rolling the body over and quickly checking it (a pouch with some coin and five rune-carved finger bones), I took the key ring. On it was one very large key – whose bow had bloodied fingerprints – one medium, and two smaller ones. Feeling hopeful that one of these had something to do with the prisoner, I led the way onwards, up through a dining room and a floor with several individual bedrooms and then up wooden stairs to the roof level.

Startling away several ravens, we paused for a few moments, looking out over the top of a cloud of smoke, which was punctured by the town's eight largest wall towers, the royal mansion, and the top of the ziggurat.

'Where do you think that dead inferni was making for?' I asked. 'Because my guess is he was going to the prisoner and if so, we've missed the cell, somewhere between the floor with the body and here.'

'I agree,' said the Necromancer. 'Let's go and ask him.'

'The dead inferni?' I probably sounded surprised, because the Necromancer smiled.

'The dead can be very informative.'

Back at the corpse, the Necromancer positioned us well away to the side, then stood before the body, raised his arms, and with a very dramatic-sounding incantation, cast a spell.

The dead inferni sat up, a pale blue nimbus all around him. 'Where am I? Who are you?'

'I am Ekimnu, demon servant of your goddess Asārte,' the Necromancer intoned with a deep and sombre voice. 'You have died and await rebirth. Now speak with me before returning to the darkness.'

'I failed. Tell the goddess I'm sorry.' The inferni's head tipped forward onto his chest.

'Go on.'

'I managed to lock the door against the slaves; but I was wounded. The blood just kept coming. I tried to hurry but it was no use. I died and I knew I was dying and had failed. The prisoner remains alive. It did comfort me at the end, that I thought she might nevertheless die of thirst. Even if the invaders open the doors to the tower, they will not easily find her. Do you not think so Ekimnu?'

'Perhaps. I have not seen the cell with my own eyes, how well hidden is it?'

'It is clever, being an illusion. No casual search can find the door but I fear they will have spell casters with Detect Magic and she will be discovered.'

'They had at least one who found me, to her cost.'

'Is there still hope then? Can Asārte return?'

'Very little. But if I can bring the treasure of Queen Simara to the inferni noble next in line to the throne, she may be able to rebuild an army. Where is that treasure?'

'Is this a test Ekimnu?' the dead inferni sounded hesitant now. 'You know it is kept beneath your summoning place.'

'It was moved during the uprising to be hidden outside the city.' The prompt response by the Necromancer was clever and Jacintha caught my eye, raising an eyebrow approvingly. 'You know nothing of this?'

'I'm sorry my lord, I do not.'

'Do you know anything that might assist the next inferni ruler of the Underworld?'

'The slaves didn't notice General Ša-Nabû's boots. They might be still on his body. Other than that… It's hard to think, to remember.'

'Then rest, officer, rest. Let go of this world once more. May you have more success in the next.'

The Necromancer lowered his hands and the corpse rolled over, inanimate. 'Well, I think you'll agree that the dead are sometimes worth talking to.' He sounded pleased with himself, as he deserved to be.

'Oh, I certainly do,' I said.

'Well done sire,' added Figus. 'That was not only an effective spell, but you acted the part of the demon exceedingly well to obtain valuable information.'

The Necromancer looked pleased at the compliment.

'How do illusions work?' I asked Jacintha.

'A lot depends on the level of the spell and the caster. Most are visual only, mirages. If Queen Simara was capable of creating permanent illusions, then it would also deceive our sense of touch, of smell even.'

'Taste?' I wondered aloud.

'I've seen illusions of banquets,' said Figus, 'which looked incredible and the aromas from which wet the mouth. But never could you eat from them and believe it, that's when the illusion became apparent. That there was no substance.'

'Do you have enough mana for Detect Magic?' I asked him.

'Not for an hour or more sire.'

'You?'

Jacintha shook her head.

'Well then, let's start licking the walls.'

***

My trick worked and it was me who discovered the illusion, perhaps because the others were only half hearted about the idea (and I'm not sure if the Necromancer actually licked any walls at all). One moment I was sticking out my tongue, anticipating yet another, dry, salty stone taste and the next I was seeing two worlds. It was like those fractal images that when you stare at them long enough you see a shape in three dimensions. I could sense the illusory wall and see how it looked, but I could also see another wall with a door and a barred window.

'Here! It's here!'

As the others came running, I checked the lock and realised that the medium-sized key was the only one that might fit. It did and I pushed the door inwards.

'Oh good,' came a woman's voice from within. 'I'm as thirsty as the desert and thought you had forgotten me.'

'I'm not one of your captors,' I said, 'I'm here to rescue you.'

Part II Chapter 26: Friends Reunited?

Even before I saw her, I had intuited that the prisoner was Carlena. There was something about the assertive nature of her words: although she was a prisoner she still came across as if she was in charge. And when I raised the lance to shed light into the small cell, there she was, ducking behind her arm; long, silver hair falling forward, shining like the moon.

'Do you mind ending that Light spell. I've been so long in the dark, it's blinding me.'

'Not at all.' I obliged her and for a moment all was black, until the bedroom door behind me opened and a grey light brought her back into view again, albeit mostly in outline.

'Carlena!' Figus called out from behind me.

'Who is that?' the Sorceress stood up and somewhat hesitantly stepped towards us.

'It's Figus and…'

I gestured that he should stop short.

'Figus. And who do you serve these days? Who is this knight capable of defeating Queen Simara?'

I held out my hand and escorted the Sorceress out of the cell to the bedroom beyond the illusion.

'This gallant knight, I should say.' Carlena looked at me closely. Her scrutiny ran down my black, plate armour, then back to my eyes. A puzzled expression formed on her face. 'You look familiar.'

'Greetings,' the Necromancer came into the room and gave a slight bow. 'I am the ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls. And you, I presume, are the Sorceress Carlena from Greyland.' He glanced at me, expressionless. 'Or once from Greyland. I believe you abandoned your king and goddess.'

Carlena bowed deeply. It seemed to me that she had aged and that there were distinctly more lines around her eyes. But then, she had been imprisoned for some time. Perhaps light, freedom and a healthy diet would restore her to the vigorous woman I remembered.

'Unfortunately, King Carlos proved useless. He failed Miya, the army and the people… my only hope of survival, let alone to progress as a Sorceress, was to leave Greyland.' She paused, looking around the three of us – Jacintha had entered too – as if aware something was amiss. 'When I left him, Carlos was intent on seeking refuge with you. Did he arrive?'

'He did.'

If Carlena hoped that the Necromancer would offer more information, she quickly realised that he had no intention of saying anything further. 'My decision to leave him must look harsh, I understand, it seems disloyal and so on. But you have to appreciate the man was a lazy, incompetent fool. Figus knows, he was there. Isn't that so Figus?'

Amused now, Figus smiled and again Carlena looked disconcerted. Managing not to look directly at me, Figus answered, 'I don't agree. In my opinion the king was giving his best to our cause and already demonstrating the qualities that could have turned the fortunes of the realm around. I blame myself for not giving him better advice in regard to Trolland and Southway. Their ambassadors deceived me and I failed him; so did you. Our army marched into that trap and none of us was ready for it.'

'Sir knight.' Carlena turned away from Figus, disappointed. 'You carry the Lance of Light.' Then she looked over to the Necromancer. 'Did Carlos give it to you? In return for his protection?'

'He did not,' replied the Necromancer.

'Carlena,' I said, 'look carefully at my eyes. Think about the tone of my voice. And remember that you once said that you would not meet me again, unless the Necromancer turned me into a particularly large zombie.'

All at once, she understood and in that moment seemed to shrink. Her eyes fell on Jacintha with a kind of mute appeal to her fellow Sorceress. As if she had not intended to speak badly of King Carlos. As if she hadn't intended to abandon me at all. As if there were good reasons for her choices. Then she rallied.

'You look well. Powerful too.'

'Thank you. I see your plan to obtain a new ruler who would build a high-level scriptorium has not gone well. What happened?'

'Nazaratos, high priest of Ketizquatocl, ruler of Kezatka, thought we would make a useful sacrifice to his god. Fortunately, Queen Simira traded for me before the most propitious alignment of the stars for my sacrifice had come to pass.'

'We? Chancellor Parrin?'

'Indeed.'

'And he…?'

'Is due to have his heart torn out and placed before the statue of Ketizquatocl any night now.' Although striving to sound matter-of-fact, Carlena spoke with a sadness that I believed was genuine.

Even though I had been abandoned by Parrin, I wished him no harm and knew I would save him if I could.

'What did Queen Simara want from you?' asked the Necromancer.

'She was researching spells, striving to get a Darkness spell of sufficient strength to cover a large body of her troops and allow them to travel during the day. Her scriptorium is level four and her most senior Sorceress level five. I might have been extremely useful to her if her plans to upgrade the scriptorium and focus her research on spells had continued.'

Carlena shrugged and then looked around the room. 'Am I to take it you have defeated the queen of the Underground? Or is this more of a raid, a rescue mission?'

'Utterly defeated. She is dead. Her senior nobles are dead. The city has been destroyed by its slaves and abandoned by such surviving inferni as there are.'

'Goodness. I see. And is this all to the benefit of the Kingdom of Lost Souls?'

'Greyland too,' Figus said immediately and Carlena looked at me again. If my expression was a little self-congratulatory, I couldn't help myself. It did seem from looking at me that she understood that I was king once more and that Greyland was thriving without her, that she had made the wrong choice. Was she the sort of person who could admit that? Or in her story, had she made the right decisions and only for bad luck had it come to this: that the man she left had risen, while she had fallen? There was something in the way her glance could not remain on mine but slid away to the side that made me think that Carlena was filling up with regret.

'What now for me?' she asked. 'Do you wish me to return to the Greyland menu? Do you want my help?'

I nearly laughed aloud at this question. No, it was the same old Carlena, still thinking she was an important player.

'Thank you, Carlena, but we are much closer to being enemies than friends. In fact, if I were ruthless, I would imprison you or execute you. Not for past disloyalty but because your ambition to be the world's most powerful Sorceress is going to take you to other rulers and assist them.'

'You're not going to harm me.' Carlena drew herself up and I felt that she would have leaned over me aggressively if she could. Then she suddenly turned to the Necromancer. 'Do you know who this man really is? He's not who you think. This is not King Carlos.'

'I know who he is. He is a staunch and determined ally.'

'His real name is Sean; he's just a youth. I summoned him from another world. And he's pathetic. Which is probably why you keep him around. A puppet to assist you in your conquests.'

If these words were meant to goad me, they failed entirely. She had misread the relationship between myself and the Necromancer. If we had any fault line, it was not that he ever attempted to control my decisions like a puppet-master.

'Enough Carlena,' I probably sounded tired. I certainly felt tired of her. 'I'll send a rider and try to save Parrin. If you want to accompany our army until we have news of him, I'll grant it. After that you two must make your own way in the world.'

'Too generous,' muttered Figus.

'If you are negotiating with Nazaratos, he has my spell book and magic items.'

This time I did laugh aloud. 'They are yours no longer and if I do secure your spell book – thanks for the tip off – it will go to Jacintha here.'

Carlena's fury was evident, but so was her impotence. When the colour had faded from her cheeks, she nodded. 'Well, thank you for trying to save Parrin at least. Thank you also for the offer, I accept. I'll come with you in the hope he's still alive.'

***

The Necromancer and I spent the next five days camped outside the ruins of Dūr-Abihâr so that the Necromancer could take advantage of the considerable number of bodies available to him and raise 30 zombies a day. Figus, because he was my ambassador and had the protection that role afforded and because too he had the Swift Travel feat, had left at once for Kezatka. On the sixth day, Figus returned with the news that Parrin was still alive and that Nazaratos, the high priest of Kezatka, wanted to meet the Necromancer and I in person.

Leaving 60 zombies to guard the plaza at Dūr-Abihâr we marched away from the still-smouldering ruins of the fallen city, westwards.

While the Necromancer's army had swollen by 120 zombies, my own had increased too, much more modestly, thanks to the desire of 17 Cantreth riders to join their companions and serve me, for pay, along with my promise being that I would do my best to ensure no harm came to their very young khan. It was frustrating that I could have had many more of these expert horse-warriors join me, but for a lack of mounts.

Hundreds of citizens of Cantreth returned home. And hundreds of dwarves too, went north east as a group. Their leaders had no interest in becoming mercenaries, but they did promise to convey in the most appreciative way the greetings of the Necromancer and I to their king.

My army in the field therefore consisted of 31 spearmen under Fanon; 47 swords under Hernán; 18 heavy infantry and 9 knights under Lord Arval (overall second-in-command to me); 4 crossbows and 60 archers under Isabella; 16 light cavalry under a sergeant called Baldwin; and lastly, a really useful body of 75 Cantreth light cavalry archers under their own leader, Nurbolat. With me I also had Jacintha, third level Sorceress; Valeria, third level Ranger; Leonora, second level Cleric and Figus, seventh level Bard.

My current strength, therefore, consisted of the density and mobility of my missile attacks and my weakness was in not having a solid enough core to hold the line and protect the archers. Fortunately, the Necromancer's army complimented mine. His was mostly a very solid contingent of infantry, at the centre of which was a unit of 178 zombies. He also had 72 spearmen, 32 knights and 68 light cavalry. What he lacked was archers, of which he had only 30. Together, we amounted to a force that I reckoned was quite formidable, although it was all relative to how the other rulers were doing.

While waiting for the Necromancer to maximise the use of the dead bodies nearby, I had managed my menus in response to completed timers. On the military front, I'd completed the training of 20 heavy infantry, with chainmail armour and two-handed swords. Next in the military queue were ten knights, whose armour was 6 days from completion by the smithy.

Since my research into pigeon messaging was complete, I could build a coop as soon as my current project – an aqueduct – completed. That still had one day to go, but all the same, I sent one of my scouts back to Carrick with a mission to obtain baskets of pigeons once they were trained and then come and find me in the field via messages left at Montrose.

My upgraded church had reached level 3.

Church level 3

Priests: Senior Cleric level 2*, Cleric level 1

Benefits: heals two persons per day of minor wounds and one of disease (cannot heal victims of poison or remove magical curses). Other healing and benefits according to the spells of the Senior Cleric. Increases town Happiness by 4.

* Senior Cleric may advance in level.

I'd unlocked a cure disease feature, which I hoped never to need but was glad to have in place. Presumably, the next level of church would unlock a cure poison option and perhaps the level 5 church a remove curse. I'd also increased my realm's happiness by one to 73. It was really tempting to push on with the church upgrades, not only for the immediate benefits but also for the possible endgame consequences. First, however, I felt it necessary to improve my realm's roads.

Now that I was travelling considerable distances away from Greyland, I really felt the difficulty of communication via medieval technology. And even moving troops from Carrick to Three Ways and back needed to be much faster than it was at present. Months ago, I'd upgraded 5 miles of cart track to stone-pathed road. At minimum, I felt, before I went back to upgrading other buildings, I had to complete the stretch along the valley to Three Ways. So at a cost of 150 stone and twelve days on the timer, I ordered that work to begin.

I also resolved to myself that whenever I returned to Montrose, I would see if it was possible to pay their guild leaders to implement improvements from that city's roads in the direction of Carrick: my mid-to-late game plan being to unite those two cities by the swiftest means of travel possible.

My new research project was jewellery crafting, which would unlock the jewellery workshop when complete in 5 days. What steered me in that direction was the treasure we'd retrieved from beneath the summoning circle that had contained the demon Ekimnu. Hidden under large stone slabs was a cavity with a chest containing jewellery belonging to Queen Simara. As well as nine gold rings, each with a different gem set in it, there were four silver necklaces; a marble statuette of the goddess Asārte, with rubies for eyes; two chalices of gold with symbols engraved around the rim; a pair of silver candle-holders; a complex silver chained incense burner and a velvet bag containing fifteen gems. None of the items were magic… yet. In theory, although it seemed a very long way off, a jeweller's workshop level 5, along with a scriptorium level 5, appropriate jewellery, and some luck researching the right spell would allow me to create magic items such as a Ring of Regeneration.

The Necromancer and I had enjoyed sharing out the treasures and he had said that one of us should pursue the magic item creation path. It was yet another demand on my building and upgrade priorities, but I took it on. We were trying not to lose sight of the endgame, where the right magic items might make all the difference.

Finally, from my military menus I chose to build another tower at Three Ways. That would mean my two trebuchets would each have a platform from which to cast stones against incoming enemy armies and this would make it very difficult for enemy siege equipment to set up. The tower cost 50 blocks of stone and there were 5 more days until it was complete.

During the six days we were raising zombies, I saw very little of Carlena and the mood of the Greyland army seemed to match mine. She was tolerated but not welcome. I'd allowed her a tent and a bedroll, other than that, she had to fend for herself. Once, with Lord Arval at my side, we'd drawn up on finding her moving stones among the collapsed buildings.

'What are you doing here?' I asked her.

'This was the scriptorium of the Underworld. There are spell books beneath that rubble. And as a Sorceress without spells is a very unhappy creature, I am determined to find them.' Carlena looked up to see Lord Arval and her expression became defensive. 'I see you survived captivity too, Lord Arval.'

'I did, without ever losing faith in Miya.'

Carlena smiled without humour. 'Of course. You are her Paladin. I did not lose faith with Miya though, but rather with Sean here.'

'Yet Sean is the choice of our goddess.'

'Was he though? It was me who cast that spell. It was me who called for their world's greatest warrior.'

'You can't have it both ways,' I leaned down towards her over Goncendor's left shoulder. 'Either I'm a good king and you deserve credit for finding me. Or I'm as useless as you say, in which case you share the blame.'

'Blame me then.'

'Oh, I do,' said Lord Arval. 'But not for summoning Sean: that was an act you should be proud of. We are fortunate to have him as our king. No, I blame you for being so eager for power that you abandoned your goddess and your realm. And, I believe, you have abandoned an important part of yourself. For now, having no other cause but your own, you will only grow more determinedly towards self-interest and pride.'

'I used to like you, Lord Arval, when you stood up to the old King Carlos and tried to make him run the realm properly. This fawning before the imposter doesn't suit you at all. Did prison make you so inclined to worship your rescuer that you cannot see this youth in any proper light? That he is the puppet of the Necromancer and you, therefore, are serving a cause the exact opposite to your beliefs. I, at least, am not betraying Miya by helping one of her greatest enemies.'

'I never truly warmed to you Carlena, even when we were comrades in adversity. And now I see why.' With those words, Lord Arval wheeled away from the Sorceress, grim faced. I followed immediately after, thinking that he was right. Carlena was still full of desire for power and her failure – and perhaps too, my success – was simply making her more bitter. She was dangerous and one day might find a ruler who would give her spells in return for her support. Yet I wasn't going to imprison her based on speculation about what she might do. That would be the act of a despot and make all around me fear me, rather than be loyal to me out of conviction.

Leaving aside my own personal values, I had a strategy for increasing the fighting spirit of the army of Greyland which was all about the soldiers knowing what they were fighting for and that they could trust me to play my part in winning the game for Miya, or perhaps even in freeing the world from the god's game altogether, with its cycle of repeated wars.

Watching how the Greyland soldiers behaved around Carlena, it was clear they despised her, but I doubted they would approve of my doing anything other than sending her on her way once we had rescued Parrin. I looked back at her, working hard to get to the books and scrolls of the scriptorium.

The day she had left me had been the lowest, most miserable moment in my experience of this world. And the fact that I had reached this position today, where I was moving forward with confidence and success, while she was grubbing around in the dust, was balm on the pain of that memory. But I was not gloating, far from it; I was only too aware how quickly our fates could change again, so that I was brought down and she was raised up. I shuddered at the thought of her ever being my captor. Now there was an incentive not to make another mistake like that of the battle of Adelaide's Crossing.

Part II: Chapter 27: The Bridge to the Land of Horrors

We marched west, out of the caves of the Underworld and through a hilly and wooded land until we arrived at the eastern bank of a wide river that the Necromancer informed me was called the Sigrit. It rose in the very centre of the world, the mountains of the dragon's realm, and flowed through Kezatka, where we were now, to the south east, where it became the border between Cantreth and Arkine.

Looking northwards, the horizon was an uneven, blue-grey line in the distance. This was the silhouette of the first line of the dragon mountains. We were travelling under a summer sun, with not a cloud in the sky except for that northern horizon, where white clouds were caught among the peaks, like clumps of wool on the ragged teeth of a broken comb.

After our first day of travel Carrick's aqueduct was complete, which meant I could commission the construction of a pigeon coop. Other than that, the menus didn't take much of my attention. Food was well in hand with the recent arrival of the Necromancer's 150 units. The smithy was working hard at the plate mail for my knights. The other timers were all busy.

For the next three days of march along the bank of the Sigrit I travelled mostly in the company of my officers and specialist classes, but sometimes I would drop back to the rear-guard of zombies, in front of whom rode the Necromancer and General Strakigos.

I was with them on the morning of our fourth day of travel beside the Sigrit when the Necromancer began counting down. 'Five… four… three… two… and there we have it! Congratulate me King Carlos, for my scriptorium level seven is complete.'

'Level seven! That is a major achievement. Raise your hand like this,' I showed him my palm and when he copied me, I leaned out of the saddle and patted his open hand with mine. 'That's a "high five", it's a gesture of celebration in my world. Well done, that took over a month, right?'

'It did indeed and almost every day I wondered whether it was the right choice, given that so many other upgrade can be considered essential, whereas this is not. My justification is that I now have a chance of researching spells that can create new types of specialised undead units, such as the Bone Cleric; Lich; Phantom Warrior; Spectral Archer; and so on. There is an undead type for each class.'

'And do these undead have some of the skills of people who have a class?'

'Not some, all.' He spoke with evident relish. 'The Bone Cleric has a full set of spells, the Lich those of a Sorcerer. The Phantom Warrior has combat skills and a feat, or even two if the corpse was level ten.'

'What a shame you did not have that spell when I duelled Conal mac Tíre.'

He laughed. 'Indeed, although I think King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin would have been appalled on entering my tent and seeing his champion standing behind me as a Phantom Warrior guard.'

I was riding on the Necromancer's right hand side, General Strakigos was on his left. The Necromancer turned to him. 'General, how would you like to be killed and returned as a Phantom Warrior? You would never need eat or sleep again and as well as all your current skills, you would have the additional immunities of the undead.'

'But I enjoy my food and my sleep. And women.' Strakigos had mock-dismay in his voice.

The smile of the Necromancer faded as he turned back to me. 'On a more serious note, however, what level is Carlena?'

'Nine.'

'Carlos, I want you to imagine our army with a ninth level Lich serving us. And then imagine an army belonging to an enemy of ours with Carlena among their number, casting against us. Is that not a considerable contrast? One that might well be the difference between victory and defeat?'

'I understand your meaning.' I really did. I had come to this world from one where my values were not those of kill or be killed, which was the logic here. I was used to concepts like "innocent until proven guilty". To apply that approach to Carlena was to risk disaster. There was, however, another consideration and I spoke it aloud. 'Even if you had that spell researched, I could not sanction killing her. She has not actually done anything to harm the interests of Greyland. And much as I despise her for abandoning me when our fortunes were at a low point, I couldn't just have her killed. My own army would be shocked. As for bringing her back as a Lich, well again, my troops would be thoroughly demoralized and question what they are fighting for.'

'They don't understand that we are trapped in a hellish world, the pawns of the gods?'

'Miya is a goddess of goodness, rebirth and fertility. Turning someone into a Lich doesn't fit those values.'

'I appreciate the values of your people, yet I would question whether any of the "good" gods are better than the "evil" ones. How is it truly benevolent to play this game with cycle after cycle of reincarnated souls? I suspect if you met Miya and knew her well, the image of the goddess that your people believe in would not be matched by the actual experience.'

'You might be right. And perhaps the day will come when you can raise a Carlena as a Lich. For now though, and until she commits a crime, I'll leave her unharmed.'

I could see by the set of his face that the Necromancer was not pleased with my response. Nor was I. Whenever I thought about Carlena I found my stomach tightened in anxiety. She often came into my dreams too, as though I was being warned by my subconscious that she represented danger. My body was speaking to me and I knew I should listen. What I needed was a means of controlling her, short of prison… or death.

Later that afternoon, a light summer rain had obscured the view of the distant mountains and changed the texture of the wide river from a smooth, reflective shine to a rough grey, like the surface of gaffer tape. As we followed a curve of the river eastwards, we came to a pontoon bridge. Wide, barge-like boats gently rose and fell on the water, fixed together by planks and ropes. The construction looked solid enough for our infantry to cross but the cavalry would have to lead their horses over one at a time. If we needed to cross, it would be a time-consuming exercise. We were, however, to wait here for our meeting with Nazaratos, the high priest of Kezatka.

The shower cleared, the river reflected a blue sky and the scents of cooking drifted around me as the army set up camp. Out of my now habitual sense of caution, I sent a dozen scouts out to the north and west.

Hernán and several of his swordsmen were out on the bridge, fishing. And their cries of delight when successful kept drawing my attention.

Once Goncendor was relieved of his harness and given a feed, I went to Lord Arval's tent, before which he was sitting in the sunshine, eating from an old loaf and strips of salted beef.

'Don't get up.' I took a camp stool beside him and waited for him to drink and clear his mouth.

'Greetings sire, can I offer you some food?'

'You can.'

From saddle bags that were hanging near the tent entrance, Lord Arval gave me a small, hard loaf of bread and a flat band of meat. Both were tough enough to chew on that I didn't speak for a while, just watched the river flow by and the fishermen on the bridge. Clearing my mouth at last, I could ask the first of two questions I had for Lord Arval.

'What do you know of Kezatka?'

'A realm of horrors. Their god, Ketizquatocl, demands regular sacrifices. They cut open the chest of the living and place the heart and blood in a giant golden bowl at the top of their temple, where all are obliged to view the ritual. Ketizquatocl's evil extends through his priests, naturally, who are cruel taskmasters of the people: nearly half of those living in Kezatka are slaves.

'They don't have a king: the high priest manages their menus. Their weapons and armour are not as effective as ours, as they shun the touch of iron. But in battle, they are compensated for this by a fanatic anger which comes over their soldiers via divine assistance.'

'I see, best to avoid melee with them?'

Lord Arval took a bite of bread and nodded.

'On another matter. What should I do about Carlena? Is there any way to stop her from serving another ruler?'

Lord Arval shook his head. 'Just like those archers from Montrose and the riders from Cantreth have chosen to join the Greyland menu, she's free to seek another realm to serve. We all are. Though very few would want to do so while there was hope of their god winning the game and rewarding them.'

'Could I put her in prison?'

'For having left our menu? I suppose so. The old King Carlos would have executed her. But you do not want to be like him, do you?'

'I'm not like him. I'm concerned though, that one day she'll cause us to lose many soldiers and maybe a battle, perhaps even the whole game.'

Lord Arval took a deep breath and let it out slowly while he considered my point. 'If I were one level higher, I would be able to learn and cast Geas, a spell that would solve your concerns.'

'What does it do?'

'If the recipient fails to resist, or, in this case, if Carlena agrees to accept the geas voluntarily, she is bound by whatever oath she takes, failing which she is Cursed with very harmful consequences for her stats and skills. That curse can only be lifted by a Cleric of level seven or higher in a church of level four or more.'

'It sounds ideal.' I quickly checked Lord Arval's character sheet. 'But you still need forty-four thousand experience to get there.'

The Paladin looked at me ruefully. 'My apologies sire.'

I was going to speculate on possible ways to power-level Lord Arval when we were interrupted by a grinning Hernán. The cheerful young man held a wooden plate on which was laid a fish, filleted and fried, with some sprigs of rosemary on it.

'King Carlos. Would you do us the honour of eating our first catch?' Hernán gestured toward his group of fishermen, who were watching with interest.

'With all due appreciation of Lord Arval's hospitality, I most certainly will.' I put the remainder of my stale bread and beef on the side of the plate and concentrated on lifting flakes of white fish with the flat of a small knife.

'Delicious,' I said after several mouthfuls. And I wasn't just being polite. It really had a mouth-watering taste: salty and rich. 'Care to try?' I offered the plate to Lord Arval, who hesitated and then replied.

'I would indeed, if it's not depriving you sire.'

'Go on so, enjoy it.'

Watching Lord Arval as he ate was entertaining. Hernán and I exchanged a smile after Paladin closed his eyes with pleasure and slowly his bearded jaw moved up and down as he savoured the fish. A distant horn, however, drew our attention westwards. There was a dusty cloud among the hills into which the cart track on the far side of the bridge reached. The horn rang out again.

'Finish the fish, Lord Arval. I'm going to saddle Goncendor. Hernán, your men are to form up by the bridge.' I sent aides to order Isabella's archers to the south of the bridge and Nurbolat's cavalry archers to the north. Lord Arval, the heavy infantry, and cavalry were to go behind the swordsmen. And the spearmen under Fanon I placed to cover our rear and a line of forest to the north.

By the time my army was in position, the sounds and dust to the west had resolved itself into an arriving army: dozens of chariots, some of them bearing passengers blowing on long, ivory horns; then about a hundred horsemen; then perhaps two hundred spears and at the back, more soldiers whose weaponry was impossible to make out.

As I waited on Goncendor among Hernán's men, the Necromancer rode up with four bodyguards and General Strakigos.

'Here comes Nazaratos,' observed the Necromancer and my men moved back to give him room to walk his stallion up to mine.

With a final flourish from the horns, the chariots came to a halt about a hundred yards from the riverbank. Well within bow range. The dirt cloud around them drifted away on a light breeze and I could see what Lord Arval had meant about their equipment. There was no iron visible, but rather bronze-tipped weapons and light armour, leather at best. We outnumbered them two to one and had much the better-equipped force.

Unit by unit, the tramp of the Kezatka army came to a halt. It was not quite a silence that followed – there was the flowing sounds created by the river; snorts of horses; the clink of armour and weapons – but in the relative quiet it came as quite a distinct rumble when a chariot rode forward to the bridge and a man got out. He was wearing clothing that made me think of a sarong: a red cloth was wrapped around him, creating a skirt that fell to near his feet. With oiled, curled, black beard, a tall red hat and a curved wand in his hand, this was quite an important-looking person.

'Is that the high priest?' I asked.

'I don't think so,' the Necromancer replied without taking his eyes off the approaching figure. 'The high priest is older, has grey in his beard. This must be another priest.'

It took the priest several minutes to cross the pontoon bridge, holding on to a guide rope and moving carefully. When he reached our riverbank, my troops moved aside, creating a corridor for him to come and stand in front of our horses. There he gave a bow.

'Welcome to the rulers of the Kingdom of Lost Souls and Greyland. The stars foretold your arrival and that you will achieve greatness in this world. We are humbled by your presence and your desire to reach an accord with us.

'I am Nabu Asbinal, ambassador for Kezatka and I come at the bidding of High Priest Nazaratos to invite you to his tent for refreshment and to understand one another better.'

I said nothing, only glanced at the Necromancer, who gave a slight nod.

'Thank you Nabu Asbinal, for your gracious words,' the Necromancer leaned forward in the saddle. 'We entirely share your goal of achieving a better understanding. As we already have our tents up, perhaps Nazaratos would do us the honour of crossing to our side of the river and allowing us to entertain him.'

Nabu Asbinal was ready with a response to this suggestion. 'The high priest understands that you might be unwilling to accept his hospitality at this, our first meeting. It is, of course, no reflection on your courtly manners but simple wisdom. He hopes that in time, we will have created the kinds of bonds that allow rulers to be confident in one another. Until such a time, or at least for the discussions that will take place today, he offers to accompany me to the middle of the bridge, there to meet the two of you for our first conversation.'

'That is acceptable,' replied the Necromancer having glanced at me to check I had no objection.

'Then for the moment, I bid leave to return to my lord.' The ambassador bowed very low, accepted a nod from the Necromancer and took a few steps back from us, even while facing our way, then turned on his heel and left.

I didn't like such playacting. And I didn't trust the senior people in this realm, not with their god who demanded human sacrifices and their support for the Underworld against Cantreth. All the same, the Necromancer and I should be more than a match for the high priest and the ambassador should this be a trick of some sort.

With a shake of my head for Figus's request that he come along too, I dismounted and walked side by side with the Necromancer until we reached the bridge. Then, with a guide rope in my left and the lance in my right, I stepped on the planks and immediately felt their uneasy movements up and down.

On the far side of the bridge, a man in similar red clothing, but with a golden wand and a jewelled headpiece emerged from among the chariots and was soon making his way towards us.

Despite the sunshine, the air was cool here over the fast-flowing water. Now, I really could hear little else but for the creaking of the bridge and a background white noise of the rushing river. I paused at around the mid-point of the bridge and gave a look over to the Necromancer who came to a stop beside me; he gave the faintest of shrugs and then we both watched the arriving high priest, who was slowed by the fact that after every step he took, he looked at us with a smile that he perhaps thought was reassuring.

It wasn't.

Part II: Chapter 28: Flow, River, Flow

High Priest Nazaratos thumped his own chest with his right fist and introduced himself. 'Well met, my fellow rulers, this is a most auspicious day. Even the stars agree: whoever meets a stranger will find a friend.'

'Well met indeed,' said the Necromancer, his austere dignity somewhat diminished by an eddy of the river that caused him to suddenly grab at a guide rope. 'I hope the stars are right.'

'They are always right,' said Nazaratos, with a sly look to his comrade, Nabu Asbinal. 'It is just that we mortals sometimes fail to understand them.'

The high priest was in his fifties, I guessed, from the grey in his short hair. Clean shaven, somewhat portly, his deep brown eyes rarely settled, giving me the impression he was uneasy.

'Pleased to meet you,' I said. 'I am King Carlos of Greyland.'

The High Priest smiled. 'Two rulers, so unlike in ethos, yet marching together. Such a marvel. Perhaps we might begin our conversation with an explanation for this. Why would Miya and Scrithax wish to assist each other?'

'I can't speak for Miya,' I replied, 'but if a ruler is honest and fair with me then they will find the same honesty and fairness in me.'

Both priests regarded me with sceptical and somewhat suspicious expressions.

'Along with the shared spoils of three kingdoms,' the Necromancer laughed his mirthless laugh and with relief the high priest and his ambassador joined in.

'Of course; of course. I understand,' said Nazaratos, 'and perhaps your inevitable parting will not occur until you have made yourselves masters of the south west. You speak of Trolland, Southway and the Underworld. And it seems to me that you might even talk of five realms, with Rockguard your puppet and Cantreth years away from having a new khan.

'When you consider that our northern border is impassable, you have Kezatka surrounded.' The high priest stopped smiling. 'Was that why you invaded Underworld? To cut us off from all trade and weaken us? Because if so, I can tell you that the gods do not look favourably upon your plan and you will fail.'

'The opportunity to conquer Underworld presented itself,' the Necromancer shrugged, 'I'm sure that a pragmatic and quick-witted ruler like yourself would have done the same. I had no desire to harm you at all and I can offer you better trading agreements than you obtained from Queen Simara.'

'Well,' Nazaratos rubbed his chin, apparently mollified, 'Queen Simara was something of a fool. I warned her that the stars foretold an uprising of her slaves. Is that not so ambassador?'

'You predicted it almost to the day, your holiness.' Nabu Asbinal had the most obsequious tone of voice I'd heard in a long time.

'I believe you also use slaves?' I muttered.

'Ah, but they are all our people. The big mistake of Underworld was to bring worshipers of other gods into their country and in large numbers too. Naturally, that was going to fail. In Kezatka the slaves all worship Ketizquatocl. Then too, they know that if they are wayward, they will be sacrificed to their god. Our fields are therefore the best tended in the whole of the twenty-five kingdoms. Our slaves will never rise up.'

'An admirable system, my undead labourers are unquestioningly loyal, but they are not very intelligent. One cannot assign them to plough a field, at least not without close supervision, for they forget where to go and plough on and on until halted.' Having smoothly taken over the conversation, the Necromancer laughed at his own quip and again the two priests joined in. He knew their language. I, on the other hand, was becoming a little impatient.

'You asked us to meet you,' I said, 'which is the only reason we are so deep in your territory. I hope Chancellor Parrin is still alive and that you are willing to release him to me.'

'Oh indeed, we have him.' The high priest gestured back towards his lines. 'And I am willing to let the prisoner go, but first let me explain his value to me. I have a spell from Ketizquatocl called Substitute. If I sacrifice someone to my god and play this spell during the ritual, then for up to a hundred days, any harm that would befall me falls upon the embalmed corpse of the sacrifice instead.

'The spell is limited, however, by the level of the sacrifice. A mere level one soldier substitutes for only twenty damage or a mildly harmful condition, such as a low-level curse or poison. A sacrifice of a person level seven or higher would avert my death. Thus, you see why I'm reluctant to part with your former chancellor and why I wanted to meet you in person to explain the issue, rather than just send the Rogue to you and for you to fail to appreciate the value of the gesture.'

'I see.' It was possible that this was a lie, a means of improving his bargaining position, but it sounded all too plausible. Was it necessary, though, to have arranged to meet us to tell me this face to face? Wouldn't a letter or his ambassador have served nearly as well? 'Was there anything in particular you wanted in exchange for Parrin?'

'I'm no fool. It is perfectly obvious the two of you intend to conquer Kezatka next. But you don't understand how to watch the night sky and listen to the gods and I can tell you now that you will fail. What I want is to be made an equal partner in your arrangement. For the three of us to conquer the dwarves of Grimlar, then the powerful Arkine empire – which as you will be aware, has conquered Peyan – and so on to Fahim and Zatu, sharing all spoils equally.'

No one spoke. It seemed to me out of the question to become allies with Nazaratos, not just because of his realm's practice of human sacrifice – although that didn't help – but because he was so untrustworthy. He couldn't believe that I was inspired to treat allies honestly and fairly if they were honest and fair to me. Instead, the alliance between myself and the Necromancer only made sense to him as one based on mutual greed for loot. Which said everything I needed to know about the high priest.

The river flowed beneath us, dark and swift. It occurred to me that should I fall in, I would drown because of the weight of my black platemail.

'Well, you are quite wrong about our plans,' said the Necromancer. He adjusted his stand, one hand still on the guide rope, the other now holding a book: the book of Spell Resistance. Did he deliberately show it to me? 'We have no cause to attack Kezatka and weaken our position, especially with regard to the Arkine Empire. By your leave, I think that King Carlos and I should retire to discuss your intriguing offer.'

'With me as your ally, you can listen to the gods and learn from the movement of the stars and planets. Together, with my army, we would be unstoppable. There's no one, not even the Arkines, who could stand against us.' Nazaratos spoke inattentively, eyes still measuring, measuring… always assessing. Beside him, Nabu Asbinal looked flushed under his large, red headpiece.

'I'm sure you are right.' The Necromancer took a step backwards. Then another.

Nabu Asbinal wobbled slightly as the bridge gave a sway, struck out his hand swiftly to grab onto a guide rope and this caused Nazaratos to leap into a squat and scream at us:

'Paralyze!' the priest's eyes were bulging; his cheeks were red and the magic of the spell washed over me. I could feel the tug of it: the stiffening of my muscles, all the way through my body, even to a tightening around my forehead. Yet it faded without harm.

You have resisted Greater Command.

'You fools!' Nazaratos roared with triumph and I held myself completely still, gauging the distance to him. 'By the time that wears off, you will be drowned in the river! Push them in, Nabu.'

The junior priest hurried forward, eager to do his master's bidding. He was on the opposite side of the bridge to me, holding the rope that led him to the Necromancer.

'I know you can hear me. In your final moments, think on this: you have given me control of half the world. You have weakened or destroyed my neighbours and now your own realms will be in turmoil. Your army, without your zombies and demoralised by the sight of you toppling into the river, will fall to my surprise attack.

'Your fate was written in the night sky, but you were too ignorant to read it. And now you will drown and suffer the distress of stupidity and failure as you die.'

Nabu Asbinal gave a cry of anguish.

'I'm not sure your skill at reading the night sky is all that you think it is,' said the Necromancer through clenched teeth. 'Necrotic Touch is a much more effective spell than one in which a high wisdom and magic items allow for a significant chance of it being resisted.'

Still focused on the high priest, I could only make out from the edge of my vision that the junior priest had fallen to his knees with a gasp.

'Necrotic Touch I cast on myself and if I succeed in a touch attack – or if someone is rash enough to approach me so that I can grasp him without any attempt to defend himself – I start to drain their hit points and were I injured, I would receive their life force as a regenerative heal.'

To be fair to him, Nazaratos reacted quickly to what must have been a shocking development and charged toward me with the obvious intention of bundling my stricken body into the river. Unfortunately for him, I was ready and brought the lance head down until the green box appeared and I triggered Lunge.

You have hit Nazaratos, high priest of Ketizquatocl for 37 hit points.

His substitute has absorbed 20 hit points.

You have destroyed his substitute.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 56 (61)

You have become better at Lunge: 56

'How…?' Nazaratos retreated, unable to close without impaling himself. 'What is your Wisdom? My divination told me it was but seven.'

'Greyland!' I shouted back across the river. 'Treachery! Ware attacks! Archers, kill him!' Then I smiled at the frightened high priest. 'I've changed.'

He turned and ran, shouting over to his army: 'Soldiers of Ketizquatocl! To me! To me!' Arrows from my troops were whistling past me, some dangerously close, but several found their target as the high priest scrambled away, pulling himself along the rope. I estimated it was about fifteen yards to the end of the bridge… so another five after that would see me clear of the Holy Light of Miya.

The first arriving chariots, along with dozens of horsemen, were funnelling together as they hurried to help their master. Making sure I was well out of the area of effect I launched the spell and watched the sphere arch through the air to explode on top of that crowd of troops and the high priest himself.

Then I triggered Charge! Now myself and the Necromancer each had ten more hit points and, crucially, 45% extra speed. I was not going to let the priest escape. 'Come on,' I said to the Necromancer.

'Can we do this?' he threw the husk of the dead Cleric aside.

'Back me up.' I closed my helm.

'Kill thirty of them; but after I've raised them I'll be out of mana.'

As I sprinted into the throng of blind soldiers, I triggered my other two Holy Light spells, to lob them over the first arrivals and cause confusion among the remaining formations of Kezatka troops. Then I was among men and women, chariots and horses. I could see the high priest. Although blind, he was casting a spell. But there were soldiers in the way and the Necromancer needed bodies, so I chopped and stabbed a path towards Nazaratos.

A blue halo of light momentarily surrounded the high priest and his many visible arrow wounds were closed. Having cleared the soldiers between us, I was in range and I focused the Lunge box on his chest and struck again.

You have hit Nazaratos, high priest of Ketizquatocl for 24 hit points.

You have become better at Wield Lance: 57 (62)

You have become better at Lunge: 57

'No!' he screamed, horrified 'He is here!' The high priest turned to run and promptly tripped, falling hard on his face. 'Help! Guards! Help!' But everyone nearby was blind and getting in each other's way. I'd yet to be hit.

As efficiently as I could, I chopped down soldiers, sometimes able to cut through two with one swipe. Then I was on the screaming priest again, this time able to use Lunge, driving the lance through him into the ground: he had no room to escape the full impact.

You have hit Nazaratos, high priest of Ketizquatocl for 47 hit points.

You have become better at Lunge: 58

Allowing some arriving spearmen who were not blind to hit me with jabs of their weapons (for a total of 22 damage), I concentrated on the Lunge timer and triggered it as soon as I could.

You have hit Nazaratos, high priest of Ketizquatocl for 44 hit points.

You have hit Nazaratos, high priest of Ketizquatocl

You have become better at Wield Lance: 58 (63)

You have gained 475,000 experience.

'Well done,' the Necromancer was at my back. 'Keep them off me, I'm casting now.'

I fought defensively, shearing blades from the tops of spears when I could and using the haft of the lance to knock aside incoming blows. All the same, I'd taken another 25 damage by the time the dead Kezatka soldiers, along with the body of Nazaratos, shuddered upright as undead minions of the Necromancer.

'Get back to safety,' I called over my shoulder.

'This is as safe as it gets.' Timing a glance to fit the play of swords and spears in front of me, I could see he was right. We were surrounded, but at least here we were in a pocket of zombies.

I adopted Defensive Stance and Stonewall, focusing more on protecting the Necromancer than myself. The effect was immediate and obvious, the blows of my enemies could hardly land, or when they did, they weren't clean hits and did only a few points of damage. While I wasn't able to hack down my opponents, that wasn't so important now as preserving our hit points for as long as possible. The zombies were fighting with supernatural strength and could do the killing for us.

The crush tightened and the Lance of Light was nearly vertical now; the press of bodies worked in our favour, however, because it limited the ability of the Kezatka troops – especially the spearmen – to get enough room to strike properly. And meanwhile I maximised my Kick skill and discovered a new one, Headbutt.

'Get down you wicked sod!' I smacked the cone of my helmet into the face of a soldier who had crashed a heavy stone-headed axe into my chestplate, giving it a big dent, much to my dismay. As I kicked and lashed about with the haft of the lance I snarled and found myself laughing when the enemy soldiers gave way.

'You're enjoying this, aren't you?' said the Necromancer from close behind me.

'Using my combat skills to the full? Living every moment in the face of death? Outmanoeuvring my enemies...,' I leaned back from a spear thrust that I had anticipated and which slid harmlessly along the side of my helmet. 'I am indeed.'

'I find your presence very reassuring.' In fact, the Necromancer sounded nervous. He gave a grunt as several blows came his way. 'I suppose forty-two remaining hit points is adequate in this scenario?'

'Plenty,' I said, but I concentrated on deflecting spear jabs and sword thrusts that were aimed at him. My own hit points dropped to 72.

It was heartening, therefore, when I heard above the clash of weapons, my troops shouting: 'For King Carlos! For Greyland! For Miya!'

Bellowing, 'For Greyland!' at the top of my voice, I triggered Tactical Strike. All my troops within earshot would now strike at the enemy as though flanking.

The effect soon told, the press around us eased.

'Don't hit the zombies!' I shouted as one of my swordsmen dashed through the thinning enemy ranks and over-eagerly chopped down on one of the undead who had been guarding us. Admittedly, the zombie looked a lot like a living Kezatka soldier.

'Sorry sire,' and he turned to face the enemy with an expression of wild ferocity.

Now the Necromancer was safe I could resume a more offensive role. And I whirled my blade with lethal effect, cutting a course through the remaining spearmen to a body of lightly armoured troops, who were carrying only slings. The one or two stones that smacked into me dealt only minor damage and thanks to my hasted movement I was able to charge into their ranks before being targeted by more than those few.

Suddenly, the battle was over. Kezatka soldiers were running away from the riverbank, back towards their city. I did not, however, want them rallying and obliging us to engage in a protracted siege.

'Lay down your weapons! Surrender! Surrender!' I used my pace to overtake the frightened soldiers, sometimes tripping them or knocking them over with the haft of the lance. When there were only one or two stragglers left ahead of me, I turned around and again forced those trying to flee to lie down.

My swordsmen were catching up and having searched for and spotted Hernán – the young man was in an alarming state but his grin demonstrated that the blood he was covered in must not have been his own – I ordered him to disarm and guard the prisoners.

Then I returned to where the Necromancer was removing the golden headgear from the zombie high priest.

'Well, that was exhilarating,' he held out his hand for me to shake, it was unsteady. 'A most admirable performance yet again King Carlos.'

Part II Chapter 29: How Much is an Oath Worth?

Crossing the pontoon bridge was a slow business, but there was no doubt we had to bring the army over the river Sigrit and try to follow up our victory with a conquest of the Kezatka capital city, Texecal, and take control of the menus away from whoever had inherited them.

I got some order into the press of my troops at the end of the bridge on the east bank and ordered the Cantreth cavalry over first, then the knights (who were to bring Goncendor). In the midst of all the shouting and running, Figus came across, his breastplate gleaming as – despite some gathering clouds – the sun picked him out.

'My congratulations, sire and those of Lord Arval,' he looked at the big dent in my black armour. 'Several times we lost sight of you among the enemy soldiers and were most anxious. But you always fought clear. I hope you are not badly injured?'

'Thank you Figus; I'm perfectly well, I still have half my hit points.'

'I'm glad to hear it. How can I help, sire?'

'Use your Detect Magic spell to search the dead, including the former high priest, now zombie.' The Bard blinked, twice, and looked as though he might speak, but just gave a nod. 'They have a baggage train further up the road, search there too.'

Impatient as I was to follow up our victory, there was nothing I could do to help the Greyland army cross the Sigrit more swiftly. The Necromancer was walking around the site of the battle, picking out potentially useful bodies and having his zombies carry them to the shade of some rocks. That was a grisly task and my inclination to join him in conversation was immediately quashed.

I therefore found myself walking up the road, away from the bridge, when two of Hernán's swordsmen came running up. 'We've found Parrin, sire! This way!'

Around a curve of the road were the carts and mules of the enemy army and hurrying through them, my soldiers brought me to where an old man was sitting on the flat of a cart; beside him, a cage had been unlocked.

Parrin's long, grey hair was bedraggled and covered his face; his body was thin and the limbs that were exposed by torn rags were bruised. My former chancellor looked up at the clanking sounds of my approach and lifted his hair away from his dark eyes.

'Parrin,' I said.

'I am. Who are you?'

I laughed. It was always pleasant to be reminded of how far I'd come from the days when I'd arrived into the huge body of King Carlos. 'I'm Sean de Courcy, and you summoned me to guide your realm to victory.'

The chancellor's mouth opened and closed. He narrowed his eyes and looked me carefully. 'I don't believe you. Not only do you look nothing like him, but Greyland was finished.'

'Tell him, lads,' I said to the two swordsmen.

''Tis nothing but the truth,' said one, 'and it isn't so hard to believe, mate, when you think that we have a Necromancer for an ally. It was the undead got our king back in Carrick and our highness has managed the rest.' He gave me a quick look, 'managed it right well, sire, if you'll excuse me for saying so.'

The other soldier – a tall, bearded man – nodded earnestly.

'Look closely, Parrin. And remember. You said after watching me charge as a rhino at the first battle of Three Ways, that you'd never forget. That you didn't have the words for how moved you were. And you did well that day yourself, you fought their Shaman and his tiger.'

The Rogue did look closely, until flinching from my gaze. 'It must be you. But so different looking. And so far from Carrick.'

'It is me, Parrin. And I have saved you from being sacrificed to an evil god and your body from being embalmed as a substitute for the high priest of Kezatka.'

His expression dropped and for a moment I could read on it the despair of his earlier imprisonment.

'I strove to do my best for Greyland, Parrin. And I didn't ever cross you or raise a sharp word against you. In fact, I admired you and trusted you to guide me.'

'I know sire. I'm sorry.'

I drew a deep breath, giving a quick glance at the two soldiers. 'I believe I'd be correct in saying that you'd still be serving Miya, myself and Greyland if it wasn't for the ambition of Carlena.'

'She thought you were finished. That Greyland had no hope. I did too.'

'Well, she was wrong, as you see. And now I have a difficult question to face: what should I do with you both?'

'You have Carlena?' he was amazed and also there was a radiance to his face. He really lived for her, the poor man. I wondered how someone as cynical as Carlena could inspire such love.

'The Necromancer and I have conquered Underworld and released her. She's with the army, just a few hundred yards away.'

There were tears in Parrin's eyes now and he swallowed heavily. 'I'm so grateful, sire.'

'As is right. But I still need your advice on my question. What am I to do with you? My concern is that Carlena's ambition will lead her to fight on behalf of another ruler. And that she'll kill many a good Greyland soldier. Such as these two fine men.'

'Take us back sire,' said Parrin urgently, 'forgive us! We'll serve you well. A level nine Rogue and a level nine Sorceress. We can really help.'

I grounded the base of the Lance of Light firmly into the compact, earthen surface of the road and leant on the weapon. 'What do you think, men, should I bring them back?'

For a moment, both soldiers looked surprised at being asked. Then the shorter soldier shook his head. 'No sire, don't do it. We'd follow our sergeant, Hernán, into black danger. The young fella may only be level one, but he's Greyland through and through. I couldn't follow Parrin one step though. He's as trustworthy as a rusty horseshoe.'

'Nor I, sire.' Both had sombre expressions and, when they looked over at me, were clearly anxious in case I relented.

Inside my body, I felt a powerful tension and a sudden run of words welled up from somewhere deep. 'There you have it Parrin. And I feel the same. Every day for seven months, whether snow or hail, I got up with the sun and I ran. And I ran. And what kept me running, above all, was a desire to prove you both wrong.

'Apologies men, but it wasn't the thought of Greyland that kept me training, though I've never wavered in my efforts on behalf of the realm. Nor was it to avenge the treachery of Trolland and Southway, though that kept me focused too. Mostly, though, it was very personal.' I looked into his moist eyes. 'You dismissed me like manure on your shoe that you just wanted to scrape off and be done with. You told me I was useless. I wanted to prove that judgement wrong.'

'I've said I'm sorry,' Parrin sounded tired, 'and I am. What can I do to make amends?'

'Good question.' I felt myself relent a little. 'I'm going to let you and Carlena go. She, I have no doubt, will try to find a ruler whom she can convince to build up a scriptorium, one that can research high level spells for her. She's intent on becoming a player in the endgame.

'You, on the other hand, still have a sense of what's right. So this is what you can do. Whenever Carlena sells herself to another ruler, you have to make it a condition of their agreement that she – and you – will never be asked to fight against troops of Greyland. And regardless of what our respective fortunes bring, you both will never harm a person of Greyland.'

Parrin nodded, eyes on the ground. 'That's the least I can do.'

'Swear it. Put your hand on this lance, Miya's Holy relic, and swear in the name of the goddess you will do this.'

He moved himself along the cart a little, so he could grip the lance. Then he looked at me. 'I swear to Miya that Carlena and I will never harm a person from Greyland.'

'Remember this moment, Parrin, remember it more clearly than you do your enthusiasm for me after the rhino battle.'

'I will.'

***

Back at the bridge, my light cavalry were across and I gave Nurbolat his instructions. 'Take all the bags and satchels we have – you can find more among the enemy baggage up the road – and ride towards Texecal: intercept any merchants and raid any farms with silos or barns of food. You might encounter some fleeing soldiers too. Disarm them and send them back here. Don't give battle if you find any serious opposition.'

'Understood. Do we burn what we can't carry?'

This gave me pause for thought. 'They have slaves. Free those. Otherwise, assume the people here will never be reconciled to us. But as for burning their barns and food… that's not our way. We want them to agree terms of surrender, not be driven to extinction.'

Nurbolat was a small, powerful-looking rider, who carried his unstringed bow on his back, over his leather and metal-strip armour. From his blank expression, he was also clearly less concerned about the fate of civilians than I was. Still, he gave a salute and left to rally his riders and set them in motion.

There was still a lot to do. Despite our victory, I was concerned about that possibility that there were other formations of Kezatka troops lurking on the east side of the river. If I were the high priest and planning treachery, I'd have stationed soldiers with orders to try to ambush the final units trying to cross the river, catching them while isolated. But before I could implement a plan to minimise that risk (asking that the Necromancer's zombies be the last to cross seemed best), Figus came hurrying up, blue eyes glittering.

'You've found something?' I asked.

He nodded. 'Best if you come with me.'

This sounded promising but still, I made for the Necromancer first and suggested that the cohort of zombies be the last to cross, a suggestion he happily accepted.

Figus bore the delay with superficial patience, but I knew him well enough by now to recognise that his attention was elsewhere. In fact, it was on a chariot that was being guarded by four Greyland swordsmen. We walked over and Figus pulled up a canvass covering to show me what was there. Curious, the soldiers looked inside too.

'About face,' I ordered and they immediately snapped to attention.

'I took this off the high priest,' Figus handed me a ring. 'That mace was his,' he was pointing to a club set with lumps of purple quartz, 'and same with the boots.' There was something familiar about the pattern down the side of the boots.

Also in the chariot was a shortbow; a headband of feathers (mostly red); a scroll; and a chest.

'All magic?' I asked and Figus nodded.

He stepped into the chariot and opened the chest. In it were items of metal that did not look like anything made in Kezatka. I picked up one of them, a broach, which I recognised as that once worn by Carlena. Also in the chest was a dagger, a sword, a leather jerkin, a ring. These were Carlena's and Parrin's magic items. Her broach, I recalled, was Protection from Magic Missiles and the sword, dagger and leather armour were all +1. The ring was Parrin's Ring of Silent Movement and the wand was of Channelling. I had seen it on Carlena's character sheet but did not know what it did. Now that I considered the boots again, I could see they were the ones we had taken after escaping our pursuers at the battle of Adelaide's Ford. They were +2 Protection and Carlena had worn them.

There was something else in the chest too: a leather-bound, and cord-tied book. Carlena's spell book! I stepped into the chariot, which creaked under my weight, knelt by the chest and, hidden from everyone but Figus, took out the book and gestured to him to put it in his satchel. Then I leaned close to whisper, 'don't tell anyone at all about this. Anyone.'

His solemn expression told me he understood. Spell research in this world was a major investment of time and of the resources needed to build a high-level scriptorium. This book was invaluable and there was no question that Carlena would be far more dangerous with it than without it.

'Wear this under your glove. Don't let Parrin see it ever.' I gave Figus the Ring of Silent Movement, which was a slim gold band with a glittering grey stone in it.

'Right, you soldiers, face me.' Eagerly, the swordsmen turned around. I loaded them up with the heavier magic items and kept the broach, Carlena's wand, the new ring, the headband and the scroll for myself. Marching back to the bridge, I saw Hernán and most of his soldiers were unharnessing the horses from the chariots and bringing them to the riverbank to drink.

When the young man saw me waving at him, he came hurrying over. 'I thought we should look after these horses sire… Did I do wrong?'

'You did not; that was a good initiative.'

Although the soldiers with me kept their faces impassive, Hernán couldn't hide his pleasure at my words, breaking into a grin that was all white teeth in his brown face. I clapped the cheerful young man on the shoulder. 'We have a magic longsword, plus one. It used to belong to Chancellor Parrin, after we fought a warrior from Southway, who, if I recall correctly, wanted to "tear my fat head off".'

I tapped the soldier carrying the sword, which was in a scabbard and belt. 'Hand that to your sergeant.'

Hernán looked at me, wide eyed and I nodded as he received the weapon. 'It's yours now. Use it well.'

Even the severe faces of the soldiers softened as they watched Hernán draw the sword with reverence. It was a good blade: straight, pointed, a shallow run-off groove down the centre on either side and some faint, glittering runes.

'Although he has forfeited all his magic items, which were his by virtue of service to Miya, Parrin might still feel some attachment to that weapon and he is an accomplished Rogue. I therefore suggest you disguise the hilt and use a different scabbard for the sword, at least until he has left us.'

'I will sire and thank you. I used to play as a child and my sticks were magic swords. But I never imagined owning one.'

'You can have this soldier back. But I'll borrow these other three men a little while longer. Continue to tend to those horses, they will be extremely useful.'

'Certainly sire.' Still grinning, Hernán returned to his swordsmen.

On a slight rise to my left, the Necromancer and General Strakigos were sitting under parasols, watching the busy troops as they crossed the river and reformed on our side. Sending Figus to find Jacintha, Valeria and Leonora (not an easy task, as he would have to manoeuvre around people crossing the bridge in the opposite direction), I went up to my allies, the three soldiers with me.

'Greetings, King Carlos,' the general got up and shook my hand heartily. 'I have to admit to having experienced a moment's anxiety when you opted to attack, rather than leave the bridge. And it was an unpleasant experience, watching impotently when all my training and duty wished me to be at your side.'

'I didn't want the high priest to escape.'

'You were right, of course.'

I turned to the Necromancer. 'We have gained some magic items. Several are the former possessions of my Rogue and Sorceress. I assume you have no issue with me retaining them?'

He shook his head. 'None at all. They are yours.'

'The new spoils of victory are these,' I gestured forward the soldiers carrying the studded mace and the short bow. 'Also, this ring, headband and scroll.'

'Ahh,' said the Necromancer. 'Allow me, I have regained enough mana for a simple Identify spell or two.' He stood up, cast a spell, and then handled the smaller items.

'Plus one wisdom,' he placed the ring on a folding table, on which was a jug of water and two goblets. 'Plus two armour class,' next he put down the headband. 'And a scroll with three priest spells: Curse; Inflict Disease; Remove Disease. All very useful, especially the headband.'

The Necromancer took a step towards my soldiers and cast his spell again before lifting the mace. 'A plus one mace with an Intimidate effect. Nearby enemies will suffer a loss of morale when it is raised.' Then he examined the bow in the same fashion. 'A plus one short bow.'

'How should we share them?' I asked.

'It does not suit my usual taste in clothing,' the Necromancer smiled to himself, 'but I would welcome that headband. Also, if I were to have the ring, I could return the Ring of Wisdom your Paladin has been so kind to lend to me.'

'That's fine,' I said, 'and I would find a good use for that shortbow.'

'It's yours.'

'The Cleric items?'

'Shall I take the scroll for my Cleric and you take the mace for yours?' the Necromancer offered.

'Perfect.'

I intended to keep the Boots of Protection and the broach that was effective against magic missiles to wear myself, but not just now. I wanted Carlena to think her belongings were somewhere else, the Underworld or Texecal.

For a while I remained with the Necromancer, talking over our plan for the next few days. Seeing how long it was taking to bring the two armies across the pontoon bridge, we decided to travel only a short distance from the battlefield before making camp. There were more than thirty bodies for the Necromancer to raise in the morning, but we would leave all the same after that spell. The consensus of the three of us was that the sooner we arrived at Texecal, the more likely the city would surrender without resistance.

When I saw Figus returning with the Cleric, Ranger and Sorceress, I bid farewell to the Necromancer and Strakigos and went down the slight hill to meet them, my soldiers with me. There I gave a grateful Leonora the mace. Valeria, the black-haired Ranger, got the leather armour. The short bow was for Figus, as I knew from his character sheet that it was his best bow proficiency. To Jacintha I offered the dagger and wand.

'These were Carlena's. Keep them hidden until she and Parrin are gone. Not only will she resent you having them, she'll think you must also have her spell book. And that might prove fatal for you.'

Even the lively Jacintha could see the danger in the situation and her expression, from one of lively anticipation, grew serious.

'What does the Wand of Channelling do?' I asked.

Jacintha immediately perked up. 'When triggered, it will add twenty percent to the effectiveness of my next spell.'

I whistled appreciatively. 'That's potentially very powerful.'

The Sorceress nodded, the breeze lifting a strand of her red hair. 'It's wonderful. But the wand might not have many charges left, depending on how much Carlena used it.'

'Charges?' I was disappointed.

'Wands usually have twenty-one charges at their creation.'

'I see.' Oh well, it was still useful.

'Now please, all of you, Figus too, pay close attention to me. It seems to me that magic and people with the ability to level up are the key to winning in this world. Admittedly, good management of the menus will help. But all rulers are going to be more or less in the same situation. Army sizes are growing across the world, but you saw what happened this morning. Just two high-level characters were able to successfully attack more than a hundred troops.

While the women nodded; Figus quietly observed, 'you had thirty zombies too.'

'Indeed. But that can be considered a consequence of the high levels of the Necromancer. My point is that you all have a great responsibility to level up. Also, to improve your attribute scores and skill scores. Every day when you are not otherwise needed, you must either exercise or go together as a team if our scouts have found suitable monsters for you to battle.

'We have a phrase in my old world, "power-levelling", which is used when someone of high level assists those of low level in their encounters. Figus, I want you to power-level Jacintha, Valeria and Leonora. Don't take any unnecessary risks. Grind up the experience slowly but steadily. Understood?'

Each of them looked serious and I was pleased to see my words reinforced by the nods of the three soldiers who were beside us. I gave a gesture to dismiss them all. 'You can start now. Try to maximise your mace, bow and dagger skills.'

Seeing how Figus was looking somewhat complacent, I added, 'and Figus, while I appreciate you have nearly maximised your Dine Graciously skill, I want to see Wield Rapier and Wield Short Bow advance steadily.'

If under the old Carlos the Bard had successfully avoided looking mutinous, he failed now.

Part II Chapter 30: Decisions and Dreams

It was evening by the time the two armies were fully across the river Sigrit; my concerns about a possible ambush were not realised. Either there were no more Kezatka troops in the vicinity or they had thought better of attacking our zombie rear-guard. With the zombies at the bridge still, the rest of the army had marched some two miles and made camp. This solved both the question of protecting our army from the direction of the river and keeping the stench of the undead at a distance.

The mood among the two armies was very cheerful and why wouldn't it be? They had suffered no other casualties than the loss of some of the undead soldiers raised from the bodies of their opponents. And yet another rival realm was shattered: currently leaderless and militarily weakened. The troops of Greyland, especially, were enjoying being on the winning side and I heard a great deal of laughter and singing from the campfires.

My officers too, were in high spirits and although I'd intended to retire early (when the intense energy I felt during battle wore off, I was always tired, if not dispirited) I decided to stay outside of my tent accepting their congratulations and inviting them to share a drink. At last, when the moon was high and the last of my companions had left, I took to my camp bed.

There were a great many women in the Greyland army and the party atmosphere at the camp had led to more than one of them walking past my tent and giving me a glance of unambiguous interest. And for the first time since coming to this world, that part of me desiring a lover responded. There was no way, however, I was going to consider a relationship of any sort with someone in the army.

I had to be able to make life and death decisions without my affections clouding my judgement and, just as importantly, every soldier had to believe that I was free from favouritism. If I was going to order a unit, for example, to face almost certain death, they had to know the sacrifice was necessarily theirs to undertake and not assigned to them to save a woman I was sleeping with. And, on a personal note, if I started a relationship with someone from Greyland, how would I ever really know if she was attracted to me, Sean, rather than drawn to the authority and charisma that came with my being their king?

My thoughts turned to two of the women of this world who had made a strong impression of me and who I would be interested in as a possible lover. I could still picture the first time I'd seen Jarl Injeborg the Red, the ambassador of King Olgrim Beartooth of Jomskar, in her green cloak, holding the prow of her ship, red hair streaming away from a beautiful, lively face. I remembered her laughing as she caught a bottle thrown by a shipmate. She radiated confidence and her eyes had met mine as an equal. Then again, perhaps the impact she'd made on me was contrived. No doubt Injeborg had a high charisma and the skills necessary to conduct diplomacy. Much of what I had seen in her might have been a deliberate display that in her heart was perhaps nothing but cold calculation. Then too, Figus had some kind of relationship with the Viking jarl.

The other woman I was attracted to was also an ambassador: Sicaria, the Necromancer's Assassin. A little older than me, she hadn't the height and presence of Injeborg, but her petite figure was one of contained power and energy. She'd trained with me often during my seven months in the Kingdom of the Lost Souls and whenever she had caught me staring at her, her pale-grey eyes had regarded me with scorn. But there was that moment before the duel with Conal mac Tíre when Sicaria had walked around Goncendor, briefing me and testing all the straps of the harness. Just before I had left her for what might have been the last time, there had been the most fleeting of touches as she brushed the armour of my left thigh. Our parting look had shown me that she was concerned for me. Or had her anxiety merely been for the military consequences of loss?

Unlike affairs of the heart, managing the economy and military decisions of Greyland was no mystery and returning my focus to my real responsibilities, I opened the menus, starting with the high level summary.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building:

Currently upgrading:

Monthly trade income: 12 gold 8 silver

Monthly tax income (medium): 81 gold 7 silver

Treasury: 977 gold

Daily food consumption: 34 units

Grain yield: 260 units due in 1 week, 2 days

Vegetable yield: 44 food units due in 7 weeks

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 8 weeks, 2 days

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 10 units daily

Timber yield: 21 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 13 blocks daily

Smithy yield: 10 suits of plate mail due in 1 day

Weaving yield: …

Research:

Resources:

Wheat: 19 food units

Vegetables: 24 food units

Meat: 6 food unit

Fish: 8 food units

Wool:

Timber: 239 planks

Iron: 108 ingots

Stone: 362 blocks

Cloth: 64 bolts

The overall state of the realm remained extremely good and with my food supply still comfortably ahead of the demand on it, I could continue to recruit 12 people a day to the menu system. Even though many were unassigned, I was very happy to have a large pool of people to move rapidly into the army or buildings or ships as the need arose.

The precise distribution of the people on the menu was: Farmers 60; Fishing Crew 40; Sailors 20; Builders 40; Shepherds 24; Hunters 80; Miners 84; Clothmakers 27; Bakers 40; Brewers 40; Carpenters 60; Stonemasons 60; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 10; Idle 353.

My stone reserves were remarkable and this was evidence that around 200 of the blocks I'd ordered be brought from Montrose had arrived in Carrick.

The army was in good shape too:

Field army: 31 spearmen (Fanon)*; 47 swordsmen (Hernán)*; 18 heavy infantry*, 9 knights (Lord Arval)*; 4 crossbows* and 60 archers (Isabella)*; 16 light cavalry (Baldwin)*; 75 Cantreth light cavalry archers (Nurbolat)*.

Greyland army: 60 archers; 2 trebuchet crews; 20 heavy infantry.

Montrose army: 34 archers (Guy)*

* veterans

With the second tower at Three Ways having been completed and each tower holding a full trebuchet crew, I now had a formidable defence. I felt that only if my opponents arrived with some magical advantage would they break through, because even if an arriving army had more siege equipment than me, there was nowhere to set it up without being under fire from my trebuchets.

All the recruitment I'd been doing, especially in bringing the 75 Cantreth horse-archers onto the menu, had led to my army costs (running at 115 gold, 1 silver) outstripping my income by over 20 gold a month. Yet I was not too concerned and in fact was determined to keep adding soldiers as quickly as I could. In particular, with the horses I'd just captured and the spare iron capacity I had, I could recruit more knights. I did need to keep an eye on the discrepancy, but for now, my treasury was so large thanks to captured coin that I could afford to run at a loss for some time.

Two timers were still running: the completion of the road from Carrick to Three Ways would still take another 7 days; and the smithy was 1 day from finishing 10 suits of plate mail for knights. But all the other timers had run their course and I was left with several interesting decisions to make.

My research into jewellery was complete so I had to set my library staff to working on a new project. Up until now, I hadn't really examined the research options that led to small speed-ups because I had been more concerned to obtain essential technologies like shipbuilding. But it seemed that I'd now covered all the key ones and so it was worth looking at options like: military academy (all barracks training is faster by 10%; allows for officer training); watermill (speeds up timber production by 10%, requires river); and mathematics (speeds up research times by 10%). As possible alternatives, I still had some research options that led to the unlocking of new types of building, such as clockwork (allows clock workshop); printing (allows printshop); banking (allows bank); engineering (allows recruitment of engineer corps); lawcode (unlocks courtroom, which improves happiness and reduces crime); and astrology (can read the night sky for messages from the gods). Then too, there were three military options that would allow me to upgrade the equipment my smithy was making: carbon steel blades; advanced bowmaking; armour provectus.

As always, I wanted all of these right away. I opted for engineering. The slow crossing of the river Sigrit was a reminder of how difficult some tasks were in this world compared to back home. Rivers were potentially major obstacles and at least if I had an engineering corps, I'd be able to throw up temporary bridges. Engineers would be useful too in conducting sieges. That timer was 9 days, 12 hours.

With the jewellery research complete, I had unlocked the jewellery workshop. If I went ahead and built it, I would be able to create items like silver necklaces, which would increase my trading income a little. On the other hand, the net financial gain of this activity was very small if I had to buy the silver, gold and gems for the workshop. To really make that building worthwhile as an income generator, I needed to upgrade the Mines to level 3, which would bring a chance of obtaining my own silver ore or even gold. My upgrade timer, however, was still running down on the essential road from Carrick to Three Ways. So it was clear my new building should be something new, at least until I'd upgraded the mine.

The attractive building options included a Stadium, for hosting games (which increased happiness on a temporary basis according to how much you spent on the games). This building would have been invaluable first time around, when I was stuck in a bind with no spare people but not enough happiness to recruit more people to the menus. A Stadium was not so important now (although still potentially very useful if I needed an address a sharp drop in happiness). A Lighthouse, placed on a rocky outcrop, reduced the risk of my losing a ship and increased trade income. Public Baths lowered the risk of disease and gave a small happiness increase. But the new building I opted for was an Espionage Training Centre. This unlocked the training of spies, which could be set to counter-spy in my towns or to investigate the cities of other players. The cost of the building was 70 stone, 20 timber and 2 iron. It would take 6 days to complete.

Next, I was able to begin the creation of the new military building and it seemed to me that this should be a watchtower on the southern coast, somewhere in Cantreth. My being a corner realm was a pain in terms of accessing the rest of the world, but it was excellent for defence. Having significantly improved the defences and garrison of Three Ways, I was relatively safe from a raid or surprise attack by land.

Where I was very weak, however, was in regard to the sea. A naval invasion of Greyland would circumvent the line at Three Ways and, potentially, could land sufficient troops at Carrick to overwhelm the city. Now that I had completed the pigeon coop, I could place a watchtower a long way off from the city and get notice of an enemy fleet very quickly: in time to react by recalling the troops from Three Ways and possibly bringing some of the faster-moving soldiers of the field army back in time to help. With Cantreth being friendly, the risk of that tower being captured was low. So for the cost of 80 stone and 30 timber and an 11 day build time, I dropped the icon for a watchtower near a Cantreth fishing village called Darakhan.

I was feeling tired, but made one more decision before sleep, which was to build another merchant ship. Not only would this help generate trading income and allow me to keep the gap between revenue and army cost down, it might also give me options on establishing another trade agreement, such as the one I had with the Necromancer. The cost to build a merchant ship was 120 wood and 5 iron, with an 8 day timer.

That night, I had a nightmare. Inside a pleasant forest, I was responsible for robin chicks that had hatched in half a dozen nests. I took great pleasure in feeding them. I would find the right kind of soil in which to stick the blade of a spade and then work it back and forth until worms emerged, which I gathered up into a bowl. These I left very close to the bushes under which the fledglings had taken shelter and either one of the parents would pick up a worm and take it into the dark depths of the bush or, even better, I'd see the fledgling itself appear and grab the worm before quickly hiding again

This duty gave me considerable satisfaction and I felt all was happy in the forest until a dark presence appeared in the form of a bird like a magpie. Far bigger than the robins, it had a cruel beak and a hunter's eyes. I could no longer leave worms for my fledglings, as that would reveal to the presence the location of the young birds. But even that precaution wasn't good enough. One by one, the hunter found each fledgling and, striking swiftly, would catch it in its beak, before lifting it high and chomping it down and devouring it. Always, the monster would cast a mocking eye at me as it did so.

When the last of the fledglings had been eaten and the forest was a darker, unhappier place, the evil bird hopped over to me and looking at me sideways said. 'Do you know who I am?'

And I found that I did. I named him: 'Ketizquatocl.'

'I am revenged upon you, King Carlos.'

I said nothing, but it suddenly occurred to me that I knew where his nest was. And so that night I went to the tree in which the wicked bird slept, holding the Lance of Light. I launched a Holy Light of Miya, which exploded at the nest like a ball of fire, not just blinding the bird, but bringing it crashing to the ground surrounded by the burning debris of the nest. When I stamped on Ketizquatocl, killing him, I felt enormous relief and that the forest was safe again.

Part II Chapter 31: Oracles and Omens

Texecal was an impressive city. The former high priest must have put a lot of resources into walls, as they were the largest stone walls I'd yet seen, easily twenty metres tall and with a sense of style about them too. The design around the main entrance was a façade of an arch that lifted all the way to the top, far taller than the actual gate itself, which was set back in a relatively narrow tunnel. Along the wall facing my army were soldiers whose armour may not have been iron, but which nevertheless flashed here and there as the morning light reflected off buckles and spear points and bronze shields.

An even greater effort than had gone into the walls was evident in respect to the ziggurat that was visible inside the city. A truly vast construction, the Kezatka place of ceremony dominated the city and the environs. In the morning light, a copper gong shone on the flat platform at the top of the monument. There were people hammering away at it, creating a distant peal of sound, perhaps as a signal of alarm at our approach.

Being astride the river Sigrit, Texecal had no lack of water. And although the land around the city looked sandy and dry, it was marked out almost like a chess board with a series of narrow canals.

The Dragon Mountains were much nearer here and the sharp, snow-capped peaks filled the horizon. If I had not been concerned about how to capture the city, the whole scene would have lifted my heart. It was a spectacular landscape: a powerful city; fast-flowing river; dawn turning the last of a faint mist pink; and stunning, soaring mountains as a backdrop. You'd want to live in a place like this, if it wasn't the centre of worship for an evil god and the heart of a slave-owning empire.

Thinking of slaves, I was reminded of Nurbolat's report. His raid had gone well and the fifty-five units of food he'd acquired would serve the two armies for a week. The slaves my Cantreth cavalry had released were grateful, but as they were such a small minority of Kezatka society, there was no prospect of a successful rising. Instead, they had either set out for a neighbouring country or attached themselves to my baggage train.

'They don't look ready to surrender,' I said to the Necromancer, who had come up to join me at the front of our armies.

'Perhaps not, but perhaps they are like a spectral soldier, with strong defences and only emptiness inside.' He turned his gaze from the walls of the city to catch my eye. 'I will accept that it is a shame that we do not have our trebuchets though.'

'Do you see that hill to the west of the city?' I pointed.

'I do.'

'Shall I take the Greyland army to there for my camp? And you place the zombies beside the river and your other troops making the link between us?'

The Necromancer studied the position for a while and I was happy for him to do so.

'Shouldn't the zombies be in the centre, not our right flank? They will be too far away to come to your aide in the event of a sortie.'

'Perhaps they should, but then the stench of them will have consequences for the morale of my troops.'

The Necromancer nodded. 'I will make my personal camp with my strongest troops in the centre then and we will quickly reinforce one another, should that be necessary.'

I was about to inform Lord Arval about the dispositions we had agreed to take when there was a commotion behind me.

'Make way, make way. Make way for the messenger!' It was the light cavalryman I'd sent to Carrick and on either side of his saddle were baskets, each containing five or six pigeons.

'Well done; over here.' I beckoned him to me.

'Sire! I've found you at last.'

'What news from Carrick?'

'All good, sire. The burghers wish for your return and their Moon Day assembly, to hear all about your progress. The pigeons are working well, we have tried them at a distance of several days. Hopefully, even from here they will come home. And there's something else…' The rider hesitated and threw a glance towards the Necromancer.

'Carry on. I have no secrets from my ally.'

'There's a giant, sire, says he's come to serve you for a year now that you are back. He wants you to send a pigeon with your orders for him. And to remind you, he can only leave the keep at night.'

It all came back to me, my adventure on the island of the shadow giants, the jekasoi. They were honourable, to still complete their oath even after circumstances had changed.

'I'm envious,' said the Necromancer.

'About the giant?'

'About your ability to communicate with your people at Carrick.' He pointed to the baskets.

'Can't you research Pigeon Messaging?' I asked him.

'I have that option, but I have been concentrating on spell research.'

'Perhaps take the time to get some carrier pigeons before resuming your search for spells.'

And I explained how I was going to use this technology to provide an early warning of possible sea raids. It was just as important that the Necromancer did the same for the seas along the west coast as I was doing for the south.

I could see from his solemn, thoughtful expression that the point had gone home.

'How does this work?' asked the Necromancer.

My rider reached into his saddlebag and produced a roll of paper about the width of my thumb. 'You write your message very small on this. Then we scroll it around the pigeon's leg and tie it tight.'

'Allow me to demonstrate.' I dismounted with a heavy thump due to the weight of my armour and took the paper along with a pen from the same saddlebag. Then, borrowing a shield to press against, placed the strip on it and wrote:

To the giant. You are given charge of Carrick's defences. Improve them until my return.

The Necromancer and General Strakigos both urged their horses a step or two forward, to get a closer look as my rider trimmed the message then carefully took an unresisting pigeon from a basket. 'You cover their eyes and they stop moving.' Clearly pleased with an audience, the rider used a small cloth hood to blind the bird. Next, he let go of the bird, which didn't fly away, but only gave a little cluck.

'Now I wrap the message around the leg. Curled up tight, but not too tight. And I tie it with this red ribbon. And now a drop of wax, just to be sure nothing comes loose in the flight.'

It took him a minute to prepare the wax, the pigeon cooing softly but otherwise stationary.

'And now, we set her free!' Having taken off the little mask, the rider gathered the pigeon in both his hands and flung her high into the air.

She immediately flapped away, gaining height very rapidly. Unfortunately, she was flying in completely the opposite direction to Carrick.

General Strakigos, who always liked an opportunity to laugh, gave a deep chuckle.

'A moment, gentle sir,' said my rider, with a solemn expression.

No sooner had these words been spoken than the pigeon turned abruptly to its right and began to circle high above us. Once, twice, three time it went around clockwise, then once anticlockwise, and then it was away, this time toward the southwest. Towards its home.

'I hope she makes it,' I said.

'I believe she will sire; they are remarkable birds.'

'Good man; what's your name?'

'Hamez, sire.'

'Right Hamez, enjoy a day's leave here with your old company. Then I want you to ride to Darakhan, a fishing village in Cantreth where I'm constructing a watch tower. Take two other riders with you and a basket of pigeons, instruct them on the care and the use of the pigeons and leave them to keep watch on the sea.

'Then return to Carrick and when you believe me to be low in pigeons, find me in the field with more baskets.'

'Understood, sire.'

'And Hamez, you can tell the burghers I intend to make the most of the good autumn weather to campaign but that I will return to Carrick before winter.'

'Very good, sire.'

After he had left, the Necromancer looked down at me from his seat on his horse. 'Is it magic, that the bird flies home? Or nature.'

'Nature.'

'How does it know?' wondered Strakigos and it seemed many of my soldiers nearby had the same question, because several of them edged closer to hear me.

As I grasped hold of my saddle and Goncendor braced himself for me to pull myself back up, I realised I didn't actually know the answer.

'I'm not sure,' I said once I was up. 'It might be something to do with magnets. You know about the compass?' I directed my remark to the Necromancer.

'It is an unlockable item that comes with having researched Navigation. But I have not made it my priority.'

'Well, a compass is a small metal needle that floats on oil and keeps position to match an invisible force that on my world we call magnetism. I believe pigeons have enough metal in their bodies to also feel the magnetism that must clearly exist here too if compasses work.'

'Perhaps,' mused the Necromancer. 'But magic could achieve the same purpose, I'm sure. If only we knew from our respective arts how to do this. And I am also wondering whether zombie pigeons can still fly and still retain their sense of home? Or even better, zombie hawks!'

Now it was my turn to laugh; I was getting to know the Necromancer well enough to tell when he was not being serious.

Pleased with my new caskets of pigeons, I bid my friends farewell and rode to where my tent had been erected, thinking about what messages to send to Carrick.

***

That afternoon, a delegation came out of the city. We were given plenty of notice from a loud fanfare of some type of brass horn. Then the tall gate opened a little, enough to let a procession come forth, with six women in dark blue tunics leading the way and throwing leaves in front of a chariot pulled by two perfectly white horses. The chariot itself had carefully constructed shiny copper scrollwork over wood that had been painted dark blue. Its wheels were painted with golden paint.

In the chariot was another priest of Ketizquatocl (they seemed to have plenty of them) to judge by his fancy, crimson head-gear. Another six riders followed the chariot, clergy of some sort because they wore dark blue cloaks above plain clothes and carried no obvious weapons. Behind them were a dozen slaves, ankles chained together, banging on drums and chimes. The whole display was stately and slow.

By the time they had drawn up before the Necromancer's tent, I had joined my ally along with Lord Arval, Figus and all my sergeants. Here too was Strakigos and between ourselves and the deputation from the city were a line of the Necromancer's heavy infantry. He was right to be cautious. Even though this procession had me feeling I was participating in some formal ritual for diplomacy, we'd already experienced how treacherous the followers of Ketizquatocl could be.

The bangs and chimes stopped. Then the priest, a young man, now I could see him clearly, called over to us. 'Greetings to the rulers of the Kingdom of Lost Souls and Greyland. I am Shelaszar, new high priest to Ketizquatocl and I wish to discuss with you the future of our land.'

'Come alone,' said the Necromancer.

'Figus, play Detect Magic, and let me know what you find.'

If Shelaszar noticed the Bard casting a spell as he approached the line of soldiers, he had the good grace to ignore it and walked on to stand in front of us all.

Leaning into my ear Figus whispered, 'the amulet around his neck.'

An ivory carving of a claw, perhaps an eagle's claw, hung from a simple black cord. It was frustrating that I had no means of knowing what it could do. Perhaps it was a simple +1 Wisdom item; or perhaps it was something more sinister. I kept a tight hold of the Lance of Light and imagined striking him down should he reach for the amulet.

'The new high priest you say?' The Necromancer folded his arms. 'Congratulations. Your clergy are to be commended on their prompt selection. Does this mean you have charge of the menus of your realm?'

'I will not answer that question. If you believe me to have such power, you may detain me, to prevent me wielding them.'

'Or kill you. Sooner or later Ketizquatocl will run out of Clerics.' Shelaszar suddenly looked very young indeed as he tried to smile at the joke. There was no joke; the Necromancer was stone-faced and his bearing said he was perfectly capable of murder.

'We could add him to our collection of zombie priests,' General Strakigos, in contrast, gave a hearty laugh. He waved to his right, in the direction of the zombie version of the high priest Nazaratos. Although missing his jewelled headpiece, the red robes and portly figure made him unmistakable among the unmoving undead troop.

'Oh, Ketizquatocl defend us!' The new high priest was deeply shocked; his mouth opened and shut and tears came to his eye and for a moment I felt sorry for him.

'Why are you here?' asked the Necromancer sternly.

'Ah,' looking around for support and seeing only hostile faces, mine included no doubt, as I had no intention of letting him see any sympathy, the young man gathered himself. 'The Council of the Wise have consulted the oracle and learned that no person born of this world other than a priest of Ketizquatocl will ever possess the square of Texecal.

'Confident therefore that we will always possess our menus and that our city will not fall to your army, we offer a generous settlement upon you in gold and further tribute for you to leave our realm.'

'These oracles are not very accurate though. Your former high priest, Nazaratos, believed the omens were right for him to try to try to drown us while we were in talks with him.' I did not disguise my bitterness at the memory of the gloating Cleric, thinking he was about to tip my paralyzed body into the dark river.

In response, the new high priest turned to me with an expression that was surprisingly self-assured. 'You, black knight, mistake an oracle for an omen. Anyone can misread the omens of the stars. But in Texecal we have a level five church, the ziggurat. And when we perform the oracle ritual with suitable sacrifices, the words of the god are never wrong.'

'And those were his exact words?'

'No person born of this world other than a priest of Ketizquatocl will ever possess the square of Texecal.'

The Necromancer glanced my way and raised an eyebrow. Then he caught the attention of the young high priest. 'We have heard your message and we reject it. Do not come again, unless it is to surrender your city.'

'Fools!' Shelaszar was suddenly angry, and his fear seemed to have dissipated. 'You don't understand. You have no siege equipment and we do. Our walls are thick, tall and strong. And if you try to starve us, we have the means to outlast you. You will be destroyed by winter as gales descend from the Dragon Mountains and you shiver in garments that have worn out.'

'Do you mind if I kill him?' asked the `Necromancer.

I shrugged. 'Not particularly. Lord Arval?'

'He comes under conditions of truce. Though they have dishonoured those traditions already on the bridge, his life is safe.'

The Necromancer nodded. 'Young man. Here is a more accurate prediction. We are going to conquer your city and you will soon be dead. For now, you have a Paladin to thank for those few extra days. Make the most of them.'

Pale again, the high priest hurried back to his procession. There were no drum beats or chimes though, as they hastily made their way back to the city.

Part II Chapter 32: The Wise do not Provoke Necromancers

A glittering, silver shape was visible in the evening sky above the mountains to the north. Back on Earth, I wouldn't have questioned it: obviously it would have been an aircraft. But here in the Twenty-Five Kingdoms?

'Look! What is that?' I pointed.

A group of us – the Necromancer, General Strakigos, Lord Arval, and Isabella, my sergeant for the archers - were on the east side of the city, having ridden around it, clockwise, viewing the entire set of walls to look for weaknesses.

'A dragon. A large one,' observed Strakigos, solemnly. 'Possibly even Scarratharat herself.'

I studied the distant shape and he was right about the size of the creature, it would have been the size of an aircraft.

'To conquer the twenty-five kingdoms means to conquer the realm of the dragons?' I asked. 'How is that possible?'

'Do you mean: what territory must we obtain to remove the menu from Scarratharat? Or is your question inviting consideration of how a monster of that size and strength that can be slain?' asked the Necromancer.

'Who is Scarratharat?'

Everyone looked at me with various degrees of surprise on their faces.

'The queen of the dragons, sire,' answered Lord Arval. 'The Dragon Mountains are her realm.

'She has a menu, like any other ruler?'

The Necromancer nodded. 'She does, or so I believe. And the queen of dragons must be slain before victory is achieved in the game.'

'Well, I would like your thoughts – anyone's – on either question.'

'In the case of the dragons, I do not believe the menu is associated with a particular place, but rather with some aspect of Scarratharat.' The Necromancer glanced over at me and I nodded. 'As for defeating her, that … is a serious problem.'

'A problem that can be deferred,' I smiled. 'Whereas ahead of us is a more immediate one.'

Our horses walked on slowly around the far side of Texecal and back, until the campsites of our armies into view to our south.

As we had made our circuit around the city, our presence had been noticed and a cluster of guards and people in civilian clothes had gathered on the walls nearest us and had followed us around. They were too far away for their cries to be heard distinctly but it was clear from their gestures and antics that they were goading us. As I studied a tower that marked the point at which the walls turned towards the southern gatehouse, the group of people facing us lowered something on ropes on the outside of the walls.

'What's that?' I asked. We halted and everyone turned to the walls.

'Padding, perhaps, to shield the tower from incoming rocks?' On this tower was one of the two enemy trebuchets, so General Strakigos's observation was reasonable. Except the construction was too complex looking and too flimsy. It was some kind of wooden structure.

'It is a model of our flags,' said Isabella. 'Hung upside down.'

All at once there was meaning in the scene I was witnessing. Isabella was quite right. Two ropes held an upside-down knight on horse, holding a lance. That was a clumsy version of the image on some of the Greyland banners. And the arcane symbol on the banners of the army of the Kingdom of Lost souls was the other object; it was also upside down.

'Is it a spell?' wondered Lord Arval.

'I don't believe so,' answered the Necromancer, 'it is a provocation. Under the protection of their trebuchet, they are urinating on the inverted designs of our realms, to indicate their confidence in the protection of their walls and to scorn us, perhaps also to encourage a reckless charge on our part: a vain attempt to force them to cease this sacrilegious activity.'

I had seen men climb up to the gaps between the crenellations and now I understood what they were doing.

I laughed. 'I find that surprisingly childish.'

'Perhaps in their eyes, this is a disturbing sight, one that should demoralise us.' The Necromancer's tone was musing. 'In which case, we can more than reverse the effect. General, please order the priest zombie to be brought here, beyond range of their trebuchet of course. And build a platform so that our soldiers can come and urinate on him.'

'Isn't that a bit childish too?'

'Possibly. But possibly they might find our response deeply disturbing and threatening. In which case, it will prove worthwhile.'

'We have a term for this kind of carry-on, which dignifies it more than it deserves: psychological warfare.'

'Oh,' said the Necromancer with a smile. 'Very good.'

'Now, as for the art of real war,' Even though there was clear ground all around us, I found myself checking no one was within earshot of our small group of riders. 'Can zombies drown?'

The Necromancer shook his head: 'they can not.'

'In that case, I believe I have a plan for the conquest of this city.'

***

The night sky was cloudy, which suited our plans, masking as it did the moon and therefore the gleam of silver on armour and weapons. While our main forces had demonstrated before the walls of the city to the south, nearly a hundred zombies, along with a hand-picked force of Greyland troops and personnel, had moved off after sunset to the banks of the river Sigrit, well to the north of the city.

The zombies were entering the river now, their weapons on their backs and tools in their hands: saws; crowbars; hammers. There was a certain amount of noise as they entered the blackness but once fully immersed, they were gone. All I could hear was the faint rush of fast-flowing water.

Now we had to wait.

'Once again, I find myself experiencing a certain amount of trepidation,' said the Necromancer, who was sat on a large rock whose base just touched the river. 'Having neglected to level up my swimming skill, I fear that if it is necessary for me to take to the water, I will be sucked down by the strong current that undoubtedly exists as the river is channelled through the city.'

I could not see his face in the darkness, but he sounded in need of reassurance. 'Hopefully, you won't even have to get your boots wet,' I said, 'And if you do have to enter the river, it will be after me and I will alert you if there is any particular difficulty.'

In the seven months I had spent at the Kingdom of Lost Souls getting fit, I had frequently gone swimming in the river and with my high rate of learning, had a very respectable skill of 45. I'd been too busy, however, in recent times to push it on up to the cap of 60.

Isabella, beside me, was a strong swimmer. That's how I had met her, of course. When I had needed volunteers to swim the river Darkwater to be in position to seize the Southway tower by the bridge that was the border with Greyland, Isabella had been sergeant to that group.

'Well, shall go?' I asked her.

'Wait sire,' came Lord Arval's voice. 'There's no hurry and would be much better to arrive after the zombies have done their work than be waiting for them.

'You're right, of course.' I settled back down.

No one spoke, so it was a long, tense wait. I occupied myself with the Greyland menus and, in particular, noted my key timers: there were 6 days left until my new merchant vessel was complete; 9 days for the watch tower at the fishing village; 4 days for the Espionage Training Centre; 7 days and 12 hours for Engineering; and 5 more days for the road to Three Ways.

The only decision open to me was with regard to the smithy. Having completed the 10 suits of plate mail, I should begin a new project. And with 118 ingots in hand, I decided again to spend 40 of these and commission another 10 sets of plate mail armour. If I could get my heavy cavalry up to a strength of around 40 or 50, their charge could alter the course of a battle, given that so far the armies of this world were still only hundreds strong (although that was changing, of course, with all rulers building up their forces as rapidly as possible).

'Right so,' I said at last. 'Wish us luck.'

Heartfelt calls of 'good luck' rang out as I adjusted the Lance of Light on my back, following which Isabella and I waded into the river. I felt vulnerable without my black, plate armour and wished I had a magic item that allowed me to breathe under water.

The river was incredibly cold and I swam fast with the current, moving my arms in a vigorous breast stroke purely for the sake of keeping some warmth in my body. Isabella had an efficient motion and was right beside me.

'Are you all right?' My chattering teeth made it hard to speak.

'I am.' Isabella's long face always looked serious, but now her expression was especially earnest. Her determination as she made her way through the black water was encouraging and I felt a surge of comradeship for her.

We swam until a curve in the river opened to a view of the mighty walls of Texecal and its northern gatehouse. There was light here: torches on the top of the walls and also mounted either side of closed, sturdy, iron-bound doors. A path that ran along the riverbank on our right joined with another path that went around the outside of the city walls to merge just before the gatehouse doors. An iron-barred hole in the walls allowed the river to flow into the city, with the curved roof of the tunnel not much higher than the water level. This was where we planned to enter.

'Ready?' I asked Isabella.

'Wait, let me go first. In case there is magic or some other trap.'

I paused, reluctant. She was only level 1 and had nothing like my resistances and skills. Before I could argue with her, my sergeant for the archers had gone, ducking below the surface of the water and immediately disappearing from view. I could imagine her progress and just at the moment when I was starting to worry, she broke surface at the iron bars. If a soldier happened to look directly down from the walls, she would have perhaps been spotted. So unlikely as such an event was, as soon as she waved at me, I set off.

Underwater, in the darkness, it was the current of the river that was my best guide to the direction I should be swimming in. All the same, it was so dark that I bashed my left hand badly on an iron bar before I realised I was at the tunnel entrance. I surfaced and, quietly, let out my remaining breath to draw in fresh air.

Isabella and I shared a glance and then I went down again. This time I used the bars to pull myself lower and lower until I felt the metal was no longer smooth and straight. It was twisted and there was easily room to slip between it and the adjacent bar, which had also been forced wide. The zombies had succeeded!

Rising up on the other side of the bars, we were now hidden from view in the low-roofed tunnel. Some ten metres ahead of us, I could see reflections of torches on the black surface of the river. I took the left side of the river – artificially narrowed here by the tunnel – and Isabella the right and we swam down to where the tunnel ended. I had to be careful not to allow the point of the lance scrape against the roof.

On my side of the river was a wooden jetty with several rowboats tied up. On the quays, a group of four young people were working on an upside-down boat, caulking it with a black liquid whose acrid smell was detectable from where I was. Disappointingly, I could not see steps into the river or even a ladder. Somewhere below me, in the water, was our zombie army and the key to our success would be in finding a way to get them out.

The river flowed on past the jetty, a low wall on either side, until it reached a bridge. Only a metre or two above the water, the bridge had high walls that prevented me from seeing beyond it.

Now I was no longer swimming, I really felt the cold and this impelled me to action. I signalled Isabella to come over to my side. Then I swam to the jetty and using the river wall to shield me from the people working on the boat, continued on with gentle motions until I was past the bridge. There at last were some steps! At a gap in the wall, a metal ladder descended into the river and, desperate to get out of the cold before I seized up, I went straight for it and pulled myself up.

'Try to find the zombies and bring them here and out. Then march them to the gatehouse.' I felt sorry for Isabella, having to stay in the ice-cold water. But this is what she had volunteered for. The Necromancer had instructed the zombies to obey us both and while the undead had understood their task was the bend the bars and pass through them, the Necromancer had explained that the zombies could not do anything more without further orders. They were at a halt, somewhere on the bed of the river near the gate.

I climbed out, dripping wet, to a quayside of nets, boxes and fishing rods, which seemed not have any order but were strewn on the paved path that ran along the river. The path was not wide, there was room just for two people to walk side by side. The boundary for the path on my side was, of course, the river wall. On the other, were business premises: fishmonger; netmaker; cork-cutter; barrel-maker. Most had a flickering lamplit interior, but there was no one in sight outdoors.

Lance in hand, I decided to move fast and secure the gatehouse before the arrival of the zombies created an alarm. After listening and hearing no footsteps, I ran back over the bridge to the other side of the river. Then I walked fast and quietly along the quay near buildings that were residences, hoping the people caulking the boat wouldn't notice me, or be concerned if they did.

The riverside quays here opened into a square and on the far side of it I could see the back of the city gates. What interested me was the huge, thick iron bar that bolted the thick doors closed on this side. It had a row of teeth along the top. If I could move that bar, the Necromancer and Lord Arval and all the others could enter without having to swim in that cold, dark river. Yet it was obvious that even my effective strength of 18 wasn't going to be enough. I would need to find the mechanism for unwinding the bolt.

There were three floors to the gatehouse and lights were on at every level. The door on the ground floor had a grill set into it at eye level and that door seemed to be the only way into the guardhouse, unless it was possible to gain entrance from the walls. How to get that door to open?

As I stood watching, shivering, a puddle forming around me, I saw a motion from high up. Four soldiers walked along the walls to the gatehouse, looked up to the top and called out. The answering call seemed to satisfy them and they turned about and walked back, heading south until out of my sight.

There were sounds from within the gatehouse indicating several people were inside, a certain amount of clanging and faint voices. There was a scent too, of their dinners being cooked or eaten. Impatient though I was for action, I really couldn't envisage any better course of action than to wait in the shadows of an alley between two houses, watching. True, I was on a timer, in that once the zombies started to come out of the river, they would be spotted at some point and the alarm raised. In that case, the plan was to defend the area around the river entrance and hold it while our reinforcements swam in. For now though, I watched in the hope someone would arrive or depart from the gatehouse.

After an interval of maybe twenty minutes, I picked up an unpleasant smell competing with the pleasant one of cooked food. It was the smell of decay and death. Our zombies, presumably.

Another five minutes and at last something changed. A light moved within the building, voices came louder and taking a chance I hurried across the square, turning my run into a sprint with Charge! as the door was swung inwards, revealing several soldiers in bronze breastplates.

Lunge.

You have hit a soldier of Ketizquatocl for 72 hit points.

You have killed a soldier of Ketizquatocl!

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You have gained 75 Experience.

You have hit a soldier of Ketizquatocl for 24 hit points.

You have killed a soldier of Ketizquatocl!

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You have gained 75 Experience.

The lance had gone right through the relatively soft armour of the first soldier to kill the man directly behind him too. The third I kicked in the knee, bringing him to the floor, then knocked him out with the butt of the lance. The fourth was already on the stairs shouting the alarm, but it was no good. I strode through that gatehouse, dealing out fatal blows with a power that none of them could withstand.

Often, I relished battle. Not this time. It was a massacre and the only soldiers to survive me were those who ran to the top floor and bolted the door at the top of the stairs. That was fine, because what mattered was the first-floor access to the device that pulled the bar across the big doors in the city walls. Once I'd wound the handle and drawn the bar away from the gates, I ran back out and pushed the doors wide open. Then I cast Light and waved the blazing tip of the lance back and forth five times, our agreed signal for the rest of the advance party to hurry in.

By now, the city was roaring with alarms, horns were blaring in every direction and this had the effect of making me feel properly warmed up and alive again. I stood under the arch of the walls between the open doors. If anyone was going to close them again, they had to deal with me first.

Part II Chapter 33: The Warlord at the Gate

One warrior against a city. And I relished the challenge. Let them come.

With their blaring horns and pealing bells, with the tramp of running feet and the sight of hundreds of torches flowing towards me down dark streets, there was no doubt at all that the soldiers and citizens of Texecal understood that their fate would be decided in the next few minutes and that they were mobilising to keep us out of their city.

For all the clamour it was a small patrol of just four soldiers who first entered the square ahead of me. They halted, bone armour gleaming orange in the light of the torches on the gatehouse above. For several moments they looked puzzled and from the way that they turned their heads in every direction it was clear that they were looking for the rest of the invading army. From behind them was a growing roar and their leader looked at me and grinned.

'Spread out,' he ordered. And soon the four soldiers of Kezatka were edging towards me, as though down the spines of an outspread fan.

When I laughed, their smirks became a little anxious and again they looked around for the trap. When I span the lance in my hand and prepared myself to Lunge at their sergeant, the final traces of smiles were gone, replaced by murderous calculation.

Before their leader could give the word to charge, I rushed him, stabbing him through his bone armour with a Lunge and causing the incandescent blade to appear on the far side of his body. Shaking off the corpse, I span around in time to knock aside a blow from a club studded with obsidian shards. I took a blow to the back of my shoulder before a kick of mine, followed by a hard slash down with the lance, killed a second soldier. Jumping into the body of one of the surviving soldiers, I rendered his attempt to knock me out almost entirely useless: he staggered back and with all the force of his blow thwarted by a lack of room, the best he could do was let the weight of his weapon bring it around to deliver a glancing blow off my leather knee armour.

Killing his companion with a Lunge, I ducked the soldier's next attempt to knock my head off and as he swung away with the momentum, cut him down too. A few seconds of violence and all four of them were dead. A quick check showed my hit points were 115 from 124.

Even though the clash of metal on bone was loud, louder still was the clamour of the crowds who were constantly arriving at the square. Some of them had witnessed my ruthless blows and were in no hurry to close with me. They formed a large semi-circle, wary of getting too close, yet were pushed towards me by the arrivals at the back.

Most of the people here were Kezatka soldiers in bone armour. Some had clubs, some stone-bladed swords, a few had bows and arrows and it was only those that I had any concerns about. If they were to try to pick me off from a distance, I would retreat and hide behind the cover of an open door, knowing that unless they came close to try to push those doors shut, I could wait for the zombies to assemble and our advance party to arrive.

'Charge!' cried an officer, a senior one to judge by the grey in his beard and the gold in his helmet.

In response, I triggered my own feat Charge! for an additional 10 hit points and 45% movement, then used the skills Defensive Stance and Stonewall. As the soldiers crowded in on me, blows came from every direction: spears with heavy obsidian blades; sword swipes; massive axe heads. Yet I gave as good as they: better. Nearly every blow of mine killed a solder, whereas even though I lacked my plate mail armour and had only leather, my defensive skills massively mitigated their hits. Carlena's Boots of Protection were proving their worth. Moreover, sometimes my Deflect, Dodge and Parry skills (all three of which rapidly maxed out at 55) were successful, meaning I took no damage at all.

To the groans of the wounded and dying and the clang of my blade, I chopped, stabbed, slashed, span and cut. In only a matter of minutes the dead and wounded were piled so high that the other soldiers I could see thronging around were unable to come at me.

'Halt!' came an authoritative cry. 'Pull the bodies away.'

As I gulped in deep breaths and centred myself once more, I had the first moment in a long time in which I could check my hit points. 67 from 134. Not bad at all considering the odds. Perhaps enough for another wave of attacks. With the rush of combat fury fading from my eyes, however, and a cooler, more calculating part of my brain taking over, I did begin to worry. It was possible that I could die here, under the gate, overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers before my comrades joined me. Surely, they would be here soon? Or the zombies?

Perhaps not. What felt like dozens of minutes of battle had probably only been two or three. The Necromancer and my own Greyland comrades had to cross a field to get to the road and then run up to the gate. Even if they could see the ground properly in the dark and run at pace, I could not expect their help yet.

Twenty metres away, their high priest stood facing me, hand on the ivory claw at his neck. On either side of him, tattooed women wafted palm leaves and in front of him, another priest in a feathered cloak swung a chalice whose incense I could scent despite the strong tang of blood in the air.

'King Carlos. I warned you that no person born of this world other than a priest of Ketizquatocl will ever possess the square of Texecal. But your pride and hubris, your contempt for the words of my god, have brought you to your doom.'

He raised his amulet high lifting it clear of his neck and complex head gear.

Before he could complete whatever gesture he had in mind, I shouted the first thing that came to mind. I just wanted to delay him. 'Chelsar, or whatever your name is – I was never very good with names – you should know something very important about me!'

'What is there to know, other than your heart is beating for the last time before it is eaten by Itixtal?'

'I wasn't born on this world. I was born on a planet called Earth and summoned to replace King Carlos in a ritual aided by the goddess Miya. My real name is Sean and your prophecy does not apply to me.'

'I am High Priest Shelaszar…'

'I knew it was something like that…'

'And I summon…'

'Wait! Don't you understand? I'm your nemesis.'

'Itixtal! Kill him! Kill him!' Hurling the claw into the sky with both hands, the priest sent it spinning into the darkness. And almost immediately I heard a scream like that of an eagle along with the flapping of mighty wings.

The creature that descended fast towards me was no eagle, however. Admittedly, the outstretched claws were just as fierce looking, but the head of the monster was that of an angry human female. Her wingspan of turquoise feathers was enormous and I felt the world close in as she dived down upon me. Reacting swiftly, I bought the Lance of Light to bear on the line of her dive, grounding the base so that if she continued her fall, she would impale herself.

With another sky-rendering scream the monster swerved to avoid the blazing lance tip and while I felt buffeted by the beats of her wings, I was able to duck away from the terrible claws.

The monster now beat her way skywards and I launched a Holy Light from the lance tip. Whether she understood the threat or was just lucky, the summoned creature veered away from the orb of light as it flew through the air and was not within the blast area when the spell flared up in the night sky like a firework. Still, it wasn't entirely wasted, no doubt my comrades would see it above the walls and, hopefully, be spurred on with even more vigour.

My breath was caught. Something strange and awful was happening to my body. Above me, the monster beat her wings in a systematic fashion. Slow at first, each clap rang in my ears like a might boom and not only did that leave me deafened but my heart convulsed. Again and again, increasing the pace, the bird-monster slammed shock waves down at me.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Each pulse was agony, a stab in my head and chest.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Fast now, it was unbearable and I was close to passing out with the throb of each blow.

Battle Cry.

There were no other skills I had that might help me, so I triggered the morale buff, even though it was best used on a group of soldiers. And it helped. A growing despair at my plight dissipated and I lifted my head to stare into the wild eyes of the bird-Sorceress. She laughed with a screech like a hunting bird and clapped her wings again, sending me reeling.

Without any other options, I launched a Holy Light right into her face.

Even though I ducked down and threw one arm across my eyes, that did not save me from becoming blind when the spell detonated. I consoled myself that everyone nearby would be blind too, most importantly the monster.

I could hear her shrieks receding, indicating that she was flying upwards and away from me. Then too, from all around I could hear shouts of dismay and, 'I'm blind!'

Another type of sound was that of the clash of weapons, from somewhere ahead of me, and to judge from the sudden waft of decay that came my way, I guessed that the first of the zombies had arrived.

It was impossible to pick out the voice of their priest.

A rushing sound caused me to spin about, my lance making contact with something hard. At the same time I was rocked by a blow to my helmet. Although all was dark, I still had access to my menus and could see that not only had the timer on Lunge reset, but there was a green rectangle floating in the blackness all about me. I triggered the skill.

You have hit a soldier of Ketizquatocl for 22 hit points.

You have killed a soldier of Ketizquatocl!

You have discovered Blindfight (1)

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You have gained 75 Experience.

The message glowing at me in the darkness was an inspiration. The new Blindfight skill I'd unlocked sounded incredibly useful, given the powers of the lance, but the fact that my menus continued to work at all while I was blind gave me a Lunge workaround for this situation. As soon as the cooldown ended, I could line up another successful attack and I did so, feeling the crunch of the lance blade splitting bone armour.

I could hear enemies around me and sometimes felt a blow against my leather armour, but they were cautious; perhaps I'd scared them into thinking I could see.

'For Greyland! For King Carlos!' the loud – and extremely welcome – cry of Lord Arval came from somewhere behind me, somewhere close. No better man to get me out of this pocket of enemy soldiers.

And the smell of the undead was everywhere.

Detect Enemy Weakness.

Your enemies are wavering. They are on the cusp of fleeing. Only the presence of their high priest and a summoned demon gives them any hope.

Encouraged by this message, I roared at the top of my voice: 'Surrender now! Drop your weapons! Or we'll turn you into zombies and your undead bodies will roam the world as our troops.'

Several heavy thuds followed and I rejoiced. Had we won?

'Any coward who surrenders will have his heart served to Ketizquatocl!' The young priest was screaming back at me to some effect; I was suddenly struck three times and violently too. My hit points dropped to 26.

'Carlos!' shouted someone above the din of battle; maybe Leonora, my Cleric.

'Here!' I waved the lance high, knowing the Light spell on it would be vivid once clear of the bodies piled around me.

'Heal him!' That was the Necromancer.

'Leonora, use your mace!' I shouted. And she must have heard me because I could hear sounds of panic and running. The magical mace we had retrieved from the high priest after the battle on the bridge over the Sigrit, although I could not see it, I remembered as having purple quartz embedded all over. The Necromancer had said that the mace had an Intimidate effect when raised.

No more blows came my way. More distant now, the sound of boots slamming on stone.

Two heals landed on me, soothing and easing pain that I hadn't even realised I had been suffering. I was up to 45.

'Thanks.'

'You're welcome.'

'Figus?'

'Aye, are you blind?'

'I had to blind myself or risk being killed by a demon-bird.'

'I saw it,' said Lord Arval, 'and it is still above us somewhere.'

'What's happening?' I was still anxious, because although the sound of fighting had diminished nearby, there were still screams and the clash of weapons further off.

It was the calm voice of Figus I heard in reply. 'They are broken and fleeing. The zombies are still mopping up. The Necromancer has raised another thirty undead from the bodies around you and has marched off after them. Those of us from Greyland are all around you.'

'The high priest?'

'Fled sire.' This was Lord Arval.

'Soon the blindness will end. Then that demon-bird might return. It has a dive attack, so stay close to me if you don't have a spear. But it also has a dangerous ranged attack from beating its wings. String your bows; does someone have mine?'

'Here, sire.' A woman – Jacintha? – tapped something against my arm. Quickly, I put the lance down, grasped and strung the bow, and then swapped back, leaving the bow on the ground beside a quiver of arrows. Almost immediately after carrying out these preparations my sight came back.

It was heart-warming to see my fellow Greyland comrades all around me: Lord Arval, scanning the skies; Figus in his full armour; Leonora turning her head from side to side, still holding up the mace; Jacintha with her magic wand in hand, looking at me with concern. And a dozen other hand-picked soldiers.

The courtyard was piled high with bodies, nearly all of them were the bone-armoured soldiers of Kezatka. There was a large circle of ground which was entirely clear of corpses and it took me a moment to appreciate that this was must have been the area over which the Necromancer had raised his daily allowance of 30 zombies.

From high above us came an eagle's shriek. The summoned demon had not given up, perhaps it had no choice. In which case, I was the target; the high priest had screamed at it to kill me. Again, I grounded the haft of the Lance of Light and tried to spot the bird-woman in the night sky.

The blazing light emanating from the lance tip illuminated the vibrant greens and blues of the monster's feathers as she flew down to hover above us all, preparing to clap her wings.

'Arrows!' I cried and gave the lance to Jacintha. 'Hold that pointed at the monster.'

Boom!

I saw several of my soldiers fall to the ground with the shock of the pulse of sound and its effect on their bodies. Hernán was one of them. An arrow of ours flew high and struck the monster in the chest. It had come from Figus, who was wielding his new magic bow.

My shot was just as accurate and the monster missed the next magical beat as it struggled for a moment to keep its position. Three other shots went wide and then my next shot hit home with that of Figus just after me. My bracers, and perhaps my high archery skill too, were giving me a greater rate of fire than that of the Bard.

The demon screamed, almost human this time. Other arrows hit her, but just bounced away.

'Magic weapons needed! Buffs on Figus and I if you have any.'

'Just Protection from Evil, sire,' said Lord Arval.

'Go ahead.' I didn't look away from the demon but concentrated on my actions: draw, release, flight, nocking the next arrow, and pulling again.

Ten more hits from Figus and I and the monster was flying erratically, unable to use her powerful AE effect. Yet the demon continued to circle, rather than fly off out of range. Again, I felt that this must be a consequence of the summoning spell. Her task was to kill me.

Suddenly, with a cry of anguish as much as rage, the demon pulled in her enormous wings and extended her talons in a dive towards me. And I knew she was not going to pull out this time. It was her last, desperate means of fulfilling her orders. Grateful now for the added defence of Lord Arval's buff, I dropped the bow and grabbed the lance, then shoved Jacintha away from me, hard.

Lit from beneath as she plummeted, I could see the frenzy on the monster's face and sensed her desire to crash into me and tear me to shreds with those wicked barbs. Placing my boot to assist with bracing the lance, I focused my attention on the monster's descent and on positioning the lance blade to do her the maximum harm.

She dropped out of the sky like a boulder.

Impact!

You have been hit by Itixtal for 37 points of damage!

You have impaled Itixtal for 94 points of damage!

You have killed Itixtal!

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You have gained 250,000 Experience.

Having been sent sprawling under the monster, I got up, bright feathers still drifting down around me. My comrades had hurried over and on the face of Figus was a strange, unreadable expression.

'What?' I asked him.

He shook his head. 'You did it. Single-handed, you held the gate against an army and a demon. How will I ever compose the verses that this deed deserves?'

Part II Chapter 34: A Parting

You have undisputed control of Texecal. If no-one from a rival realm arrives in the square, you will remove control of the menus from High Priest Shelaszar in 4 hours 59 minutes and 59 seconds.

There was a heavy rainfall as I stood in the centre of the main square at Texecal, where the flags of the Kingdom of Lost Souls (a circular red snake-symbol on a black background) and Greyland (a charging knight with a lance on a green background) had been raised high on a nearby pole. The impact of the flags was diminished by the fact they were wet and limp. All the same, I looked at them with pleasure. All around me were my troops, who had spent a sleepless night at the northern gate before marching with me through the town as soon as it was daylight.

The Necromancer was busy on the site of the battleground, sorting out the useable bodies from those which were too damaged, and with finding a cool building to store them in. He and I hadn't been able to spend much time together since the battle, other than to agree that I would capture the square of the city and his zombies would render the huge ziggurat unusable, which was the realm's level 5 church. With the great height of the building and the grey curtains of rain between me and the zombies I couldn't see them at work, but every so often a massive crash signalled that yet another block of stone had been toppled from the higher levels.

There was no sign of any opposition to us but nor had anyone formally surrendered. Figus was on a mission to find me someone to talk to who represented the townspeople. In the meantime, I had three decrees drawn up and announced around town.

From this day slavery is abolished throughout Kezatka.

Former slaves: travel as you please; work only for pay and for whomever you choose; live with whomever you wish.

Any former slave wishing to fight in the army of Greyland and for the ending of slavery across the whole twenty-five kingdoms will be well paid for joining my army.

King Carlos.

Amnesty

Soldiers of Kezatka, you have until dawn to hand over your weapons and armour on the main square. You will be free then to live as civilians. Anyone found with a weapon after tomorrow morning will be punished severely.

Reward

For information leading to the capture of High Priest Shelaszar

50 gold pieces

Since printing had not been researched in this realm, there was no printing workshop in Texecal. Probably, very few of the population could read their hieroglyphic writing in any case. So I assigned a dozen groups of soldiers to march around the town, ringing bells and reading these proclamations wherever there were residences or groups of people worth addressing.

Although I had urged him to go somewhere dry and rest, Lord Arval was patiently standing beside me. Neither of us were wearing helmets and no doubt he too was feeling rivulets of rain running down his neck, chest and back.

From the east of the square an infantryman in chainmail ran up to the Paladin, asked him something and stood back, waiting for an answer.

'Carlena and Parrin wish to talk to you,' said Lord Arval.

'I can't say that I wish to talk to them.' Having put on my black platemail armour, I was no longer wearing Carlena's boots. I was, however, wearing her broach of Protection Against Magic Missiles, so I carefully checked it was well out of sight, covered by my breastplate. 'All the same, send them over.'

The infantryman ran back east and soon afterwards the two former Greyland leaders came through the rain, both cloaked and damp-looking.

'Congratulations, King Carlos,' Parrin offered me a hand, which I shook. 'I believe you personally displayed considerable heroism in capturing the gate through which our army has entered the city.'

'I find your attempts at flattery insincere and distasteful,' said Lord Arval. 'What is it that you want?'

'You've changed,' observed Carlena.

'On the contrary, I remain true: to my goddess, my king and myself.' The raindrops gathering on Lord Arval's dark eyebrows gave him a very fierce aspect but neither Carlena or Parrin looked at all troubled by his barely-supressed anger.

'We were wondering if you had found our belongings,' said Parrin.

Carlena looked at me carefully. 'In particular, my spell book.'

Back on Earth, I didn't lie. Not from any high moral standpoint but just because I'd learned at school that it was a pain creating a lie; you had to keep track of your story and it tended to have unforeseen consequences. Like the time I'd said I could play the guitar – I'd made this claim while within earshot of a girl I fancied – when the truth was I could hardly hold a guitar properly. As a result, one teacher, who somehow got word that I could play the guitar, had been relentless in trying to get me to join an after-class music club. Having to be evasive so repeatedly and offer lame excuses had created a version of myself I didn't like.

I wasn't, therefore, one of those accomplished liars for whom improvising stories was easy and convincing. Should I meet Carlena's eyes? Look away? Would looking away seem guilty? Would holding her gaze too long seem to be an indication of guilt?

I opened my menus and looked at them.

'Thus far, we have had considerable gains in treasure and raw materials.' It was true, Texecal was a well-supplied city and their priests had created stores that were now ours. My share of the goods we had seized was 221 gold; 68 food units; 54 iron ingots and no end of stone and timber. 'But no magic items or your spell book.'

'You are damaging their ziggurat. Did you search it properly first? With Detect Magic?'

'Naturally.'

'And did you find our magic items; my spell book?'

'We did not.'

Carlena gave me a long stare. 'If I were you, I'd be reluctant to hand over my spell book.' She turned to Lord Arval. 'Has he got it?'

'If my king has your spell book, he would not return it to you. You are no friend of Greyland.'

'I understand your reservation.' Carlena's voice was surprisingly conciliatory and business-like. 'Why don't I swear the same oath as Parrin did?'

For a short while we listened to the rain splashing in the puddles around us. On the south side of the square, a group of soldiers were gathered around a queue of people waiting to hand over their weapons. From under her hood, Carlena's expression was hopeful, perhaps she thought I was considering her offer.

'Lord Arval is right. If we obtain your spell book, I won't return it to you...' She flushed red and was about to speak but I continued. 'Except under one condition. Lord Arval will be able to cast Geas after achieving level ten. If you were under …'

'What if I could bring you someone able to cast Geas now, would you return my spell book? I'm assuming the Geas would involve committing not to harm you, or Greyland, et cetera, et cetera.'

Instantly, I realised that I would never return Carlena her spell book, irrespective of Geas. The very thought of actually carrying out such an agreement brought home to me how dangerous she could still be. How even if she wasn't directly attacking us, she could bring considerable help to a rival of ours. And then there was the extraordinary claim that she knew someone capable of casting Geas.

'And who would that be?' I asked, hearing the coldness in my own voice, 'who can cast Geas?'

'The high priest of Ketizquatocl.'

'You know where he is?' asked Lord Arval.

'I found his hiding place while searching for the spell book,' Parrin gave a self-depreciating shrug. 'He was…'

'Parrin!' Carlena interrupted sharply.

Only once before had I seen Lord Arval look so grim, which was at Three Ways, when we were looking at the advancing armies of Southway and Trolland. At that time, he was preparing to unleash his fury against the enemy and so now, if he had been any class other than a Paladin, I reckoned he would have struck Carlena.
Visibly mastering himself, Lord Arval said, 'tell us where to find the high priest.'

'I believe there is a reward of fifty gold,' Carlena spoke smoothly. 'And I would like to come to an understanding about my spell book before we proceed. Let's go to the high priest and obtain a Geas…'

'Let's not.' I interrupted her and raised a gauntleted hand. 'And let's not pretend there is any friendship between us at all. Only an enemy of Greyland would keep the location of the high priest of Ketizquatocl a secret.'

Lord Arval caught my eye and nodded. He did not wish me to be conciliatory towards them.

'Leave the city now, both of you. And if our paths ever cross again, I'll imprison you for treason.'

For a moment, the Sorceress was speechless. And she looked tired and old, but she managed to rally and her indigo eyes filled with spirit. 'With me at your side, you could have ruled the whole of the twenty-five kingdoms, Sean de Courcy.'

'At your side? Or as your servant?'

Ignoring me, she continued her thought, 'instead, you are serving the Necromancer. There's a reason why no one else is stupid enough to ally with him and the reason is simple. He has no limits on the size of his army and no restraint on its cost. How long does it take you to recruit, equip and train a hundred infantry? Easily a month and at considerable expense. For him, it is just a matter of a spell a day for what? Three days?

'Within your alliance, he will run ahead of you. Everyone but you can see that. Everyone but you wants to destroy the Necromancer before he becomes unstoppable. You are not of this world, Sean, and you don't understand it. There can only be one winner, one triumphant god who will reward the faithful and determine the laws of the world for generations. And you are helping make the Necromancer that winner.'

'One winner, until the gods decide to begin the game again,' I said with a clear note of bitterness in my voice, one which didn't impact on Carlena.

'Carry on, Sean, and lead those foolish enough to follow you' – a look to Sir Arval – 'into tragedy.'

I called out, 'Guards!' Six soldiers ran from the shelter of a market stall to join us. 'Escort these two out of the city. And Parrin, remember your oath and note this too. If Carlena sends you back to sneak around the city or the army when we leave, looking for her spell book, I will have you arrested on sight.'

As the guards pushed the two cloaked figures away to the south, Carlena turned to shout. 'What about the high priest? I'll tell you his location for the reward.'

'I'm not giving you anything Carlena,' I shouted back.

When they were gone, I shook my head. 'Was she always like this?'

Lord Arval nodded. 'Arrogant? Power-hungry? She was. Although she had to be careful around the old Carlos.'

'And did I do the right thing just now? Perhaps I should have imprisoned them.'

'Perhaps. I could make a case for treason. But really, in my heart, I would know that the case was weak and was serving our desire to prevent them acting against us in the future, rather than justice.' Unexpectedly he grasped my shoulder and squeezed. 'I'm proud to serve you Sean. You are courageous and determined and you are acting as Miya would wish. And while I have my doubts about the Necromancer, Miya was clear that she wished for this alliance.'

'Thank you Lord Arval. I'm proud and fortunate to have you with me.'

For some time we stood in silence, the rain gradually easing to a drizzle. A 'soft' day, as we said back home in Ireland.

While waiting to wrest control of the menus from the high priest, I recapped the key timers that were running down on the Greyland menu. I was four days away from having my new merchant ship; eight days from the coastal watchtower at the village of Darakhan; two days from an Espionage Training Centre; engineering was five days and twelve hours away; the road from Carrick to Three Ways required another three days; and the Smithy was due to deliver 20 steel longswords in eight hours. That last timer was an option I'd taken when it became clear that several former slaves of Kezatka were willing to join my army. For now I would equip them with stone-embedded clubs. But in due course I hoped to bring a large shipment of swords from Carrick to upgrade my light infantry.

My contemplation of the menus was interrupted by the return of Figus. With him was a bedraggled, ratty man whose tunic was badly patched. This unimpressive figure threw himself to the ground, regardless of the puddles, and bent towards me, arms outstretched.

'Oh, King Carlos; mighty ruler of Greyland; destroyer of empires; wielder of the Lance of Light; the valiant hero; who proceedeth in the light of Miya, the kind; the mighty avalanche, who hath no opponent; the mighty hero who has trampled on the neck of his foes and hath trodden down all enemies; who raises up the forgotten from the dirt and restores them to their proper place. All hail!'

What is this? I mouthed to Figus over the prone man's back. The Bard smiled.

'Please stand, Nergal-šumu-iddina,' said Figus. 'We manage our introductions rather differently in Greyland. As you quite rightly recognise, this is King Carlos. Your majesty, allow me to introduce an astrologer whose father and grandfather served at the temple, but who was ousted from a position of authority by his enemies and for the past ten years has been living in poverty, not much better off than a slave.'

'Pleased to meet you, Nergal,' my smile was wasted because although the man had gotten to his feet, he kept his eyes on the ground. 'You understand that Kezatka's role in the game of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms is over and that Ketizquatocl will never be god of the world?'

'I understood this on the day that the Lion stood in the halo of the moon at the same time as the sun rose pale and blue. Your victory was foretold.'

'Good. Well my preferred option for governance of defeated realms is to allow the citizens to continue their lives much as before, perhaps even enjoying greater wealth and freedom, so long as raw materials come to Greyland and no one carries arms.'

'Most fortunate are they whom King Carlos governs,' at last Nergal glanced up and although he immediately looked away from my gaze, I saw an intelligence and understanding in his eyes. This man wasn't the idiot his speeches suggested he might be.

'Either the Necromancer or I will be appointing a governor here and stationing a garrison. But that governor will not be able to achieve very much without the assistance of some, if not all, of the leading citizens. In Montrose a committee of their craft guild leaders serves this role. Can such a body be established here?'

The bedraggled astrologer thought about this. 'Not from craftspeople, O mighty one, they have no experience in such matters and are considered too lowly. Our realm has a College of the Wise, which is perhaps the body most appropriate for what you have in mind. It is made up of scholars, scribes, astrologers, haruspexes, exorcists, physicians and lamentation chanters. Except that the current college are entirely sycophants of the high priest.'

'Did you used to be a member of this college?'

'Indeed, O slayer of kings, and nor was I the least among them. But because I predicted disaster should the high priest embark on a policy of alliance with the Underworld, I was cast down and abandoned by all my friends, forced to live as a beggar, all my knowledge of the future in abeyance.'

'There would be others like you? Who were forced out of the college?'

'There would.' I caught an appraising, hopeful look.

'Very well Nergal-šumu-iddina. I want you to convene a new college and recruit to it respected men and women of authority. They should have two qualities: a willingness to accept a governor from Greyland or the Kingdom of Lost Souls as their ruler and a sense of having been treated unjustly by the high priests. Do such exist in sufficient number for my purpose.'

'They most certainly do, O wisest of men.'

'You may start on this task at once after answering me one more question. I'm told that the high priest is hiding in a place where valuables might be stored. Do you have any suggestions as to where we might search for him?'

'I believe I know exactly where that would be.'

Part II Chapter 35: Planning for the Endgame

Interestingly, Texecal had a bank. This was a building and a technology that was not yet available to me and I wondered what new features it allowed. Once my possession of the main square of the city had wrested control of the realm's menus from High Priest Shelaszar, I took all my knights and heavy infantry and marched with Nergal to the building that he believed the priest was hiding in.

The bank stood in isolation from the nearby houses in a small square of its own. A one-storey building, it was a solid-looking cube of sandy stone, with pillars all around except before the heavy, iron-studded door. Nergal, looking somewhat more proud in his posture – having been so hunched and squalid, her could hardly have failed in this – hurried over to the door and pushed it open.

'We've been here?' I asked Lord Arval.

'Indeed we have sire and shared the coins that were inside with the Necromancer.'

The interior was dark; there was no natural light, just that from lanterns hanging from brackets. It felt like a large storeroom to me, rather than a bank. For, other than a table and chairs near the entrance, it was all shelving and chests. The chests were open and empty. With my 9 knights and 18 heavy infantry, the room felt crowded, but still, I didn't want to take any risks and the presence of so many men with axes and swords gleaming in the lamplight was reassuring.

'If I can just…' Nergal waved two guards away from the place where they were standing without quite touching them. 'And if you there, by the wall, would press the wing of that dragon.' He was referring to a relief image on the wall to the right of the door.

The soldier nearest the wall tentatively pushed against the dragon wing nearest him and as it gave way, pushed more firmly until I heard a click. Then all eyes turned back to the floor and the middle of the room, where a grinding sound heralded the disappearance of a large flagstone, which had pivoted downwards to reveal stairs and a distant flickering of grey light in a pit of darkness.

'Come on up, High Priest Shelaszar,' I shouted, pleased to see my soldiers were alert and readying their weapons.

Silence. Then from below: 'O Ketizquatocl! Hear your high priest. Strike down our enemies! Do not abandon us!'

'Might I say something to Shelaszar, O destroyer of realms?' Nergal looked up from the tunnel entrance where he was crouched.

'Go ahead. If you think it will help get him out.'

'Shelaszar, it is I, Nergal-šumu-iddina. Remember how you judged me unworthy, though I spoke only wisdom and truth?'

'Nergal-šumu-iddina?' Came a dismayed voice from the depths. 'You wretch. You traitor. May you be flogged around the city and your skin left flapping over the temple as a warning to others.'

'The temple is in ruins. Ketizquatocl must wait another age to try again with more worthy followers. Come on up, Shelaszar and face the truth: face your conqueror, the mighty king, hero of the gate, Carlos the Magnificent, and beg his mercy. He will not harm you, though you deserve to suffer.'

Again, a silence and then a step… and another. A torch approaching. It was a priestess, or perhaps female temple slave was a more accurate term for her role. Her skin was tattooed with flying lions and dragons. Looking nervous she advanced up the stairs and I gestured for her to be taken outside. Another tattooed woman followed. Then another and another. After their exit and period of silence, Shelaszar himself appeared. He was transformed from the youthful figure I'd seen outside the walls of the city: so much grey dust covered his hair, and his gait was so slow and disheartened, that he could have been an old man.

The high priest looked around the room, with Nergal drawing himself up triumphantly, then, on seeing me, hurried up the last few steps and flung himself around my knees. 'O mighty Warlord; show mercy on those over whom you have triumphed. Spare me and I promise to sing only praises of your power and excellence; I will shower you with all the riches of Kezatka.'

'He is a liar,' said Nergal, 'and should be punished in public for all to see that Ketizquatocl's day is over.'

'Silence!' shouted Lord Arval angrily, 'this is not your place to speak.'

Realising he had misread the room, Nergal turned white and fell prone, stretching out his arms towards me but saying nothing.

I sighed then addressed the man at my feet. 'Get up. You are going to be a prisoner until there is no possibility of you ever again being able to control the menus here. And before you moan about your fate, consider that you are lucky to be my prisoner and not the Necromancer's. He'd want to kill you and raise you as a lich or whatever undead Clerics turn into.'

Slowly, Shelaszar rose to his knees, still not daring to look up into my face.

'You'll be sent to Carrick and remain there under house arrest. That is, unless you try to escape, in which case you'll be shackled in the keep's dungeon, do you understand?'

'I do, O just one. If – worm though I am – I can serve you better commanding the people of Kezatka…'

'You cannot. I am appointing a council of those who hate you to do that.' I looked around the bank and appreciated that it had no windows. This would do to hold prisoners.

'Sergeant,' I addressed the leader of the infantry.

'Sir?'

'Take charge of this building as a prison. Keep this priest here. But be aware he might have spells. Bind his arms and make sure always to have at least six men on duty.'

'Prison. Bind his arms. Six on duty, sir.'

I took a couple of steps over to Nergal and poked him with my foot. 'Here's your fifty gold.' I produced the reward bag and dropped it to the ground beside him with a solid chunk. 'Now get around the town and find those councillors. And tell them that King Carlos honours his promises and is generous to those who serve him.'

***

Later, in the afternoon, I called a meeting at my tent for my senior officers and those with class skills. Standing with arms folded at the far end of the tent was Lord Arval, still in his plate mail armour, but without his helmet. Sitting on folding chairs in a row in front of him were Jacintha, the lively red-haired Sorceress, level three; the small, dark, short-haired Valeria, third level Ranger; and Leonora, second level Cleric, young, earnest and with her fair hair in two plaits. In front of them were the youthful swordsman Hernán and Baldwin, my light cavalry commander, a clean-cut, short-haired youth. Then, in the front row, was the captain of my large body of archers: Isabelle; alongside Fanon, the thick-bearded leader of my spearmen; and Figus, seventh level Bard, looking impeccable in a leather waistcoat over a fine pale blue cotton shirt.

'We're here to talk about the endgame.' The tent was silent, I had their full attention. From the far distance, even though it was a long way off, came the thump of another heavy section of the ziggurat being toppled. 'Together with our ally, the Necromancer, we are doing very well. More or less the entire south-east of the world is in our hands. Eight realms. That's one third of the world, if we exclude the dragons.

'It's conceivable that we could go on to conquer the remaining realms. I've little idea what's happening elsewhere – although I'm soon going to be able to train spies and find out – but it's possible we are currently in front, in terms of our armies if not our economy. As you know, Greyland suffered from that interruption of seven months and we are behind most of our remaining rivals when it comes to research and construction.

'It could be that to win and bring a god into sole control of the world, you have to satisfy more than just military conquest of the twenty-five realms. Perhaps it is necessary to own a level nine church. But whatever the final conditions are, if we can defeat the other kingdoms, we can then develop our church or whatever other buildings are needed, safe in the knowledge that no other realm can do so.

'The lesson from yesterday is that high levels are essential. I could hold that gate against a hundred level one soldiers. Admittedly, I have the Lance of Light. But perhaps other rulers have obtained the artefacts for their realms and are equally powerful. We have to assume that as we reach the endgame, we are going to face teams of high-level classes against whom our ordinary soldiers will be ineffective. Or, to put it another way. We will be throwing away the lives of our soldiers if it is down to them to stop high level enemy personnel.

'Yesterday's fight was really about me and their high priest, who had a powerful magic item: the amulet that summoned a demon-bird. That opened my eyes to what the final fights in this cycle of the twenty-five kingdoms are going to look like. Even if armies have grown to four or five times their current size, I believe the decisive conflict will be between teams of people with classes and high levels.

'If I'm right, then Greyland has to have the most people with classes and they need to be at the highest level they can be. We are fortunate in having the Lance of Light and this gives us a chance of levelling up fast. I can blind opponents three times a day and you can run in to finish them. Lord Arval and Figus too have spells that can help. And slow though it is likely to be, we must not neglect our own advancement.

'Every day that we are not marching or fighting, we have to focus on levelling up. All of us. Questions?'

Hernán gestured at once. 'What about me? I don't have a class.'

'When I completed the Hunting Lodge level four, that gave Valeria the option of taking the Ranger class. I'll upgrade Barracks to four and hope that unlocks a class suitable for you. Stables four might get a riding class for you Baldwin. But in the meantime, you both can train Strength and Dexterity. All of us can. I worked mine up over months: Strength from weight training, Dexterity from an obstacle course. We can improvise something similar here.'

Brushing back his hair, Figus caught my eye and clearly had a question.

'Figus?'

'What's the endgame going to look like with the Necromancer as your ally? Is your goal to bring about an era of Miya's rule, or something else?'

'I don't know enough to be sure about that. I don't think any of us do without more information from the gods themselves. But I do know one thing for sure. The Necromancer is an honourable ally and will stand with us to the very end. As you know, the people of the Kingdom of Lost Souls believe they are living in hell right now. For them, the goal is to end the repeated cycles through which the gods play out their game. They are not alone in this view. The shadow giants believe the same.

'I don't know if they are right or wrong–'

'They're wrong!' called out Jacintha, but cheerfully, rather than with hostility.

'Well, I'm open minded about that issue, until I learn more. But I am sure I don't want any of the evil gods to win, with their societies of slavery and human sacrifice. Miya is a good goddess and her victory will at least mean a world of plenty and of kindness.' It suddenly occurred to me that I didn't actually know this for sure. Her followers were Paladins and good Clerics but what did I really know about Miya? One fact: she'd been instrumental in summoning me to this world. That vote of confidence in me was something at least.

'Any more questions?'

There were none.

'Do you agree with me?'

'Aye sire.' Either by calling out or by nods, everyone acknowledged me.

'In that case, Baldwin, send out your scouts – get the riders from Cantreth to help too – and find us some monsters, we start tomorrow.'

***

Evening and a meal with the Necromancer in a house commandeered for his stay in the captured city. The Necromancer had made himself comfortable. We ate at a large, polished table, in velvet padded chairs, with two big, silver candelabra the source of light. Carpet lay on the stone floor and there were wall-hangings here depicting mythological creatures, like flying lions and tigers with elephant trunks.

From an adjacent kitchen came our dishes, brought by servants of the Necromancer. And accompanying the food was a bottle of red wine, one of many discovered in the cellar of a wealthy priest.

The Necromancer was in excellent humour, which was understandable. We had considerable booty from the capture of Texecal; we had the high priest in our hands; and, perhaps best of all from the Necromancer's point of view, he had already enlarged his army by sixty zombies, with another fifty-odd to come over the next two days.

I explained my plan for the government of the city: that I was forming a council out of those who had fallen from high positions and who were discontented with the high priests. 'Of course, the council will have no real power. Real authority here will belong to our governor and that's one of the issues I wanted to resolve tonight. Which of us should be in charge of Kezatka? I have Southway and – although no resources come my way from there – Cantreth. You have the Underworld, Trolland, and, for another while, Rockguard.'

The Necromancer dabbed his lips with a napkin. 'You should take charge here. Not only is that fair but you have carrier pigeons. Your governor can alert you to problems right away.'

'That's settled so. There's a huge amount of stone here, shall I send half of it your way?'

'Do.' He started sawing at a piece of meat. 'What else did you want to resolve?'

'What should we do next?'

'Always an important question.' The Necromancer smiled at me, then put down his knife. 'It is getting late in the year and close to harvest time. My thought was that we should return our armies to their respective home cities at a leisurely pace, escorting carts of booty and food. We can travel together as far as Adelaide's Crossing and then part company for the winter.'

'Sounds sensible. For the armies at least. I might travel to stay with you during some of the winter and, if I may, bring some of my people to level them up.' And I explained to him my belief in what the endgame would look like: duels between high level groups.

'You are always welcome in the Kingdom of Lost Souls and your people too.' In the candlelight, the Necromancer's face was more expressive than usual and he looked earnestly at me with heartfelt warmth. 'And you might be right about the endgame. We will all progress together. There is plenty of opportunity to hunt challenging monsters near Nekis, especially in the direction of Grimdark Canyon.'

'Perhaps you should replace Sicaria as your representative with Rockguard, so she can join us too? A high level Assassin is important.' Although this was true, if I was being honest with myself, I was looking forward to seeing Sicaria again. And I found my heart gave a little skip at the Necromancer's answer.

'Very well, we are agreed. And a winter sojourn on your part will give me the opportunity to improve my chess.'

Part II Chapter 36: There’s No Place Like Home (Especially if You’ve Been Base Building)

By the time I arrived at the gates of Carrick, nearly two months had passed since our conquest of Texecal. The town had long known we were coming and even though the day was cold and grey, there was a festival atmosphere in the city created by the hundreds of flags and especially by the large numbers of people crowding the walls to wave at us.

The last leg of our journey had been along the splendid new road whose upgrade had long been completed. It was just as well. The main reason for my slow progress had been that I had brought with me every available cart and chariot from Texecal, stacked high with weapons, iron, stone and – in a more secure carriage – gold. This final stretch, up the valley from Three Ways until over the pass, had been hard enough on the animals even with the new surface for the road.

As we approached the town walls, I noticed some significant changes to the city's defences. Around the base of the walls was a moat, not all that wide, some three metres, but it would make placing ladders against the walls of the city and mounting them almost impossible. Nor was that all: a second ditch, dry, five metres wide and deep, also encircled the city. And between the two ditches the ground was covered with large caltrops: sharp wooden stakes, bound together criss-crossed to outline the shape of a pyramid: however they were strewn, there was bound to be one of the sharp points facing upwards. The caltrops would have to be cleared before any cavalry could approach the city and I could see that all the time enemy soldiers were trying to remove these defences, they would be under fire from the city and especially from the wall towers, whose threatening strength had been enhanced by wooden platforms and screens. It was all very impressive. And the only explanation I could think of was that the giant, to whom I had sent orders to by pigeon, had taken the task to heart.

Whether it was the smiling faces, or the cheers, or simply a happy sense of coming home, I found that my heart was soaring as I rode under the great gate; the clatter of Goncendor's hooves was completely inaudible thanks to the rowdy welcome. The soldiers around me felt just as pleased to be back in Carrick, I could tell. Their professional formations and distant expressions crumbled into undisciplined confusion as friends and relatives recognised each other. Some soldiers even broke ranks to rush across to loved ones. More cheers, especially as a couple kissed, garlands of flowers, and some music too, all served to emphasise how delighted the townspeople were to see the army safely returned. I made a note to rotate the garrison duty of the troops I had assigned to Texecal and Montrose. To ensure there was no trouble from those conquered realms under my control, I had left Fanon as governor of Texecal, with 31 spearmen, 18 heavy infantry and a half of new body of 112 ex-slaves turned light infantry. And I'd reinforced Montrose by sending the other half of the former Texecal slaves to Guy. I'd also sent Nurbolat home to Cantreth with full pay for his 75 light cavalry archers all the way through to spring, when he was to re-join me. Fanon, Nurbolat and Guy all had three pigeons each and I would send them more as additional birds became trained.

The reduced Greyland army entering our home city therefore consisted of Hernán's 47 swordsmen; 4 crossbows and 60 archers with Isabelle; 16 light cavalry under Baldwin; and 9 knights. Back at Three Ways, we'd been greeted by our troops stationed there: 60 archers and 2 trebuchet crews. Again, they'd put out all their flags and cheered us through the gate and I'd allowed a short break there for the veterans to mingle with these newly trained recruits before pushing on for Carrick.

The townspeople were particularly attentive to me and as I walked Goncendor slowly towards the keep, cries of 'Carlos! Carlos!' broke out repeatedly. And all along the streets were smiling faces and calls of 'Welcome home sire!' I acknowledged them all and smiled at the overawed children peeking out at me from behind their parents.

At last, we arrived at the main square, where the crowds were just as enthusiastic and vocal. There were many willing hands to transfer the materials from the carts into stores and while they set about that task, I walked up the stairs to the heavy doors of the keep. There to greet me was the same middle-aged woman who had served me on my first morning in this world. Back then, even mounting the stairs of the keep in my huge body would have left me breathing heavily. Now I could run up and down them all day.

'Welcome home sire; cook would like to prepare a feast in your honour. He's been stocking up.'

'Thank you. What's your name?'

'Gabriella, sire.' She gave a slight curtsey.

'Very well Gabriella. Cook can have his feast. But can we manage to accommodate all the burghers? I would like to catch up with them, as if it were a Moon Day feast.'

'We could sire, as far as the food is concerned.' It was clear to me she was hesitant, troubled even. Even when at ease, there were worry lines on her face. These were deep now.

'Something wrong?'

'The giant, sire. He's turned the big hall into his bedroom. The small hall only seats twelve comfortably.'

'I see, well, let's not turn the giant out. I'll invite half of the burghers this evening and the rest tomorrow. If you, chef and the staff can manage two feasts in two days?'

'Certainly sire. Anything else sire?'

'Have someone prepare my bath please.'

'Yes, sire.' Gabriella dipped her whole body and backed up to the door, then bobbed once more before rushing inside the keep. I turned around on the top stair to face the crowd who had gathered at the stair. Really, I just want to relax after that long journey, but the people here were expectant. They wanted me to speak to them. What should I say? What would I wish to know if I were them? The truth.

'Citizens of Greyland!' I looked out at all the people and immediately their lively hubbub of conversation declined. The attentiveness of those nearest me transmitted itself quickly across the square and soon even the unloading of wagons ceased as those involved hurried towards me.

'We have returned from a very successful campaign. I set out with the plan of arming our troops with weapons stolen from the enemy. Not only were we able to do that but with the aid of our allies, who brought trebuchets from the Kingdom of Lost Souls, we were able to capture Montrose and kill King Wace. As you know from the merchants who have been arriving from Montrose, that city is under our control.

'While there, Queen Simara of the Underworld attempted to use magic to force me to invade Cantreth and help her conquer it. I tricked her and slew her, scattering her army and conquering their underground capital, which is now in control of the Necromancer. The grateful people of Cantreth are serving as our allies until their young prince comes of age, which will not be for another ten years.

'Another ruler to try to ambush me and kill me was High Priest Nazaratos of Kezatka. He underestimated me and I escaped his trap to kill him and, after a difficult entrance, took Texecal a few days later. That city is under our control and their high priest is a prisoner here in Carrick. So long as we hold him, there can be no comeback for their god Ketizquatocl.'

The people had been listening intently, so that the only other sound to that of my voice was the distant cry of seagulls. And although waves of applause and cheers had started to rise in response to some of my news, they quickly dropped away as I kept going, shouting out my sentences. Now, however, when I stopped, roars of approval rose quickly and I let them peak before raising my arms and concluding my speech.

'We've made the most of the opportunities that came our way and now are in a strong position. After a terrible opening, we've reached the middle game in excellent shape. Now we have to accelerate our construction to unlock all the benefits of advanced buildings; we have to keep growing the army – those of you waiting on the menu for an opportunity to do so will get that soon – and we have to increase the level of those, including me, who are allowed to do so.

'With your continued support, Miya's cause will continue to prosper. Remember too, how much we owe to our ally the Necromancer. They have proved themselves true friends again and again.

'Now, I haven't had a bath all summer, so you'll forgive me for leaving you and enjoying the one being prepared for me now.'

There was good-natured laughter at this and then an outbreak of 'Carlos! Carlos!', which faded as I entered the keep and strode up the stairs to my bathing room.

Relaxing in the bath, I got another strong flashback to my early days in this world. Then, I had filled the large tub and pushed the water high with my bulk. Now my body was half that size and muscular: I had the body of a professional athlete, which, in a sense, I was.

Having a strategy of unlocking as many classes as possible had made most of my upgrade and building decisions easier to analyse. My focus was on creating a team of high-level people who could win whatever endgame we faced. Firstly, I had upgraded the barracks in the hope that on reaching level 4 I would unlock a warrior class. Barracks 3 cost 100 timber, 48 stone, 6 iron and took 12 days. And on completion I found I'd hit the jackpot. Well, nearly.

Barracks level 3

Trainer: Sergeant Major Grudd.

Benefits: Increases training speed of new recruits by 10%.

Allows training of crossbow units.

Unlocks warrior progression.

You have unlocked advancement for a warrior level 1. Do you wish to attract a new warrior to the realm (may take up to three days) or assign Sergeant Major Grudd to the role and obtain a new trainer replacement?

New warrior / assign Sergeant Major Grudd

I had waved away the menu choice and sent for Hernán. We were camped at the time in the middle of Trolland. When he came to my tent, I explained my idea and then tried to assign the role of trainer to him.

'It worked!' he shouted excitedly. 'I see a menu. It's amazing.'

I'd become so used to having menus floating around me that I'd forgotten how magical they first seemed.

'What does it say?'

'King Carlos has assigned you the role of trainer at the barracks. Do you accept?'

'Go on, so.'

Then I had called up my own menus again and as I hoped the choice before me had changed:

You have unlocked advancement for a Warrior level 1. Do you wish to attract a new Warrior to the realm (may take up to three days) or assign Hernán to the role and obtain a new trainer replacement?

New Warrior / assign Hernán

Naturally, I had picked Hernán and from that day onwards he'd joined the others in their levelling activities. Every morning, they had to ride ahead of the slow-moving army, usually escorted by Lord Arval, myself and Figus. Our Ranger had identified suitable monsters for the low-level characters to fight and the passage of our army had resulted in a whole swathe of yard trash being cleared away from up to ten miles either side of our route: orcs, goblins, monstrous frogs, giant bats, giant rats, animated skeletons…

Poor Sergeant Major Grudd must have been confused to have found himself momentarily dismissed and then asked to re-join the barracks as the trainer. He was one of the many people I needed to talk with in the morning. And thinking about him made me sad at the memory of one-armed Carradock Goblinbane. Carradock had been the first person in this world to be friendly towards me, in his own taciturn way.

With Hernán able to level up, I had no longer needed to aim for barracks 4 as my upgrade and that had given me pause for thought. What other building types might unlock class progressions? It didn't seem likely that a public baths, the lighthouse, or various craft workshops would lead in that direction for anyone. Then I had an inspired thought: to reverse engineer from the classes I would like to add to my team. I wanted a Druid-type, such as the shaman with the tiger who we fought at Three Ways; I wanted a Thief or Rogue; and I wanted a martial arts type, like a Monk; and I wanted a summoning class of Magician.

With those goals in mind, I had checked all the building choices. A monastery looked promising for the martial arts class and the level 1 monastery brought the benefit of +1 happiness and +10% agricultural output. So, I built that for 60 stone, 20 timber, 2 iron over 5 days. That was a new construction, which meant I could simultaneously upgrade an existing building. My choice had been the building most appropriate to a Rogue (or Assassin?), the espionage training centre. To reach level 2 cost 105 stone, 30 timber and 3 iron; it took 9 days to complete. The result of the upgrade was an improvement to the spies I could recruit; the 'master spy' unit was available: with a slightly higher cost, my spies could use the disguise and lock-picking skills.

Not yet half-way back to Carrick and with ample stone, I pushed on with the espionage training centre but was disappointed with the results of the level 3 upgrade. For 140 stone, 40 timber, 4 iron, and a 12 day build time I got to level 3. The only benefit of that upgrade was that I could build assassin units. These weren't the same as an Assassin class, but were a military unit that could be deployed on a battlefield to seek out enemy officers and try to slay them or which could be assigned to my personal protection. Not bad, but not the breakthrough I wanted.

Going all in – although seriously thinking about upgrading the monastery instead – I next upgraded the espionage training centre to level 4. The big investment wasn't the 210 stone, 60 timber, and 6 iron. Thanks to my supply from the walls of Montrose, which was still coming in, I was stockpiling stone faster than I could use it. The issue was committing myself to the 18 days that this upgrade required.

I had been so happy and relieved when the timer had run down and the menu showed my investment had paid off:

Espionage training centre level 4

Master spy: Lady Scarlet

Benefits: Increases training speed of new recruits by 10%.

Allows training of master assassin units (increased chance to kill on battlefield, increased chance to identify and eliminate enemy assassins).

Unlocks Rogue progression.

You have unlocked advancement for a Rogue level 1. Do you wish to attract a new Rogue to the realm (may take up to three days) or assign Lady Scarlet to the role and obtain a new master spy replacement?

New Rogue / assign Lady Scarlet

I was still more than twenty days from Carrick at this point, twenty valuable days of level and stat grinding. So I offered the role to Isabelle. From my point of view, I knew Isabelle would make an excellent Rogue. There was no questioning her bravery from the day she'd swum the river Darkwater to lead her small team in the capture of the Southway tower. And she'd led the zombies under water to the capture of Texecal. She was smart and sharp in observation skills and I was confident she'd pick up the stealth skills of a Rogue. From Isabelle's point of view though, the option turned out not to be so appealing. She had bonded with the archers under her command and didn't want to leave them. I'd found a solution that satisfied her: Isabelle would keep her rank, in fact, I would promote her to lieutenant of the archers and she would still have responsibility for them in battles where she was present and would direct the sergeants in her absence. Happy with that idea, she accepted the invitation, joined the daily grinding team and practised her new skills.

Really pleased with this payoff from my upgrades, I had returned with more confidence to upgrading the monastery. Level 2 (cost: 90 stone, 30 timber, 3 iron, 7 days) brought another +1 happiness and this time, curiously, masonry + 10%. I was currently just three days away from the level 3 monastery (120 stone, 40 timber, 4 iron, 10 days) and was very hopeful that it would unlock a martial arts class. If not, I would definitely push on to level 4.

Those had been my upgrade decisions on the journey home and I was very satisfied with them. Another call I felt positive about had been to dump my timber reserves into ten more fishing vessels (520 wood, 20 iron, 30 days). With my high happiness score and constant recruitment of people to the realm's menu, I had been edging towards my sustainable limit. Also, I wanted an alternative food source should the trade with the Necromancer be interrupted for some reason. I was at my limit now for shipping, until I upgraded the harbour. And it did occur to me that perhaps there was a pirate class or similar that I might unlock if I did that, so that upgrade remained in my thought for after the monastery.

Where I might have done better was with regard to my other new buildings. I'd created a leather workshop (40 timber, 24 stone, 2 iron, 5 days), thinking ahead to my return with hundreds of maces but no armour for the light infantry I wanted to recruit. But the workshop was hampered by a lack of hides. Like my jewellery workshop, it was idle most of the time, although occasionally my hunters did provide them with animal skins to turn into armour. I currently had 12 suits in the stores. A fire station (30 timber, 54 stone, 2 iron, 7 days), had seemed sensible but also didn't add anything to the progress of the city. Ditto the public baths (30 timber, 80 stone, 9 days). Still, better to have them and no regrets in the event of a potential disaster like a major fire or disease outbreak.

Three other buildings, however, fitted my endgame strategy, although I could only build the first levels of them and would have to work through my upgrade backlog to see if they delivered new class progressions. Stone Circle to Miya (36 stone, 7 days) was very suggestive of a druid or shaman and the level 1 benefit was also useful, +10 agriculture. Stables 1 (60 timber, 14 stone, 2 iron, 6 days), allowed me to recruit chariot units and perhaps at level 3 or 4 would unlock a mounted fighter class. It would be ironic if that was the case, because the Necromancer had tried to misdirect King Cillian of Rockguard from obtaining a new warrior by telling him that stables 4 was the solution.

Next, the Tower of the Alchemists had looked like a good building to obtain and level up, in its own right and regardless of what classes it might unlock. Carlena had recommended it, back in the days when we felt like we were on the same team. The level 1 alchemist's tower cost 80 stone, 20 timber and 4 iron and took 12 days. When it was complete, I found that it could produce potions that gave a temporary boost of +1 in any stat. That was very useful, but the limits on this were the ingredients required. There was a huge, long list of possible potion ingredients but all of them required some work to obtain. For instance, to make the +1 Strength potion, I needed Bullwort; Blue Saggart leaf; Callapa bark; and the blood of a cavero (whatever that was), or a dragon, or a minotaur, or of a werebear, or the sap of a treant. On my 'to do' list was to find and slay monsters on the potion requirements list.

My current building project was a lighthouse, 110 stone, 30 timber and 4 iron, which had two days left on the timer.

Having wallowed in the bath until the water was cool, I got out and tried on a set of the remade royal garments that I'd ordered before leaving on campaign: a pale blue cotton shirt; red silk waistcoat; dark blue trousers; black leather boots. All an excellent fit. From the scents of cooked food that were reaching me and making my mouth water, it wouldn't be too long until it was time for the feast. Tempting as my bed looked, I wouldn't risk lying down for fear of falling into a sleep so deep, I'd miss the evening's entertainment and my meeting with the burghers. Instead, I strode out of the room, leaving behind my armour but keeping my magic items and the Lance of Light. I was off to find the giant.

Part II Chapter 37: Teambuilding RPG Style

The great banquet hall had been converted to a room for the shadow giant. Even before I swung the large doors open, I noticed that the former scent of polished wood was gone, replaced by an impression of staleness and leftover food: a bit like my old lounge. Inside though, everything was tidy enough. The long table had blankets on it, neatly folded. The great throne had been pushed back against the wall and another table brought in to provide a bench for the giant. He was sitting on it now, polishing a silver greave.

All the windows had been covered in drapes, so the only light in the room was from lanterns and that was concentrated at his end of the room. I was approaching him from the shadows. I recognised the giant from the golden crested helmet lying on top of a stack of his armour.

'Lysegetus, homoioi of Jekas, well met.'

The giant looked up at me and then back down to his work. 'Who are you and what do you want?' There was no attempt to raise the volume of his voice, yet it boomed through the hall.

'Don't you recognise me?'

He didn't even look up. 'You humans all appear alike.'

This made me laugh and he did respond to that, in fact he stopped his work. 'I am expecting King Carlos to return today. Yet even though you carry the lance you can't be him.'

'Why not?' All this time I had been walking closer to the giant, my boots echoing on the hard floor. I stood before him, looking up into that large, bearded face. Even sitting he was head and shoulders above me.

'King Carlos was a much larger man. Wider.'

'I was. But that was a year ago and I have worked hard to become fit.'

'So it is you.' Putting his cloth and armour aside, Lysegetus stood up, then knelt. 'Hail, King Carlos, slayer of the vampire, the curse of the jekasoi. I am here to honour our promise.'

'And I thank you and your queen for that. Do I also have you to thank for the ditches and the caltrops?'

'I received your order and I found many willing people to assist me.'

'Well done, those defences look formidable.'

'There are still vulnerabilities. Can I show you?' he glanced towards the covered windows. 'The sun will be down.'

'In two nights from now; I would be very grateful. I have to meet the burghers of the town over the next two evenings.'

He nodded, a heavy movement of his large head then he looked me in the eyes. 'I'm told you have won several battles, did the lance help?'

'It made all the difference. I lost one too though and lost the realm for a while.'

'Indeed, I turned back from one journey but came again when I heard your authority was restored.' Lysegetus stood up, a massive warrior nearly twice my size. He would make a terrible enemy. Or a formidable ally. 'I shall leave you to your meeting and attend to the northern walls. We are adding platforms and screens.'

On impulse I raised a hand to signal for the giant to wait. 'You jekasoi want the end of the era of the gods. An end to the constant cycles of this game.'

'We do.'

'Well, I think perhaps Miya wants the same. She brought me here as an outsider; she surrounded your island with shadows to protect you. And she has encouraged me to ally with the Kingdom of Lost Souls. The Necromancer believes that if his god, Scrithax, wins this time, he'll abolish the game.'

The giant laughed, a booming sound that caused me to flinch. 'Little king. Do not put your trust in gods. Least of all a demon.'

'I trust the Necromancer.'

'Trust a spear when it has thrown straight; a river when it has run to the sea; and a mortal who has nothing to lose. Trust not the gods.'

'Why don't you join us? A jekasoi army would tip the balance. You could ensure we win.'

Lysegetus shook his head. 'We have made our choice.'

'Remake it. This is your chance to change the world and for your race to be able to live under the sun once more.'

I could see from his solemn expression that my last point had gone home. 'We can talk again. And you can tell me why you trust a man who creates undead. Now, with your permission, I shall meet my volunteers and see to the defences.'

'You have my permission.'

With that the giant took two long steps, then almost knelt at the door to pass through it. I followed him out, turning the other way in the corridor to prepare to meet the leaders of the town's workshops.

***

My morning routine: rise before dawn (we were approaching winter and the days were becoming noticeably shorter) and dress for exercise; have light breakfast, usually two soft boiled eggs and bread; jog to the barracks training ground, doing stretches on the way; meet the other people with class skills and begin our gym session on the course I had designed. The full group consisted of eight of us.

Isabelle, Rogue Level 3

HP 18

AC 10

XP 217 (400)

Str 11, Dex 15, Con 9, Int 11, Wis 8, Cha 11

Rogue Feat: Surprise attack

Top Skills

Wield Longbow                   15

Wield Longsword                12

Medium Armour Mastery  8

Move quietly                        7

Spot Hidden                         7

Leonora, Cleric Level 3

HP 24

AC 14

XP 356 (400)

Str 10, Dex 10, Con 10, Int 11, Wis 16, Cha 13

Mace of Intimidation (+1, Intimidation effect)

Spells: 3 x first, 2 x second

First level spells: Bless Weapon, Calm, Cure Light Wounds, Growth, Holy Light, Inspiration

Second level spells: Cure Moderate Wounds, Delay Poison, Delay Disease, Miya’s Courage

Top Skills

Wield Mace                      15

Heavy Armour Mastery  13

Shield Mastery                  11

Ride Warhorse                   7

Combat Casting              5

Hernán, Warrior Level 3

HP 31

AC 16

XP 274 (400)

Str 13, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 11, Wis 11, Cha 14

Longsword +1

Top Skills

Wield Longsword             15

Heavy Armour Mastery  13

Shield Mastery                 12

Parry                                   7

Ride Warhorse                  7

Jacintha, Sorceress Level 4

HP 16

AC 5

XP 656 (800)

Str 7, Dex 10, Con 9, Int 20, Wis 12, Cha 10

Dagger + 1, Wand of Channelling (12)

Spells: 1 x 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th

Spell Book: Detect Magic, Fire Dart, Freeze

Carlena’s Spell Book: Detect Magic; Fire Dart, Freeze, Push, Flash of Light, Telepathy, Solid Air, Shatter, Doppelganger

Top Skills

Ride                    13

Wield dagger    11

Combat casting 9

Spot Hidden      6

Salvage               5

Valeria, Ranger Level 4

HP 32

AC 11

XP 712 (800)

Str 15, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 8, Wis 14, Cha 8.

Leather armour +1

Top Skills

Wield Longbow                    20

Wield Longsword                18

Medium Armour Mastery 17

Tracking                               16

Spot Hidden                        14

Figus, Bard Level 7

HP 53

AC 15

XP 9,450 (9,600)

Str 14, Dex 15, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 9, Cha 16

Scroll of Charm, Short Bow + 1, Ring of Silent Movement

Ambassador feats: Speak Language; Swift Travel

Bard feat: Inspired Performance

Spells: 4x1st, 3x2nd, 2x3rd, 1x4th

Top Skills

Wield Rapier                   35

Dine graciously               34

Climb                                32

Heavy armour mastery 29

Shield mastery                27

Lord Arval: Paladin Level 8

HP 79

AC 18

XP 26,000 (28,800)

Str 17, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 8, Wis 9 (10), Cha 9.

Trueblade +2, Ring of Wisdom +1

Top Skills

Wield Longsword             40

Heavy Armour Mastery  36

Shield Mastery                 34

Parry                                   32

Ride  Warhorse                 28

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Warlord, Level 12         HP 144          AC 0

Str16 (18)

Dex12 (13)

Con18 (20)

Int20

Wis18 (20)

Cha9

Magic items:

Lance of Light

+3 lance (+5 vs undead), +2 Wis, +2 Str, +5 Wield Lance, +5 Ride Warhorse, +5 Ride Flying Mount.

+2 rapier

+1 Bow of Accuracy

+1 Dex, no long-range penalty

Bracers of Archery

+5 Wield Bow, +10% haste, +50% range

Ring of Wisdom (+1 Wis)

Amulet of the Bull (+2 Con)

Boots of Protection (+2)

Amulet of Protection from Magic Missiles

Exp 1,740,000 (3,300,000)

Top Skills

Wield Longbow 60 (65)

Wield Lance 60 (65)

Ride Warhorse 60 (65)

Wield Rapier 60

Lunge 60

Grapple 60

Kick 60

Lightning Draw 60

Heavy Armour Mastery 60

Medium Armour Mastery 60

Swim 60

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

Tactical Strike (Int)

Firstly, we did weight training, each tackling a bar laden with suitable iron rings for our scores. With a natural Strength of 17, Lord Arval was lifting the heaviest loads and he really put the effort in too, exerting himself to the utmost. The gain of an extra point would mean a lot in terms of his effectiveness in battle. Curiously, Jacintha, our Sorceress, threw herself into the task with equal determination, her normally cheerful face turning red as she strained to lift her Strength 7 bar.

After a break, we did Dexterity training. This was an obstacle course I'd designed, with a lot of balancing and jumping required. I'd also had some throwing balls made – silk filled with seeds – so that those of us not on the course could practice our throwing and at the same time try to knock one of the runners off balance with a headshot. Generally, this was a source of amusement and friendly rivalry, although the sour Valeria hated being hit. Not that this happened much: with her Dex of 18 she was able to catch the incoming balls even while swinging across a gap on a rope.

Next, we would work on skills. All of us made a priority of our fighting skills, with the exception of Jacintha, who tried to increase her Combat Casting skill. The difficulty here, though, was that if she used too much manna she wouldn't regain enough to be involved in the afternoon's fighting. So the spell she used in training was the cheapest one in mana cost: Read Magic. We'd charge at her and Jacintha would try to get the spell off before anyone touched her. With her Int 20 and Wis 12, her skills went up pretty fast, although a good way off my rate of skill increase, which continued to amaze. One day's training was usually all it took for me to hit the cap in any skill, such as a proficiency in a new weapon. Poor old Lord Arval, on the other hand, might go several days without any skill up at all.

After skills, it was one more round of weights and the obstacle course, then we had lunch together. Typically, the mood would be cheerful. They understood my end-game strategy and were glad to be part of it. So even if aching already, no one ever complained and some, like Jacintha, made their enthusiasm very evident.

In the afternoons, we went hunting. Riding and trying to fire missiles from horseback gave a chance of those skills increasing. So even though the shared experience from killing a Ciatern was negligible, we passed among those ostrich-like monsters loosing arrows at them as targets. I rarely had to get involved; I only needed to watch in case a Ciatern closed to attack one of my party. Then I would kill it with one shot and that never failed to make me think how far I had come from the early days, when without Carlena's Freeze spell a Ciatern would have killed me.

South, past where the new road turned east to Three Ways, was a light forest and there we could find more challenging mobs. Valeria would track for us and if we could identify an ogre or a optrax – like a jaguar, very hard to spot, and with monstrous fangs – that would suit our team. Hernán would bravely step up to taunt and tank while supported by the others with the exception of Isabelle, who would stealthily move to flank and employ her Surprise Attack. Again, I would stay out of the fight unless needed, because my share of the XP took about half away from the others.

The fact that Figus, Lord Arval and I were all fairly close to levelling was a lure to suggest we should go even further southwards into the wilds and look for mobs that would give me decent XP. But I remembered the encounter with the toad demon and how close a fight that had been. The thought of Jacintha or Hernán dying to a poisonous attack or some other quick and violent action by a high-level monster kept me from following that idea. And not only for their sakes: to lose any of the people who were making excellent progress in their classes would be a complete disaster for my end-game strategy.

Our ride back to Carrick was usually a lively one, whatever the weather. Winter was approaching and more often than not there was a cold wind coming from the sea to the west. Even so, and despite wounds and aches, led by the youthful exuberance of Hernán and the irrepressible chatter of Jacintha, we enjoyed each other's company. Lord Arval did not usually say much, but he followed the conversation with a smile. The only person who seemed to be in a world of her own was the reserved Valeria, who usually had her hood pulled up tight around her black hair. If I tried to draw her into one-to-one conversation, her short answers would soon deter me. Still, all in all, we were a team with a shared sense of purpose and commitment.

***

A week after my return to Carrick I was working on upgrading the alchemist's tower (80 stone, 20 timber, 4 iron and 12 days) and my new construction project was the Public Baths (140 stone, 30 timber and 5 more days). I also had a new research choice to make. During the journey back from Texecal my first new research had been carbon steel blades, which had allowed me to use the smithy to upgrade all the weapons of the army. I had done so for the troops at Three Ways and Carrick and, since the return of the field army, was working through the weapons of the rest. Similarly, armour provectus allowed for an upgrade for chainmail or platemail armour. The result was the same level of defence but a lighter, better-fitting armour that increased mobility. The smithy task list was a pinch point at the moment and I couldn't start on the armour upgrades until the weapons were finished. I flagged to myself the idea of upgrading the smithy when the alchemist tower was progressed enough.

Although it took 15 days to complete, I had researched Mathematics I, as this speeded up research times by 10% and would easily pay for itself within a few months. And, indeed, the 22-day Mathematics II, which gained me another 10%. There was no Mathematics III, so with no tension between long-term and short-term goals, I turned to other options and picked Shipbuilding 2. My thinking was that now I had fairly strong set up at Three Ways, Carrick was more vulnerable to attack by sea than by land. Also, that I might need a warship to protect my fishing fleet from a raider. The research had been completed on the ride back from my teambuilding activity.

Shipbuilding 2

Standard Longship

Carries up to 24 rowers and 4 passengers at 1.5 nautical mile per hour or variable (wind).

Cargo Capacity: 10

Cost to build: 160 wood; 8 iron, 4 cloth.

Requires: docks, shipbuilder, 5 shipbuilders.

Time to construct: 15 days.

Royal Merchant Ship

Carries up to 40 crew and 20 passengers at 1 nautical mile per hour (oars) or variable (wind).

Cargo Capacity: 320

Cost to build: 260 wood; 10 iron, 8 cloth.

Requires: docks, shipbuilder, 5 shipbuilders.

Time to construct: 24 days.

Bireme

Carries up to 88 rowers and 40 soldiers at 1.5 nautical mile per hour or variable (wind).

Cargo Capacity: 18

Cost to build: 220 wood; 12 iron, 8 cloth.

Requires: docks, shipbuilder, 5 shipbuilders.

Time to construct: 25 days.

These ships were all attractive and I wanted to queue up one of each. But timber was in short supply. And this helped clarify my next research project, which had to be Lumber Mill I and which when complete, in 9 days, would allow me to build a mill to speed up timber production. With that chosen and the shipbuilders told to create a longship, I caught up with the overall state of the realm.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: Public Baths, 5 days

Currently upgrading: Tower of the Alchemists, 12 days

Monthly trade income: 12 gold 8 silver

Monthly tax income (medium): 137 gold 5 silver

Army cost: 154 gold 9 silver

Treasury: 2,392 gold

Daily food consumption: 52 units

Grain yield: 260 units due in 20 weeks 3 days

Vegetable yield: 44 units due in 14 weeks

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 24 weeks 1 day

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 28 units daily

Timber yield: 21 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 13 blocks daily

Smithy yield: 10 suits of plate mail due in 1 day

Weaving yield: 4 bolts daily

Research: Lumber Mill I

Resources:

Wheat: 279 food units

Vegetables: 68 food units

Meat: 4 food units

Fish: 7 food units

Wool: 12

Timber: 120 planks

Iron: 168 ingots

Stone: 2,477 blocks

Cloth: 64 bolts

The distribution of the people on the menu was: Farmers 60; Fishing Crew 140; Sailors 40; Builders 40; Shepherds 24; Hunters 80; Miners 84; Clothmakers 27; Bakers 40; Brewers 40; Carpenters 60; Stonemasons 60; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 10; Spies 20; Pigeon trainers 4; Idle 721

Field army: 47 swordsmen (Hernán)*; 18 heavy infantry*, 9 knights (Lord Arval)*; 4 crossbows and 60 archers (Isabelle)*; 16 light cavalry (Baldwin)*; 75 Cantreth light cavalry archers (Nurbolat)*. 184 light infantry (stone maces). 28 engineers.

Greyland army: 60 archers; 2 trebuchet crews; 20 heavy infantry, 20 knights

Montrose army: 34 archers (Guy)*; 61 light infantry (stone maces).

Texecal: 31 spearmen (Fanon)*; 61 light infantry (stone maces).

*veterans

Reluctantly, I decided to stop recruiting any more people to the menu. I'd finally caught up with my food production capacity. And to avoid a recurrence of the kind of problems that had constrained me the first time around, I needed to boost the number of farms or other sources of food before letting the population on the menu grow further. Still, a pool of 721 in reserve was good.

My army costs were a fraction over my income, but that was fine. I had an enormous treasury after the successful campaign. Now that I wasn't growing my population though, any increase in army size would not be matched by a growth in tax income, so I would have to keep an eye on recruitment.

I was very pleased with my new engineering corps, which would help the army a lot for sieges. Also, with my addition of 20 knights. Lord Arval would now have 30, including himself, to lead in a charge and that could be significant in a battle. Once the Smithy had cleared the upgrade backlog, I'd continue producing the armour needed for high end troops. The addition of the mace-wielding ex-slaves of Kezata had been a big boost to the numbers, if not the quality of the army.

I'd also recruited 20 spies; 16 were assigned to the realms I was unfamiliar with and I looked forward to reading their reports in due course. The other 4 were responsible for catching enemy spies and were assigned to Carrick (2), Montrose and Texecal.

Overall, it was a very satisfactory situation.

My thoughts turned to the winter ahead and my plan to bring the team of those people with class progression to the Kingdom of Lost Souls. I looked forward to working with his general and Assassin and whoever else he wanted to train. And to nights of chess and wine and interesting conversation.

Part II Chapter 38: The Song of the Siege of Montrose

After three days of rain, I woke to sunlight coming through my window and knew the time had come to depart Carrick for the Kingdom of Lost Souls. After breakfast, I told Gabriella, the keep servant, of my plans and she was diplomatic enough to express disappointment that I was leaving, even though they had been much busier since my return. Not wanting to wake the giant, I wrote a note for Lysegetus. He already knew that I would not be staying and had plenty of plans to improve the town's defences to keep him busy.

Then I sent around to all those with class progression to meet me in the main square as soon as they were ready.

Our small – but hopefully elite – force gathered before the sun was over the spire of the church. Although I counted on the support of the villages we would travel though, I'd arranged for sufficient tents and hard tack for the journey to be packed and stored on six spare horses: a small baggage train. Also packed for the journey were six carrier pigeons and a bottle of mead given to me by Injeborg, the ambassador of the Vikings. I looked forward to sharing it with the Necromancer.

With everyone mounted, I set Goncendor to walking and as we left, a crowd of soldiers ran from the barracks to wave us off. Lord Arval and I led the way, the Paladin's white smile bright in his well-trimmed beard. This recuperative time in Carrick had done wonders for our haircuts and had provided us all with new clothing.

Riding four abreast down the smooth-surfaced road, we easily arrived at Three Ways before nightfall. There we joined with the two trebuchet crews and the company of archers in a lively meal, where we were urged to recount the battles and sieges of our last campaign. Figus rose and with a bow asked permission to perform the part of his epic song in which I duelled with King Wace of Southway at the siege of Montrose. Naturally, I agreed. I was curious to hear it myself. Plus, Figus gained experience from these performances and was closing in on Bard level 8.

Figus set the scene, explaining how the trebuchet had made a breach in the walls, but the soldiers of Montrose had built a wooden wall, sufficient to prevent the zombies from entering. Then the Bard took a deep breath, raised his arms and looked around at the expectant, lamp-lit faces.

King Wace himself looked down with scorn

At a zombie army, battered and torn.

He laughed then, too, to see only three.

Lord Arval, a Bard and a black knight.

'I've kept your prison cell ready,' he shouted.

'Lord Arval, you'll be there again tonight!'

His soldiers roared at this display of wit.

Hurling stones and axes, even shovels and picks.

'We can't stay here,' said our king.

As the Bard gave a groan from a blow to the head.

'On, on to the breach and hoist me up.

'I'll blind them and climb and strike them dead.'

Holy Light of Miya is the lance's true power.

King Carlos aimed well and we soon saw them cower.

'Cleric, I'm blind!' King Wace now in panic cried.

The Bard and the Paladin to the wall advanced.

Cupped hands for their king to leap over and high.

Clambering up, he leaned back for the lance.

Now death had come to visit our realm.

Remorseless and vengeful in black armour and helm.

'Help, help!' they cried and screamed as they fell.

As the lance cleaved a space around the black knight.

King Wace rallied his soldiers, for his eyes were clear.

It was King Carlos who appeared to run off in fright.

Once on stone stairs, King Carlos turned to shout.

'It was me who raided and burned your room out.'

Luring the enemy away from the stockade.

Groaning with anger, King Wace pressed the attack.

While the Bard made a prop for Lord Arval to climb.

Always moving higher, King Carlos fell back.

He suddenly turned to the wall walk up high.

Slashing down archers, holding lance to the sky.

Greyland's soldiers far off gave a great roar.

And rushed across the battlefield, their king to reach.

Lord Arval and the Bard having climbed up the stockade.

Attacked the foe on the other side of the breach.

'I have you now, scum,' cried King Wace

An expression of triumph all over his face.

Dazzling Attack was his warrior feat,

Against which the black knight had no reply.

Followed up with Demoralize and ferocious blows.

It seemed to the Bard that his king must die.

Lord Arval from the far side of the breach,

Found that his heal spell could just about reach.

King Carlos rallied and with courage was inspired.

To Grapple his foe and make him fall.

A skill that King Carlos had trained to its limit.

King Wace was lifted and thrown from the wall.

With a shriek of fear, cut short by a clang,

The disbelieving King Wace met the ground with a bang.

'That's for your treachery, and that's for your pride.'

The black knight picked up his lance and cried.

'Now drop your arms for the battle is over.'

And the shocked soldiers of Montrose complied.

With that Figus bowed and the large ground-floor room of the tower was filled with cheers and roars of approval. It was not the song they were celebrating, but the victory over King Wace. They had experienced the occupation of Greyland by Southway troops. And they had friends and relatives killed in the battle of Adelaide's Crossing. Hearing of King Wace's death was a balm to those wounds. I thought Figus had done well and gave him a nod of respect, but with that subject matter, he could hardly have gone wrong with this audience.

It was heartening too, that these new soldiers were eager for battle: they were envious of those who had been on the campaign and as the evening went on, had no end of questions to us about those events.

The second night of our travels. we spent in a church to Miya down in the farmlands of the realm. Despite the first flurry of sleet of the winter, we were warm and comfortable there and again were obliged to tell the villagers all about recent events. I didn't mind this at all, it was good for morale, if not for sleep. But it did make me think about researching printing and distributing posters and pamphlets. I needed to research schools too, so that every community had a person capable of reading the publications.

Travelling under a grey sky, we then pushed on for two more days, staying in the barns of our farmers (of course, they would have given up their own beds for me but not only were these of dubious cleanliness, I wanted to stay with my officers). At both stops, once more the villagers were keen to hear news of our campaign and in both evenings braved the cold to listen at our fire, appreciative of how Miya's fortunes had turned around from when enemy soldiers were at these very sites.

Encouraged by the support expressed by our farmers, I was in relatively good spirits approaching Adelaide's Crossing, but there I felt a cloud descend over my heart, a darker one even than the sky ahead. We were riding through the place that hundreds of Greyland soldiers had died. And when I looked to my left from the path, up to the ruined tower where I had escaped, I thought about the archers who gave their lives so that I had time to lumber as fast as my heavy body could manage, up the hill and away.

Here too, Anthea, my first Cleric, had died in battle. And also, Ava, the new Cleric, who had hardly time to enjoy being able to progress in her class when she was cut down on this battlefield. As we walked our horses along the road, I could hear Jacintha laughing from behind me and for a moment felt a surge of anger towards her and shame at myself. But of course, Jacintha didn't know this was the place of my disaster. There were no signs of the battle, although as we came around the bend, I saw a large mound to the south of the road that had not been there before. A goat was on top of it, eating the grass, careless of our presence. It did not mind that a mass burial of human bodies had probably taken place below its hooves.

Beside me, Lord Arval was grim-faced and his jaws were clamped tight shut. Further back, Figus too looked angry.

'We are revenged for that day,' I said. 'King Wace and Queen Rorgesta are dead and we live.'

Lord Arval did not reply, but he did give a slight nod.

***

Towards sunset on the road north from Adelaide's Crossing towards Castel Sliabh, the capital of Rockguard, I heard the distant rumble that a body of horsemen make. It was coming from the south of us. No sooner had I gotten our small force drawn up in three lines –myself, Figus and Lord Arval at the front and Leonora with the pack animals at the back, everyone else between us – than the sound resolved itself to be a dozen or so small horses whose riders carried bows.

'Hold your fire!' I shouted in case Figus, Valeria or Isabelle released an arrow from their prepared bows.

Their foremost rider galloped up to Goncendor and reined in tightly, pulling back his hood to show his face.

'Praise Rysaka, we have found you!' It was Nurbolat, leader of the riders of Cantreth and my heart was pounding. What was his news that made him ride so urgently?

'The troops of the Arkine Empire have invaded Cantreth. They marched from the east and we fled west into an ambush. Their axemen and cavalry must have come around by sea and they were ready to intercept us. Our warriors could escape, but not our elderly and our young. Not our herds and tents.'

Nurbolat was a hard-faced man, so it was shocking to see the lines of tears on his wide, dark-skinned cheeks, also to hear the difficulty with which he spoke, choked as he was with anguish. 'They took Rahus Khan… he was only ten but a fine rider… and they smashed his brains out on a post. Then they cut the heads off family members… venerable elders and young girls… until at last the traitor Kadal Khan cried out, "I have the menu!" and he then rode around taking the submission of the people.'

'Who is Kadal Khan?' I asked.

Taking a deep breath and then another, Nurbolat shook his head. 'Not all of the warriors of Cantreth agreed with waiting five years for Rahus to come of age. By then, they said, you or another power would be unassailable. At an assembly, strong words were spoken. But those of us who had fought with you and knew of how Ivus Khan had trusted you to get revenge on the inferni … and those of us returned from slavery. We said to stay true to you.

'I thought the matter settled, despite the anger of the smaller party. But Kadal Khan must have conspired to bring in the emperor. Only treachery – and by large numbers – could have allowed those troops to get so close to our winter camp.'

He paused then and looked at me expectantly. I felt the weight of that look and that of his companions.

A winter campaign? In a country that was wide open to wind and weather? With no control of the sea for supplies. It was a question of logistics as much as troops. Napoleon might have had a better army than the Russians, but he couldn't defeat General Winter.

I browsed the menus and the military buildings options, which had increased since I had unlocked the engineering unit:

Army Camp

A rectangular ditch and wooden palisade, with wooden corner towers.

Materials: 56 wood, 8 iron.

Construction time: 1 day.

Motte and Bailey Castle

A high earthen mound with a wooden tower on top, with a wooden stockade at the base.

Materials: 120 wood, 12 iron.

Construction time: 3 days.

The problem I was trying to solve was how to defeat a highly mobile opponent and at the same time give my troops shelter from the elements. If I had enough timber, I could attack from the west and build a chain of mottes, each in sight of each other with flag and fire signals, so they could assist one another when needed. It was how the Normans had conquered the east of Ireland. Not one castle had fallen to the Irish, even when the garrisons were small. The downside of having an army made exclusively of raiders was that they lacked even storming ladders, let alone heavier siege equipment.

The crucial issue, it seemed to me, was timber. Could I ensure enough supplies came to support this idea of a chain of small wooden castles? If so, the winter campaign was on. If not, I would have to disappoint these Cantreth riders and wait until spring, building up my strength in the meantime.

I made my decision. With the Necromancer's support I believed I could manage this war. Perhaps I'd regret it when my troops were worn out or whittled away by constant harassment from enemy archers. But my assumption was that the castle strategy would work. And politically, time was essential. Right now, I reckoned that Kadal Khan must have more enemies than allies in Cantreth. Give him four months though, to demonstrate that he could secure a successful future for their god, Rysaka, he might be able to gather to him at least those who were currently neutral.

'Make camp. We march on Cantreth in the morning. Hernán, prepare a pigeon.' The young warrior had taken to the management of the birds with relish and had even named them all.

While my officers dismounted and prepared the tents, I wrote a message for Nicolás, the head of the shipbuilders whom I had appointed acting Chancellor with the approval of the other burghers.

Cantreth invaded by Arkine.

Send at once to Montrose: 47 swordsmen, 38 heavy infantry, 29 knights, 4 xbow, 60 archers, 16 light cavalry, 184 light infantry, 28 engineers.

Lysegetus to come too by night.

My planned idyllic winter of training by day and a warm fire and good company in the evenings was gone. This was going to be a cold and demanding three months. Greyland was going to war again.

Part II Chapter 39: The Two-Headed Serpent

It took sixteen days to assemble the army of Greyland at the border between Southway and Cantreth. Having decided to intervene on behalf of Nurbolat and the faction in favour of alliance with me, I was impatient to move as quickly as possible. Not only to prevent Kadal Khan from consolidating his position but also I was conscious that mid-winter was only a month away. Despite my sense of urgency, it had been necessary to wait at Montrose for the Carrick troops to join me. When we set off from our rendezvous, I brought most of the garrison of Montrose with me.

It helped to avoid a sense of frustration at the passage of time while I waited at Montrose that I could manage the menus for Greyland and by the time we were assembled and ready to march on Cantreth, the overall situation was as follows:

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: Lighthouse 6 days

Currently upgrading: Tower of the Alchemists to Level 3, 2 days

Monthly trade income: 12 gold 8 silver

Monthly tax income (medium): 137 gold 5 silver

Army cost: 174 gold 9 silver

Treasury: 2,380 gold

Daily food consumption: 52 units

Grain yield: 260 units due in 17 weeks 1 days

Vegetable yield: 44 units due in 10 weeks 5 days

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 19 weeks 6 days

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 28 units daily

Timber yield: 23 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 13 blocks daily

Smithy yield: 10 suits of plate mail due in 1 day

Weaving yield: 4 bolts daily

Research: Lumber Mill 2, 4 days

Resources:

Wheat: 207 food units

Vegetables: 52 food units

Meat: 6 food units

Fish: 9 food units

Wool:

Timber: 253 planks

Iron: 95 ingots

Stone: 2,126 blocks

Cloth: 108 bolts

Daily food consumption was a fraction higher than I could cater for without purchasing additional grain. While I was at Montrose I therefore arranged with one of their merchants for a delivery of 100 units of grain for a relatively expensive 20 gold. Despite the cost, I had a huge treasury and while I could probably be self-sufficient with an upgrade of farm buildings to level 2, my upgrade choices were focused on the possibility of unlocking new class progressions. It made more sense to pay the high price than interrupt my upgrades of the alchemists' tower.

In respect of my upgrades, I'd unlocked the level 2 Tower of the Alchemists, which allowed me – with the right ingredients – to create potions of resistance to the elements: fire, water, ice, lightning, whirlwind. I'd immediately set about the level 3 tower (120 stone, 30 timber, 4 iron and 14 days).

Having completed the Public Baths and research into Lumber Mills 1, my new build was a lumber mill Level 1 (20 stone, 20 timber, 8 iron, 9 days). To operate the mill required 10 workers from the idle pool and increased my timber output by 10% to 23 units. After that, I ordered the construction of a lighthouse (110 stone, 20 timber, 6 iron, 15 days) and researched Lumber Mill 2. Timber was my main pinch point and the reserves that I could purchase from Montrose I needed to send in the wake of the army, rather than back to Carrick. There were not so many trees in Cantreth that I could build forts and castles with them and the labour of my soldiers.

With my iron production well ahead of my building needs, I was able to commission the smithy for another 20 suits of plate mail, as well as carbon steel blades, for swords and lances and armour provectus for greater manoeuvrability. The resultant knights were excellent units and I sent a pigeon to order that as soon as they were ready, they were to join us in Cantreth. My army costs were 25 gold a month above my income as a result but I could easily afford this and relished the idea of having 50 mounted knights for battle.

Finally, at the head of the Greyland army, I rode out of Southway and into the plains of Cantreth. As I looked back over the army, with their fluttering green-and-white pennants I felt proud and enthusiastic. True, many of the liveliest and most eager soldiers were new recruits, armed only with the stone-embedded maces I'd captured from Kezatka. But I also had very steady veterans who had accompanied me through several battles and the storming of three cities. My officers, too, had gained a lot of experience and not one of them had ever shown dissent towards me. I really felt part of a Greyland team.

To my great surprise, only ten kilometres across the border to Cantreth and I saw enemy troops. Most of Cantreth was one vast, undulating grassland. I could therefore see for miles, even under a cold, grey sky in which squalls of sleet crossed my view like large floaters in my eye. I was on the crest of a slight rise and towards the east was another rise on which stood a line of some thirty cavalry. These were not the riders I had been expecting. Their armour gleamed from head to toe and they carried lances, not bows. At the northern end of their line was a rider holding a banner, which was purple but the golden design within it was too far away to discern.

'Figus,' I turned to the Bard, who was sitting on his horse to my left. 'Are those Arkine cavalry?

'They are, sire. That is the banner of their empire: a golden two-headed snake on a purple background.

'Baldwin!' I shouted and heard the echo of my cry pass down the ranks. Soon, the thumping beat of a horse at a gallop introduced the sergeant of my light cavalry.

'You called, sire.'

Baldwin was a young man with cropped, blonde hair. I pulled back the hood of my fur-lined cape so he could see me properly and the earnestness in my face. 'Take your riders and scout around the Arkine cavalry there. Do they have an army beyond? And understand this, you are not to engage the enemy under any circumstances. As soon as they move or show signs of having missile weapons – or worse, spells – you ride back to us. Understood?'

'Understood, sir!' Baldwin wheeled his horse about and galloped back down the line again. Before long, I saw him and the fifteen other light cavalry ride west, but well to the south of the riders facing us.

'Advance at a walk!' I gave the order, gestured with my right arm, and set Goncendor in motion. Behind me came the tramp of the footsoliders, kept in time with the rather perfunctory shouts of their sergeants. Everyone's attention was on the heavy cavalry in the distance and perhaps, like me, they wondered if somehow a whole enemy army were close.

It was a shame that I didn't have Nurbolat and the 105 mounted archers from Cantreth who had agreed to follow him into my service. They would have been perfect here. But those riders were deep into the country, attempting to gain a full understanding of the positions of their hated new ruler, Kadal Khan.

The Arkine cavalry showed no sign of moving and that also made me wonder what lay beyond them. Was this a trap? I could see them more closely now. They had full platemail armour. Purple crests of horsehair were streaming from each – closed – helmet, and lances stood upright, grounded in a stirrup, usually on the right hand side of a rider, though I noticed two were left handed.

At a distance of a very long arrow flight from the enemy knights I called out, 'Halt!'

The order passed down the line and soon afterwards my army were still. I could distinctly hear the flapping of the enemy banner and now that I knew it was a two-headed snake I could see the gold design too when the purple cloth stretched out.

'Lord Arval, your riders to our left flank please. About two hundred metres away.'

'Yes, sire,' the Paladin wheeled his horse out of the line and soon had his knights forming up on my far left. The gap between Lord Arval and myself I filled with Isabelle and her sixty archers. I had brought Guy to lead the Montrose archers and they fell in to my right. Beyond them, I positioned 38 heavy infantry, regretting that all my spears were in Texecal. Still, those two-handed axes would deal heavy damage, even to a mounted knight.

For my second row, I had 120 of the new light infantry with the captured stone maces line up. They would be of dubious use in a battle and now that we actually faced the prospect of battle, I noticed a few white faces and considerably less enthusiasm than when they had been singing marching songs. Next, I had my baggage animals and carts full of timber brought up to within just a hundred metres of the army, escorted by the 28 engineers, whom I wanted to protect from fighting in the field. Beyond the pack horses, carts and mules, I assigned the remaining 90 light infantry that I'd brought to Hernán and his veteran 47 swordsmen as a rear-guard and reserve. Throughout this deployment, it was painfully obvious the difference between the newcomers, who were a muddle for far too long, and the more experienced troops, who very rapidly got into position and readied themselves.

At last, all the tramping and confusion died away and I felt the Greyland army was ready to face an attack. Not that one materialised. Our opponents waited patiently at the top of the slight rise ahead of us. Between us, long grasses twisted one way, then another, as the cold wind drew patterns with them.

There was no sign of Baldwin and I wasn't going to advance the army without more information. After about twenty minutes, though, I decided to test my archery and my enemy's resolve. I walked Goncendor forward until I was sure I was in range, then rose in the saddle and drew back the string of my Bow of Accuracy. Thanks to my bracers, I had an additional 50% range and thanks to the bow, no penalty for long range. I was confident, therefore, that no enemy archers could respond.

Aiming at the knight holding the purple banner, I pulled back the string to my left cheek, felt the strain, looked along the arrow until the point was over my target's chest, and let go…

There was a flaw in the arrow, perhaps in the fletching, and it flew with a distinct wobble, missing the left shoulder of banner knight by about a metre. If I'd have aimed at the middle of their line, I might have hit the knight to the left of my target. With that in mind, I tried again, this time aiming at the knight most directly opposite me, in the centre of their line.

You have hit a knight of the Arkine empire for 11 damage!

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

This time the arrow flew true and even better, hit hard enough to penetrate the iron breastplate near the knight's neck. Having seen the arrow fly away from me in a perfect arc, I was disappointed that the soldier had more than 11 hit points and that I hadn't killed him. Still, my successful shot brought a great cheer from the Greyland troops behind me. It also caused a reaction.

With a curt command that I could barely hear from this distance, the knight with the banner wheeled around and the other Arkine horsemen copied him with impressive efficiency, so that they disappeared behind the grass-covered crest. Now the Greyland army was standing ready for battle in a wide sea of grass with no sign of any opposing army.

I waited too, bow in hand. The dips and rises of the landscape meant that a large force of enemy troops could be nearby and we wouldn't know.

All of a sudden, Baldwin's riders came up into view over a rise and were galloping towards us from the south east. A moment later, I could see why. Cantreth riders – those swift archers on their small horses – were in pursuit and the lead ones were able to wield their bows even at that ferocious pace. My heart ached to see one of our riders tumble, having been struck, and I urged Goncendor on an intercept course. We were facing both Arkine troops and their Cantreth allies. This was a crisis.

As I rode, I hooked the magic bow into its resting place on the left side of my saddle and drew the Lance of Light from over my shoulder. Then I had to judge the moment when the enemy were in range but a Holy Light would not blind my own riders. I erred on the side of caution, launching the bright sphere so that it descended well beyond the Greyland light cavalry.

Silently, the white light exploded and caused massive confusion: not only were a dozen-or-so riders and horses now blind, the affected horses veered into the path of the others galloping all around them. The chase was over: the Cantreth riders drew up and my remaining riders galloped clear and over to me.

'Where's Baldwin?' I asked the first to reach me.

'Dead sire.'

'How many enemy troops do we face?'

'About a hundred of these.'

'What about troops from the Arkine empire?

'Didn't see none, sire. Just them knights.'

We walked the horses back to the ranks of our army, the mounts of the surviving 12 riders all covered in a foam of sweat. I ordered them to the middle of the army, to see to their horses and then rode across to Lord Arval on our left, conscious of all the eyes on me.

'Do we advance?' I asked him.

Helmet visor up, Lord Arval stood up in his stirrups and looked about in all directions. 'I don't think so. We just can't be sure.'

'What then?'

'Let's see if those engineers are as good as they think they are,' the Paladin grinned.

Because we had travelled such a short distance from the border, it hadn't occurred to me to build a camp for the army. Yet as soon as Lord Arval voiced that option I realised it was a good one. A safe one at least. Given the surprise of seeing Arkine Empire troops already, I really needed better intelligence before pushing on into the unknown. And in the meantime, having a protected base for the army seemed wise.

Urging Goncendor into a canter, I rode up to the engineers and was directed to their sergeant, Havid, a man in his forties I guessed from the grey at his temples. He was large nosed and had the flush in his face of a man who loved his wine. But he was also keen, rubbing his hands when he heard my order to create a camp.

'We're up, lads and lasses!' he clambered to the top of a pile of wood on a cart and shouted to the other engineers. 'You know what to do. We have enough timber for a stockade eighty metres square.'

Then he turned to me. 'It would go faster if we could have forty infantry for digging.'

'Take them from the second rank.'

'Very good.' Once more Havin rubbed his strong hands together. Then he slowly surveyed the land all around. 'Can you capture that rise?' He pointed to where the Arkine knights had originally been formed up.

'We don't know for sure what's beyond it.'

'In that case, we should build the fort back that way four-hundred metres. Out of range. Can you bring the ranks back to cover us?'

'I can.'

With that, Havin leapt down from the cart with surprising agility before hurrying over to the nearest infantry body to order them to fall in for digging duty. I felt encouraged as I watched the engineers unloading their equipment. Then I turned back to the front of the army and saw that the Cantreth riders, no longer blind, were massing with intent. They might have far fewer soldiers – that I could see – but unless we were careful, those archers could inflict a lot of damage on the Greyland army.

Part II Chapter 40: Arrows of Fortune

'Isabelle! Guy!' The two sergeants of my bodies of archers came running and I leaned down from the saddle to address them. 'You have to interpose your archers between those riders and the army. If they come around the back, you run to the back. If they come at us from the west, you have to get to the west. Wherever they go, you match them. Understood?'

Although very different in look – tall, fair-haired, bearded male; short, dark-haired female – both officers had exactly the same expression: anxiety. If they could not match the enemy archers, the rest of the Greyland army would be exposed to the arrows of the mounted cavalry loyal to Kadal Khan.

Both acknowledged me with the reply, 'Understood!' and then ran back to their units. While our archers formed up between the army and the Cantreth riders, I had the rest of the troops retreat to where the engineers were marking out a wide square with ropes looped around sturdy pegs. Soldiers were wielding scythes to cut the tall, wild grass there and others were already digging trenches under the direction of the engineers. The only part of the army not on the move were our knights with Lord Arval. Without their steady, watchful presence, I could imagine the Arkine cavalry suddenly riding over the crest of the hill ahead and into my archers before we could save them.

For a while, all was equilibrium. The Cantreth archers stared across at us, while the cold wind made the grass sway one way, then another. Behind me, I could hear the battering and hammering sounds of the hurried work of my engineers. Then, in response to some signal I couldn't see, our enemies began to ride fast down our eastern flank.

'Move! Move!' I shouted and at the same time Isabelle and Guy were doing the same. Quivers slapping against their leather armour, our archers understood what was needed from them and sprinted to try to match the tactics of the enemy.

'Lord Arval stay and cover those knights!' I was away, following the Cantreth archers, urging Goncendor into a gallop and keeping my lance in hand.

When the enemy riders reached the rear-guard of the Greyland army, they wheeled about in an impressive display of co-ordination and came towards us. The hooves of their galloping horses creating a loud rumble all around me and I felt what it must be like to wait in the face of an onrushing tsunami. It was intimidating, even with all the advantages of level and gear that I had. For once, I did not relish the coming fight.

Since it was obvious that this was no feint but an attack in earnest, I launched both my remaining Holy Light spells. Then, even while the second bright sphere was sailing through the air, drew my bow.

About half of the Cantreth cavalry were halted by my spells and I was glad to see several fall from their mounts. But that still left some fifty others, coming in fast, bows raised. Although I had Lightning Draw as a maximised skill, by the time I had put away the lance, prepared my bow, and released my first arrow I was in range of the leading Cantreth archers and six arrows flew through the grey sky, swift and powerful. Two hit me, reducing my hit points by 7. One hit Goncendor, causing him to skitter, and the others whistled past.

There was no time for my archers to get between the incoming enemy cavalry and our infantry, so quite rightly they stopped where they were, all stretched out along our eastern flank, and began launching arrows into the mass of incoming riders. I felt proud of them; whether from Greyland or Montrose they were risking their lives: if the enemy changed the direction of their charge as a result of being targeted by the archers, they had no protection and many of them would die.

The sky, already dark, grew darker still as though heavy rain was about to come. But the thunder was of galloping horses and the rain was a deadly fall of sharp-tipped steel arrows.

Turning Goncendor with my knees, I rode ahead of the incoming mass of riders, back towards our lines – Hernán's swordsmen guarded the rear of the army – with me releasing arrows over my shoulder.

There was a game I had once played, the Total War series, in which some cavalry archers had the 'Cantabrian circle' option, which was to ride in a wide circle while releasing arrows. Suppose the enemy was at the 3 o'clock point of the circle, then as riders came around to that point, they would loosen their arrows into their foe, then ride on past and prepare the next arrow for when they had moved around the whole circle. This formation allowed the cavalry to stay clear of contact with slower-moving enemies, while inflicting a steady amount of damage. It was exactly what the Cantreth archers tried now, their arrows smacking into Hernán's lines as they came close but then circling away just out of range of a possible counter-charge by the swordsmen.

'Kneel! Kneel!' I yelled at the infantry. 'Kneel behind your shields!' It was hard, with horses riding so close to take cover like this, breaking ranks, losing their collective cohesion, becoming immobile and thus risking the enemy riding right through their shield wall. Most of the men were hesitant to obey me, some of them sinking to one knee, the majority looking over at Hernán. But I knew from the formation the riders were using that they weren't going to charge among the swordsmen.

'Come on Hernán! Get down!'

Once their young sergeant ducked into his shield – just in time, an arrow flying a fraction above his head – the others followed suit and at once, the casualties I'd been witnessing and suffering over ceased. Now, instead of arrows striking the faces and limbs of my men, they were hitting only shields.

The conflict had turned in our favour. We had 94 archers in total and even though they were not in formation and unable to release powerful volleys, they were individually inflicting damage on the Cantreth riders. And we had me. With a skill of 65 in Wield Longbow (surely the highest in this world), a magical bow and magical bracers, I was taking a steady toll of their army. Often, one arrow would be enough to kill my opponent. The Cantreth riders had a conical, fur-lined helmet that had ear guards tied under the chin but no visor. I therefore aimed for the eyes of my enemies and about half my arrows were lethal hits.

As the toll of casualties on the circling enemy force began to mount and as it became clear to them that they were unable to deal out matching harm, the Cantreth riders abruptly rode away, in response to some signal and some commander's order that I wasn't able to see.

A huge roar of 'Greyland!' and several cries of 'Carlos!' followed them, as the infantry who had been watching cheered our success. Once the drumming sound of the enemy riders had faded into the distance, I had Hernán's men collect the weapons from the dead and gather the reins of riderless horses. We gained 25 bows and 10 horses.

By the time this had been completed there was a huge crowd of my archers and light infantry mingling with the swordsmen and I overheard some of the new soldiers talking about their first 'battle'.

'Soldiers of Greyland and Montrose!' I shouted and drawing the lance, cast its Light spell, making the blade glow to catch everyone's attention. It took a while for the eager chatter of the troops to die away despite my waving of the lance.

'You did well, especially our archers. But this was only skirmish, not a battle. We have a long, hard campaign ahead of us. For most of it, you'll be digging trenches and lifting timber into position for walls of camps and castles. That will be hard work, but you can see why it is necessary. We can't defeat the Cantreth cavalry but we can prevent them harming us while we cross their realm and gain control of their camps.

'There may come a decisive battle and if it does come, it will be with the Arkine army, without whom Kadal Khan would not have the support of the people of Cantreth. If such a battle does come, then you'll know you've experienced war. Those of you who fought with me at Arkad against Queen Simara of the Inferni will know what a true battle is like. You will be face to face with your opponent in a storm of sound and violence. And such battles are decisive. They end campaigns.

'Today, we are still at the start of a difficult campaign. Let no one be under any illusion about this. We have done well, but we have to prepare to encounter them again. The riders of Cantreth are driven off, not defeated. And the Arkine army is a complete unknown.

'Now if any of the new infantry with maces have an aptitude for the use of the bow, we have just obtained twenty-five short bows and I want you to volunteer to use them and join Guy for training. I pointed the lance to Guy, who raised his arm.

'And if any of you can ride, I need you to take these captured horses and join our light cavalry who are seeing to their horses to the west of the new camp. The rest of those of you armed with maces go report to Havid of the engineers. We'll secure ourselves from attack here tonight, replenish our timber supplies and go march westwards in a few days.'

It was not the kind of speech to win cheers: I'd told them the truth, that this was just the start of a lot of arduous work. All the same, the soldiers gave a roar of approval and the cry of 'Carlos!' rang out over the plains for some time. Then the soldiers dispersed to their tasks.

Dismounting, I checked Goncendor for his injuries. Fortunately, the barding had done its duty and the arrow stuck into it had hardly penetrated, just enough to tear the skin of the horse's chest, but the wound was very shallow. From the corner of my eye I saw Hernán waiting for my attention.

'Give me a hand,' I said, 'let's get the armour off him.'

Soon we were stacking pieces of barding on the ground and I was able to give Goncendor several heartfelt pats of approval before reaching into the saddle bag for a brush. As I groomed the stallion, I asked Hernán was there something he wanted.

'I have five dead and thirteen wounded,' Hernán replied. 'All the wounded should recover, especially if Lord Arval and Leonora can cast their heals for them.'

'Of course, I'll send them over shortly.'

'What should I do with the five swords and shields?'

'Go pick five of the infantry from those with maces and bring them in to your force. Train them over the coming days.'

'Very good sire, thank you.'

'Is there something else?' Not only had Hernán continued to linger near me, but he was avoiding eye contact in a clear sign that he was uneasy about something.

'I'm sorry about earlier. When I didn't understand your orders and my men were slow to crouch.'

I paused in my brushing of Goncendor's flank. 'Hernán. You see me as a powerful Warlord and forget, I'm actually not much older than you. And I don't have any real battle experience, only games. Understand this: I'm going to make mistakes and order you and your men to do things that are stupid and wrong.

'Your job is to obey my orders, yes. But if I'm making a mistake then tell me. Make me think carefully. And if I still insist on the order, carry it out. But maybe I'll change my mind having listened to you.'

Hernán smiled. 'I find it hard to imagine you making a mistake.'

'I've made plenty already. And it might be that this winter campaign is another one.'

His youthful, eager face fell. 'Why do you say that?'

'My first nightmare is that we are deep into Cantreth when a much bigger force of Arkine soldiers and Kadal Khan's Cantreth riders than we met today attack us. And they are clever, they don't close to face-to-face fighting. Instead, they kill our archers and then surround us and fire at us relentlessly. And none of us come home.'

I wasn't trying to scare Hernán, just make him aware of the danger and appreciate why his men would see more building than battles during this campaign. 'My second nightmare,' I continued. 'Is that we are deep into Cantreth and our enemy have come between us and Southway and we are not getting any food or supplies of arrows and reinforcements and caravans of timber. If the winter that is fast approaching is severe, we could lose this army to cold. Do you see that?'

He nodded.

'Probably the greatest general and commander-in-chief to have lived in my world was a man called Napoleon. He attacked a large country in winter and even captured its biggest city. But then he lacked the supplies to remain in that country. In his retreat, Napoleon's army was destroyed as much by cold as by battle. I'm deeply concerned that doesn't happen to us.'

'It won't sire. We'll build camps and castles and only advance when it's safe to do so.'

'That's it Hernán. That's it exactly. So prepare your soldiers. They will be doing more digging and lifting than fighting on his campaign.'

Part II Chapter 41: Darkness on the Plains of Cantreth

It was snowing when the cries of the guards brought me running to the western wall of the fort. There was not much of a snowfall, just a swirl of a white flakes now and again, but it was enough to obscure my visibility with patches of grey that drifted through the cold air. In the distance were a large group of Cantreth riders: probably those who had been testing our archery over the last day-and-a-half since the fort had gone up.

If they were the same soldiers, then they had gained reinforcements. Yet my heart began to warm me with a faster beat as I had another thought. Perhaps this was the return of Nurbolat, whom I had begun to fear would never reappear. His riders would be essential in this winter campaign.

I looked along the line of archers beside me. 'No one shoot until I give the order.'

There was something different about these riders, something in the slow walk of their horses. They were within range of my bow and had a nonchalance about them that raised my hopes further. Then the lead rider started waving his bow above his head. In response, I cast Light on the blade of the lance and waved back. They resumed their advance and soon were within hailing distance.

'Who is your commander?' I called out.

'I am. Nurbolat.' And he rode to the front, pulling back the hood of his cape.

Nurbolat's was not a particularly attractive face. Not least because he was missing his front teeth. But when I made it out, I felt a surge of affection.

'Come to the west side, we have a gate there.'

Impatient though I was to hear Nurbolat's report, I understood the importance of the care our Cantreth supporters took of their mounts and I helped corral the horses and throw out bundles of hay, which the animals munched eagerly. At last, all was in order. The Cantreth men and women were provided with hot stew in the tents which I had – optimistically – prepared for them. Nurbolat brought his meal with him to my tent, nodding approvingly at the walls and corner towers of our fort. 'Good camp. Hard to attack.'

I sent for Lord Arval and Figus and while waiting for them, listened to Nurbolat as he spoke between mouthfuls of soup that he spooned with relish, careful to catch every drop. 'Arkine is here in large strength. Two hundred cavalry at least. Six hundred infantry.'

'Miya save us. Six hundred.' I felt shocked. 'Engineers? Forts?'

Nurbolat shook his head. 'Tents.'

'Permission to enter,' called Lord Arval from outside.

'Come in.'

'Nurbolat. Good to see you.' Lord Arval and our Cantreth commander exchanged a brief clasp of their right hands and forearms. 'What news?'

'Just wait a moment, I hear Figus. Come in,' I interjected.

The Bard too looked pleased to see Nurbolat as he ducked under the tent awning. All my officers and therefore the whole army knew that we couldn't risk a further advance without proper intelligence and that this depended on our loyal Cantreth riders. Probably the guards outside were listening and perhaps even relaying news to their friends.

I tapped on the table in front of me. 'I've had this map of Cantreth made. Can you draw on it for us?'

Putting down his empty bowl, Nurbolat stood up and came over. The four of us stood at the table on which there was a large scroll, showing a mostly featureless region between two wide rivers.

'My people have gone into winter camps. There are hundreds of small ones but three large: Zuum Kelgeth; Xun Kelgeth; and Zuum Ragath. Here; here; and here.' Nurbolat placed a dark-brown finger at each spot and I picked up a quill, dipped it in ink and marked the places with a triangle.

'Arkine are on guard for us with two armies but very spread out. Small camps every few kilometres.'

'Show us.'

Nurbolat drew two lines of surprising length. Then he smiled his broken-mouthed smile. 'We get past them in the night without them knowing.'

'Anything else?'

'They get their deliveries of hay and wood from carts crossing these bridges.' Again, I marked the places that Nurbolat pointed to. For a while we considered the picture.

I looked at the commander of the Cantreth horse archers. 'Kadal Khan has about seventy riders near here, we had to drive them off to build the fort. And the Arkine Empire has thirty knights in the vicinity.'

Nurbolat nodded.

'Thoughts?'

'There are too many Arkine soldiers in Cantreth for us to advance. We have to hope they are attacked by a neighbour and drawn away.' Lord Arval looked rueful.

Figus looked up at me. 'I could fast travel and try to make that happen.'

This was an option. Yet my heart sank while thinking about it. Waiting for a new alliance to play out would be a matter of months. And would anyone really launch a campaign in winter just because an ambassador from a distant country showed up, urging them to do so?

'Nurbolat?' I turned to him, hoping he had a better idea.

'If you defeat Kadal Khan's riders then I can leave you and go west. Intercept their hay. They need it very much or else they will have to take it from our people and that will turn the people to you.' Nurbolat put his finger over by the border with Arkine, showing the area he was proposing to go to.

'You can carry out raids in winter?' I spoke eagerly, feeling that this was a much better plan, if it were possible.

'We change our horseshoes to wide ones, with pads inside, so the snow doesn't…' he squeezed his hands together as he searched for the word… 'get tight in them, and we make blankets for the horses. Arkine riders will never catch us. We can go far and fast. Live off the Arkine deliveries of hay and villages who are friendly to us.'

'I like it. And I'll give you plenty of gold to pay the villagers well.' I glanced over at Lord Arval and then at Figus. 'What do you think?'

A thoughtful Lord Arval rubbed his beard. 'The Arkine quartermasters are going to have trouble feeding so many troops if we can interrupt their supplies.'

'I agree,' said Figus.

'Very well Nurbolat. We will turn their apparent strength into a weakness. Our campaign will be in your hands. I'll have our smiths fit you out with the new horseshoes you need and adapt blankets for your horses. And you also need us to take care of the Kadal Khan riders?'

'They are the greatest danger. They can find and catch us at a bad time. No one else can. Not the Arkine riders.'

'Very well. I'll get rid of them.'

As well as this military task, I realised that I would have to pay a great deal of attention to the issue of supplies. We didn't just need wood, like the Arkine troops, we would need a regular supply of food and hay. Also, more blankets were going to be needed and not just to replace those we made into horse blankets for Nurbolat. At least our supply line was much shorter than that of the Arkine Empire. And our smaller army would be easier to support than theirs.

'Figus, do you know anything about the ruler of the Arkine empire? What's he like?'

'She, sire. Anna Galatas, empress of Arkine and a worshipper of Asa. Asa is a goddess of wisdom and her priests all obtain a bonus in that regard. They are quick researchers too, I believe, and have a powerful fleet.'

'And do you know anything about Anna's character? Is she cautious? Or a risk taker?'

'Cunning, sire, is the word used by my fellow ambassadors. As befits her goddess.'

This sounded dangerous. I preferred to take on the brutal and greedy rulers. Their actions were easy to predict. Dangerous too was the issue of carrying out a war with an enemy with a strong fleet. Three Ways was very well defended against invasion by land. Carrick, on the other hand, was vulnerable by sea. The one tower I had built at the docks was insufficient to deal with more than one or two ships. I needed several more towers, each with a ballista on top, set up so that an intense crossfire would come to bear on any ship trying to enter the port.

Dismissing the others from my tent, I called up the military buildings menu and began the construction of a new tower at the docks. It cost me 50 stone and would take 10 days. Building a new ballista and training the six crew took 8 days, so I set that in train too. Next my thoughts turned to my promise to Nurbolat that I would deal with the enemy Cantreth riders. Given their manoeuvrability, I could only deliver on that promise if I could ambush them, perhaps in a night attack. And that meant locating their camp. I opened Valeria's character sheet.

Valeria, Ranger Level 5

HP 42

AC 11

XP 1474 (1600)

Str 16, Dex 19, Con 14, Int 8, Wis 14, Cha 8.

Leather armour +1

Top Skills

Wield Longbow                    25

Wield Longsword                25

Medium Armour Mastery 22

Tracking                               21

Spot Hidden                        19

'Guard!'

A moment later one of the two guards outside looked into the tent. 'You called sire?'

'Send for Valeria.'

'I'll fetch her myself.'

While I waited on the Ranger, I checked all my timers. There was one that was nearly complete, the level 3 upgrade of the Tower of Alchemists would be finished in just over an hour. So far, that tower had proved a disappointment. Although I had sent out soldiers to gather the common ingredients needed to make potions, I just hadn't had the time to farm the monsters that dropped the rare ones. Still, I hoped to unlock a new character progression at Level 3 of the tower, or if not, then at Level 4. And in due course, I would get the ingredients necessary to make valuable potions.

'You wanted to speak to me sire.' Valeria entered the tent without having to lower her head under the awning and I was reminded of her small stature. She was tough-looking though and pulled her longbow with a Strength of 16, which gave her extra damage and range compared to a typical archer of Greyland.

'I need to find the camp of Kadal Khan's riders. Can you track them?'

'Now sire? It will be dark in an hour.'

'Come on then. If we can get close enough, we might see their fires.'

Her look of surprise turned to a frown. But I was already past her, calling for Goncendor to be readied and pulling my fur-lined cloak around me.

By the time we were saddled and leaving the gate of the fort, the sky had become almost uniformly grey and it was such a miserable, wintery evening that it was hard even to tell where the sun was setting, other than a slightly less dark patch to the west.

'It should be easy to track the traces of seventy riders?' I suggested hopefully. 'Your skill will be enough.'

'Of course,' Valeria snapped. 'They are everywhere. The difficulty is to understand which are the freshest.'

We walked our horses over the grass for several minutes, sometimes descending a gentle slope and losing sight of the fort, then rising again for it to come back into view. There were torches already lit all along the walls and I could see the helmets of the guards who were patrolling along the walkway.

A flurry of snowflakes caused me to pull up my hood tighter. Valeria was just ahead of me when she brought her mount to a halt. Without my even having to signal him. Goncendor did the same, a layer of steam rising from his flanks and his breath coming in clouds. The Ranger jumped down and walked one way, then another, peering at the ground.

'This way.' Valeria remounted and led us on, northwards now, parallel to the fort but at sufficient distance and in a hollow that we would never have seen these riders as they came past.

'Are they close, do you think?'

'These were made earlier today, probably many hours ago.'

Every few minutes, Valeria stopped and checked whatever trail it was she was following. After one of these stops she looked westwards where there was still a sense of the sun's presence. 'This way now. But it's getting hard to see.'

'Keep going.' With the beacons provided by the torches of the fort, there was no danger of us getting lost even if darkness came fully over us.

When she was remounted, I drew alongside her. 'Valeria. Do you like being a Ranger?'

For a while she said nothing, only kept her dark eyes on the ground ahead, face unreadable. Then she looked over at me and her usual frown was gone. Rather, she looked alarmed. 'Does it show?'

'What?'

'That I am frightened of war. That I would rather be guild mistress of the hunters again. In the forest. My home.'

'It does not show.'

'Then why did you ask me?'

'I felt only that you were unhappy for some reason.'

She nodded. 'I am. I have nightmares in which I am cut open with swords, or my arms shattered by the blow of a mace, which then descends on my head. Faceless, remorseless men chase me.'

Poor Valeria. I wanted to promise I'd protect her. But I couldn't make that promise. I was thinking of Carradock Goblinbane, Anthea, and Ava. Or only two days ago, Baldwin, who set out to scout for the army and didn't return. 'Every soldier has those kinds of nightmares. And every soldier thinks about their own violent death.'

'It's hard to enjoy life with such harm in your thoughts.'

'I am the opposite. I enjoy life all the more for the fact mine might end soon. Tonight even.' The Ranger shuddered and I regretted my words. 'You're braver than most, Valeria.'

'How so?'

'Because despite your fear, you do what you have to. You fight well. You train yourself with dedication.'

Her expression become one of determination. 'For Miya. For Greyland. And for you, King Carlos. I do as I must.'

'Good woman.'

We rode on in silence into the deepening gloom for another ten minutes or so. The lights of the fort becoming just pinpricks in the black sky behind us.

'That's it. I can't see the trail any more.'

'We've been on a straight line. Do you think if we continue, we'll find them?'

'Probably. It seems to me, they came this way perhaps an hour ago, perhaps two.'

'If I were them, I'd find a gully deep enough to mask my fires and camp there.'

Valeria nodded.

'We must not lose this spot.' I looked up at the sky. The cloud cover was so complete, there was not going to be any help from the stars tonight. 'Ride back to the fort and get Lord Arval, Figus, Jacintha, Leonora and Hernán. Also, all our light cavalry.'

'How will I find you? I won't be able to track to you.'

'When I think enough time has passed for you to be close, I will cause the lance to flash, by casting and quickly ending its Light spell. I'll do this every few minutes until you reach me.'

'What if the enemy find you first?' Valeria looked extremely concerned about leaving me in possible danger. But I just laughed.

'It is not me who should fear them, but they who should fear me. In the dark, their arrows will be ineffective. Let them come.'

'I'll hurry back.'

Soon the thumping sounds of Valeria's horse faded. Goncendor and I were alone on the wide plains of Cantreth, listening to the wind swishing through the tall grasses. My eyes were adjusted to the dark and I could tell that the moon was up, even if I could not pinpoint it. There was a slightly lighter patch of sky to the west. Perhaps I should have been anxious, alone in the dark like this. My feelings, however, surprised me. I was content. Happy even, to be having this adventure.

I dismounted and gave Goncendor a rub to ease whatever aches he might have beneath the saddle. I also had a somewhat shrivelled apple to give him, which he crunched in just two bites.

While I waited for the others to arrive, the timer clicked through on the alchemists' tower.

Tower of the Alchemists Level 3

Unlocks Potion of Healing; Potion of Remove Curse; Potion of Protection from Evil; Potion of Protection from Good; Potion of Regeneration.

The potions I'd unlocked were important ones and I was very pleased with that notice: I'd have loved to have had them all in my saddle bags. But again, they came with a long list of ingredients, with the rare ones being drops from monsters. And, disappointingly, there was no message about a new class progression. Since I was committed, I went again on the alchemists' tower upgrade. To reach Level 4 took 140 stone, 30 timber, 4 iron and 17 days. With a shake of my head at the number of days involved, I selected it.

When I reckoned enough time had passed for my soldiers to saddle up and ride towards me, I took Goncendor's reins and walked him so that a slope was to my west, hoping it would shield some of the light I was about to create. I also stood with the stallion at my back and faced the little orange dots that indicated our fort. About to cast Light I hesitated, then took blinkers from the saddle bag and placed them on Goncendor's head, reassuring him this would not be for long. I didn't want to affect his night vision.

Ready once more, I cast a Light spell and just as quickly ended it. The blade of the lance flashed. It was very effective, perhaps too effective, as not only did the lance glow as though the metal were molten, but a circle of grass about 30 metres in diameter lit up too, a dramatic scene of bright stalks and swaying heads against blackness all around. My own night vision was completely gone and I blinked at an afterimage of the lance tip. Still, I listened carefully in the hope my people were near.

Nothing.

Still nothing but the constant sighing of the wind.

This time with an arm across my face, I cast Light once more and cancelled it immediately.

Now there was a noise. But it wasn't the jingle of a harness or the mutter of talk from my soldiers. It was a footfall from a heavy animal nearby. One that had taken several steps in my direction. What kind of beast would live on the prairie and how dangerous was it? Some kind of buffalo? My heart was thumping hard now and I gripped the lance, preparing for battle. All the while, I listened as intently as I could for more information.

A deep voice came out of the darkness to my right. 'Is that you, King Carlos?'

'Who's there?'

'Lysegetus, homoioi of Jekas.'

A wave of relief flooded me and I knew I must have a large grin on my face. 'Well met my giant friend. Well met indeed. Your timing could not be better.'

Part II Chapter 42: A Night-time Ambush

By the time I had explained the situation to the giant and he had described his journey from Carrick, right up to the moment he saw the flashes of light from my blade and came to investigate, the force from the fort had arrived, Lord Arval leading the way. I could hear their approach long before I could see them and I called out so that they could find me without my having to risk another Light spell.

In the darkness, it was hard to make out expressions but my sense of the voices around me was that their delight in having found me was tempered by the presence of the giant and the potential danger of the battle we were intending to bring about.

'Figus, you have the Ring of Silent Movement?'

'I do sire.'

I came over to the flank of the Bard's horse and reached up a hand. 'Lend it to me.'

Ring in hand, I raised my voice. 'Listen up and repeat to those further back who can't hear me. Line up the southern row of torches on the fort walls to continue in this direction at an easy walk. I'm going to run ahead with the benefit of this magical ring. If I find the enemy, I'll come back with a plan for our attack. Lysegetus here is our friend and ally.'

Returning to Goncendor, I took the reins and gave them to the giant. 'Please lead Goncendor, my horse.'

'Very well.'

'Good luck sire,' came Lord Arval's voice from the darkness.

'Thank you. I'll see you all soon.'

Then I turned and jogged up the slope to the west, took a bearing on the fort torches at the top of the rise, and ran down through the grasses on the far side. In compete silence, not even hearing my breath, I ran at a steady pace, occasionally stopping to make sure I was staying on the line of torches that Valeria and I had been following earlier.

Again, I found I was enjoying myself. I was running towards danger, true but I was masked by darkness and magic. It seemed to me I had lived more in the brief time I'd been in this world than I had in my entire life back on Earth. And I realised too, that much of the weight of my parents' death had lifted. My thoughts were so taken up with the management of Greyland and my body with physical activity that I had far less time to mourn. This realisation was a relief.

After about a kilometre of running silently across the wild grasslands, I sensed that something had changed. It took me a moment to realise what it was: a scent. There was food being cooked in the vicinity. My heart leapt and the theoretical conflict I had been hoping to bring about suddenly felt like a reality. They were close.

Not long afterwards, I sensed a slightly lighter patch of ground ahead and on reaching the crest of another grassy undulation I found the enemies I was looking for on the downslope. Six fires cast shadows of dozens of men and horses; shadows that flickered in the dip below me. As I studied the camp, counting, planning how to attack, I heard someone speak from surprisingly close to me, which caused me to swing the lance around in alarm. Another voice answered. They were not shouting or casting. They hadn't seen me. This was just a quiet conversation between two men.

I walked towards them on tiptoe, although I probably didn't need to tread so carefully while I was wearing the magic ring. The two men were guards, sitting in the grass in the shadow and darkness of the night, facing the direction of our fort. It had been a lucky break that they had spoken, as I could so easily have missed them. Now, though, I made out a faint gleam on both of their helmets and their shoulders too, which came up above the grass-top, had a slightly paler colour than their surroundings.

I needed to kill these soldiers, or they would hear our approaching force and give the alarm. After eliminating them, I would run back as fast as I could towards my soldiers, in the hope of being able to attack in strength before someone came to relieve the guards and discovered their bodies.

How to manage this? I squatted low in the grass and considered my options. Striking down one and then the other was risky. In the gap between blows, the second might give the alarm. Ideally, I'd stand behind them and sweep their heads off with one blow of the lance, taking advantage of the gap that existed between helmet and leather armour. But although I was silent, I was not invisible and when standing would be lit up to some extent by the fires on the slope below.

I decided I'd have to try to Lunge through the neck of the nearest guard and continue on with the thrust into the second. Carefully lining up the attack, I took a breath, then charged. This was an extraordinary feeling: sprinting into a fight through the dark, yet making no sound.

Lunge!

At the last moment, when I thought I'd gotten a perfect line, the guard must have sensed the presence of his death for he turned to look at me and opened his mouth to scream. The lance deflected upwards off his jaw and only grazed his companion who rolled away shouting. I leapt over the body of the first and struck the second dead by stabbing into his back and the night was quiet once more.

For a moment, I thought I'd succeeded. And then came shouts from further long the rise. Then from behind me. They had posted a whole row of guards on lookout. Before I had even rationalised my decision, I was running. Not away. I was heading down towards the fires, towards my enemies. And I even laughed aloud at my recklessness.

Holy Light of Miya!

A sphere of light flew ahead of me and exploded, blinding the Kadal Khan's warriors below just as they were turning to see what the commotion was about. A second Holy Light I launched high into the night sky, hoping my friends would understand the need to hurry: that the battle had started. With hindsight, I had made a mistake in not agreeing in advance what such a signal meant. Still, it clearly told my troops the stealth plan was over.

Almost losing my balance in my haste to get among the enemy while many of them were incapacitated meant I didn't trigger Charge. In any case, I simply couldn't go any faster without tumbling and the extra hit points might be more valuable to my soldiers later. Pointing the lance, I stabbed into my first opponent with a Lunge, then carried on into the confusion of blind Cantreth soldiers.

Over the sounds of my blade clanging off armour and the cries of the dying were shouts from riders who had been outside of the area of effect of the Holy Light. Some were already mounted.

I had no intention of trying to survive in a thick melee, like I had with the Necromancer at my back in the battle with High Priest Nazaratos at the bridge on the River Sigrit. There, the Necromancer could make zombies of the fallen enemy soldiers and turn the battle in our favour. Here, surrounded completely, I would be worn down for sure, despite my advantage in hit points. So I kept running, striking out left and right, until I was clear of the camp and sprinting into the darkness on the far side. Behind me was a line of dead and wounded. I'd lashed into nine of them. With the two guards that was eleven down and about sixty-five to go.

Six riders were on their way towards me and an arrow flitted past my cheek, then another struck me in the leg for 6 damage. I braced myself to receive a charge but at the last moment – reminding me of the time I first met Ivus Khan's riders and they had tested me – the horse swerved past and the rider released an arrow that struck hard for 12 damage and rocked me backwards.

That was their game? Well, I could match them. Dropping the lance and using Lightning Draw to pull the bow from over my shoulder, I strung it and even though I took three more hits (for 21 damage) as the last of the riders rode past me, I took aim and released an arrow which drove deep into the body of the first as she turned to come at me again, sending her tumbling from the horse.

The next I hit too, the arrow driving through his stomach and out of his back, before they were all riding past and inflicting more damage on me: 26.

Out of 144 hit points I was on 75. And dozens more riders were mounted in the dip below. This was no good. I'd be dead before my soldiers arrived. Keeping the bow in my right hand and grabbing the lance with my left, I ran and when I heard the hooves of a horse thud into the ground behind me, flung myself into the grass, two arrows whistling past. Then I was sprinting again. The top of the rise was close and I got to it with just one more hit in my back for 7.

Again, I threw myself into the tall grass, now fully in shadow, and this time kept low, scrambling on hands and knees, hoping that it was too dark for them to see the swaying heads of the false oat-grass that I was crawling through.

No luck.

'Over here!' The voice was nearby and I had an inspired thought. Dropping both lance and bow, I used Lightning Draw again to bring a dagger into my left hand and jumped to my feet. The Cantreth rider released an arrow that smacked into my thigh for 6 and then I sprang at him with a powerful jump that took advantage of my skill of 60. I was able to plunge the dagger into his ribs and saw his death notice before the two of us had hit the ground. Then I was up and into the saddle, riding hard. Arrows whistled past but none hit me.

Cantreth riders were good. But I was unmatched as a rider in this world. Bending low and speaking to my new horse, I took him to the top of the rise and then had a long look at the pattern of the distant orange dots of the Greyland fort. I had to be able to find this spot again to retrieve my lance and bow. In fact, to be sure I had the spot fixed, even though it exposed me to more arrow shots, I rode along the ridge until some of the torches from the north wall of the fort came into view. That gave me a clear idea of my position and I dived down into the darkness once more.

Now there was no catching me and after a few minutes, I could no longer see the chasing riders in my glances back over my shoulder. I could still hear them though and kept up a strong gallop until even their hoof beats were inaudible. Only then did I set the horse on a gentle curve, taking me well away from the ridge for my return at a canter. I was enjoying myself now and rode easily until from the other side of the rise I heard shouts and the definite sounds of battle.

Anxious for my soldiers, I urged my mount to gallop up the slope and at its crest could see I was nearly back at the camp, where Greyland riders were charging among the Cantreth riders. And the giant was out front. Dozens of arrows were on his shield as Lysegetus stabbed out with his spear over tremendous distances, sometimes striking an enemy rider from his horse.

Hurrying, I watched the distant lights of the fort until I felt the pattern was right, then dismounted. For a frustrating minute or two, I could find nothing as I crawled around in the dark grass. But then I came across the body of the rider whose horse I had taken and got my proper bearings. Now I found the lance and my bow easily. Sheathing the lance across my back I remounted. I felt I would most help from up here picking off the riders that were too fast for my troops to close with and who were troubling them with bow shots.

Yet in the time I'd taken to find my weapons, the battle was changed. Cantreth riders were scattering from the camp in all directions, being chased by our cavalry, while I could see Lord Arval, Figus and the others down below, unopposed.

'There he is!' The riders who had been chasing me had returned along the ridge. But noticing the state of the battle below, they hesitated. I released an arrow that struck the chest of the nearest and the others – five or six – turned away and rode downslope into the darkness.

There were other targets for me though and I killed four more of the fleeing riders before I lowered my bow, no more enemies visible, though I could still hear them riding away. Slowly, I walked the horse down to the fires below.

With some anxiety, I checked that my team were all present and safe: Lord Arval, Figus, Valeria, Jacintha, Leonora, Isabelle and Hernán. None looked even injured. Lysegetus, on the other hand, had several arrow wounds and even had two arrows still protruding from him: at his knee and upper arm. The giant had clearly been the main target of the Cantreth riders. Blood was pooling around his feet as he leant, head bowed, on his shield.

'How are you, sire?' asked Lord Arval as I rode up.

'I'm fine. But Lysegetus clearly needs healing. Who has a heal left?'

'I do,' said Leonora, pulling back her chainmail coif so I could see her better. 'I was saving it in case you needed it.'

'As was I with one mine,' added Figus.

'Well, my wounds are not dangerous. We can heal them over the coming days. See to our friend.'

It was with a groan of pleasure that the giant responded to Leonora's spell. Then, before Figus cast his heal, the giant cut through the shaft of the arrow in his knee and pulled it quickly from his leg. He tried to do the same for the shaft in his arm but couldn't come at it properly.

I dismounted and came over to the giant.

'Here, let me.'

Kneeling, Lysegetus gritted his teeth while I worked my dagger through the shaft. Then, when I pulled the remaining part clear and Figus's spell landed, the giant's expression softened. 'That's better,' his deep voice boomed out as the bloody hole closed up and he rose to his feet again, a massive figure. Surveying the abandoned camp, he asked. 'Are we done here?'

'Nearly. And well done friend. You carried the brunt of that fight.'

I raised my voice to shout. 'Search the tents. Take the horses and load them with everything of value including blankets. Then we burn what we can't carry off.'

'Have we done enough, do you think?' Lord Arval asked me.

'I think so. Even if the survivors regroup, they can't pose a threat to Nurbolat without tents for the winter nights. He can begin his campaign of attrition behind their lines.'

'What about the prisoners?' Figus was pointing to a dozen, sullen-looking Cantreth soldiers who were being guarded by several of my cavalry.

I rode over to them. 'Kadal Khan has deceived you. You should have stayed loyal to Ivus Khan's heirs. This winter, the Arkine Empire will take your hay and eventually your horses. I wanted nothing from Cantreth but your help, for which I was willing to pay.

'Together with Ivus, we agreed and carried out a plan that freed hundreds of Cantreth slaves from the inferni.' I paused to let that point sink in. 'Did any of you fight with Ivus at the battle of Akkad?'

Two of the cavalry archers looked startled and although they didn't speak, I could see from the way they looked at me that they had been there. This was the battle Ivus had told me about, and the inferni ambassador had boasted of, where the riders of Cantreth had been betrayed, attacked at night in the ruins and had lost hundreds of riders.

'Ivus and I revenged your loss at the Second Battle of Akkad. And if he'd have survived his duel with Queen Simara, what do you think he'd say to you now? I think he'd curse you for fools. For picking the wrong side. For betraying his son.

'Now, you have war on your own lands and your friends, who could have lived here in peace or joined Greyland for pay, lie dead for a leader who will only lead your realm to subjugation as part of the Arkine Empire.

'Kadal Khan has only one reason that makes any sense of you taking up your bows to fight me and those of your people loyal to me, and that is the cause of Rysaka, your goddess. It is true, waiting for Ivus's son Rahus to come of age was going to take too long for Rysaka to have any hope of ruling the world. But smashing out the boy's brains on a tent post? You all share in that guilt. And of the murder of all the others before Kadal obtained the menus.

'But Rysaka's cause was lost the day Ivus fell and Kadal Khan cannot restore it. He must fall between me or the Arkine Empire.' I lowered my voice and took my time to study every one of them. 'There is, however, a very big difference between myself and the empress. The Kingdom of Lost Souls and Greyland are fighting to end the control of the gods over this world. We are fighting for the freedom of its inhabitants. The gods play their wargame here, over and over, with immense destruction. Treating us like pieces.'

I gave them a moment to think about that idea, which probably sounded heretical to most of them. 'I'm going to give you a choice. You can ride with Nurbolat and earn forgiveness for the murder of Rahus and help end the rule of the gods. Or you can walk away from here. But if you do, you must find your families and live a life of peace. For if you re-join Kadal Khan, I will execute you should I ever see you again.

'Now make your choice. Those who would serve with Nurbolat go over there. Those who would leave for home set off now and alone.'

Just two men – the two who had responded to my mention of the Battle of Akkad – moved to the spot I had indicated. Still, with the extra horses we were rounding up and news of our capture of the enemy tents, I was confident Nurbolat would be pleased. I certainly was pleased. A night whose events had veered towards disaster had ended well. I'd fulfilled a difficult promise and Nurbolat's campaign of sabotage could begin.

Part II Chapter 43: Fort Two

After three days of bad weather – sleet mostly, with some snow at the end – the sun shone at last, on a white plain of snow through which only the tallest grasses protruded. Although the wind was cold, the sky was blue and my body was filled with energy with every breath I drew and released as a cloud. My good form was related to the fact that with a caravan of timber having arrived from Montrose we were preparing to move out of Fort 1. There had been no sign of any enemy activity since our night-time ambush.

In the three days that had passed since that adventure, my timers had advanced but only the research into Lumber Mill 2 had been completed. The smithy was still fifteen days out from finishing the next batch of plate mail and greatswords for twenty knights, who were also to have the carbon steel blades and armour provectus upgrades; there was just over a day to go on the Lighthouse; the new ballista was five days from completion, with the tower it was to go on needing seven more. The Tower of the Alchemists Level 4 had 14 days to go.

My new research project was Literacy (13 days). Having unlocked all the obviously useful military technologies, I made the choice to go down the printing, banking and lawcode path of building up my civilian cultural level. This was so that I could communicate properly with the people of Greyland and make announcements to them about what was happening in the world. If I were one of the people working hard in the mines or fields or workshops, I'd want to know how matters stood.

There was almost certainly no tradition of involving the people in their own government here: democracy hadn't been thought of and probably wouldn't be, given that only one person per realm could use the menu system. But both for practical and principled reasons, I wanted the people of Greyland to be able to read and understand my announcements.

On this bright day, as the cavalry assembled by the gate ready for departure, a lone rider approached from the west. It was a Greyland rider and I went down from the walls to meet him. The rider was young and both he and his horse looked exhausted. Sympathetic hands helped him dismount and my soldiers looked on with interest as he gave his report.

'Sire. A message by pigeon from the watchtower at Darakhan came to Carrick.' He sounded hoarse and gulped at the air.

'Take your time. Have a drink.'

The young messenger nodded, took his canteen from the saddle and emptied the last few drops. One of the swordsmen present took it off him and refilled it.

'Thanks.' The lad took another mouthful. 'The message said, "three Arkine biremes, laden with soldiers, moving slowly west." After he read it, Chancellor Nicolás recalled the sixty archers from Three Ways to Carrick. He asks that you bring as many more soldiers onto the menu as you can, preferably archers.' He looked at me expectantly.

'I will do so. Is there anything else?'

'Only that we haven't yet seen them. Storms from the south west came soon after the pigeon and that might have held up or even sunk the Arkine ships. When the weather permits, the chancellor is going to launch our longship to find them and report further. Our sailors say that so long as there is any kind of wind, they will outmanoeuvre a bireme.'

'Call for Figus.' As my order rang out and was repeated into the distance, I studied the Greyland troops around me who had listened to every word. They looked sombre. Worried even. No doubt they were wishing they were back at Carrick to defend their families and homes instead of behind a wooden wall on the exposed, wintery plains of Cantreth. But there was no point rushing back. If this were a serious attempt to capture Carrick, we wouldn't arrive in time. And Figus had said that Anna Galatas, empress of Arkine, was cunning. It was very possible that the ships were just a feint, launched to deflect me from my current course of action.

While I waited for the Bard, I climbed the wooden stairs back up to the wall-walk and faced the assembled troops, shouting as loudly as I could.

'Soldiers of Greyland. Our plan remains the same. We march out towards Zuum Kelgeth to support those of the Cantreth people opposed to the rule of Kadal Khan and the Arkine invasion of their lands.

'Is Carrick in danger? I don't believe so. A bireme can carry forty soldiers: I can see this on my menu. A hundred and twenty Arkine soldiers cannot capture the city. They must enter a harbour guarded by a tower with a ballista and after disembarking, face the walls of Carrick – reinforced with additional defences thanks to our friend the giant – which will be defended by at least sixty archers.

'We don't know what effect storms have had on their mission. And we don't know what their real mission is. Perhaps the actual design of the empress of Arkine is to make us leave Cantreth as a result of a ruse.

'I will send Figus to take charge and to report back to us as soon as the issue is resolved. In the meantime, we march on. Nurbolat is counting on us. His riders are disrupting the supplies of the Arkine troops. When they fall back or make enemies of the people of Cantreth, as they must, we need to be within striking distance of the three major Cantreth winter settlements.

'Continue our plans for departure. Sergeants, form up the army.'

Soon after I finished speaking the soldiers began to move into their ranks and I clambered down the ladder to where Figus was waiting for me.

I looked at him. 'Remember after the battle at Adelaide's Ford I sent you back to Carrick to save the realm?'

'I'll never forget it.'

'Do it again will you. Only this time, do a better job.'

For a moment Figus looked at me bitterly and opened his mouth as if to object. Then he glanced at me appraisingly. 'You jest, sire?'

'I do, Figus.' I clapped him on the shoulder. 'Of course you did all you could last time. And I don't believe the town is in serious danger just now, unless someone blunders. All the same, with your Swift Travel feat you are the only one able to return in time to make a difference. And your spells really will help if there is a battle.

'Take charge of all troops in Carrick. You'll have a new tower and ballista at the port in seven days and I'll recruit another body of archers for three days from now. Consult with Chancellor Nicolás about all civil matters. But ultimately, you have my authority there to make decisions as you see fit.'

'Thank you sire, for your confidence in me. But I have to point out, I'm your ambassador. I'm not a general.' He sounded sour. 'I'm a negotiator and – through my art – someone who can influence an audience.'

'You also have heals and other spells that can influence a battle.'

He looked uninspired by that thought, so I asked him, 'What are your choices for fourth level?'

'I understand your point. And I understand that my speed is essential here. I just don't play to my strengths in leading others, not the way that you do, or Lord Arval does.'

Despite his compliment, I was irritated that Figus had failed to give me the specific answer I wanted, so I opened his character sheet and looked up his fourth level spells: once per day he could learn and cast one of: Befuddle Audience; Compel Service; Group Disguise; Invisibility; Locate Person. None of them were particularly useful battlefield spells, I could see that. But the combination of Invisibility with his Ring of Silent Movement was potentially invaluable for scouting.

'You'll be a real help and the soldiers and citizens of Carrick will be very glad to see you. Come back as soon as the crisis is resolved. We also need you here.' I held out my right arm and he clasped it in the fashion of the people of Greyland, high up near the elbow. Then with a nod he hurried down the steps. Soon the gates of the fort were open and the lone rider was moving westwards at a remarkable pace.

To recruit thirty new archers cost 20 iron ingots and 30 gold but took four days, not three. I'd misremembered when I spoke to Figus. I commissioned them all the same. Even if they were trained too late for the immediate crisis, I still wanted the extra troops, especially considering we had ample iron and gold reserves.

***

Having marched nearly twenty kilometres at a good pace considering the timber-laden carts we were bringing with us, there were still a few hours of light left when on the advice of the sergeant of the engineers, Havid, I called a halt by a substantial hill with a stream running past it. Dividing the army into three, I had a front rank drawn up ready for battle and a rearward facing section also standing buy in case enemy cavalry rode around to attack us from that side. The middle section were busy preparing camp – putting up tents; cooking foot and stowing gear – while the forty engineers ran about with pegs and rope, marking out the lines of Fort Two.

Even after the sun had set, the work at the camp continued by torchlight. My scouts reported no sign of Arkine or Cantreth troops, but I kept the soldiers in arms and standing to attention. They could recuperate once we had some defences in place. Of course I shared the duty with them, helping with the digging or visiting the lines and looking out over the moonlit grasslands.

Half way through the night, Lysegetus arrived at the camp and I wasn't the only one glad to see him. Digging a ditch eighteen metres wide – the specifications insisted upon by Havid – was back-breaking work and the giant would speed it up a great deal. I expressed that thought when I met Lysegetus and immediately regretted it.

'King Carlos,' his voice boomed out over the swishing sound of the wind among the grass, 'I am a commander of jekasoi warriors. I understand the art of war well enough to help you improve the defences of your cities and camps. And I must serve you for a year. But my real expertise is with the spear and not the spade.'

Conscious many soldiers were listening and perhaps begrudging the hard work, I called back loudly. 'I've seen your spear in action and it is a deadly weapon. But soldiering is mostly marching, waiting and digging, as you know. And tonight we dig.'

Even though I'd already done a shift, I jumped back into the ditch and took up a shovel again so that Lysegetus would see I was not one of those kings who shirk the dirty, hard work. He threw down his pack and blanket-roll and joined me.

'You shame me in front of the soldiers.' He dug at the trench angrily with a spade that was far too small for him, sticking it into the ground and throwing up the earth like he was wielding a trowel.

'How so?'

'If the king digs, then no one can refuse.'

'I'm not trying to shame you. We have a ditch that needs digging.' I was already conserving my breath.

Lysegetus said nothing but worked hard for as long as I did. When, after an hour, my back was too sore to continue and I took advantage of a rotation of all the other troops around me to leave, the giant left too, throwing down his spade and stamping off up the hill without a word.

***

It was after mid-day before I came from my tent, armour on, to see a transformation of the hill top. Already a wooden wall enclosed the area where our tents had been raised. Work was continuing on the corner towers but not on the ditch, which was deep and wide around the entire fort. Having walked down to the one gate, which opened onto an earthen walkway allowing a narrow access across the trench, I found Havin. The engineer's eyes were red and moist from the cold wind but despite the cold, he had a look of satisfaction on his ruddy face.

'It's gone up fast,' I complemented him.

'The army worked through the night sire. They can rest now though; we have our ditch and we have our walls. Just the towers and gatehouse to come and the engineers can build those.'

A call from the walls alerted me to a rider – no a group of riders – coming fast from the east, my left.

'Get all your engineers inside the walls.'

'Yes sir.' Havid was no runner, being too solidly built, but he demonstrated he could move fast over short distances, sprinting away from me and yelling to those engineers on the wrong side of the tall wooden stockade.

'Archers to the walls!' I shouted as I re-entered the fort.

Before I had come up the stairs, someone above me called out, 'it's Robert.'

I could relax somewhat. Robert was my replacement sergeant for Baldwin as leader of my light cavalry. Still, they were obviously hurrying back with news of some importance so I halted my climb and went back to the gate, which I had re-opened for them.

'Enemy moving towards us sire,' Robert galloped through the wooden gate, ducking under the walkway, and reined in beside me, his horse panting and filling the cold air between us with clouds of exhalations. 'About fifty cavalry archers, Cantreth-types sir. But not Nurbolat.'

'Riders to the west,' came a shout from the walls.

'You are only just ahead of them, I see.'

Robert was an elderly, grey-bearded man and his pale face flushed easily. 'Sorry Sire, we spotted them a long way off, but they are fast, faster than us.'

'See to your horses. Then have your men take up positions on the walls.'

'Yes, sire.'

I ran up to the walls by the front gate, shouting down to the guards to close the heavy wooden doors once the last of our riders was in. I also sent for my bow. Then I stood facing the enemy riders. Before they arrived, I was joined by Lord Arval.

'What news sire?'

I gestured to the body of Cantreth cavalry. 'That's all I know.'

'They could make it difficult to communicate with Fort One,' the Paladin observed.

'True.'

At a safe distance (from most archers, although not from me), the Cantreth riders drew up in a line. Then two of them came forward at a walk, one with a banner which was being waved vigorously from side to side.

'They want to talk,' said Lord Arval.

'Someone wave a flag back at them.' My order was hastily passed along but I felt a growing impatience when no one could come up with a flag, until the one that was in the centre of the camp (black knight, green background) was taken down from its pole. Then, leaning over the wooden wall, one of my soldiers waved it around wildly. The two riders resumed their walk towards the fort, only drawing up at a distance where we could shout to each other.

'I am Kadal Khan. Are you King Carlos?'

The current ruler of Cantreth was smaller than was typical even for the people of this realm, who were generally of a short stature. His long hair was grey but he had plenty of black in his beard. A man of about forty or fifty years perhaps. It was impossible not to project what I knew about him as I tried to read his face: ambitious; ruthless; and dangerous.

'I am.'

'What are you doing here, King Carlos? My people don't want you.'

'Do they prefer the Arkine Empire?'

'You know as well as I, that is a temporary expedient. The Arkine troops will leave when you have departed.'

'You are speaking more in hope than with an understanding of how these matters really work. And in any case, I'm not leaving until you have been overthrown and executed for the murder of Rahus Khan and other men, women, and children. How many did you have to kill to get control of the menu?'

Kadal Khan gave a shrug that I could see even from this distance. His voice when he spoke next remained calm. 'It is war, King Carlos. They are casualties of war. That's all.'

Kadal Khan brought his horse another two steps forward. 'I'm here to give you a chance. Leave now in peace and let us have a treaty for trade and harmony between Cantreth and Greyland. Stay and be trapped and killed by the Arkine army. They will be here by nightfall. Every one of them.'

'We're not leaving.'

'Then,' Kadal Khan raised his voice and looked along the wall with deliberation, 'you are all going to die.'

Part II Chapter 44: Storm and Siege

While I had harboured a hope that Kadal Khan was bluffing about the Arkine army, I sensed that he was speaking the truth, so wasn't surprised when, with the sun low in the west, I heard the unmistakeable sound of large numbers of soldiers marching in step. I was, however, surprised by the number of them. Arriving from the east, their armour shining orange in the evening light, the tramp of over a thousand soldiers resounded across the plains.

Arkine infantry drew up in ranks facing the fort as if for battle; their front line I estimated at 400 strong. And that was just one row, there were at least two. Additionally, they had a unit of about 50 archers on each flank and some cavalry with banners in the background: the golden two-headed snake of their realm shone bright on these. I wondered who their general was and whether it might even be the empress Anna Galatas herself. Because if I was being honest with myself, this was an unpleasant surprise. I'd expected that by cutting their supplies the Arkine troops would either retreat all the way back to their own borders or fall back on the Cantreth winter camps.

Either Nurbolat had failed to start his campaign for some reason, or my opponent was taking a daring risk, perhaps hoping to crush me before their food ran short. Either way, this was not the slow and steady progress by fort and castle that I had planned. We were under the hammer. I was careful, though, not to express any shock at the size of their army, or to show anxiety on my face.

With me at Fort Two I had Isabelle with 85 archers, having left Guy in Fort One with the Montrose archers. I'd brought along 38 heavy infantry and half (90) of the light infantry with maces. All the 28 engineers were with me, along with Hernán and his 47 swordsmen. That was 288 against 1100 or more. But there were the people with classes to consider. Whoever we faced on the Arkine side, we surely had the advantage in character classes, with a level 12 Warlord; level 8 Paladin; a level 5 Ranger (the dour Valeria), a level 5 Sorceress (the cheerful, lively Jacintha); level 4 Rogue (Isabelle), Level 4 Warrior (Hernán) and Level 4 Cleric (Leonora). If my theory about the endgame was correct, then this team should be more than able to compensate for our weakness in numbers. I had to wonder though, now it was being put to the test, whether my idea of making a priority of recruiting and levelling people with classes really was a winning strategy. Leaving the protection of the fort and attacking this army, for example, was out of the question.

On the distant hill beyond the enemy army, several tent roofs appeared. Did they mean to camp then and not attack at once, despite their advantage in number? It seemed so. And when, after about twenty minutes, tendrils of smoke from their camp fires began to drift high in the light breeze, I was sure of it and while I had all my archers occupy the west wall, I called a meeting in my tent of the army's officers.

Sitting in a circle on camp stools, with Lysegetus cross-legged under the entrance awning, I asked for thoughts. For a while no one spoke, their expressions ranged from blank in the case of Hernán to Valeria's worried expression. But then, she was always worried.

'We should fall back to Fort One tonight,' said Valeria. 'Before we are cut off. Unite all our army. And if necessary, pull back to Southway. There are enough of the enemy here to wipe us out and end Miya's hopes.'

'I agree.' This was Isabella. Whereas I had reservations about Valeria, whose advice, I felt, might be driven by personal fear rather than strategy, Isabella had proved her courage several times now, starting from when she volunteered to swim across Darkwater and especially when she entered Texecal with me and the advanced party of zombies. She was not voicing an inner fear. And she was lieutenant of the archers; she had a good idea of what they could achieve from behind these walls and whether it would be enough.

No one else spoke. I had my own ideas but this was a tough call and I wanted to hear other viewpoints before expressing them. 'Lord Arval?' I asked.

'Nurbolat and the people of Cantreth who are opposed to Kadal Khan would consider our retreat dishonourable. They might believe their cause to be lost.' The Paladin looked thoughtful.

It warmed my heart that he began with the principles at stake and the overall strategy: I shared his view. But it wasn't sufficient to make a decision. 'I agree. But if we are destroyed here their cause is most definitely lost. The question for me is whether we can hold this fort against such numbers? If we can, we stay.'

I turned to Havin. 'Can we hold this fort against a thousand?'

'That depends. This is a sturdy fort, make no mistake. But no amount of engineering can stop an enemy breaking in if they have enough of the right troops.' Havin paused but I could tell he had more to say on the subject.

'Go on.'

'There are four ways the army outside could take this fort. One is if they come at us from every direction with enough tall ladders, fifty a side say. Another is that they clear us from the ramparts with their archers, then their infantry chop at the base of the walls with axes. Another is that they have a trebuchet, or even a ballista, which would eventually knock a whole in the wall. And lastly, they dig trenches towards us and tunnel in at the end.'

'How likely are these, though?'

'Cantreth is not known for its forests, sire. I doubt they have the wood for the ladders. Nor have we seen any sign of a siege engine. Trenches take a long time and we have enough engineers to counter tunnel. So it's the archers I worry about. With the Cantreth riders, they have about two hundred to our eighty-five.'

'If it's an archery battle, we can win. We're going to stay,' I announced. And the atmosphere in the tent immediately brightened. Lord Arval grinned. Havin nodded and even Isabelle looked at me approvingly. Only Valeria looked sour, tipping her head down so her dark hair covered her face. From behind me Lysegetus gave a grunt and when I turned to look, he shrugged, then said:

'Make me some javelins and I'll even the odds.'

'Lord Arval, send a rider to Fort One to let Guy know the situation and warn him to prepare their own defences. Assign guards to the walls, with extra torches and patrols. I don't want there to be a single metre of unobserved wall, so that no assassin or thief can climb into the fort during the night.'

'Yes, sire.'

'Isabelle, brief your archers. They are to take no risks, not expose themselves unnecessarily and they are to make every arrow count. No long-range shots.'

'Yes, sire.'

'Havin, I want you and your engineers to work through the night, starting on the west wall, to create additional loop-hole defences.'

'Loop-hole, sire?'

The floor of my tent was dirt, on it I drew a rectangle about two metres in height and a metre in width then a vertical line inside of it. 'Erect these. The archer stands behind them and releases through that narrow slit. Valeria, go with him and show him how wide a gap you need to be effective.' I turned back to my sergeant of the engineers. 'You see the point?'

'I do indeed, sire. It is much easier for us to fire out than for the enemy to fire in.'

'Everyone else, try to get some rest. I suspect we'll have a busy day tomorrow.'

The meeting dispersed and I Iay on my camp bed, taking my own advice. Not that I expected to sleep. Yet as I thought about Anna Galatas and what she might be planning, sleep stole over me. In my dream, I was a wolf, hundreds of kilometres from my mate and our two cubs. But there was nothing to eat. Nothing to bring them. And I knew that by the time I could return to her, she would have eaten the young ones.

***

The Arkine army had an early advantage as they marched forward soon after dawn, which was that a mist still lingered and obscured our vision of them. Grey ranks approached, accompanied by the cries of their officers and at around the point that they came in range of our bows, they gave a roar and sprinted forward.

'Hold! Hold!' cried Isabelle. And then, 'Release!' Our arrows rushed through the mist with a roar. Like a bellows causing the smoke from a fire to swirl, the rush of arrows drew the mist into eddies in the wake of their passage. Groans and cries revealed that our volleys had hit home. Then it was a free for all. On the far side of the ditch, both to my left and to my right, their archers formed up and soon deadly shafts were flicking past, some thudding hard into the wooden walls, some ricocheting off angles and one or two finding the slit through which we were firing and killing or wounding our archers.

While this archery exchange was taking place, an Arkine footsoldier, clinking in his metal-plated leather armour, ran up to the wide ditch and threw a rock into it, then turned and ran back. Another came up and did the same. And another. These little rocks looked pathetic against the enormity of the ditch. And yet. The soldiers kept coming, hundreds of them, each carrying a sizeable stone and throwing it or tipping it into the ditch. It might take them all day, but this would fill the section of the ditch in front of me if we allowed it to continue.

Below me, Lysegetus was crouched on a special platform the engineers had made for him, with his full armour on, a plumed scarlet crest of horsehair bobbing as he moved. Standing up, his head and shoulders were above the line of pointed wooden tree trunks that made our wall and he threw a javelin of twice the size of a normal one into an enemy soldier before the infantryman could roll his stone into the ditch. That was part of the deterrent we needed. Unfortunately, our smiths had managed to only make twenty-five javelins and even if each of them hit, that wouldn't be a noticeable dent in their eight hundred or more infantry.

I could help him. Scoring hits at this range with the Bow of Accuracy and Bracers of Archery was no challenge. But while the ditch was important, the battle of the archers was more so and I had to help there. I had been holding back, not wanting to reveal the range, accuracy, and damage I was capable of. Now, however, with the mist beginning to thin, I had identified their commander for the archers of the left-hand group. He wasn't wielding a bow but stood at the back in gold-coloured armour and purple cloak. My arrow flew perfectly and struck him in the chest, smashing through the bronze or iron breastplate as though it were only paper.

You have hit an Arkine Kapitanos for 15 hit points.

You have killed an Arkine Kapitanos!

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

You have gained 225 Experience.

'Splendid archery, sire,' said Lord Arval, who had the wooden screen beside me.

'Thank you,' I spoke, but I didn't spare him a glance. Already I was searching the mist to our right for the equivalent officer there. Not finding him, I released my next arrow at the furthestmost figure I could see and got a kill message. Another died, and another, before my first miss. Then I saw their officer, exhorting the archers with raised arm. Although not much more than a shadow, I drew the string of my bow back to my cheek, adjusted the line of my arrow a fraction and released. It was another beauty, whistling away and striking the figure in the head with a clang that I heard distinctly.

You have hit an Arkine Kapitanos for 15 hit points.

You have killed an Arkine Kapitanos!

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

You have gained 225 Experience.

Now I turned my attention back to their archers and thanks to the high rate at which my lethal arrows struck their target as well as our wooden defences, it seemed to me we were killing or wounding five or six of the Arkine soldiers to every one of our own casualties. That is, until volleys of arrows started crashing among us from the south as our soldiers on that wall started shouting that the Cantreth riders had come up.

Several of our archers on the south half of the eastern wall fell and others were wounded, including me for 6 damage. Immediately, I triggered Charge! Not that I wanted anyone to charge or even move one step from their wooden screens, but the 10 additional hit points would keep many of my archers alive, while the 45% movement helped me dash down a ladder, across the fort and up onto the south wall. There, I found that the Cantreth riders of Kadal Khan had approached right up to the ditch and had effective flanking fire. Instead of wasting arrows on my soldiers who were in the cover of the south wall, they were firing over the top at my archers on the east wall.

Holy Light of Miya twice in succession blinded half of them, causing panicked horses to crash into one another, sometimes kicking out with extreme violence, and I began loosing arrows into the other half. Several Greyland archers joined me on the southern wall on their own initiative and I gave a nod of approval to the women either side of me. The difficulty was that despite working all night our engineers had only managed to add the extra wooden screens with the arrow slits in them to the eastern part of the wall and some of our archers had to duck below the parapet while they nocked their arrows and then stand and lean over the wooden spikes to release, exposing themselves to being hit.

Fortunately, with the confusion, the screaming horses, and the tendency of the Cantreth archers to keep launching their volleys over our heads towards the far wall, where my archers had the temporary hit point boost, the battle quickly moved in our favour and once the blindness had worn off, the whole body of enemy horse archers galloped away, leaving over twenty dead riders. I turned and ran back, my fellow archers in my wake.

No sooner had I returned to my post in the middle of the east wall, than the Arkine soldiers gave up on their assault too. Accompanied by cheering on our side, they suddenly fell back in a co-ordinated fashion and the Arkine footsoldiers also ceased their risky endeavours to fill the ditch with rocks.

I let our enthusiastic soldiers roar at the retreating enemy for a minute or two more, then called Hernán, whose swordsmen had been patrolling the walls but who had missed the fight.

'Sire?'

'Quickly, before they regroup, send out some of your men to retrieve all the arrows they can. And the javelins for the giant. Once you've done that, if there's no sign of the enemy, bring in any armour you can get from the bodies.'

To my surprise, Hernán's response to this morbid task was to grin.

'What?' I asked him.

'Loot, sire. You won't have any shirkers when your orders are to loot the dead.'

'Well, that reminds me, any coin you get we'll give to all, equally.'

'Very good, sire.'

Then I went to find Havin, who was supervising his engineers as they fashioned yet more of the large wooden screens that had helped us win the encounter. These men and women had worked by torchlight through the night, without rest, and it showed in the paleness of their skin and their red, watery eyes.

'Engineers!' I called out and the sawing and hammering stopped. 'There's many a Greyland archer alive today thanks to your efforts. And if the Arkine and Cantreth archers could have cleared ours from the wall-walks, then they would have overrun this fort. It's thanks to the work you've put in building it and adding these screens throughout the night that the enemy has retreated. Well done. Take a break until noon.'

'Thank you for your words sire.' Havin stood up slowly from where he'd been drilling into the centre of a screen. 'You heard the king, take a break.'

As his engineers dispersed, I went over to Havin. 'Well done.'

He shrugged. 'We might all die yet sire, that was the storm beat. Now comes the siege.'

'You think so?' My good cheer since the retreat of the enemy attack suddenly dissipated as I imagined the army starving in the fort, unable to break out without suffering massive losses.

'Sometimes when you build a bridge, especially a pontoon, you know it's not going to last. And if you bring the army across, you mean not to retreat. It's like that with the empress, sire.'

'You know her?'

'Not a bit, sire. Other than she's committed so many troops here.' The sergeant's eyes were bloodshot with fatigue and he rubbed at them as he spoke.

'I agree with you Havin. We have a game where I'm from, one where you bet on cards that only you can see. The others have to guess whether their own cards are better than yours. And sometimes, a player bets everything he has, sure that he holds the winning hand. Then we say he is, "all in". Well, my feeling is that whoever is commanding this army, maybe the empress herself, took a decision to go all in by marching here.'

'That's my reading of the situation too, sire. Which is why I say she'll try to besiege us next.'

He was right. 'Anything we should do?' I asked, appreciative of his wisdom. 'Fill up our canteens with water?'

Looking so tired even his nose had lost its usual purple colour Havin put down his drill and shook his head. 'Water we planned on. The spring at the foot of the slope will serve us; even if they spot it, we can refill at night. It's food that's going to be the issue.'

Thanks to the menus, I didn't need to call anyone to give me an inventory of our food. With seven deaths among the archers, the army here consisted of 284 people. Full rations for these was 7.1 units of food per day. When I had set out from Fort One, I had brought what seemed like plenty of food: 200 units. Surely, nearly a month's food was enough? Yet I did not feel that it was.

Part II Chapter 45: Magic and Food Supply

Arkine troops ringed the hill on which we had built Fort Two. Each morning and afternoon of the siege, I took a walk around the walls to scrutinise their positions. They had encircled us with a little over 300 soldiers on each side, infantry mostly. And they were kept busy. Every day the protective ditches they had made against a possible sortie became deeper and the ground between our armies gained more caltrops. They were probably short of timber though, because they had not constructed a stockade. And they only lit eight camp fires at night: far fewer than I would have expected given their numbers and the freezing night-time temperatures.

Harvin had been right to predict the siege. In some respects, we were well prepared. My original plan to move on to build another fort or even a castle nearer the Cantreth winter camps meant that we had 22 units of iron and 150 of wood inside the fort. Plenty of fuel for our own fires. Because, too, I had planned a winter campaign, all the soldiers had brought thick cloaks with them, some had fur-lined boots and hats, which they wore all the time now that temperatures were regularly below zero. And I had ample hay and oats for the horses.

No, it was food that was the issue and having gone two weeks on full rations and seen my supplies drop to half, I reluctantly passed the word that it would be three-quarter rations from this point onwards. My plan was to hold the fort for fifteen days, then feed everyone full rations for a day and after that, when there was nothing left, try to fight our way out. The whole point of my decision not to fall back from Fort Two was to give time for Nurbolat's raiding to have an effect. I was determined to stick it out here as long as possible. Given their numbers, the Arkines required about 30 units of food a day and I wondered where it was coming from.

Without a telescope (I needed to research Navigation 2 to unlock it), I couldn't be sure how the Arkine army was obtaining its supplies; on a clear, cold, day, I could see distant columns of riders arriving at the tents to my east. It could have been that despite Nurbolat's mission, carts were arriving from the cities of the Arkine empire. But my feeling was that the Arkine army was being supplied by the Cantreth camps. Every day, more of the soldiers facing us sported fur helmets and cloaks in the Cantreth style. If so, was the Arkine empress paying for these supplies? Or taking them? My hope was that the latter. Because then it would become clear that Kadal Khan had sacrificed the resources of his people for his ambition.

I had thought of a possible exploit, too. Once it had become clear that the Arkine army really did intend to besiege us, I had sent a pigeon to Carrick for the attention of Figus, letting him know my situation and asking him to return if there was no sign of the Arkine ships. With his Invisibility spell, the Ring of Silent Movement and Swift Travel feat, he could bring us supplies from Fort One, slipping through enemy troops undetected. He'd hate it, of course, being all about the fine dining and not about hauling sacks of grain over thirty kilometres.

During the two weeks of the siege, my menu timers had run down on some important milestones. The smithy was just one day away from providing me with the gear for another twenty knights, knights who would have weapon and armour upgrades too. With the lighthouse complete on the day the Arkine soldiers encircled the fort, I'd had time to build a Lumber Mill Level 2, which had completed just a day before my research into Literacy was finished. I held off starting a new building project for that day, so that I could jump right in with a School (70 wood, 2 iron, 12 days). When complete and with four teachers assigned to it, my population's literacy level would start to rise, albeit at a slow rate of 1% per month. I could double that up with another school.

My new ballista was in place on its tower at the docks. That, and the lack of change in the numbers of archers at Carrick, told me there had been no attack on the port. My military upgrade had been a choice between town walls level 2 (480 stone, 96 days) or yet another stone tower to defend the port. I'd opted for the tower with another ballista on top. The weapon had been completed first and was ready for the tower, which was just one day away from being finished. Then, I would probably upgrade the town walls. Although there was room for a fourth and final tower at the docks. If the ballista shots were as effective as I hoped against incoming ships then perhaps I should have four in place before tying up my military menu for three months on the town walls.

The countdown that I felt most excited about was that of the Tower of the Alchemists. Both friend and foe could see me standing on the southern wall and probably they were assuming that I was looking at the enemy forces on that side. But in fact, I had the menu open and was watching the final second of the alchemy upgrade tick down. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Tower of the Alchemists Level 4

Unlocks Potion of Fly; Potion of Rapid Travel; Potion of Water Breathing; Potion of Polymorph Self; Potion of Growth; Potion of Shrink.

You have unlocked advancement for a Summoner level 1. Do you wish to attract a new Summoner to the realm (may take up to three days) or promote Brother Ramond and attract a new Alchemy Master 1 to replace him?

New summoner / Promote Brother Ramond

The message that appeared in front of me brought good news that lifted my heart and no doubt I was beaming out over the walls at my enemies. My investment in that upgrade had finally paid off with a new character class. Summoner sounded promising and as I read up on the class, I was keen to get it started right away. They were magicians who could call on the power of the elements to create temporary pets. On reaching Level 3 they obtained a Minor Earth Elemental, Level 4 a Minor Water Elemental, Level 5 a Minor Air Elemental and Level 6 an Earth Elemental and so on up to Level 11 when the Major Elemental cycles began with the Major Earth Elemental.

Additionally, the class had other spells, often related to their pets, such as Damage Shield, Regenerate Elemental, Enhanced Summoning, and many others that were hidden from me until research revealed them. I now had a new branch of research to weigh up the value of: Summoner spells. Like with the Sorcerer, the Summoner had a spell book. And they shared the initial spells: Detect Magic at first and Fire Dart at second.

I promoted Brother Ramond, despite the fact that he had struck me as something of a pedant when I'd met him in Carrick. During my last stay there, the first level of tower had completed and I'd visited the place, only to find that Ramond was anxious that I might disturb the careful storage of ingredients and glasswork needed for the art of potion-making. His behaviour had been curmudgeonly and unwelcoming, all the same, I assumed he was competent. And indeed, once I'd brought him onto the menu as my Summoner, I could see his key stat of Int was decent.

Brother Ramond, Summoner Level 1

HP 6

AC 0

XP 0 (100)

Str 8, Dex 8, Con 9, Int 17, Wis 13, Cha 9

Summoner Feat: Reinforcement

Top Skills

Alchemy                                 5

Wield Dagger                        1

Spot Hidden                          1

Combat Casting                    0

'Three-quarter rations sire?' Lord Arval spoke and my concentration on the menus swapped back to the immediate environment: cold air; damp, wooden stockade; enemy lines several hundred yards away.

'I'm afraid so.' And I explained my plan.

'That ditch could be an issue. If we are going to try to break out; the longer we wait, the deeper and wider it will be.'

'And yet we have to wait as long as possible for Nurbolat's campaign to do some good.'

Lord Arval nodded. 'We have no way of ascertaining that though, do we?' If Lord Arval was hoping I had some magical means of discovering the answer to his question, then my answer was a disappointment, though his expression didn't change.

'None at all.'

'Oh, I wouldn't say that.'

Lord Arval almost fell off the walkway at this unexpected voice and his right hand went to the hilt of Trueblade.

'Figus?' I had recognised the sardonic quality of his voice.

Appearing on my left, the Bard gave a bow.

'You shouldn't eavesdrop, you know,' I said, with mock severity, because I was delighted to see him.

'Of course I should. It's an essential form of behaviour for an ambassador.'

'Figus!' Lord Arval pushed past me and gave him a big embrace. 'Well done on passing through their lines.'

'You're welcome. Though I have to admit the achievement is not as impressive as you might consider it, I have Invisibility and the Ring of Silent Movement.'

'About that.' I glanced at the Bard and despite the fact I was smiling, his cheerful expression faded.

'What sire?'

'I need you to haul sacks of grain through their siege.' I winked at Lord Arval, who began to make some cheery comment but the Paladin's expression froze in response to Figus's scowl.

'I can cast Invisibility once a day and it only lasts two minutes a level. At best, I can make one trip to a cache of sacks and back.'

'That's what you'll do so. In the meantime, what news?'

For a moment, Figus looked at me as if to about argue. Then he gathered himself and the impassive demeanour which he had mastered while serving the old Carlos took over as he succinctly ran through the main points of his journey. All was well at Carrick and – according to the merchants arriving from that city – at Montrose. Timber, iron, hay and other necessities were being delivered to Fort One, with Figus taking responsibility for commissioning the delivery of more food once he learned of the siege. He paused his account and after both Lord Arval and I expressed our approval continued.

The day before my pigeon had arrived, a pigeon had come from the watchtower at Darakhan saying that the three Arkine ships had been spotted by fishermen, well out to sea, sailing east. Presumably, they were trying to avoid being seen on their return journey. And that accorded with my intuition that the whole threat had been a ruse. Still, it had prompted me to significantly improve the defences at the port and that was no bad thing.

Fort One was secure. They had seen a group of about a hundred Cantreth riders in the distance on two occasions, but no one had attacked. Guy had proposed to Figus that they try to lift the siege of Fort Two or help us break out by marching to us in a manoeuvre co-ordinated using Figus's ability to come and go through the enemy lines. Guy was standing by to do that. Lastly, the missives from my spies had arrived at Carrick and Figus had brought fifteen reports for me to read.

At the end of his account, Figus gave me a long look. 'Now, I could bring in a sack of grain every day. But perhaps I would be of more service travelling swiftly in search of news from Nurbolat?'

'Perhaps,' I replied. Then looked to Lord Arval. 'Suppose Figus were to bring in thirty kilos of grain a trip. How many would that feed?'

'Thirty…?' muttered Figus.

'On full rations, about eight per kilo, so two hundred and forty.'

'We could survive indefinitely on three-quarter rations then?'

'We could.' Lord Arval looked heartened by the calculation, Figus disconsolate.

'Congratulations ambassador. You have your answer. Stay here and feed the army. Go find a place in one of the tents.'

Figus said nothing, only turned away and after he had descended the nearest ladder, looked up at the grey wintery sky for some time. Then, slowly, he walked along the muddy track towards the centre of the camp.

'I like Figus,' said Lord Arval. 'I never really trusted him when he was around the old King Carlos. But he's proven himself since…' Then the Paladin smiled and rubbed his beard. 'He's not one for hard work though.'

'While I was training every day, regardless of weather, and you were in that small, dark prison, do you know what skill Figus was increasing?'

'I do not.'

'Dine Graciously.'

'Hah!' Lord Arval laughed aloud.

'Well, now he might even get a Strength increase from all that heavy work ahead of him.'

Part II Chapter 46: The Value of Spying

Was it worth sending my penultimate pigeon to instruct Brother Ramon to level up on local quests and then come to Fort One? I decided it was, especially as in the same message I could order my twenty new knights to accompany him.

After watching the pigeon fly around in a low, wide circle with terrible anxiety – it came close enough to the enemy that two arrows flew past the pigeon before it settled on its path – I let out a deep breath of relief and then made my way to my tent to read the reports of my spies.

While I did so, a somewhat dissatisfying meal of porridge was brought to me. Having chosen to share the same rations as everyone else, I could appreciate the nagging feeling of unsatiated hunger that my soldiers must be experiencing too. There were few things I missed about my old life, but being able to order pizza when I was hungry was one of them. My mouth was watering at that thought and I found I could still remember the number of my favourite takeaway.

Before reading the reports, I took out quill, ink, and parchment, and drew a map of the twenty-five kingdoms to remind myself where each was.

Langia

Sartas

Shadow

Northway

Tsichen

Jomskar

Kaia

Ferrok

Hailand

Grrysthis

Kingdom of Lost Souls

Zorland

Dragons

Grimlar

Zatu

Rockway

Trolland

Kezatka

Underworld

Fahim

Greyland

Southway

Cantreth

Arkine

Peyan

Sorting the scrolls into order, I began with the top left, Langia.

Sire, the people of Langia worship Weckad, an evil Treant whose roots, they say, spread beneath all the twenty-five kingdoms. They practice human sacrifice by hanging outsiders on the branches of Treants, who then drain the body of blood. You'll understand therefore, why I cannot provide detailed insights. Frankly, it is dangerous enough posing as a merchant and writing this report. All I can say is that despite their evil nature, they see the Kingdom of Lost Souls as a growing power and a threat. They hate the Vikings of Jomskar but consider that realm weak.

Next, I looked at the report from Sartas.

The Sartas are bird people. They don't trust humans. Nor anyone else. They are no danger but will be hard to conquer.

Short but succinct. I supposed it must be hard for a human spy to get a network among a bird people. I was curious did they have cities in mountains or trees, or perhaps they lived like humans only with a beaked head.

Beside Sartas, to the east, was Shadow.

Miya's blessings be upon you King Carlos of the Lance. If you read this then be pleased sire, that my rider has found a way to reach you. Shadow is an evil realm whose people worship a god whom they dare not ever name, for to do so is to be cursed. There are many cryptic riddles, however, that allude to their god's name. I will not repeat any, for I do not desire to come to His attention.

The Queen of Shadow has a complicated court system and it will give you some idea of the layers of hierarchy when I say that I have become fourth butler to a third level lady-in-waiting, a mistress of The Tower of Tears. My duties mainly consist in obtaining the correct colour of material to fashion into a dress of appropriate rank for whatever royal ball is to occur next.

The Queen is ruthless and in the interest of keeping everyone on their toes – and, it seems to me, but I am cynical – in the interests of keeping the possibility of promotion a realistic one, she frequently sends members of the nobility to the axe. I have been obliged to source a scarlet dress for an execution twice already.

Shadow prides itself on its navy and they are probably right to do so. They have seven triremes, each of which mounts a ballista fore and aft; then too, they have a dozen merchant vessels. Their trade makes them wealthy, not their land, which is hilly, poor, and good only for grazing. They export iron and gems from their mines, also rare plants. The Queen is a Level 9 Sorceress and she has concentrated on developing her Library, which is level 6. Although her individual powers are impressive and she has a wide range of spells (it is popularly believed she has discovered Fireball) this has come at a cost of other upgrades. Their Church is only level 2. Their economic buildings (with the exception of Mines Level 4) are only 1 or 2. The army is only some 500 troops in total and those mostly basic infantry. The people of Shadow therefore anticipate with dread an invasion from their powerful neighbour Northway once spring arrives.

That was an impressive report. It was exactly the type of information I wanted and I hoped that some of my other spies would be able to deliver similar results. The next report should have been from Northway. But there was none. Either the report had gone astray… or my spy had been caught. That brought me to Tsichen.

Sire, Tsichen has been conquered by Northway. Eighty heavily armoured footsoldiers occupy the royal palace. I'm told the victory of King William Ironheart took place some six months ago. The people here are resigned to the conquest and do not believe there is any prospect of their god, Hanseto, ever ruling the twenty-five kingdoms. Promised a fair reward in the kingdom yet to come, they serve somewhat willingly. Or, at least without the thirst for vengeance and desire for rebellion that I would have expected. Their silk workshops are therefore providing Northway with a lucrative source of income.

In the battle for the royal palace, eyewitnesses tell me that King William carried a powerful magic shield and on further enquiry I learned that this is the Shield of Jehu, an artefact forged in the second age when Jehu, god of Northway, was victorious in the game of gods. Their king – a Warlord like you – completed a quest to find and retrieve the shield from a burial chamber of ancient hero. I will try to find out more about the properties of this shield but must be careful as Northway has its own spies here.

In brief. Tsichen is gone. Beware Northway.

Feeling dismayed that another ruler had obtained an artefact, I read the report from Tischen again before putting it to one side. Northway sounded formidable. I would have to try to assign new spies to that realm and learn more. I particularly wanted to know what buildings King William Ironheart had constructed and upgraded. What was his strategy? Opening my menu, I commissioned another 10 spies from the Espionage Training Centre. I also commissioned four master assassins (these were military units, not people with the Assassin class progression). With other players having the Espionage Training Centre I was at risk of assassination attempts and these would be my bodyguard.

The unexpected appearance of Figus had troubled me and my anxiety about it now blossomed in the light of having sat down with these reports. Instead of a vague sense that I had enemies, all engaged in the same kind of effort to progress as me, I suddenly felt that the world was small and that I was not as safe among my soldiers as I had imagined. King William Ironheart sounded particularly dangerous. I wanted a means of detecting the presence of invisible people. A dog might be enough, unless Invisibility masked scents. I would have to ask Figus.

Next, I opened the report from Jomskar.

Sire, King Olgrim Beartooth of Jomskar has regained his menus after losing control of them to King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin of Rockguard, whom he hates with a passion. The Vikings struggle, however, with a weak economy. Their mines, forestry and quarrying are all only level 2. They have plenty of fish and have rebuilt their fleet up to 7 longships. But they only have about 150 warriors for these.

Thanks to Figus having stayed here for months, the people of Jomskar know all about your adventures. Two of their poets have learned Figus's song The Tale of King Carlos the Rhino and it sometimes is requested by King Olgrim to entertain his warriors at a feast. There is also a popular song about how you defeated Conal mac Tíre by tiring him out and wounding him with arrows. They consider us allies and – with reservations – also look upon the Necromancer as an ally. If you could ever visit this realm, you would obtain a hero's welcome.

Well, that was a more cheerful report. I did not consider myself a vain person, but then I'd never been put in this kind of situation before. As far as this world went, having a popular song about you was the height of celebrity and I found myself enjoying the thought that King Olgrim had listened more than once to the tale of my victory at Three Ways.

The report from Kaia was minimal but useful:

Most advanced building: Barracks Level 5.

Over 2,000 troops, mostly hoplites and heavy cavalry. Only 200 archers. No siege equipment. Fast and dangerous in open field. We need castles against them.

Queen Xenastha is a Shadow Knight level 11.

Then came another alarming report:

Sire. Last year, the orcs of Ferrok were smashed by a combined invasion from Northway and Hailand, the two armies entering north and south, uniting to take the capital city of Grik. The king of Northway is said to have an artefact that prevented any spell cast by the Shaman ruler of the orcs from affecting him. The orcs hate all humans, so I cannot find out if there is any talk of rebellion but Hailand troops occupy the lands to the south and obtain much iron from the orc mines, while Northway troops hold the capital and gain cattle from the lands around it.

Hailand:

Greetings sire. Tokanaga, the emperor of Hailand, is a Champion level 12. He has concentrated on the creation of samurai. These are like our knights but have swords of advanced quality. They are trained in all forms of combat including archery from a galloping horse. The smithy here is level 5. The Barracks are level 4. They have 350 samurai and are always training more. In this they are helped considerably by the iron of Ferrok, which they conquered with the agreement of Northway to split the orc theocracy into two.

It seems that before I arrived, food supply limited growth on the menus of Hailand. But Tokanaga has also conquered the lizardmen of Grrysthis and now has a rich supply of fish. This is a kingdom to be feared, one which is accelerating in the creation of an elite army.

Grim reading again. The world was moving on much faster than I had realised. From Zorland the news was more palatable.

Zorland is mostly jungle in which fabulous temples can be found and where the people are in cities that blend with the trees. For many years they have honoured peace and trading treaties with the Kingdom of Lost souls but now there is disquiet at his obvious progress. Their ruler is a large man called Rakiashakattum, a Cleric of level 10, who enjoys sitting on his golden cushions dispensing wisdom as though his god, Bavrahanta, were whispering to him. Which perhaps he is as they have a Temple Level 5.

Grimlar was the realm of the dwarves, to the east of the dragon realm that formed a serious obstacle in the centre of the world. My spy there had written a brief message:

Thanks to your conquest of Dūr-Abihâr and the release of all the dwarven slaves of Underworld, you and the Necromancer are considered allies of King Olaf Bloodaxe. He is a Level 11 Berserker. Their most advanced building is Mines Level 6 and as they receive a bonus to mining output, they regularly find rare gems which furnish the means to supplement their otherwise limited food supply. The dwarves fear that when winter is over, Tokanaga, the emperor of Hailand, will invade as his scouts have been seen on the northern hills.

That was interesting. I could probably get a favourable trade for gems from the dwarves, which would allow my jewellery workshop to produce magic items. If my army were not tied down with the war for Cantreth I would seriously consider going to help the dwarves as a means of providing a check to Hailand.

To the east of the dwarves was Fahim:

Sire, the Sultanah of Fahim, Khalida, is a Prophetess Level 12 and it is said that the pyramid temple of their desert realm is Level 6, which allows her to speak to Yehlios, the sun god whom they worship. They have a powerful body of camel archers as well as knights on horseback.

Then came a most important report, that from the Arkine empire, and I was glad that the spy there was fully aware of his or her responsibilities at this critical time. The report was thorough:

King Carlos, the Arkine empire is strong. Last summer, the empress conquered Peyan and the hopes of Nebehkios, the evil snake god, are no more. After consolidating that victory and gaining the realm's rich timber resources, Anna Galatas recently marched west into Cantreth to assist the faction of their people who are opposed to you.

The Arkines have a powerful fleet: 3 triremes, 6 biremes and 6 merchant vessels. They also have a large army, reported to be 2,000 strong, in which both mounted troops and infantry are equipped with lamellar armour. The fact that there are only 400 soldiers currently in the capital suggests that you face as many as 1,600 in Cantreth.

The goddess of the Arkines is called Asa. She is reported to give a bonus to research, which is consistent with the fact their most advanced building is a library Level 5.

For all their strengths, the Arkines do have a weakness, which is an elected monarchy. There are five dominant aristocratic families, each of which has one vote for the ruler, and this five-person election takes place every seven years. Anna Galatas is in her fourth year. The noble families are rivals and hate each other but nevertheless work together in the army and the winning candidate nearly always has to give leading roles to other families in return for votes, which undermines their own position in subsequent elections. Hence no one family has even controlled the emperorship. And to make matters even more complex, two up-coming families, the Perlione and the Kemanos, demand to be given a vote in the next election.

One manifestation of the rivalry at the top of Arkine society are the chariot races. Cassikos, the capital, has a Hippodrome Level 3, which brings great happiness to the people but increases violence among the supporters of various chariot teams, the more successful of which are funded by the leading families and compete bitterly for the honour of the family.

The last report was from Peyan:

Peyan is a forest realm that was conquered last year by the Arkines. There was a Level 4 ziggurat here, now demolished, with the stone, bit by bit, sent back to Arkine. The forest also serves as a rich supply for timber to the Arkine empire. The snake worshipers hate the Arkines and would rise up if they had any hope of regaining their menu.

I put the letters to one side and found myself sighing. I'd always known I was in a race with other rulers but these reports really brought that home to me. Greyland was suffering from the seven months in which I had lost control of my menu. The leading realms had Level 5 buildings: the Dwarves even had a Level 6 mine, Shadow had a Level 6 library and Fahim a Level 6 temple. My most advanced buildings were Level 4, although thank to my desire to unlock character progression paths, I did at least have three of them: hunting lodge; espionage training centre; and tower of the alchemists. At Level 3 were the barracks; monastery; scriptorium; wizard's tower and church.

Perhaps I had arrived at a point where I should go all in on a type of building and upgrade it repeatedly for end-game level benefits. But if so, which one?

Part II Chapter 47: Snowfall on the Besieged Fort

On the fifth day of the siege, I woke to find that there had been a heavy snowfall during the night. While I breakfasted on the small portion of porridge that we all ate, I looked out from my tent over a camp that seemed much cleaner with a white covering of snow on the ground, though the main pathways through the tents were already muddy. Behind me, my remaining pigeon called out from its cage repeatedly, 'Who? Oooh.'

As was my habit I checked the realm's menus as I ate. The economy was in good shape and food supply was nearly balanced against my static menu population that still had a very satisfactory pool of 625 people available for work or the army. Gold was running at a loss of about 1g 5s a day. But with over 2,000 gold in the treasury, I could afford to increase my army further and still not worry too much about that deficit.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: School, 11 days

Currently upgrading: Church Level 4, 11 days

Monthly trade income: 12 gold 8 silver

Monthly tax income (medium): 137 gold 5 silver

Army cost: 194 gold 9 silver

Treasury: 2,140 gold

Daily food consumption: 52 units

Grain yield: 260 units due in 14 weeks 2 days

Vegetable yield: 44 units due in 7 weeks 6 days

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 17 weeks

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 28 units daily

Timber yield: 23 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 13 blocks daily

Smithy yield: 20 suits of plate mail due in 20 days

Weaving yield:

Research: Navigation 2, 17 days

Resources:

Wheat: 138 food units

Vegetables: 24 food units

Meat: 3 food units

Fish: 5 food units

Wool:

Timber: 519 planks

Iron: 122 ingots

Stone: 2,222 blocks

Cloth: 108 bolts

The people on the menu were in the following occupations: Farmers 60; Fishing Crew 140; Sailors 40; Builders 40; Shepherds 24; Hunters 80; Miners 84; Clothmakers 27; Bakers 40; Brewers 40; Carpenters 60; Stonemasons 60; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 10; Spies 20; Pigeon trainers 4; Lumber Mill 20; Lighthouse 8; School 4; Idle 625

My surplus of iron meant that as soon as the equipment for twenty new knights was complete – and hopefully they were already on their way to Fort 1, along with Brother Raymond – I ordered another twenty. For my new building I'd opted for a second school and for research I wanted a telescope, so I chose Navigation 2.

As for my upgrade, I decided I'd spent enough time unlocking character classes. In the light of the higher level buildings my spies had reported on for all the other realms, it seemed to me that it was time to commit to reaching the maximum level that I could for the church. Although it was clear that building costs escalated with every level, I was well provided with stone and felt I would be able to get the church to 6 or 7 even without more conquests, hopefully that would be high enough to communicate with Miya and understand the endgame better. The other benefits a church brought in terms of healing and the removal of diseases would be a plus too.

A church level 4 cost 114 stone, 54 timber, 4 iron and took 12 days.

My military upgrade had been to complete the maximum number of towers at the docks by selecting a fourth (50 stone, 10 days), on which would be placed another ballista. It was an effective way to protect the realm while the army was far off. The Arkine ruse had the unintended consequence that if they actually ever intended to invade by sea, they would find me much better prepared than I had been.

When I had finished my perusal of the menus and the very last scrapings of porridge (in fact, I licked the bowl, so strong was my desire to eat), I stepped out to a world that was mostly white.

I was pleased about the snow, sure that the Arkine troops in their more flimsy, dispersed shelters, would suffer more from it than us. And it had another unexpected benefit too. As I walked around the walls of the fort in my daily survey of the enemy dispositions, I came to a section at which four of my soldiers – swordsmen – were gathered and looking down from the walls. They snapped to attention at my approach.

'Sire, look here,' said one.

I came closer and leaned over the wall. There were footprints in the snow both leading away from the fort and also back from the distant line of enemy troops.

My heart sank. What did this mean? A traitor or spy in the fort? Aloud, I strove for a matter-of-fact tone. 'What do you make of it?'

'Well, sire,' the spokesperson for the soldiers was in his forties, I would guess; he had grey in his beard and a tone in his voice that suggested confidence, even when speaking to his king. 'The footprints coming towards us are much fresher. Someone went out last night and came back not long before daylight.'

'I think you're right.'

'And look carefully, sire, between these wooden poles. There are thin wedges shoved in, for them to climb back up. Would never have seen them but for the footprints.'

'We have a spy in the camp?'

'I believe so, sire.'

The men were looking at me expectantly. But I wasn't sure what to do. There was no point sounding some kind of alarm, we'd never find the spy that way. Subtlety was required here. 'Well found men, but we have to play this out with great care or we'll never catch our fish. First of all, say nothing about this at all. Not to anyone. Even people you think are completely trustworthy.'

One by one, I looked them in the eyes and received a serious nod in return.

'Secondly, go about your duties for now but tell Hernán you have my permission for rest in the afternoon so you can be given the duty of guarding this section of the wall after dark. I'll talk to Lord Arval and Figus about how we might catch someone with stealth skills good enough to be able to sneak in and out of the fort undetected.'

***

A cold moonlit night, the second one after we had discovered the presence of a spy. Although the snow had melted to mush, it still held footprints and perhaps even better, was very hard to walk over without making a sound. Torches flickered on the walls, illuminating a few metres of ground around the fort and my four swordsmen patrolled the crucial section of wall in their usual stroll back and forth, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Somehow, we had missed the spy leaving the fort; only after the guards had noticed a new set of footprints did we realise the spy had managed to get past us. Even though this meant a long wait in freezing temperatures, I cheered myself up with the thought that at least the spy was on the move. After the wasted vigil of the first night I had worried it might be days more before they tried to leave the fort again.

Although I had stuffed my boots with fur, my feet were like ice blocks and perhaps they actually were frozen to the ground. I'd been reluctant to even stamp my feet this last hour for fear of spooking the spy. I was underneath the walkway, at the exact place that the wedges were driven into the fort walls, with my head leaned back against the wooden poles. This was just as well, as the spy was so quiet, I might not have heard their return. I did feel it though, a tremor against my head and another emanating from above, then the faintest of thumps on the walkway above me and suddenly a splash down below. Two new footprints appeared just in front of me.

I hurled the bag of flour that I had been holding in both my hands and using Lightning Draw whipped the Lance into position and cast its Light spell. The spy was already running, but covered in white powder the figure was obvious, even by the flickering torchlight, let alone the glare of the incandescent blade. Triggering Charge! for the additional speed, I sprinted after the spy, shouting as I did so.

From between the tents to the left of the spy, Lysegetus stepped out and smashed the running figure hard with the haft of his spear. Tumbling and groaning, the spy rolled to where Lord Arval had also appeared from the opposite side. In a moment, I was upon her too and surrounded, on her back, eyes looking frantically in all directions, she slumped back and gave a groan.

'Don't move.' I waited for her to lie completely still, then knelt down and undid her cloak tie. She was dressed in the leather armour of a Greyland archer. From behind me a dozen soldiers came running up, including Hernán's four swordsmen.

'Well done, sire,' said the older soldier with evident satisfaction. 'We got her.'

'Was that Invisibility,' I asked the captive, 'or a stealth skill?'

The spy looked surprised at the question. Then scowled and her face set in a closed expression. It was obvious she was not going to talk.

'Search her,' I said to the swordsman. 'Then bring her to my tent. I'm going to get warm.'

I saw Jacintha in the growing crowd (I had not wanted to place too many people in ambush points, for fear of tipping off the spy) and was glad to see her. Catching her eye, I gestured to the prisoner. 'Cast Detect Magic, please, make sure the soldiers don't miss anything.'

With a nod and a smile, the Sorceress acknowledged the order and began to push through the soldiers.

Back in my tent I used a pair of bellows to get a decent heat from the brazier there and called out to Lord Arval to come in. He had hesitated at the entrance.

'That went well,' I said. 'But how do we get her to talk?'

'The old King Carlos would have proposed torture and I would have made it clear that this was not Miya's way. That I would leave him and the army would not be pleased either.'

'What is Miya's way?' I was genuinely curious.

The Paladin shrugged. 'To give them a reason to talk.'

'And if we don't have a reason?'

He sighed. 'It's the age-old issue of whether a goal is so precious that any action, even an evil one, is justified. In my view and according to the oaths of my profession, the answer is no. And this answer is not just that of an impractical saint who avoids the difficult, real circumstances of war. It is also based on the insight of many other generals and Paladins, that an army which fights with a firm belief in their cause fights harder with less waverers than those with doubts.

'The army of Greyland is strong in conviction. The soldiers do not mind the cold and the short rations because they believe you know what you are doing and that you will win the world for Miya. If you start chopping off the fingers of prisoners, then you'll lose more than you gain.'

I found myself smiling, even though the issue was serious. 'Fingers? No, I was thinking of having the soldiers take turns singing the song of King Carlos the Rhino to her, over and over.'

'You are joking?'

'I am.'

'Permission to come in sire.'

'Granted.'

The four soldiers who had found the footprints came into the tent, looking around curiously. And I could tell by their manner that they took great pride in their role in capturing the prisoner: their expressions and firm handling of the spy seemed to say that this was their doing.

'What's your name?' I asked the older swordsman.

There was a long pause. 'Oh, me sire? I thought you meant the prisoner. I'm Matías.'

'Tie her up to the tent pole Matías and send for her mess mates.'

'They are right outside, sire.'

As the spy was fastened (ankles tight against the pole, arms behind it), a group of five of my archers came in along with Isabelle, their lieutenant and Level 4 Rogue. Her long, equine face looked longer and more sombre than ever.

I checked the bonds, worried that the spy might have skills that would allow her to escape, and as I did so, I took a good look at her. Like Isabelle, the spy had long, brown hair and a lithe figure that suggested a high dexterity. Unlike the dark eyes of my comrade from the capture of Texecal, this woman had pale blue eyes and they seemed to be staring at me with hatred.

'I'm sorry sire,' said Isabelle, 'she's one of mine.'

'What do you know about her?'

'Goes by the name of Sara, one of the new recruits we brought with us from Carrick as infantry who volunteered for archery when we gained those extra bows. She was very good in training. Seemed all right in battle but I didn't really take notice of her. It would have been easy enough to deliberately miss without being noticed. That's about it for me. Her mess mates might know more.' Isabelle gestured to the other archers.

The five archers, however, were mute. Whether awed by my presence or anxious about having harboured a traitor, none of them caught my eye.

'Well,' I said patiently. 'Is she native to Greyland?'

'I don't think so sire,' one of the five said. 'She has something of an eastern accent.'

'And what was her story for that?'

'She said her father was a trader from the Arkine Empire.'

'Anything else?'

No one spoke. What with the glowing brazier and all the people in the tent, I felt warm and I loosed the straps on my breastplate, letting some cool air inside.

I turned back to the prisoner, conscious of everyone watching me. 'Well Sara. You've been spying on us and reporting to the Arkine camp. I don't suppose you want to tell your mess mates why you are trying to get them all killed?'

She only glared at me. I threw a dagger at her, just above her shoulder, where it stuck in the tent pole.

You missed Erika the Footpurse.

You have become better at Throw Dagger: 35

'What level is a footpurse?' I turned to Isabelle in the hope it was a Rogue title and then to a serious-looking Lord Arval: 'I need to work on my Throw Dagger skill, it's not maxed and I might have accidently hit her.'

Isabelle took a step closer to the prisoner. 'Seven sire.'

'Well, Erika here is a level seven Rogue.'

The spy looked shocked. Then she spat at me. 'Sod you King Carlos. Sod you all. You think you are so good, fighting for a goddess who just wants you all to breed. I'm surprised you didn't spot me gagging every time you made a speech. Asa is a real goddess: one who values the mind and not the animal: one to be proud of. And when we conquer the twenty-five kingdoms, you'll see her full powers of invention. Instead of dancing around with flowers in our hair like you Miya worshipers, we will be building a future of rapid progress.

'You are all doomed, thanks to me. I warned the empress of your plans to cut our supply lines.' She laughed wickedly and scornfully. 'I told her everything and with our fastest riders and the help of that fool, Kadal Khan, we have set an ambush. On our carts are ballista, not barrels of grain, and when your riders come, we'll slaughter them. Then, when you are weak from hunger, we'll slaughter you too.' She raised her pale, blazing eyes to look around the whole room. 'There's nothing you can do about it. All of you are dead.'

Part II Chapter 48: Gracious Dining

Lord Arval and I met Figus as he trudged wearily through the gate, helping lift the heavy sack of grain from his shoulders. It was still dark and although Figus had removed Invisibility on his arrival, I still couldn't see his expression in the limited light cast by the flames of the nearby torches. No doubt it was not a happy one. And no doubt too, it became less happy when we told him that the captured spy had revealed our plans to the empress and that Nurbolat was in danger.

The three of us walked to Lord Arval's tent and had hot water brought to us to drink and warm us. Once again, I felt the absence of coffee from this world very strongly.

'If what she said is true, we have to co-ordinate a breakout with Guy and the troops from Fort One,' I said. 'There should be twenty knights arriving in a few days. You could lead that army and when in position, create a diversion and then we charge out to join you.'

Lord Arval nodded but Figus shook his head and muttered: 'Their ditches are deep and the ground is thick with caltrops. You'd be better advancing slowly and trying to use our advantage in archers to clear a section.'

Hands at his neck, rocking his head from side to side in an evident attempt to ease an ache, all at once Figus's voice became firmer, 'I don't know if I believe that story. Their camp is not what you'd expect if they were well supplied. Their soldiers crowd around just a few fires. They don't sing, or play dice, or even keep a tight watch on our fort. There are no patrols. No scent of cooking. It could be our strategy is working and the spy was trying to get us to make a mistake. Why else would she even say that?'

Lord Arval shrugged. 'It seemed to me, the spy was shocked by King Carlos knowing her name and frightened by a near miss from a dagger. She behaved like someone resigned to death yet who wanted to believe herself to be on the winning side and who wanted to have one last moment of triumph.'

'She sounded convincing… but Figus has made a good point.' I thought about the spy's face when we captured her and how strong my intuition had been that she would never talk. 'Nurbolat is still on the menu, with his full force. We'd expect that though, before an ambush.'

'That's another thing,' said Figus, more confident now. 'Does Nurbolat strike you as a fool? Even if they set up an ambush, will he fall into it? He knows this land and he has more riders than Kadal Khan. I don't see the Arkine cavalry catching him and I don't see him being trapped by his Cantreth opponents.'

'By Miya's light, I think you are correct!' Lord Arval raised his head and grinned.

A feeling of dismay that had been heavy on me since the spy's words started to lift; the rising morale of the Paladin was affecting me too. 'Did you see any of Kadal Khan's riders as you came through their lines?' I asked Figus, 'the spy said they'd been sent to participate in this ambush. If they were still here, that would clinch the matter.'

'I did not,' said Figus, 'but that's usual for my route. I come in from the west and don't normally see any cavalry on that side.'

'Very well. Until the menu shows Nurbolat has taken serious losses, we assume the story is a lie.' My rediscovered cheerful spirits gave me an idea. 'Starting from tomorrow night, let's give the army the opportunity to show how confident we are. Figus, you shall perform your songs for those not on guard duty. Lord Arval, allow a full ration tomorrow and extra fuel, extra fires. Let's get the camp singing and let's get the smoke of our cooking fires and scent of our food travelling to the enemy. If the opposite to what the spy said is true and they are hanging on with minimal supplies, then we should do all we can to demoralise them.'

***

On waking very late and enjoying a full portion of porridge in the quiet of my tent – the spy had been removed to a hut where not only was she shackled but I had a rota of guards watching her – I sensed something wasn't quite right as I perused the menus of Greyland. As I tried to put my finger on the issue, I saw that I'd failed to unlock a character class progression from the monastery level 3 and made a note to divert from my high-end church strategy to push the monastery to 4 when I got the chance in 11 days. But that wasn't the issue that was troubling me. It took me a while, carefully reading over the top level ones, before I realised that my happiness score had taken a hit.

People

Citizens: 1,414

Happiness: 68

Tax Level: Medium (0 change)

Health: 48

Specialist roles

General: Lord Arval, Paladin Level 8

Royal Wizard: Jacintha, Sorceress Level 4

Chancellor: Nicolás, no class progression

Ambassador: Figus, Bard Level 8

My happiness should have been 73, as it was just a day ago. Since nothing else had changed, was it the altered mood of the field army in Fort 2 that had made the difference? That was the only explanation I could think of. Because since the spy made her gloating speech, I had notice sour looks and a lack of the usual cheerful salutes and greetings when I walked past groups of soldiers. It was a little like the early days again, when very few people would look me in the eye through fear and hatred.

For a moment I was annoyed at my soldiers. Hadn't we been through enough together for them to have more confidence in me? But then I thought about how I'd been thrown by the spy's words. And if it were true that Nurbolat was captured and his head was unexpectedly thrown over the walls of the fort, then we really would be in a difficult position.

'Movement in the enemy camp! East wall!'

A shout, repeated through the fort, got me running from the tent, lance strapped on my back and helmet in hand. Up on the wall walk, the soldiers moved aside to let me look out over the points of the stockade poles. It was not another attempt at an assault on us, rather a group of riders, several with purple cloaks, were approaching under a banner which was a golden, circular mandala on a teal background.

The sky was clear and blue. The ground was mostly white and shining with the light of the pale sun. If they hadn't been an enemy trying to kill us, the block of colour created by the riders and their banner would have seemed like an artistic show. Like a constructivist painting in motion.

'Let them come.' Some of the archers around me who had raised their bows lowered them again.

One of the Arkine riders urged his horse into a canter and came on while the rest of the group halted. Dressed in armour with golden epaulettes and a gold fringe to his purple cloak, the rider drew up near the middle of the east wall, some ten metres from me. 'King Carlos?' he called out in a clear voice.

'Here!' I leaned forward and beckoned him.

The youth – for he was twenty at most – rode along under the gaze of my soldiers until he was just beneath me. 'Anna Galatas, empress of Arkine and servant of Asa the Wise would meet with you to discuss how to end this mutually harmful impasse.'

I looked across at the group of riders. 'So she is here with her army? I wasn't sure of that.'

The youth said nothing. The wind ruffled the fur lining of his cloak, while his horse dropped her head, looking among the clumps of snow and straggly patches of grass for something to eat. It was a white mare and she was thin, her joints very distinct under a hide that was lacklustre. This was not a healthy, well-fed animal.

'Don't do it sire,' muttered the archer to my left.

'If she comes with just two others to where the rest of your riders are now, I'll speak with her in one hour.'

'Agreed,' said the Arkine rider and with a short cry to his horse, turned back from our walls.

I clapped the archer who had spoken on her shoulder. 'Thank you for your concern, but we need to know the truth of the rumour about the ambush of Nurbolat and I will be in range of you and your comrades.'

'True sire, but I don't trust 'em. They can't defeat us by might, so they will try poison or something. Be careful.'

I hurried down the ladder and walked briskly to the cooking area where there were soldiers scraping clean the large pots in which the morning porridge had been cooked. The man nearest me was using a spoon and eating the hard, dry crust he was removing. Surprised at my appearance, he looked guilty as he sprang to his feet.

'Who is in charge?' I asked him.

'Cook, sire.' He pointed to a soldier with a large blue apron over his leather armour, a man who had his back turned to me, carefully weighing grain on a scale.

'Cook?'

'Sire?' He put down the tool he was using to pour grain and saluted.

'I need your help.'

***

The empress was an elderly woman who reminded me a little of Carlena. Grey hair, swept back into a tight bun and held in place by a tiara that glittered with diamonds; fine, high cheekbones; sharp, discerning pale green eyes; and clothing that was sumptuous: indigo trousers with seams of red and gold; a purple blouse with subtle patterns of repeated geometric figures; a waistcoat of gold and silver thread; and a thick, fur-lined purple cloak of wool. My black plate mail was functional and unadorned and perhaps not as formal as the empress felt the occasion required as she gave me a long, unimpressed look up and down.

I gestured to the three camp chairs on her side of a table that Cook had prepared with great care. On a large plate were salted fish, fried in garlic and decorated with lemons. On another were fresh pancakes, whose scent was causing my mouth to water. We had butter displayed, softened after being taken from the frozen stores and rolled into decorative, curled up tubes and placed around the plate with the pancakes. And the most tantalising scent of all came from a plate holding strips of salted pork, fried to a crispy state.

Along with six smaller plates and bowls offering apple pieces, dried raisins, and hazelnuts, there was honey. A beautiful, dark amber colour, the transparent honey had been placed in front of the empresses' seat. Wine from my finest remaining bottle had already been poured and if the beakers we drank from were of tin, not glass, that didn't make the wine any less appealing. Cook had done a fantastic job from the scant stores that remained and I found it a challenge to keep a smile from my face as I studied the Arkine delegation.

With the empress was the same youth who had delivered her message and a bearded soldier in heavy barding armour, scabbarded sword at his side. While the empress managed to control herself and kept her attention on me, the other two were visibly struck by the contents of the table. The Adam's apple of the young man bobbed up and down repeatedly as he swallowed. The poor guy's saliva must have been running even more heavily than mine.

Under the watchful eyes of a packed gallery of my archers, all ready to defend me at the first sign of treachery, I waited for the empress to take her seat and then I took mine, opposite each other.

'Let us begin as civilised people do, with a drink.' I raised my tin cup, 'to honour and glory.'

'Honour and glory,' repeated Lord Arval on my left with a smile.

'Honour and glory,' said Figus and he took a drink with great satisfaction.

'It's our best wine,' I looked at the empress. 'As befitting the occasion.' The wine was rich with a fruity flavour and evoked much warmer times. I licked my lips to savour every drop.

'Civilised people also use poison,' she replied with a dry smile. 'You'll forgive us for declining but we are here to discuss how to end this stalemate and perhaps even turn our attention to events in the north: it seems to me that the twenty-five kingdoms are facing a north-south alignment.'

'I am very interested in your thoughts on that subject.' I reached out for the plate of pancakes and offered it to her – she shook her head impatiently – and then I held it towards the warrior who stared at the food for a long time before raising a hand to decline. Next was the poor youth, who forced his gaze to the ground. 'I have recent intelligence from those regions that I'm happy to share,' I continued, 'but please, let's not waste this food. Won't you have some?'

'You are aware, then, that Northway and Hailand have formed an effective alliance, one that has allowed them to obtain the resources they need to make rapid progress in building their army and their cities?' She pointedly ignored the pancakes.

'I am. Excuse me, these are best eaten warm.' Having allowed Figus and Lord Arval to each take a pancake, we all began to eat. I dipped mine in the honey, Figus and Lord Arval slathered theirs with generous amounts of butter. My pancake really was gorgeous, the honey was pure delight. I felt a rush of pleasure run through my entire body as I ate.

The Arkine empress had a note of exasperation in her voice. 'My thought is that – contrary to your reputation – you have demonstrated good planning, resilience and determination. You honour your friends here in Cantreth. Having put you to the test, I believe you would be a worthy ally.'

'Thank you for those kind words. I believe so too.' She had to wait for my reply, since I was in no hurry to finish the pancake. Trying not to watch the others too much, I could see that the youth in particular was terribly distressed. He gripped the table tightly. The soldier, too, didn't know where to look. He tried to keep his gaze on me and the empress, but always it slid to the food on the table.

'I'm willing to leave Cantreth to you, in return for assistance in what I am certain will be a mutually rewarding campaign against the dwarves of Grimlar. We need to get their mines before the northern powers do. This cycle of the great game will be decided by control of those five realms in across the middle of the world.' She continued to explain her grand strategy, giving me a little more insight into Grimlar and Zatu.

I moved on to the bacon. Again, she shook her head when I offered it and she had to scowl at the youth when he looked at her with pleading eyes. 'I understand,' I said, 'it gets a bit unpalatable when you have pork every day. But we had no exotic foods to offer you. You know how it is on campaign, after a few weeks your perishables are gone and its pork, pork, pork. Or salted fish of course. I believe you have a strong fishing industry?'

'If you are willing to share details about your industries I will share information about mine and maybe we will learn about the most useful buildings to acquire. But more important is my offer, what do you think? Do you accept Cantreth in return for peace and a mutual approach to a northern campaign?'

With a distinct crunch I took a bite of crispy bacon. It was heaven. Salty, full of energy, I'd never tasted better food. Hunger really was the best sauce. On either side of me, Lord Arval and Figus began munching too. At last, I said, 'What about Kadal Khan?'

'Hang him for the traitor he is. I don't care. He is the type of man who will destroy a precious vase that he cannot own, rather than allow another to have it.'

'I see. And what about my alliance with the Necromancer?' I took another mouthful of wine. 'This really is good. Are you sure?'

She waved my offer away. 'You cannot be serious about the Necromancer.'

'Why not?'

'Because the power to raise undead soldiers must be checked.' While the empress explained – a little patronisingly – about the difference in the medium to long-term between an undead army that had no limit and our own armies, limited in size by supplies of food and by the financial cost, I turned to the fish. My body was not used to such a quantity of rich food and I was beginning to struggle, but Lord Arval tucked into the fish handsomely and Figus addressed the plate too.

I did smile to see Figus expertly fillet his fish and squeeze lemon on it, before spearing morsels of white flesh and eating without a sound, in contrast to Lord Arval's appreciative grunts and slurps. Did the empress recognise the Bard's talent for gracious dining, I wondered.

At last we were done and the Arkine ruler looked at me expectantly, hopefully even. Her companions, however, were shattered. The soldier had half turned himself away from the table and the youth had a tear rolling down his cheek.

'Thank you for the offer and once again for the kind words.' I stood up. 'If you want to surrender now, I'll see that your troops are well fed and I will give you a comfortable place of retirement. Otherwise, whether through hunger or battle, I will destroy your army.'

Appalled, she only looked at me open-mouthed as she tried to find a response. And from that look, I knew I had read the situation correctly.

Part II Chapter 49: The Retreat

Over the next two days and nights I made sure that in addition to whatever misery the Arkine army was experiencing from cold and hunger, they also had to listen to the sounds of merriment from our camp. Having explained the situation to my soldiers, my troops were only too eager to add to the discomfort of our enemies by making it seem as though our morale was sky high. Acting as a compere for evening entertainments, Figus would provide songs and stories, which would produce exaggerated laughter and enthusiastic support for the choruses. Late into the night, the army would sing songs that became more and more coarse, and although not a drop of drink had been taken, it really felt like a drunken revel was taking place.

Curiously, this pretence turned into the real thing, in that my Happiness score returned to the figure of 73. Of course our soldiers on the walls remained highly vigilant and I also sent Isabelle crawling through the darkness, utilising her Rogue skills to watch the enemy more closely. In particular, I wanted to know as soon as they showed signs of lifting the siege.

On the third night, shortly before dawn, the Arkine troops moved out. Cleverly, they left scarecrows wearing armour at their fires. But we were ready for them and Isabelle wasn't deceived. She brought news that the camp to the west was empty and that to the east contained only the Cantreth riders.

As soon as she brought me that news, I ordered that everyone be roused and we swiftly prepared to march out. With earnest shouts and accompanied by the noisy rattle of wagons being harnessed and carts being laden with timber and tools, soldiers ran back and forth stowing their gear and making up their bundles. While they did so, I sent a rider to Fort One and to Guy, ordering him to send half his forces to Fort Two where Lysegetus – whom unfortunately could not march with us because of the curse upon his people – would take charge. Fast riders were to load up with grain as it arrived from Montrose and Carrick and catch up with us, as were the 20 knights and the Summoner when they arrived.

Then I groomed and saddled Goncendor and once the light of a grey winter morning was sufficient, my soldiers opened the gate and formed up in a column outside the fort.

Riding at the head of the column, I led the way west and there was an audible murmur throughout the ranks. West!

'That's the spirit sire!'

'Go after them!'

'We're with you!'

And dozens of other voices expressed their enthusiasm for the fact that instead of retreating to safety we were following on the trail of the Arkine army. The sergeants called for silence in the ranks but I didn't mind the shouts at all. They confirmed my sense of the mood of the army: that despite the hardship and short rations they'd experienced, the soldiers now wanted to punish the enemy who had tried to annihilate us but who had miscalculated badly.

Thanks to the Cantreth horses I'd captured, my light cavalry numbered 24, about half the figure for those enemy riders with Kadal Khan (and with much less skill at archery from horseback). Warning him not to get too far ahead of the army – the fate of Baldwin was unspoken but was surely in both our thoughts – I sent Robert forward to scout. While they did so we advanced with Lord Arval and half the knights riding to the left of the army, myself and the other half on the right. In the vanguard of the column were the heavy infantry with Figus and our Sorceress, while the rear-guard, behind a dozen carts, consisted of Hernán's swordsman.

The day was very cold – there was no cover from a chill northern wind – and it was grey too: snow sometimes flurried around us, just enough to give a light cover of white to the grass. The path of the Arkine army's march was a muddy one and we marched a little to the south of it to avoid the churned slush they had created.

There was a lot of debris on the trail. The Arkine army had abandoned their carts at their camp and although as we progressed through the day I never caught sight of the enemy, I did notice an increase in the amount of abandoned gear in their wake. All soldiers bring along a few items above and beyond their army equipment to make life on campaign that bit more tolerable: a bottle of spirits; a musical instrument; a set of dice and counters; and so on. These were the kinds of item that I saw cast aside in the mud and sodden grass.

Later, after we had a halt and ate our porridge (bacon and pancakes were already only a memory), there was more serious gear strewn on the trail we were following. Abandoned by the Arkine army were ropes, canvass, pegs, hammers and all kinds of tools. An even more significant sign that they were in a desperate state came from the sight of weapons. The Arkine infantry phalanx wielded a long, heavy spear and I must have seen twenty of these lying in the grass during the course of the afternoon. Also, we found two-dozen iron-bound shields. Since the spears were only useful for trained soldiers I left them where they lay, but I had the shields distributed to Hernán's troops, who took them gladly and tied them to their backs.

Although I was engaged in a chase, I ordered camp as soon as the gloom of the day turned to twilight. We had managed a respectable twenty kilometres or so and my philosophy was not to overtire the soldiers, nor to deprive them of warmth at night. If we were to catch the enemy, they still outnumbered us and our big advantage – other than myself and the other characters with classes – would be that the Greyland army was in a much healthier condition than that of the Arkine empire. Such, at least, was my hope.

While I was brushing down Goncendor, Robert and his riders returned, bringing a hailstorm in their wake. Hurrying my stallion into the lee of a tent, I leaned in to hear the grey-bearded rider as the icy stones drummed on our helmets and pauldrons.

'They are about fifteen miles ahead sire.'

Fifteen miles? They had done a lot better than us. But then, we still had all our gear with us. 'Did you have any losses?'

'No sire, the Cantreth riders spotted us but they didn't try to chase.

'Well done, get some rest and go out again in the morning.

***

Dawn came on the second day of the chase with a steady downpour of sleet that made the march miserable. The sodden grass underfoot squelched with every step of our horses and cold water ran down inside my armour. Still, I consoled myself that if we were suffering, then the enemy must be suffering even more. And, indeed, dramatic proof of that came when we reached their old camp shortly after our mid-day break. Among the debris of more abandoned tents were corpses, three of them. Not even stripped of their amour. When our scouts reported on the bodies I went over for a closer look.

It wasn't clear why these men had died but they were in a bad way. Their visible skin was stretched tight over their bones, so their faces were gaunt and hollow-eyed. There was a stench coming from them, more latrine than decay, and it seemed to me their foreheads had a yellowish complexion. Perhaps they had died of disease rather than hunger directly. With that thought in mind, I warned all sergeants to keep our army clear of their camp and not to search for loot.

Was disease a risk for our army? We were largely unwashed the whole siege and our immune systems would have been weakened by the short rations over the last twelve days. While I felt there was still plenty of resilience in the Greyland army, I wanted to minimise the risk. As the column tramped on past the detritus of our enemy's camp, I rode over to the carts, where the engineers were walking and helping push whenever the undulations of the land meant we were on a rise. Havid, their sergeant, was well prepared for the wintery weather; a large, fur-lined cloak was pulled well up around his head and tied so that just his red nose was visible within the snorkel of fur.

'Havid, a word.'

'Sire?'

'What do you know about disease?'

'Disease sire?'

'Aye.'

'Disease comes in different kinds sire, from plague to coughs. But I'm no Cleric.'

'Right. And how does it come? What causes it?'

'Again, sire, I'm an engineer not a Cleric.' Havid sounded impatient and turned the funnel of his cape back towards the progress of the nearest cart.

'Indulge me.'

'Plagues and the like are the result of the visitation of the minions of the nameless god of Shadow.'

'Very good sergeant.' This was news to me and a spur to get the church to high enough level to be able to cure disease outbreaks. 'But there's another way too. Bad hygiene causes diseases.'

'Hygiene?'

'Right. A lack of cleanliness. Imagine the source of disease as an invisible paint that is coating the sick person. When that person coughs or sneezes, the spray takes the paint across to the next person and it spreads on them. Or when they touch things, like shared bowls and spoons, the sick person leaves the invisible paint on it and the next person to touch it catches the disease.'

'Invisible paint?'

'That's just by way of making my point. In actual fact, disease is spread by germs, creatures so small you can't see them.'

The silence that followed my statement was even more sceptical than his queries.

'When it gets near dark I want you to find us a camp site near a stream. I want the latrines dug downstream of the camp. Germs thrive on human waste. And I want it to be easy for the soldiers to wash their hands with soap, upstream of the latrines of course. Build troughs for them to do so.'

'Latrines downstream; troughs with soap upstream. Aye, sire.'

After that, I rode around the sergeants and briefed them on my new washing regime. In every case it was the mention of the yellowing dead bodies and the possibility of their carrying disease that turned scepticism into an earnest agreement with my new measure.

Throughout a long day of tramping over soft ground, the army gradually became more and more sombre. Not necessarily any less resolute, but less inclined to shout choruses whenever their sergeants started on a marching chant. In part this was the soft, wet terrain, miserable weather, cold and tiredness. But it was also the effect of seeing several more bodies lying on the flattened grass of the trail of the Arkine army. These were men who would never see their homes again and even though they were the enemy these corpses were also a reminder of the hazards of the warfare in which we were all engaged.

That evening, despite having camped early having found a suitable stream, Robert reported that we had closed the gap on the Arkine army to about twelve miles.

At the end of the next day of the chase, we were closer again, about seven miles away by sunset. And we had passed even more bodies, which I didn't allow my soldiers to go near, despite the fact they bore valuable armour and weapons. A very welcome incident during the day was the arrival of four riders from Fort One, who caught up with us, each with six bags of grain hanging from their saddles. That night Cook prepared more than a full ration of porridge for us all. It was perfectly in order for those who wished it, to return to the food serving area and ask for more, something that would have led to shouts of abuse and scorn on previous days.

Day four of the chase was another cold, hard slog. When we camped, Robert reported that the enemy army was only a few miles away. They no longer had materials for camp fires, or we would have seen them. Thinking that they might see ours, I had double the usual numbers lit. And of course I posted guards all around the camp throughout the night. We hadn't chased this hard only to be ambushed at the end.

Day five and the whole army sensed that battle was imminent. From first light, whetstones ground against blades; the fletching on arrows was smoothed; straps on shields were checked and tightened. Non-essential gear was heaped onto the carts. The sky was blue and although this meant the cold was intense, I felt the weather was assisting us in finding the Arkine troops. We passed their old camp after only an hour of marching. As we crested a long, slow rise, however, and tension in me built with every step of my stallion, I felt a wave of disappointment and anti-climax.

On the far side of the next gentle dip was a large, stockaded town of tents. I'd studied Nurbolat's drawing often enough to realise where we were: Zuum Kelgeth. And though the Arkine army was only about two kilometres away, we wouldn't be able to catch them before they reached the safety of that town.

'Halt!' I raised my hand and as the order to stop was relayed through the column, the heavy tread of my soldiers ceased. 'Harvin!'

Now that we weren't moving, clouds of steam created by the breath of human and horse formed above the army, constantly being replenished before it could be dispersed by a light wind. The portly figure of my chief engineer ran over to me.

'Sire?'

'Have we enough wood for a fort?'

'Not by a long way, sire. Not a third enough.'

'I thought so. Can you find a defensible place for our camp?'

Pacing a slow, methodical circle, Harvin studied the landscape in every direction then settled on what might have been described as a spur, if what passed for a mild deviation from the flat of the plain could count as a distinct feature. 'There, sire. We could use the slope on three sides and dig a trench on the fourth, using the thrown up dirt for an embankment.'

'Off you go, so. Take any infantry you need for digging.'

Soon there was bustle and shouts as the engineers took the carts over to the spur and began to stake out their lines. While the army broke ranks, some of them marching over to assist, the others watching, Lord Arval rode over to me.

'What now sire?'

I lowered my voice and leaned over towards the Paladin. 'One more day and we would have had them. Now, it could all go into reverse. If Kadal Khan and his cavalry ride around us and cut off our supplies, then it will be us starving and retreating.'

'Then we must advance.'

'And storm that town?'

'Yes.'

Part II Chapter 50: For Whom the Storm Rages

'Harvin, hold that work.' I had ridden over to the engineers. 'We are going to fight. What's the best tactic for storming that city?'

Slowly, the chief engineer straightened and he pulled his hood back for a better view of the town of tents. His scrutiny of the wooden stockade brought a scornful expression to his face. 'Clear the walls with your archers, sire, and we'll get you inside the city quick enough.'

'How?'

'Brute force. Hammer, pickaxe, crowbar. That's only pine. And look how narrow the trunks are. We'll smash a hole through it at the base big enough for you to march in six abreast.'

'Good man. Form up behind the swordsmen.'

While the army deployed for battle, I rode along the ranks, everywhere making the same speech. It was the Arkine army that was our enemy, not the people of Cantreth. No looting. No harm to the civilians. And I repeated that point one-to-one with my officers. They all understood. We could win the battle but still lose the war if we alienated the people of Cantreth and pushed them further behind Kadal Khan.

Lord Arval led the knights on our left flank. I had the heavy infantry and swordsmen in the centre and on the right was Robert with the light cavalry. In three blocks behind this front row were all the archers and behind them, three blocks of the light infantry.

My idea was that the light cavalry would act as a screen and mask the fact that the right was our weaker flank. In the unlikely that the Arkines made a sudden attack upon us, I would lead the way in the centre, hoping to make a breakthrough with my Holy Light and Warlord feats. Lord Arval was to be like Alexander the Great – according to a documentary I'd seen – and wait for an opening to time his charge to have maximum effect. Hopefully, it would be a decisive moment when our heavy cavalry crashed into their already committed lines.

Walking slowly forward on Goncendor, I had Figus beside me on my left and beyond him Valeria, my level 5 Ranger who was looking straight ahead and was probably as fearful as she'd been in our night-time raid on Kadal Khan's riders. Still, she had fought well enough that night once the combat began. To my right was Jacintha, whose spells were Detect Magic; Fire Dart, Freeze, Push and Flash of Light and beyond her was Leonora, who had prayed to Miya for three Cure Light Wounds, a Cure Moderate Wounds and a Miya's Courage.

Green and white banners fluttering, the firm tread of the army rang out as a strong and threatening beat. I was confident the veterans around me would fight well. Hopefully, their example would inspire the light infantry following up behind us. I really needed to equip them properly with swords and shields, rather than the stone maces I'd captured from Kezatka.

Ahead of us, the mass of Arkine soldiers was easily double our numbers. Yet I felt confident and I imagined my veterans felt the same. The fact that we had been doing the chasing and had seen their abandoned gear and the bodies of their abandoned comrades counted greatly in our favour. Our health and morale was high. Theirs, I assumed, was fragile. My decision to march after them was based on this guess but now we were approaching the test, I began to feel anxious. Perhaps, like a cornered animal, they would now turn and fight with great ferocity.

We were only about half a mile from the Arkine rear-guard and I was surprised that so much of their army remained outside the walls of the town. Did they intend to offer a battle after all? Their nearest two phalanxes were turning to face us. And from between them emerged a small group of riders. Among them, the empress!

'Halt!' The troops around me responded to my shout immediately but the sounds of tramping feet took a while to die away on the wings, by which time they had advanced another hundred metres or so, giving our line something of a U shape. It was a legitimate formation that I'd read about in medieval warfare, the 'Bull's Horns'. But it did mean our weak right flank was closer to the enemy than I wanted. I couldn't recall them, however, not without alerting the Arkine empress to my most vulnerable point.

Anna Galatas was wearing a fine, shining breastplate with a golden symbol of her goddess emblazoned on it, like a sunburst. Her helmet was of gold too and the banners either side of her displayed the full complexity of the mandala. It was a reminder that hers was a goddess of wisdom and that I should be prepared for cunning and trickery.

'A word, King Carlos, before we shed the blood of our armies unnecessarily and drain our realms of much-needed soldiers.' She drew up only thirty metres away, well within range of all our archers. It was a daring display of trust that we would honour the rights of an envoy and not simply kill her while we had the chance. She was, so Figus had told me, a level 9 Cleric and it would be dangerous to allow her to cast her spells. Still, perhaps she was secure in the knowledge that Lord Arval would never allow me to give the order to slay her. He might storm a city because of the necessity of war, but not kill a person arriving under the traditions of ambassadorial meetings.

'What do you want, empress?' I pushed the visor of my helmet back and shouted across the muddy ground, conscious of all the soldiers around me and their interest in my words.

'I underestimated you, Carlos. I was expecting someone slow-moving and cautious. Someone who would panic and flee when I appeared at your fort. I took a risk that would have led to success against nearly every other ruler in the twenty-five kingdoms. Even now, I'm convinced my decision was right. But I'm missing some information. The King Carlos my spies reported on would not have undertaken such a daring response. Do you have a magic spell or item that I failed to appreciate? One that showed you my supply lines were precarious? One that convinced you that you could fend off a direct assault?'

'What do you want?' I sounded angrier, even to myself. But inside, it was not really anger that spoke but anxiety. I simply couldn't understand the ruse she was engaged in. Had she come in order to try to cast a mind-controlling spell of some sort, like a charm, but for Clerics? If she did start to cast a spell, my archers, who all had arrows nocked would surely kill her? There would not be many that missed at this short distance.

'Don't you understand, Carlos? You've won. I'm here to surrender.'

There was a mutter from all around me. 'Silence there!' shouted Hernán at his troops.

'Your goddess has a reputation for trickery. I don't believe you.'

'Can't you see? The people of Zuum Kelgeth will not open their gates for us and my army is spent. We haven't eaten anything other than soup made from the leather of our belts and armour in eight days. Those soldiers can't fight. They haven't the strength to lift their spears. And I'm losing ten a day to fever.'

'What about Kadal Khan?'

'He's gone; he abandoned us last night to ride for Xun Kelgeth in the hope of a better reception.' The empress shook her head and her mouth turned sour. 'I'll never forget how he talked to me, insulting me and my goddess, Asa the Wise. Unrepeatable curses. He was furious but he was just as responsible for the decision to advance on your fort as I was.'

It was all very plausible, but I was not going to let my guard down.

'Figus,' I said in a low voice.

'Sire?'

'Tell our cavalry to face outwards, in case of a sudden attack by Kadal Kahn, and then take charge of the rear-guard and face west on guard against the same possibility.'

'Aye sire,' the Bard gave a sharp 'hup' call to his mount and rode off towards our left flank.

Then I raised my voice again, 'very well. Have your troops pile up their weapons where they are now and then march to that slope' – I pointed to my right. 'We'll bring them food.'

'Thank you. May I surrender my mace to you in person? It is plus one and plus one Wisdom.'

And right there, I felt the trap. I had no idea what it was but these words struck a false note. Now I looked carefully beyond the lines of Arkine troops, I could see that the gates of the town were closed. That part of her story was more than possible, it was likely to be true. But to give up a magic weapon with a Wisdom bonus so easily. Why not ask instead for permission to retain it? This was some kind of desperate gamble on her part.

The empress and her five-person entourage were walking their horses forward once more.

I shouted for the benefit of the empress, but also for all my soldiers nearby to hear, especially the archers. 'If she takes one more step towards us, cut her down!' Then I wheeled Goncendor around and urged him away from the empress, towards a gap between two blocks of archers.

Asa the Wise compels you! shouted the empress's voice inside my head. It was a cold, devastating voice and I felt that I had no option but to obey. Turn back.

I brought Goncendor to a halt, then rode back to my place at the front of the army, looking at the empress, into eyes that were filled with the presence of a goddess. Around me, I felt the curious gaze of my soldiers but I could not address them.

King Carlos, you must bring me to your tent as if to accept my surrender and discuss terms in privacy.

A block of ice crashed into the sea and I was myself again. Sean de Courcy. Not King Carlos.

'She is using magic! Kill her!'

A violent wind rushed past me and the sky flickered black. In the moment before forty or so arrows plunged into her body I saw a look of utter astonishment on the face of Anna Galatas. Both rider and mouth collapsed to the ground, blood pooling around them. The other five Arkine dignitaries looked with horror at the corpse of their ruler and priestess, then they tried to flee but already the next set of arrows rippled through the air, more smacking deep into their targets than missing.

'Centre advance! Flanks hold.'

I walked Goncendor forward, past the body of the empress, my soldiers breaking ranks to avoid the horse more than the golden-armoured corpse.

'Hernán, chop her head off and bring it to me.'

The young leader of my swordsmen hurried to obey and his magic sword made light work of the gruesome task. I tied the horsehair plume of the imperial helmet to the Lance of Light and rode forward ahead of my troops, casting the Light spell to make sure that everyone could see the shining gold swinging beneath it.

Riding along in front of the ranks of Arkine soldiers, I bellowed across to them repeatedly, 'The empress is dead! Surrender! The empress is dead.'

There was silence from the enemy ranks. No officers ordering the soldiers forward. Not even any arrows flying towards me or the Greyland troops.

A spear was flung to the ground. Then another, then a sword. All the along the rows of enemy troops weapons were abruptly cast away. Hungry, exhausted and now leaderless, they were finished.

From behind me, however, I heard groans and urgent shouts. Riding back to my soldiers I could see arrows flying towards us from the far side of the carts and in the distance the dark figures of riders. Kadal Khan. Of course the empress had been lying about him. The Cantreth ruler was probably assuming me to be incapacitated by the divine magic of the empress and that the Arkine army was still in fighting shape and had the advantage over that of Greyland.

Hooves thundering heavily, I ran Goncendor down a channel: my archers had turned about and were returning shots without having lost their formations. And as my stallion galloped into the storm, arrows flashing past us and even skittering along his armour, I cast three Hold Light of Miya spells in succession, watching the bright globes arch through the grey sky to where their silent explosions engulfed more than half of the Cantreth cavalry.

I could tell Goncendor was eager to bring me among the massed ranks of the enemy riders and I let him, clearing the lance of its grisly burden, then triggering Charge! and Tactical Strike. Even though these feats were intended to benefit large numbers of troops, I wanted them now as self-buffs for the extra, speed, hit points, and the fact that I was now slashing through opponents as though attacking from flank and rear.

With bitter, righteous anger I cut a path through the centre of the Cantreth troops with not even one hit against me from the blind riders. And there was Kadal Khan, hurrying away as fast as his pony would take him. Which was not fast enough. Goncendor understood the signals of my knees and cries of 'After him!'

Following three mighty cuts, the Cantreth pretender fell from his horse and I got a kill message that was as sweet for the level up as it was for the elimination of the man who had caused Greyland so much effort this winter.

You have hit Kadal Khan for 74 hit points.

You have killed Kadal Khan

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You have gained 15,700 Experience.

You have gained a level! Your hit points are restored and your timers on skills and feats have reset. Please view your character sheet for other benefits.

Part II Chapter 51: Medium… High… Exorbitant!

Three days after the death of Kadal Khan, a group of Cantreth riders approached our camp outside the town of Zuum Kelgeth. When the alert was sounded, I hurried into my armour but all the time I was strapping up, I was hoping to find that this meant Nurbolat had finally returned.

By the time I joined my soldiers, the word had spread through the camp: this was indeed Nurbolat and with him were some additional riders. The troops on guard duty were Isabelle's archers and I had them divide into two groups with a space sufficient for four or five riders between them.

As Nurbolat led his cavalry along the path between the archers, I called out: 'Long live Nurbolat and the Cantreth riders!' Immediately the Greyland troops began cheering and repeating the same. The whole army understood how much we owed to Nurbolat, who had so successfully cut the Arkine supply line. As the cheering grew in volume, more and more soldiers ran from their tents to throng around the line of incoming riders.

Clearly embarrassed, Nurbolat ducked his head into his breast, though he did also keep glancing up and grinning with his gap-toothed smile. My soldiers continued to cheer for some time and also to reach across to pat the small horses that the Cantreth archers favoured. Grinning with a bright smile in his heavy beard – a beard he had been growing throughout the winter campaign – Lord Arval came over and saluted Nurbolat.

'Well done! Well done!'

The Cantreth rider undid his fur-lined helmet and leapt down, landing lightly. Then he gave a bow and gestured to the rider behind him. 'Let me introduce Zaghisa Khan; new ruler of Cantreth.'

That introduction caused my heart to skip. I had been wondering about who would gain control of the Cantreth menu after the death of Kadal Khan and I studied the rider carefully. A lot would depend on her attitude. She was an elderly woman with the dark brown skin typical of the people of Cantreth. The lines of her face were deep, but her expression was not severe, rather, she seemed to approve of the scene and the enthusiasm of the Greyland soldiers for the returned Cantreth riders. When she turned her brown eyes to mine, I felt her curious scrutiny, before I dropped my gaze and bowed.

Although she was old, Zaghisa Khan was nimble and she dismounted easily, pulling off her rabbit skin gloves and offering me her right arm, which I took at the elbow while she grasped mine. 'I am glad to meet you, King Carlos the Avenger.'

'And I you.' I gestured towards my tent. 'Let us speak in private. Lord Arval, Figus, Nurbolat, please come too.'

While the camp around us was lively with greetings and the enthusiasm of the army for our arriving cavalry raiders, the five of us gathered on camp stools under my white canvass. I had only water to hand, which Nurbolat and Zaghisa welcomed.

'Tell me about the death of the traitor and murderer, Kadal Kahn.'

As soon as the new ruler of Cantreth had spoken in this way, with a bitter intensity, I knew all would be well. I described the attempt of the Arkine empress to dominate my mind – saying only that she failed – and how Kadal Khan attempted to surprise our rear-guard, but had discovered the Greyland soldiers were ready and that I still had my full powers. And as I described how I had slashed my lance repeatedly into the fleeing rider, she grinned with evident satisfaction.

'Ivus Kahn was my nephew. That usurper killed my younger brother, my nieces, my grandnephews, and my grandnieces. I'm only sorry I couldn't see Kadal Khan as he realised it was all for nothing and that his death was upon him.'

After a paused, she gave me a discerning look. 'What now, King Carlos; what do you want from Cantreth?'

I didn't hesitate. 'I want us to be allies. Specifically, I'd like to continue to have Nurbolat and his riders on my army menu. And I'd like us to help each other with a trade agreement and a common approach to my enemies.'

'Yes to Nurbolat, so long as he wishes it. Yes to the trade agreement. And who are your enemies?'

'Just now, the Arkine empire–' she snorted derisively and nodded several times '–but there's a strong alliance growing in the north east, where King William Ironheart of Northland has the artefact of his god, a shield, and Tokanaga, the emperor of Hailand, has control of the iron of Ferrok and the fish supply of Grrysthis.'

'I see. We will help against the Arkine empire. They will be in crisis now and there are riches for the taking. I need stone and iron. You can have their gold and crops. Agreed?'

I liked her directness, but it was obvious that she intended to try to revive the fortunes of Cantreth, which meant accepting a different relationship to these people than I had with my control over Southland and Underworld. 'Agreed. And if we defeat them, I'd like their ships.'

She laughed then. 'Yes, yes. Have their ships. We people of Cantreth are no sailors.'

'Have you any spare food nearby?' I asked. 'I'll buy it. Mostly for the Arkine prisoners. I have food enough at my forts for the Greyland army.'

'Yes. Zuum Kelgeth is well stocked for the rest of the winter. I'll arrange something. Those forts: you will leave them come the spring?'

'I will bring everyone in them with me to battle the Arkine empire. You can have the forts then.'

'We prefer to ride than hide. But thank you. And tell me this, King Carlos, you are also allied with the Necromancer?'

'And so was Ivus Khan.' I sounded defensive, even to my own ears.

'Necromancy is a danger to the living. Rysaka, our horse goddess, is a nature goddess, like Miya. Scrithax is an unnatural demon.'

'The people of the Kingdom of the Lost Souls believe the world is a cruel plaything of the gods and that they must destroy the game and free the Twenty-Five Kingdoms from the control of the gods.

'The way to do that is to defeat all the gods and Scrithax will use the power that accrues to him to break the game forever. In their eyes, he is not a demon but a saviour.'

'And do you believe Scrithax?' for the first time since I had met her, a note of scorn rather than respect came into her voice and I could tell she had a steely determination, which I didn't want to be the wrong side of. It seemed to me that Zaghisa Khan would be loyal to those she approved of and a fierce challenge to her enemies.

'I've had no dealings with Scrithax. I can only judge the Necromancer and my judgement is that there is no deceit on his part. He is a true ally, without whom Greyland would still be under the rule of Trolland and Southway. Whether he is right or not about the goals of his demon god, I can't say.'

'Yet you must if you continue with this alliance.'

I was conscious of an increased attentiveness from Lord Arval and Figus. They held themselves a little more stiffly as they waited for my response.

'I am faithful to my allies. The Necromancer and I have forged a strong and effective bond. I do see there may come a day in which a choice has to be made between Scrithax and Miya. In advance of that day, I am levelling my church and I hope to be able to communicate with our goddess to better understand the implications of the endgame.'

Zaghisa Khan gave me a cool, long look. 'Very well. My alliance and my word is given to you, King Carlos, not to the Necromancer. Do not bring an army of undead into Cantreth.'

'Understood.'

Our new relationship decided, the ruler of Cantreth bowed out of the conversation and after seeing her to her horse and fellow riders, we resumed our meeting, Lord Arval, Figus and I keen to hear from Nurbolat.

From his account, it seemed that our Cantreth comrade was a born raider. He'd operated either side of the border with the Arkine empire and been more destructive than an earthquake. Sometimes entering over a hundred kilometres into Arkine territory, the riders he led had burned farms and silos; smashed up bridges; and, of course, intercepted supplies.

Even well-guarded caravans were no match for the swift-moving riders, who would descend on them like hunting birds diving towards their prey. Coming in fast and killing the horses, Nurbolat's raiders would first force the Arkine to abandon their carts and walk on foot under their loads. Then skirting any archer guards, they would pick off enemy soldiers one by one, or simply appear on a nearby rise, obliging the members of the caravan to stop their march, leave off their goods and line up with bows, halting their progress for hours.

None of the Arkine supply missions made it through to their army and, in fact, Nurbolat had created caches of abandoned food, tools and arrows in various hiding places near the border. They would come in useful when we advanced in the spring.

After hearing his report and giving leave to Nurbolat and the other two to go join an increasingly boisterous welcome back party, I sat down to write to the Necromancer. My conversation with Zaghisa Khan had put my ally in mind and I asked the Necromancer to keep my messenger at court until he was ready to write back to me with his news.

Then I called up my character sheet and studied it with a sense of satisfaction:

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Warlord, Level 13         HP 164          AC 20

Str16 (18)

Dex13 (14)

Con18 (20)

Int20

Wis18 (20)

Cha9

Magic items:

Lance of Light

+3 lance (+5 vs undead), +2 Wis, +2 Str, +5 Wield Lance, +5 Ride Warhorse, +5 Ride Flying Mount.

+2 Rapier

+1 Bow of Accuracy

+1 Dex, no long-range penalty

Bracers of Archery

+5 Wield Bow, +10% haste, +50% range

Ring of Wisdom (+1 Wis)

Amulet of the Bull (+2 Con)

Boots of Protection (+2)

Amulet of Protection from Magic Missiles

Coif of Swift Heal 15 hit points restored

Exp 3,315,000 (7,000,000)

Top Skills

Wield Longbow 65 (70)

Wield Lance 65 (70)

Ride Warhorse 65 (70)

Wield Rapier 65

Lightning Draw 65

Kick 65

Grapple 65

Lunge 60

Heavy Armour Mastery 60

Medium Armour Mastery 60

Swim 60

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

Tactical Strike (Int)

Greyland may have lost ground during the seven months in which I been ousted from control of the realm's menus, but during that time I had worked extremely hard on my stats and skills, which were surely the highest in the world? No report from my spies indicated that any other ruler had obtained a higher level than 12. And that meant no ruler would outperform me in skills like archery.

During the three days since I had levelled up, I had trained hard on my archery, aiming arrows into targets both from a stationary position and also while riding Goncendor at a gallop. While I was also able to bring Wield Lance, Grapple and Rapier up to their new cap of 65 by practice – mostly with Lord Arval – some of the other skills, like Lunge and Heavy Armour Mastery, required real combat experiences.

I'd also gained two new magic items from the body of the empress, along with a scroll of Cure Moderate Wounds and Commune with Asa the Wise. This latter spell gave the caster – who had to be a Cleric – five questions, to which she would hear a 'yes' or 'no' answer from the goddess. Naturally, I gave the scroll to Leonora but she didn't know if Asa would answer truthfully to a rival Cleric, so effectively that spell was useless to us.

The Arkine empress had owned a +1 Wisdom ring, which I sent to the Necromancer with my letter. The Book of Spell Resistance that I had looted from Montrose's senior Cleric gave a 5% resistance to magical attacks per Wisdom point over 15. So the ring would make the book even more valuable to my ally. Plus, he would learn skills more quickly the higher his Wisdom. Since we were a team, I felt this was a better use of the ring than the alternative, which was to give it to Leonora, who at level 4 had a 17 Wisdom. She would hit the cap of 20 if she could level to 7 and in any case, my fortunate escape from the mind-controlling spell of Anna Galatas had reinforced my belief that the endgame would owe as much to the performance of a few high-level people than the clash of armies. It was best that the Necromancer (and I) were kitted out as fully as possible, rather than share magical gear among several people.

And that thought brought me to consider the other magic item on the body of the Arkine empress, which I had kept for myself. Her Coif of Swift Heal was a beautiful, delicate item of silver chainmail that I wore under my plate helmet. Triggered by simply thinking the command 'swift heal', it immediately restored 15 hit points. This heal applied to the wearer only and refreshed after twenty-four hours.

Very pleased indeed with my personal progress, I turned to the army, where I also had good reason to be satisfied with the results of this winter campaign. With the surrender of a thousand Arkine soldiers, I had suddenly obtained a vast quantity of arms: arms it would have taken me months to construct. I'd gained over 700 long spears – 712 to be exact – and the same number of suits of lamellar armour. With the right training, this would give me the answer to the threat posed by Hailand's growing army of Samurai.

Back on Earth, I had played several wargames set in the ancient and medieval eras, where tightly organised phalanxes of spearmen were able to get the better of repeated cavalry charges. One of the turning points of such warfare was the battle of Legnano, which I'd played as a battle in Medieval Total War (and lost, but never mind) and which in real history demonstrated that well-organised infantry with spears were a match for heavy cavalry. Plus, I'd learned from a Napoleonic game that only one 'square' (several lines of infantry with bayonets and the front row kneeling) had ever been broken by a cavalry charge. There was a real chance that my capture of all these two-handed spears would provide me with the answer to the Samurai threat and that of other armies focused on heavy cavalry.

Soon after their surrender and my appreciation of just how many weapons I'd captured, I'd summoned the Arkine infantry sergeants to my tent and provided them with food and wine. One at a time, I had interviewed them to see if they were amenable to overcoming their feelings of enmity and if they were willing to come onto my payroll to train my troops in anti-cavalry formations and tactics. Three of them had agreed, succumbing to my offer of five gold now and a monthly stipend of three gold. And even though this made each of them three times as expensive as a knight, when I watched them drilling my troops and saw them creating order out of confusion, I reckoned this was money well spent.

The Greyland army was currently distributed across the southern realms:

Field army (Zuum Kelgeth): 47 swordsmen (Hernán)*; 38 heavy infantry*, 9 knights (Lord Arval)*; 4 crossbows and 60 archers (Isabelle)*; 21 light cavalry (Baldwin)*; 105 Cantreth light cavalry archers (Nurbolat)*; 90 spearmen (lamellar armour, 2h-spears); 28 engineers*; 40 spies; 3 Arkine sergeants*

Cantreth Fort 2: 17 archers (Guy)*; 94 light infantry (stone maces); 20 knights

Cantreth Fort 1: 17 archers*; 61 light infantry (stone maces)

Greyland army: 600 light infantry, 60 archers (70 training); 2 trebuchet crews; 4 ballista crews; 20 heavy infantry; 20 knights (30 training)

Montrose: 20 light infantry (stone maces)

Texecal: 31 spearmen (Fanon)*; 61 light infantry (stone maces).

*veterans

My thinking was to break camp in the next day or two and fall back to the two forts for the rest of the winter. There, I would rendezvous with 600 new soldiers I'd just recruited from the 'idle' list of Carrick menu volunteers and have them trained as three phalanxes of 200 spears and bring the total number of two-handed spearmen to 712 by including some of the light infantry currently at Fort Two. Since I'd also gained equipment for another 30 knights and 70 archers, I recruited those roles too. The archers could be trained as upgrades from the light infantry currently using stone maces but there wasn't an option to convert the same infantry to knights, even with the armour, lance, swords and horses I'd captured. This meant allowing more people to join the menu and that required some hard work thinking about food supply, income and happiness.

My total troop numbers were at last beginning to look respectable. As a decisive striking force, once they were all gathered together, I would have 80 knights under Lord Arval. That was a pretty serious punch in terms of this world. And with nearly 1,700 other troops (when the newly commissioned spearmen and archers were trained), my situation felt similar to my experience with another game I'd played a lot: Ultimate General: Civil War. At the start of that game, you had just one corps with one division and three brigades. By the end, you could unlock five corps, each with four divisions, each with six brigades. This reflected the real Civil War, of course, where there were 18,000 troops on each side of the First Battle of Bull Run and about 130,000 at the Second Battle of Bull Run a year later. The realms of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms didn't scale up as quickly as the US armies had managed 1861 - 2, but I felt now that I was in command of a serious army.

The downside of this achievement and a limit that all the rulers of the remaining realms must be struggling with was the cost of this army. Once the new knights and archers were trained, monthly army costs would be 427 gold 5 silver, yet my income was only 160 gold. This was unsustainable and I was headed for a crisis. There was only one course of action to take if I wanted to keep this army, let alone grow it further, and that was to raise taxes. To go from Medium to High on the tax menu cost me 2 Happiness and only increased my income by 50%. 'Exorbitant' was the other option: the word itself sounded terrible and I could imagine the citizens of Greyland using it in complaint. Yet if I implemented the maximum level of taxation, this would bring my tax take to 320 gold a month for a cost to Happiness of 5. Definitely the right choice given my current situation.

When I had first been summoned into the body of King Carlos and obtained control of the menus, Happiness was a key metric and one whose low figure had choked the ability of the realm to prosper. Now it was at 73 and much higher than I needed for growth. So exorbitant it was.

It seemed to me that I had to make a more serious effort to monetize my conquests. Although I did not have control of their menus, I could do more with Southland and the Underworld than ship the stone of their walls and buildings back to Carrick. Why should the people of Greyland shoulder all the financial burden of the war effort? Were the people of these realms still paying taxes and if not, how could I reimpose them? I resolved to talk with Guy about this and understand the situation at Montrose more clearly. I also added a PS to my letter to the Necromancer, asking him how he governed his conquests, Trolland and Kezatka, and how he raised income from them.

The main issue holding me back from immediate departure was that of the Arkine prisoners. What should I do with them? I wasn't the kind of ruler to enslave them. Nor kill or mutilate them. Not only would such actions be against my personal values, they would cause outrage in the ranks of an army shaped by a belief in the values of Miya and Lord Arval. Then too, no one would ever surrender to me again if I gained a reputation for killing the unarmed. But the other side of this generous philosophy was the cost and difficulty of keeping prisoners. I didn't want the drain on food supply and guards involved in penning them up somewhere.

The winter sun was setting, turning my tent roof dark red and making the coals of my brazier the main source of light in the darkening room. My breath was visible in faint clouds of mist. While I put new charcoal on the brazier and stoked it up, warming a pan of water for a drink, I turned the problem over again in my mind. No, there wasn't a painless solution. Given all the wood I had with me that I wouldn't need now the campaign was over, I'd have the engineers build prison camps beside the two forts, with decent latrines to limit the risk of disease, and feed these prisoners through the winter. They could stay under guard while I marched to war with the Arkine Empire in the spring and if all went well, I would release them when that realm was no longer a threat.

With that decision made, I drank my warm water and decide to join in with the singing and laughter at one of the fires outside. I also wanted to let all the sergeants know we would depart in the morning, but perhaps not too early. The army deserved its night of celebration, especially the Cantreth riders who had won us this round of the war for the Twenty-Five Kingdoms.

Part II Chapter 52: Macabre, for a Corpse to Move

My dear ally, King Carlos,

I must begin this long overdue letter to you with an expression of my deep appreciation of your gift. The Ring of Wisdom is a most useful item for me, not least, as I'm sure you are perfectly well aware, because it increases the efficacy of the Book of Spell Resistance.

I've known you since you stumbled into my kingdom: overweight, abandoned, powerless. And I've learned a great deal about your character by watching you train your body with relentless determination and the anger of a revenant. I knew, long before their deaths, that King Wace of Southway and Queen Rorgesta of Trolland had made a fatal mistake in allowing you to escape the battle of Adelaide's Crossing. Those who only half carry through an act of treachery dig their own graves.

What I did not fully appreciate about you until now, is how generous you are. Magic items are priceless. And there is no other ruler in the twenty-five realms who would have given one away. You have caused me to examine my own behaviour. Up until your gift arrived I had – I confess – never even thought about sending you a magic item. Thank you both for the gift and the new way of looking at the world: a less selfish one.

Let me congratulate you, too, on your extraordinary victory over the Arkine Empress. Sicaria (who sends her greetings) is not easily impressed and made your messenger repeat and confirm the story in your letter, so unlikely did she find it. Her surprise was that you thought not about escape but pursuit when the enemy lifted the siege of your fort. Well done indeed my friend. Add daring – but not reckless – to your lengthening list of admirable qualities.

Of the other topics I wished to inform you, there is one that is almost trivial but I think that you will be amused by and interested in. Your game of chess is becoming enormously popular. There are woodworkers who are busy with orders to produce the pieces. And it is becoming fashionable too. Artists design new sets, including ones with undead monsters as the pieces. I note with curiosity, however, that it is the guild members and artisans who seem to take to the game the most, followed by the peasantry, while the nobility are the least interested. You were already famous within my realm and perhaps even more revered than I, to judge by the popularity of the songs about your deeds. Now, as the acknowledged source of the game of chess, your high status is assured and should you ever have time to visit Nekis again (as I shall urge you), you will be in much demand: our new players of the game wish to test their growing expertise against you.

To more serious matters.

I have important news which I share with you and you alone. Please do not tell another person, even the most trusted of your retinue. My strategy of researching spells while you researched practical technologies had, for some months, led only to frustration for me. At last, however, it has delivered the kind of result that I have been hoping for. I have unlocked a spell of which I had no previous knowledge: Summon Argax.

An obscure and little-known entity, Argax is a demon from hell. As you might imagine, I have been scouring our libraries for information about this demon ever since my researchers handed me the spell. Unfortunately, there is not a great deal of information available to assist with my understanding. All the sources agree that Argax is a servant of Scrithax. The Annals of the Black Lake mention him in a list of demons accompanying Scrithax to battle, where he is given the title 'duke of hell'. The Chronicle of the Fallen, which survive in fragmentary form from a very early cycle, perhaps the first, have the following description of the summoning.

Macabre, for a corpse to move. How much more so when from a pile

Of limbs and torsos comes a motion: a dragging, crawling motion.

'He comes!' they whisper, these recent dead. 'He comes!'

Such dread. And do they resist? These bodies. They cannot.

They rise together and bind themselves tight.

For a moment an impossible tower of death must surely topple

Scattering bones and ribs and legs and arms.

But no, he has replaced them all. He is here. Argax.

Fascinating, is it not? And now, this summoning is within my power. Perhaps, not having been trained as a Necromancer, and having a rather different philosophical standpoint, you are unmoved. But for my part, I dream constantly of the moment in which I can summon this demon. The casting of this spell will be the high-point of my art and, I assume, will bring me a servant of considerable might.

The spell, however, is very situational. It requires the presence of one hundred and one corpses; bodies, moreover, of people who have recently been killed. None must have died more than a day before I cast the spell. These two conditions are disappointing and perhaps mean that Argax always arrives too late to turn the tide of any one battle. All the same, I am excited by the prospect of one day meeting the demon and discovering what harm he can do to our enemies.

I will turn to the question of our enemies shortly and it will be the final topic of this letter as I can tell that your messenger is impatient for me to finish and set out on her return journey. She is most diligent and I have given her a spare horse. First, though, you had a question about income.

The rules created by the gods do not allow us to obtain income directly from any source other than our own menus. As you know, we cannot access the menus of conquered realms and would find them empty of people even if we did. Moreover, if you attempt to gather coins from people outside the menu, either in your own realm or that of another, those coins will simply disappear from the world. We are expected to play the game the way the gods want and that means there is a restraint on our income. We can generate gold only from our skilful (or otherwise) balancing of Happiness, population, tax, expenditure and so forth. It is a kind of regulatory device, I suppose, that stops someone accruing such a fortune from early conquests that they can create an army out of all proportion to that of other realms.

As you are aware, on conquering an enemy, you do obtain the contents of their treasury. Also, you are allowed everything in their stores, including food and military items and the raw materials – stone mostly – of their military buildings as you dismantle them. After that, the population on their menu collapses to zero and there is no recurrent wealth for us, whether gold or raw materials.

Perhaps you are unaware that you are allowed a number of trade routes equivalent to the level of your market per friendly realm? All conquered realms count as friendly so it is quite possible you have not maximised your trading income with Trolland, Kezatka, the Underworld and Southway. Also, I shall instruct King Cillian of Rockguard to accept a trading request from you and you should also make a trading agreement with the new khan of Cantreth, if you haven't already. One merchant vessel can service two trade routes and each wagon train can service one. You may need to build more wagon trains and merchant ships, which, unfortunately is a cost but one that quickly justifies itself.

Having maximised your trade income, the main way of increasing your wealth is through your own taxation. Keep growing your population as much as food supply allows and your income grows. Note that 'exorbitant' tax levels should be an emergency measure only. Unlike the other tax levels, the deduction from your Happiness score (5) takes place every month. If you are facing a crisis in spending it would be better that I give you whatever is in my treasury (which I would gladly do; it stands at 1,354 gold) because Happiness is so important for population growth.

There is one other way to accrue gold, and it is definitely worth considering, which is to slay monsters and complete quests. When winter is over, I like to go to the forests of my realm and do just that. Even though now, at level 12, the experience gain is negligible for me, fighting forest monsters is good exercise, good for skill increases, and the small but regular drops in coin and sellable items do add up. Having expressed this thought, I must confess that I haven't explored many quests recently. My own artefact quest line, for example, would take me too far from the Kingdom of Lost Souls and into dangerous territory too, but in my early years I completed local quests for modest but worthwhile financial reward as well as experience.

Now, I want to write about Hayashi Nakahu, the ambassador of Hailand. We have a bird in my kingdom, the quarquor, which walks with the swagger and head-rocking motion of a pigeon, but which has the plumage of a rainbow (with yellow predominant). My first impression of ambassador Nakahu was that a human equivalent of the quarquor had walked into my hall. He strolled towards me, looking left to right, giving small nods of his head to my officials. His elbows were against his sides, like folded wings, while his hands were on his chest, holding the lapels of a sumptuous gown.

As he came closer, I could see the sheen of silk, which reflected the pale flames of the lanterns of my hall. The gown was a masterwork and he knew it, taking his time to display the multi-coloured patterns and themes of dragons that embroidered the back. Nearly touching the floor, this work-of-art swished as the ambassador made his way through a hall that had fallen completely silent.

A thick-set man of about thirty, I would say; thick, black eyebrows held in an expression of confident intelligence; a pale face with a very fine dark beard along his jawline. Charismatic, of course, and even though I knew that this was the influence of his stats, I found myself smiling in response to the respectful bow and smile that he gave me.

After exchanging the usual formalities and receiving the compliments of Emperor Tokanaga he addressed the point of his mission. 'The emperor has heard a great deal about the Necromancer and hopes that our two realms will reach an accord on trade, shared intelligence, and even warfare, that is to our mutual benefit. It is not widely appreciated, but our god, Yahima Hachi, bless his wisdom, and yours, the demon Scrithax, have in past cycles worked together and we have intimations from the auguries of our priests that this would be desirable to our divinity once more.

'Emperor Tokanaga in his generosity and friendship has sent you a gift.' The Hailand ambassador gestured and a servant – also dressed in lavish silk – ran forward with a chest of polished and decorated teal, which she placed on the ground and opened. There was something ivory and shining inside, resting on purple velvet. I leaned forward, as did most of my court.

'What is it?' I asked.

Rather proudly, Hayashi Nakahu replied, 'the skull of Ovk'ke'toth, high priest of the orcs. My emperor hopes that your powers will benefit from the remains of a Cleric who was at least level ten.' His pause was expectant. But what could I say? I certainly was not going to explain that I needed to research the relevant spells for raising new types of undead and that the remains had to consist of mostly intact bodies of people only recently killed.

'Thank the emperor, when you next see him, it is indeed a most thoughtful gift and by far the most unique that I have ever received.'

Our conversation then moved towards the details of the emperor's proposal. The offer to establish trade routes was straightforward. With regard to the exchange of intelligence, the ambassador appeared to take the lead by recapping the state of affairs in the north. Largely, his account accorded with yours: the orcs of Ferrok were destroyed and with control of their mines, the emperor had a surplus of iron for exchange. The ambassador also informed me, as though it were likely to come as a surprise, that Hailand had conquered lizardmen of Grrysthis. I noted that although this information was accurate as far as it went, it did not go so far as to include any mention of an alliance with King William Lionheart of Northway.

Leaning forward and lowering his voice, as if to invite me to join a conspiracy, Hayashi Nakahu added, 'in Hailand, we have no respect for those who are not human. Only the human has the all-round capabilities deserving of a place among the final few realms of this cycle. We humans make up the majority of the realms and it is the emperor's belief that we should destroy all the realms of the non-humans before concerning ourselves with the ultimate question of who will be triumphant this cycle.'

'I agree,' I said, although of course I do not. Every race deserves to escape the trap that is but the illusion of life, this game that the gods play. Moreover, King Olaf Bloodaxe of the dwarves sent me a very handsome silver chalice along with his thanks for the rescue of those of his people enslaved in the underworld and – as you shall learn – I have much more reason to believe in his sincerity than that of the emperor of Hailand.

A digression. At your urging last autumn, I diverted my research from spells to the technology of Pigeon Messaging. Having learned the art and built a dovecote, I conducted some experiments. From some distance away, I had pigeons released for their home and attempted to intercept them. The results of my experiments are as follows. An alert Sorcerer with Fire Darts or Freeze Darts who spots the pigeon will bring it down every time. A falconer who releases the hunting bird on sight of the pigeon will succeed every time too; the dead bird, however, is sometimes released from the claws of the falcon and impossible to find. Most archers cannot intercept the birds. The only person who could do so was Sicaria and she, with her shortbow skill at 38, only did so half the time.

Anticipating that Hayashi Nakahu might report to his master by pigeon (surely, all rulers have this technology by now?), I stationed my Sorcerer, six falconers and Sicaria on a hill some eight miles distant from Nekis on a line I judged to be correct for the path of a bird as it flies to Hailand and the emperor's palace. In fact, I was slightly out, but after two days of attentive watching, a pigeon was sighted to the south of the hill. Although out of range of Freeze Darts the bird was brought down by a falcon and indeed a message was retrieved. The contents of that message will follow shortly, but my friend, please learn an important lesson at the expense of Emperor Tokanaga: your pigeon messages can be intercepted and read by your enemies.

Here is what the ambassador had written:

Your imperial majesty. The Necromancer is pedantic minded and has yet to agree to any of your 'proposals'. His army includes over 250 zombies. Slow but powerful soldiers and cost-free. Yet they are soft living humans here. I don't believe the Necromancer knows anything of the science of war. His weaponry and armour has not been improved at all beyond the initial basic standard. He has invested all of his upgraded time in the library, yet with no indication of having yet researched any notable spells. If we could but meet his army in the open field, our samurai would cut them to pieces. Arouse the coalition. Come as soon as you can. Pathetically, there are popular songs here, not in favour of the Necromancer but about King Carlos of Southway who is some sort of fat rhino by these accounts. They are both contemptible and the sooner you remove them from the world the better.

The tone is unpleasant. I am used to reports from Sicaria, which are less colourful and more factual. But the item of particular interest is of course the reference to a coalition. Thanks to your spies, we know that the emperor of Hailand has collaborated with King William Lionheart but it seems to be the case that there is at least one more realm involved in the northern alliances. And this leads me to believe I might be in danger come the spring.

I appreciate that you plan to go east on the assumption that the Arkine Empire is in disarray following your extraordinary and daring winter counter-attack. But might you consider instead extracting a favourable peace treaty from them and marching to reinforce me? If I'm wrong and over-cautious (it is my main failing; I know I could never have left the safety of my fort to follow the Arkine empress as she retreated with a larger army than mine) we can perhaps come to the assistance of the Vikings who have lost territory again, this time to the priest of Langia, whose sinister ents have grown in power with the lake of blood that has been sacrificed to them.

I must conclude this letter and place it in the hands of your messenger while it is still early. The sun has already been up an hour and the days are short enough for travel at this time.

Let me finish as I started. You have long been an ally I fully trusted but yet again you have surprised me, this time with your generosity.

We will master this world together. Others may talk of coalitions, but no one will have created an alliance to match the strength and trust of ours.

Your friend,

The Necromancer

Part II Chapter 53: When It’s Spring Again, I’ll Bring Again

Montrose in the spring was a very pleasant city. Flocks of starlings raided from bush to bush, the parents standing watchfully on nearby roofs while the young – still with the fluffy feathers of their birth – alighted on the green-clad branches, searching for insects. Yellow daffodils were growing out of the grass that covered the trenches where the old foundations of the city's walls had once been. Although there was a cold wind, the sky was bright blue and the cheerful tone of the scene was enhanced by the many white sheets of the citizens that were hanging from washing lines like rows of flags celebrating our return.

Easily the most dour part of the picture was the returning Greyland army. I could tell from the singing and lively banter that the soldiers were in roaring spirits; no doubt they were as delighted as I was to be able to eat and drink as they pleased. No doubt, too, they were looking forward to spending their pay. But they were filthy, hirsute, and bringing to the city an odour of mould and sweat. The barbers and baths were going to be busy.

Leaving the sergeants to manage the rosters for leave and the distribution of camp beds at the old barracks, I made for the keep with Lord Arval and Figus. There, I checked that Goncendor was to be well looked after by the stable hands, then made my way to what was once the chamber of King Wace. I rejoiced in the pleasure of taking off my boots, putting my feet up on a padded table that seemed designed for the purpose and sighing with pleasure at the thought there would be no more serious marching for a week or so. The army, myself included, were going to recuperate from a hard winter before marching to join with the Necromancer.

A servant came to check my needs, which I enumerated for him: hot bath; wine; fruit; and some fresh clothes to wear. The afternoon sun on the windows criss-crossed with lead made patterns on the floor like slanted chessboards. In the blocks of sunlight that filled the space between window and board, motes of dust span and swirled. I was tired and beginning to drowse when there was a knock on the door and on my call, Figus entered.

'You asked me to attend you as soon as I was settled,' said the Bard.

Sighing internally, I gestured Figus to a seat and sat up straighter, taking my feet off their resting place. It was true, I had made this request-cum-order, which I regretted now. It was not an urgent matter.

'Thank you. While the soldiers get some well-earned leave, those of us with classes to progress will resume our daily expeditions.'

When I had first met Figus, he was impossible to read. His expressions were always neutral and his voice always steady, whether we were discussing distressing matters or ones that should have called for celebration. Now that I knew the Bard well, I could tell from a slight tightness around the edges of his polite smile and a hint of terseness in his response, 'indeed, sire', that this was not welcome news. Probably, he had been hoping to work on his fine dining skill.

'I include myself, but I will act as a mentor, or, in the language of my home world, a power-leveller. We have to get everyone to level five so they each have a feat. And it's not impossible that Lord Arval can reach level nine: he's only two thousand away.'

Figus nodded.

'Now, according to the Necromancer, the monetary reward for completing quests is useful. I therefore want you to talk to Guy and former officers of King Wace and find out what they know about local quests. Then try to obtain some quest leads before we set out to fight monsters.'

'And when do we set out?'

'In the morning.'

There was a pause. Outside it was cold but here in a room whose floor was carpeted and whose walls were hung with tapestries (depicting the hunting exploits of King Wace, which I didn't care for very much), the sun did its work. I felt warm.

'Then I must spend the evening going about this task.'

There was something in his eyes that made me shift a little in my seat. 'You can delegate. Any of the people coming with us can collect quests for the whole group. But I want you to take overall responsibility for obvious reasons.'

'Sire?'

'Your charming manner might make all the difference to whether a quest is offered to the group or not.'

'I see sire, and…'

He was interrupted by a knock on the door and a servant who brought surprising news. 'The ambassador from Hailand is here and would like the honour, as he put it, of seeing you King Carlos.'

'Interesting. Tell him to be in the main hall after sunset, where he can join my officers in our meal.'

The servant bowed and left us.

'You'd want to be cracking on then,' I said to Figus. 'To make as much progress as you can before what might be a very interesting encounter with the ambassador from Hailand.'

Expressionless, Figus stood to leave but unfortunately, before he had taken a step another servant came to tell me that my bath was ready. The cool look I subsequently received from the Bard made me squirm.

'I have to work at the menus for Carrick…'

Unexpectedly, Figus grinned. 'You don't have to explain yourself to me.' And then his expression became serious. 'You've made me ride hard up and down the twenty-five kingdoms making treaties or leading troops. You've made me carry heavy sacks of grain. And you've made me fight monsters for the benefit of others. But I don't harbour any resentment. You can ask much more of me. Because all I ever wanted was to serve a hero worth composing a song about.

'The old King Carlos crushed my hopes, squatting on them like the giant toad that he was. But you have granted my wish. Now I am Bard to a true hero. And the epic that you are creating with your deeds and which I am trying to capture with my words is one which will last for centuries.'

Figus waited just long enough that I could see the sincerity in his eyes, then abruptly left.

Having moved to the adjacent room, my heart was still beating as I settled into the warm water of a large bath. A true hero? I felt like I had made too many mistakes to be the kind of figure who featured in epics. I was no Achilles, or Cú Chulainn, or William Marshal.

In Joseph Conrad's book, Lord Jim, the hero makes a terrible mistake at the start of the story. He then has to spend the rest of the book – and it was a big book, I recalled – figuring out whether he was an actual hero who made one slip up or not a hero at all. Mine was more of a, 'we are all heroes' philosophy. I was summoned here by mistake, for having been good at Storm Wars, and hundreds, thousands even, of other players of that game would have done just as well here as me. I allowed myself this much self-praise: that I had done well since my second chance above all in my alliance with the Necromancer.

There was a lot of campaigning ahead before any of the rulers emerged victorious and could enjoy hearing of their life through the flattery of a Bard's song.

The relief to the aches I had all over from long days of riding meant I was soon glowing all over. It would have been easy to have drowsed there, head on the rim of the bath. But perhaps driven by a desire not to become the lazy type of king who did little but order other people around, I made the effort and did some work.

Firstly, with my recent orders to Figus in mind, I recapped the character sheets of the group of people who would be my end-game team for the decisive battles I was sure would take place, perhaps even as soon as the coming summer.

I'd caught up with Brother Ramond, the Summoner level 3, while at Fort 1. There, I'd made him demonstrate his ability to conjure a minor fire elemental and although Ramond had been his usual grouchy self, there was an undeniable pride in his expression as the fiery creature, the size of a large dog, glowed and crackled before us. I was heartened by the sight and could imagine such summoned elementals being vital in battles with enemy spellcasters.

Jacintha, our cheerful Sorceress who was such a contrast to Ramond, was only 150 EXP from reaching level 5. Although she had Carlena's spell book, she was currently very limited in her spell options. Looking at Jacintha's character sheet I was reminded that she had a Wand of Channelling with twelve charges, which would be useful for a critical moment when she needed to blast away with repeated Fire Dart.

Valeria, despite her fear of danger, was already level 5 and, in fact, within 200 EXP of level 6. The young Ranger had a really impressive 19 Dex and good tracking and spot hidden skills. One of the reasons I wanted everyone on the team to progress to 5 was so that each of them had a feat. I had yet to choose a feat for Valeria but thought I should do so now, before she set out with the others in the morning to gain more EXP. The options were: Trueshot, Sense Danger or Leave no Trace. They were all passive abilities: the first allowed her to fire into melee without hitting a friend (not necessarily hitting an enemy); the second gave her a 5% per level (with a possible Wisdom bonus too of +5% per point over 15) of sensing a trap or hidden enemy when passing within 60 feet of the danger and the third meant she would no longer leave a trail under normal circumstances. I opted for Trueshot: although keeping her around as a bodyguard with Sense Danger would bring me an added level of security, my focus with this team was all about the final battles.

I turned my attention to the others. Hernán was half way to being a level 5 Warrior and I looked forward to him gaining a feat. He was a very likeable young man, as keen as they come. Isabelle I admired greatly and we had that special bond from the swim in the river with our zombie army. She was a level 4 Rogue and although her core stats were not great, her stealth skills were developing and would help her get into position for powerful backstab attacks. Another young team member was Leonora, our Cleric, currently level 4. At 16, her Wisdom was pretty useful and she was about half way to level 5.

I was very familiar with Lord Arval's character sheet and a quick check confirmed what I already knew, which was that he needed 2,000 EXP to reach level 9. If he could get to 10 and acquire a new, high-level, Paladin feat, that would be amazing. But that would have to happen with him grouping with me and perhaps Figus for tough fights. The monsters he was encountering with the low-level group were typically yielding less than 100 Exp a kill, yet he needed over 50,000 EXP to reach level 10.

After receiving the Necromancer's letter, I had decided to explore the option of a peace treaty with the Arkine empire so as to have the option of marching north instead of east in the spring. I'd sent Figus to their capital, Cassikos, to find the new ruler and to negotiate with them. Figus had gone with complete authority to sign a treaty if it was favourable enough.

My ambassador had arrived at an Arkine empire in complete disarray. Several of the leading nobles and contenders for the crown had fled the capital. Those that remained were in a panic over the fact their garrison was only 300 archers and that the citizens were rioting in anger and fear. After a chariot race to decide their next ruler, a man called Alexis Kemanos became emperor.

Alexis Kemanos, said Figus, was a small, dark man with the shifty look of someone who had knifed a lot of rivals on his way to the top. He was, however, very eager to talk about a peace treaty. Taking Figus to the purple box at the races and arranging a banquet in honour of the Greyland ambassador – where no doubt Figus made an impressive show of proper etiquette – Alexis saw such a treaty as a chance to consolidate his new power: it would allow him to pose as the saviour of his people and of the hopes of Asa the Wise. Most of the clauses of the treaty, especially the most onerous, were therefore strictly secret between Alexis and us.

The public agreement was straightforward. The Arkine Empire agreed to peace with Greyland and Cantreth, and not to move any troops over the border to Cantreth for a year, in return for the release of the imprisoned soldiers and Erika, the captured spy. The emperor recognised Zaghisa Khan as the rightful ruler of Cantreth, would support no other claimant and would open trade routes to Cantreth and Greyland. In the eyes of the reassured public, this treaty came as a huge relief.

The secret clauses were the ones that really mattered. In addition to an immediate transfer to me of 500 gold, Alexis committed to a payment of 100 gold a month over the course of a year: 50 each to Zaghisa Khan and myself. Better yet, Figus obtained the transfer to our menu of their six merchant vessels. Finally, I had talked to Figus in advance about the fact that the Arkines had, through their goddess, an advantage in research. We had decided to demand a spell book for Jacintha and while unsuccessful on that issue (because it would have revealed to the Arkine Sorceress the existence of secret clauses), Figus had settled for an agreement that we would be sent a scroll with the next three spell research results, for spells of level 3, 4 and 5. This was similar to the Necromancer's agreement with Rockway.

On his way back, Figus had confirmed that this treaty was acceptable with Zaghisa Khan and so I'd left Cantreth as soon as the weather allowed.

My finances were much less strained as a result of the new merchant vessels and my acting on the information the Necromancer had given me about trade income. I'd built a forum (moving the market indoors and making it all-weather) for 80 stone, 80 timber and 4 iron. Then, after my church had reached level 4, I'd upgraded the forum to level 2, for 140 stone, 120 timber and 4 iron. That gave me two trade routes each with Southway, Cantreth, the Arkine empire, Rockway, Trolland, Kezatka, Underworld, and the Kingdom of Lost Souls. Sixteen in total, serviced by the ships for all but Kezatka and Underworld, for which I paid out 80 timber, 5 iron and 5 gold per wagon train and built four of these overland traders.

The effect of these choices on my trade income was dramatic, increasing it to 96 gold a month. And although I had been anxious to get back to upgrading my church as soon as possible for the race to the endgame, it had struck me as obvious that I should upgrade the forum again first, to level 3 (at a cost of 160 stone, 140 timber, 4 iron) resulting in my current trade income of 128 gold a month. When I dropped the tax rate from exorbitant to high, my monthly tax income was 206 and 3 silver. Adding the 50 from the Arkine empire and the 128 from trade, I was up to 384 gold and 3 silver a month towards an army cost of 472 gold and 5 silver.

With a shortfall of less than a hundred gold a month and 2,640 gold in my treasury, I had well over a year before I would have to reduce the size of the army. A year that quite possibly would see me conquer or be conquered.

That thought brought me to consider the arrival of the Hailand ambassador. What did he want? It was time to get out of the bath and dress for dinner and find out.

Part II Chapter 54: Patricide

Over winter, my hair had grown long enough to tie at the back in a short ponytail. Which I did, albeit that lose strands fell over my ears. I had shaved and bathed and wore clean clothes. All the same, I felt more like a peasant than a king in the presence of the ambassador from Hailand. He wore silk clothing with highly colourful and ornate patterns upon a predominantly blue background. I wore a smock that was rough on my skin and whose only ornamentation was that provided by dark green stitching at neck and cuffs.

While the ambassador's fingers sparkled with light reflected by gemstones set in silver and gold rings, I didn't even have my crown, which was in the keep at Carrick. His servant – also dressed far more impressively than me – wore a flag, slotted somehow to his back, and raised above them both. The design was eye-catching. A thin, vertical band of pink ran down either side of a thicker band of teal. And on the teal was the silhouette of a yellow heron, one leg raised, thin sinuous neck leading to a sharp-beaked head. Behind me was my own banner: worn and faded, a black knight rode at a gallop on a green background.

If somehow a samurai lord from Japan had managed to visit an Arthurian hall of early medieval knights, I imagined that the samurai would have the same sense of superiority as the Hailand ambassador expressed with his nonchalant walk up to the large, rectangular dining table formerly used by King Wace. His was a relaxed strut that suggested it was the visitor who owned the building and everything in it. We were the ones being honoured by his presence.

'Hayashi Nakahu, ambassador of Hailand,' he introduced himself with a bow. Acknowledging his salute, I gestured that the ambassador should sit beside me on my right, where we had a place prepared for him.

'Welcome ambassador. Please join us.'

On my left was Lord Arval and on his left, Hernán. Then the table ran down for six places, across for four and back up on the other side for six more. All my sergeants were here and at the place at the corner nearest to where the ambassador had his seat was Figus.

'With pleasure, your majesty, for the road has been long. But first, a gift.' Although his servant was already coming forward with a box, the ambassador snapped his fingers impatiently.

I felt Lord Arval stiffen as I flicked open the silver clasp of the beautifully polished box. Did the Paladin worry about a trap? About poison or magic? These ideas did cross my mind but I dismissed them. The chances of such a trick working were remote and hardly worth risking the enmity that would consequently arise between our realms. And in any case, I just didn't think a poisoned box would be the style of this man.

Inside were beautiful wooden statues; small, only about two inches tall. And at first I didn't understand the gift. Only after I had taken out several of the statues to find a deep blue velvet cloth with white chequered squares upon it did I understand. This was a chess set.

'It is a wargame,' explained the ambassador. 'Everyone in the Kingdom of Lost Souls, where I have recently visited, is playing the game. They call it chess. And their finest crafters are engaged in making the sets. Such is the demand that they have orders for at least the next six months.'

'How interesting,' I said, deliberately putting some of the pieces out on random squares rather than their proper starting positions. 'Did you learn the rules?'

'I did. And quickly mastered some of the subtleties. It would be an honour to teach them to you.'

'A valuable gift. I look forward to learning the game.' I returned the pieces to the box, closed it and passed it to a servant behind me. 'Unfortunately, I cannot reciprocate as I would like, for we are in a city I have only acquired by conquest and marching with a minimum of luxury. I do, however, have access to King Wace's wine cellar and would like you to present these four bottles of his very best years to the emperor of Hailand.'

Another servant of mine brought a box of similar size, packed with straw and four bottles of wine. They were a random selection: I had no idea if they were any good or not. But I had been stuck for alternatives. Having looked around King Wace's rooms for inspiration – a pair of candlesticks? That tapestry of him hunting? A gold-tasselled cushion – I'd decided to pack the wine. The emperor of Hailand probably wouldn't drink the wine, mistrusting the contents, but I didn't care. At least I wasn't in the awkward position of receiving but not giving a gift.

After the ambassador was seated beside me and the first dishes brought from the kitchen (creating one of those awkward moments where I gestured that the ambassador should be served first but he insisted I had the honour) conversation began around the table. When it did so, Hayashi Nakahu registered surprise and I realised he was not used to a royal occasion at which people spoke freely. Under the old Carlos there would have been a heavy silence, I was sure. But my officers had gotten used to me and I them and if someone had an amusing or interesting episode to recount, they would raise their voice for the whole table to hear without feeling inhibited by my presence.

As the wine flowed – the ambassador drinking it eagerly – and the food went down, the level of volume rose. Isabelle was pressed into giving an account of the capture of Texecal. By nature, Isabelle was somewhat of a dour character, whose long face and dark brown hair usually gave the impression of earnestness rather than merriment. Tonight, however, I was glad to see she was in good form, and she told the story well, beginning with the over-confident way in which our enemies had urinated on our banners, believing their walls to be impassable without siege equipment.

Hayashi Nakahu was nodding his broad head and his dark eyes glistened with interest as he followed the tale. Too late, I realised we were giving away a possible tactic of use in the future: that of sending zombies underwater. Still, I was glad the table talk was making a positive impression on him. At the end of the tale, my officers roared with approval as Isabelle recounted how alone I held the gate for the vital minutes before our troops reached the gate. She described my victory over the female winged demon and concluded with her own arrival at the head of the zombie troops.

The story brought back vivid memories of that night and even the iron-rich scent of all the blood that had pooled on the cobbles. Also, too, my relief when my sight had returned (I'd had to blind myself to chase away the demon) and found my comrades were at my side. Looking around the table I could see that Lord Arval, Jacintha, and Figus all recalled that night too and as I caught their eyes I felt again an echo of that feeling of relief and of a tight bond with those who had fought their way through to protect me.

'Well done! Well done indeed!' cried Hayashi Nakahu unexpectedly and raised his goblet. 'A toast to your brave king. One man alone, taking his stand under the gate. What a story! Unsurpassable!'

Enthusiastically, everyone joined in and lifted their glasses.

'In fact, our king has surpassed that moment,' murmured Figus.
'Oh, indeed, you must tell me. Tell me everything. In Hailand we appreciate nothing more than valour.'

Figus nodded. 'Well, sire, if I may give a few verses of King Carlos the Rhino?'

'Ahh, stop,' I said embarrassed. But there was no stopping the Bard once all the other diners shouted their approval of the suggestion.

As Figus began recounting this section of his epic, soft-voiced at first, the ebullient sounds around the table died away and in the quiet we were drawn in to the scene of Lord Oseo of Southway and Commander Sorgud of Trolland complacently expecting an easy victory at Three Ways. Even the lamps seemed to dim, allowing the light from the candles on the table to highlight the vivid expressions that crossed the face of the Bard as he took on the different roles.

Then he was me and he stood up and raised his voice.

'Said the king, "Let no one think of retreat. Either we hold the fort this day,
'Or the enemy capture Carrick and your families will be slaves.
'Fight for yourself, your comrades, and those now at home.
'This is where we make our stand. This is where they will break.
'Henceforth, those not here will listen in silence when any of you speak.
'You who fought at the battle that decided Greyland's fate!"'

By the time he reached my charge in rhino form, everyone was enthralled, especially Hayashi Nakahu, who had reached out again for his goblet but hadn't moved as Figus described my transformation.

'Thunder has never bellowed so loud, nor lightning struck so hard,
'As the white rhino who galloped at the head of the charge.
'Head heavy, with horns more fierce than the tip of any lance,
'Shoulders strong with irresistible power and calamity for those ahead.
'Impact! The snap of bone. The spray of blood.
'A trampling, roaring beast. And piles of dying and dead.'

I was there again. This time remembering more. Screams. Roars of rage. The deafening ring of a sword on a shield edge beside me. Savage faces. Lord Arval snarling like a ferocious dog, beard flecked with spittle. And the emotion of justified wrath. Of being so alive, even when so close to death from axe and spear.

When I looked up as Figus concluded the story of the battle, there were tears in the eyes of several of us, including the Paladin's. I wasn't the only one for whom that had been the most intense, frightening, and exhilarating few minutes of their lives.

'Magnificent!' The ambassador was on his feet. 'Magnificent!' He bowed to me and took a drink, then bowed to Figus. 'A worthy Bard for such a tale.'

My officers had been banging the table to show appreciation for Figus. When at last the sound fell away Hayashi Nakahu sat down again. With thick hands planted firmly on the wooden surface, he leaned forward, until his broad chest touched the edge of the table, and then said, 'honour requires me to tell you a story of my own. Let me see, do you know how Tokanaga became emperor?'

I shook my head and there was a murmur of interest from elsewhere.

'Very well.' First drinking deep to empty his goblet, the ambassador looked around the table and smiled. 'Tokanaga and Ashoko were brothers. Their father, Emperor Tameo, was old and increasingly infirm. Hailand was at peace with its neighbours and lacked both ambition and honourable deeds such as those about which we have heard tonight.

'The brothers urged their father to undertake conquests and sometimes it seemed as though he listened to their pleas. But always the emperor would recall the army before it reached the border. And he would send me, the ambassador, to make shameful peace treaties and to apologise: even to the inferior races that surrounded our human empire.

Hayashi Nakahu looked downwards and a bitter expression fell on his fleshy cheeks. 'Unbearable, that a samurai should kneel to an orc. I allowed the brothers to become aware of my anger and a terrible idea was born.' Now his head was raised defiantly and wherever he was looking, it wasn't at anyone in this hall or even In this time.

'Tokanaga was the more cautious. But even he saw the need to kill his father and proclaim a new, more warlike policy for the empire. Ashoko could hardly be stopped from simply entering his father's bedroom and finishing him that night. But Tokanaga was right. The nobles had to be prepared to accept a deed that was going to violate our oaths and codes. It helped that everyone knew the story of how our god, Yahima Hachi, killed his father by summoning all the tentacled creatures of the sea to hold the old god bound beneath the waves for a hundred years until he drowned. It is his dissolving body that makes the salt you can taste in sea water.

'One by one, as discontent grew, we recruited the leading samurai to our plan. At last we were ready to act and set the date.

'Then disaster came and it nearly came to the conspiracy, but for an extraordinary moment of good fortune, that we later understood to be the result of the intervention of Yahima Hachi. Three brothers, silversmiths in the employ of Tokanaga, overheard the plan to murder Emperor Tameo and one of them came to the palace and asked for an audience with the emperor.

'Our good fortune was that the silversmith came to me and while his knowledge of the people involved was extensive, he believed me loyal to the emperor. I told the man he would be well rewarded and that he must tell his news to the emperor right away. Leading him through the mysteries of the palace, I brought him to a room for such audiences, which had wooden screen dividing it. Commoners rarely are present with the emperor and when they are, these screens are used so they do not look on the majesty of his face.

'Swiftly, I fetched Tokanaga and brought him to the other side of the screen, careful to voice all the obeisance due to the emperor. Returning to the silversmith I asked him to repeat his information for the emperor's benefit. He did so with clarity and the expression of a man proud to be helping his lord. When the story was finished, I asked him. "Who else knows about this?"

'"My brothers only."

'With that I pulled back the screen. And there stood Tokanaga, wakizashi in hand.'

A cruel smile came over the ambassador's face at the memory. Then he looked around the silent room, eyes sparkling. 'Is that not a wonderful moment? Imagine that you were that silversmith.'

Beside me I felt Lord Arval's indignance, felt him gather himself ready to speak, but I gave a slight shake of my head. Instead, I turned to a servant and gestured that he should refill the ambassador's goblet.

Smoothly, Figus stepped in. 'I doubt a man has ever felt such a reversal of fortune in so brief a moment as that silversmith.'

'Exactly!' Hayashi Nakahu slapped the table with passion. 'It could so easily have been Tokanaga and I who were tortured and killed that day. But no, our god had decided otherwise. And I could see that after a moment's confusion, the man's eyes turned to me with understanding and dread. He died slowly, because we wanted to confirm that no one else knew about our plans.

'I sent soldiers loyal to me to arrest the other two brothers along with their wives and children and they were killed in a remote dungeon in the palace.

'The next day, as agreed with the high priest, the theme of the sermon was the necessity of Yahima Hachi arranging for the drowning of his father. At the conclusion of the sermon, while the emperor was kneeling before the altar of our god, the two brothers calmly walked up and drew their swords before the old man even noticed. Ashoko struck across the emperor's spine, a blow that was fatal enough, but Tokanaga made sure of the deed by slicing through the neck.'

The ambassador laughed gleefully. 'The old man had a look of surprise for a full minute after his head landed next to his body.'

Only Figus managed a laugh. Perhaps sensing something was amiss, Hayashi Nakahu looked up at me for a response. I smiled. 'What an extraordinary event. Thank you for telling the story so well. It has great drama. Truth, it is said, is stranger than fiction, and here we are presented with a tale I would have found hard to believe if it had been made up.' I looked to the Bard for assistance.

'Bravo sir!' Figus took my cue. 'I believe you are trained as a Ranger, rather than a Bard?'

The ambassador nodded.

'Yet you have done justice to a tale of high stakes and deep personal crisis that would have been a credit to any Bard. And the moment when the screen went back… to reveal that the silversmith had been talking to the very person he was denouncing. Genius. It will stay with me the rest of my days.'

Looking very pleased now the ambassador grabbed his goblet and sank back in his chair.

Figus had his own genius, perhaps natural or perhaps developed over years of trying to please the old King Carlos. But he really knew how to flatter the most disgusting and odious of people. As I gave the Bard a look of thanks, conversation began to resume around the table and I felt that a potential crisis had passed.

The eyes of the ambassador were dark and heavy. How had he misjudged the room so badly? Did he really think to impress us with a tale of brutality and murder? Did he think us similarly cruel? Well, perhaps the old King Carlos would have loved the story, especially the silversmith part.

Hayashi Nakahu gestured for me to come closer and as I leaned towards him, he whispered, 'That alliance you have with the Necromancer. It must end now.'

'Oh, it must?'

'I've just come from Nekis. He has six hundred zombie soldiers who cost him nothing. Everyone else, you included, have hit the cap of the size of army their realm can support. But not him, no, not the Necromancer. He has no cap.'

'I know. But I feel there is more to be gained by working with him than fighting with him.'

The ambassador waved a fleshy finger from side to side. 'Not any more. You have done well. I can understand why you would take advantage of his desire not to be isolated. But beware lest he become unstoppable.'

'You wouldn't consider working with the two of us then?'

'With Greyland. Yes. I liked what I heard tonight. And you are human. Perhaps Miya and Yahima Hachi are not natural allies but stranger combinations have come about in this and past cycles. The Necromancer, however…' he dropped his voice even more and leaned so close that I could see the grey roots of hair that I now realised had been dyed black. '… the Necromancer is finished. You'll see, within the month. And you are no fool. Don't be friendless after he's gone. The others have noticed you. Noticed you're becoming a threat. But Tokanaga is not concerned, he will be your ally.'

'Thank you and thank your emperor. Shall we start by making a trade agreement? And in due course, when our armies are close enough to make co-operation a practical matter, we can talk about shared military undertakings?'

The ambassador lifted his goblet once more, put it down and wiped his lips. 'Oh, but they are close enough.'

Part II Chapter 55: Leave is Cancelled

Dawn, and a bleary, unhappy Greyland army marched out of Montrose under flags that fluttered mockingly in a chill northern wind. Throughout the night, sergeants had worked the streets of the city, pulling soldiers out of bars and taverns and brothels with the news that all leave had been cancelled. Most of these soldiers were marching now, cursing the cold; cursing the interruption of their pleasures; and probably cursing me. Some had managed to get themselves so drunk, so quickly, that even now they lay unconscious in carts.

Even the normally sober Lysegetus had managed to enjoy the best part of a barrel of mead. And since the giant couldn't travel with us, I left instructions for him to take charge at Montrose and train the garrison here until I sent further orders.

Disturbingly, at a crossroads to the north of the city, I found the ambassador to Hailand sitting on his horse, his servant on a mule with a chest as well as a cage with three pigeons. They were both wearing fur cloaks and Hayashi Nakahu looked at me with a knowing smile.

'Good morning King Carlos, doesn't this feel like a winter day, rather than a spring one?'

'Good morning ambassador; it does indeed.'

Without asking my permission, the representative of Hailand urged his horse into a walk beside Goncendor on my right flank. From where they had been riding several metres behind me, two of my knights along with Lord Arval came closer, protectively.

'Might your sudden and unexpected departure from Montrose be related to my conversation with you last night?' Hayashi Nakahu surprised me both in his directness and in the accusatory tone of his voice.

'You indicated that the Hailand army was near. You also said that the Necromancer was finished. I am therefore marching to Nekis on the assumption that Hailand and your allies are doing the same.'

'To what end? What side do you take?'

It annoyed me that my enemy was asking for such information, protected by his ambassadorial status from being strung up as a spy. It annoyed me too that the ambassador was transformed from the oafish, heavy drinker of the night before to a sharp, forceful opponent.

I held his dark gaze. 'I haven't decided.'

The expression on Hayashi Nakahu's face was stern. 'He who becomes an ally only when the battle is won has waited too long.'

'He who becomes an ally with a man he hasn't met is a fool,' I answered back immediately. 'I want you to introduce me to Tokanaga.'

'Emperor Tokanaga will be delighted to converse with you I'm sure.'

After this exchange I said nothing more and our horses walked on with exactly the same step. Really, I wanted the man gone.

To distract myself from the Hailand ambassador's presence, I looked over my menus.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: Town housing, 4 days 10 hours

Currently upgrading: Church Level 5, 20 days 14 hours

Monthly trade income: 128 gold

Monthly tax income (medium): 206 gold 3 silver

Monthly Army cost: 472 gold 5 silver

Treasury: 2,632 gold

Daily food consumption: 52 units

Grain yield: 260 units due in 6 weeks 2 days

Vegetable yield: 44 units due in 14 weeks 6 days

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 9 weeks

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 28 units daily

Timber yield: 23 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 13 blocks daily

Smithy yield: 36 swords with carbon steel blades, and 36 shields with carbon steel rims, 9 days

Weaving yield:

Research: Falconry

Literacy: 2%

Resources:

Wheat: 122 food units

Vegetables: 53 food units

Meat: 3 food units

Fish: 2 food units

Wool:

Timber: 442 planks

Iron: 89 ingots

Stone: 2,413 blocks

Cloth: 108 bolts

Civil Buildings:

Church 4

Espionage training centre 4

Hunting lodge 4

Monastery 4

Tower of the alchemists 4.

Scriptorium 3

Wizard’s tower 3

Forum 3

Lumber mill 2

Mines 2

Quarry 2

Sawmill 2

Aqueduct

Bakery

Brewery

Clothmakers workshop

Dovecote

Farm buildings

Harbour

Hospital

Jewellery workshop

Leather workshop

Lighthouse

Public baths

School

Shipyard

Smithy

Town Housing (36 units)

Over the course of winter, I'd seen several important developments for my economy. One of them was modest enough for the moment, I had a new metric on the menu: literacy. It was at a feeble 2% but set to rise at 2% a month and really, once even one in ten could read, I reckoned this would be enough to give me a way to communicate with the population through printing. Those citizens who had learned their letters could read out my news and announcements to the others.

Although my main construction goal was still to push on to a level 9 church in the hope it would prove to be a key feature of the endgame, I had taken the time to upgrade the monastery to level 4. As with the previous monastery upgrades, completion brought +1 Happiness and this time also a mining output increase of 10%. But most importantly and as I had hoped would happen, upgrading to a level 4 monastery also unlocked a new class progression for one of my citizens.

You have unlocked advancement for a Templar level 1. Do you wish to attract a new Templar to the realm (may take up to three days) or promote Abbot Hugues and recruit a new abbot to replace him?

New Templar / Promote Abbot Hugues

Although I had no previous dealings with Abbot Hugues and knew nothing about him, I accepted him as my Templar simply on the basis of saving three days. My supply of pigeons having been replenished, I sent one back to Carrick, instructing Hugues to level up to 3 using the town quests, then come to the army, wherever we were. With the same pigeon, I had also reorganised my forces a little, ordering most of the soldiers in Greyland to meet me at Montrose.

Pleased with myself for succeeding in getting yet another person into my endgame team, I had then set my next upgrade to Church 4 and that had completed before we had set out from Fort 1.

Church level 4

Priests: Senior Cleric Leonora level 4*, Cleric level 1, Cleric level 1

Benefits: heals four persons per day of minor wounds, two of disease, and one of poison (cannot remove magical curses). Other healing and benefits according to the spells of the senior Cleric. Increases town Happiness by +2.

* Senior Cleric may advance in level.

The increase in happiness was welcome, because at some point I planned to push up the numbers on the menu again, that point being when I had secured a new source of food. Having two cures for disease daily might not make such a big difference should Carrick be hit by an epidemic. But I reckoned it might help prevent an outbreak from starting and it could certainly be useful if those of us with the progression ability encountered mobs that inflicted disease.

Even though I wanted to upgrade pretty much every building in Carrick, I had stuck to my plan and pushed on with the church. I was currently 20 days out from seeing it improve to level 5. There was no pressure on me that was currently so urgent as to require me to interrupt the drive to level 9. I would, however, look at the situation again once my Falconry research had completed and I had unlocked a mews for hawks. Only then would I see sufficient detail to know if it would be worth upgrading that building. What I could see, was that a mews would unlock the falconer unit, the importance of which had been made clear to me from the Necromancer's letter. Falconers were primarily a counter-measure to the use of pigeons for messaging, although I hoped too that they might also be able to bring in a small but useful supply of meat.

Until I researched more technologies, I had no new building options. Since I had the stone to spare, I had decided to improve all the housing in Carrick to make two-story town houses that came with a reduced risk of fire spreading.

All in all, the state of the economy was satisfactory, good even, from the point of view of my goal of achieving the construction of a level 9 church. Where I felt pressure was on income and food supply, but these problems were at a relatively low level compared to my early days in this world.

My military menu was also a source of satisfaction.

Greyland

Military

Field army (outside Montrose): 202 swordsmen (Hernán); 58 heavy infantry*, 79 knights (Lord Arval); 4 crossbows and 80 archers (Isabelle)*; 21 light cavalry (Baldwin)*; 105 Cantreth light cavalry archers (Nurbolat)*; 712 spearmen (lamellar armour, 2h-spears); 28 engineers*; 40 spies; 3 Arkine sergeants*

Carrick: 50 archers; 4 ballista crews

Three-Ways: 50 archers; 2 trebuchet crews

Montrose: 20 swordsmen; 27 archers (Guy)*

Texecal: 31 spearmen (Fanon)*; 36 light infantry (stone maces); 25 swordsmen.

*veterans

Military Buildings:

Barracks 3

Keep 2

Curtain walls: Carrick, Three Ways

Port towers (4)

Road Carrick – Three Ways

Tower machicolations

Wall tower: Carrick, Three Ways

The main improvement I'd made to the army over the winter months was to use my reliable iron output to keep the smithy busy making carbon steel swords and shields with carbon steel rims. That way, I'd been able to convert into swordsmen nearly all the light infantry with the obsidian-studded maces I'd obtained from Kezatka. The smithy was currently making the last 36 sets for shipment to Texecal.

Although he was a young man, I had complete faith in Hernán and had put him in charge of a unit of swordsmen that had now swelled to over 200 soldiers. One downside of this influx of new troops was that the unit had lost its veteran status. The same had occurred for Lord Arval's cavalry when the various contingents of knights had finally all caught up with us. On the other hand, my heavy infantry and archers, who had only been reinforced to a small extent, were still considered veterans. At some point – perhaps when the size of the unit was doubled – a unit could not absorb new soldiers and still retain a veteran status.

Because of my large store of stone, much of it shipped from Montrose, I had been able to opt for the military upgrade of the town's curtain walls. And although it was a time-consuming task relative to the other options, I was already well past the halfway point. From the initial 96 days, there were just 40 left until the upgrade was complete.

When I had completed my study of the menus, I found myself back in the unwelcome company of the ambassador of Hailand. It was then I realised how much I missed riding alongside Lord Arval or Figus. Time passed easily in their company. Now I was aware of the dust in the air from the tramping feet ahead of me; of a slight ache in my thighs from having to maintain a riding seat for so long; of the weight of the lance across my back. If I glanced at the ambassador on my right, it was no doubt with a scowl on my face.

For his part, too, the journey must have felt slow. For as soon as the ranks of my army were allowed a fall out near a stream for their mid-day meal, Hayashi Nakahu turned to me. 'King Carlos, it is time for me to part from our gracious company. I can move much more swiftly on my own and I wish to report to Emperor Tokanaga that you are bringing your seven hundred spears, hundred knights, hundred archers and sundry others into play.'

His face was impassive but his words were almost provocative as he continued, 'do you have any final message for him before our armies meet?'

'Only that look forward to the honour of meeting him in person.'

Expression softening a little, the Hailand ambassador gave as much of a bow as his saddle allowed. 'In that case, fare well until we meet again.'

'Wait, how will I know where to go?'

'Oh, just continue towards Nekis and we will find you.' And with that frustrating answer, he was off up the road, riding along the corridor made by my soldiers having broken ranks on either side of the road. His servant struggled to get the donkey moving quick enough to keep up.

As soon as Hayashi Nakahu was out of sight I sent for Valeria. The small, hooded Ranger came cantering up from further ahead.

'Track the Hailand ambassador until you locate the Hailand army, then come straight back and let me know where they are.'

'Yes sire.' She turned her horse, a black mare, and made her way up the road at a walk. Would her tracking skill of 21 be enough for this task? That was relatively high for the people of this world, I was sure, but I was far from sure about what such a score meant in absolute terms.

I also summoned Robert and assigned his riders the task of scouting to our rear to make sure of no unpleasant surprises would overtake us. Similarly, I briefed Nurbolat to fan out his riders several hours ahead of the route of the rest of us. I felt that the Hailand army was likely to be the biggest threat I'd yet faced in this world and whether they intended to attack me on sight or try to negotiate with me, I wasn't going to blunder into contact with them unprepared for battle.

Part II Chapter 56: A Friend in Need

After three long days of tramping up the northern road from Montrose, we came to Callondum. The former capital of Trolland had been completely devastated by fire. Not a wooden structure remained and all the stone ruins had scorch marks and soot on them. The inferno had clearly been intensive. A morbid atmosphere lay over the former town, one that was not lifted when I came across ten zombies on the rubble of the old square. These undead soldiers turned to me as one and I felt a little anxious, like when a powerful dog stands up with a growl and you wonder is it going to attack.

Whatever means the Necromancer had of issuing orders to his zombies, however, it was sophisticated enough that the zombies seemed to recognise me as an ally, not an enemy, for as we skirted the square, they dropped their heads and settled back into their former, patient stance.

Not only were the walls of Callondum collapsed and razed to the ground, so too were the residences and workshops. A remarkable canal that had drawn water from a nearby river and which would have served the city well for transport was full of debris: stones mostly, but also scorched timbers.

Until now, I hadn't realised that the Necromancer had wiped out Callondum so that there was no possible way back for Tolland and their god. It was perhaps a safer approach than mine, which had been to allow the citizens of Montrose and Texecal to continue their daily lives without interference. I'd destroyed their military buildings and sent the stone to Carrick, but not their economic ones. I certainly hadn't turned their capital cities into this kind of wasteland. It occurred to me that the non-Greyland citizens under my rule might appreciate my more tolerant approach and that I could perhaps gather a levy from them in return for protecting them from devastation like this at the hands of a new conqueror.

One advantage of not having depopulated Montrose was that the merchants had surpluses in food and timber that I had been able to buy and this had proved essential to my winter campaign in Cantreth. But against that, I could see that the same resources would fall into enemy hands should I ever lose control of the city. Levelling a city – forcing the population to disperse – was the right approach if you couldn't hold it and I suddenly realised that this destruction might be exactly that, a recent event brought on by invasion, rather than a policy approach by the Necromancer.

Our plan had been to camp in Callondum but the army, unusually quiet and uneasy, were willing to march on until sunset to escape the ruins and set up their tents well away from the ghostly atmosphere of the former capital of Trolland. The following morning, we took the western road towards Castel Sliabh, the soldiers marching cold and unhappy through a late flurry of snow.

Every day I took reports from my scouts, with no sign of the Hailand army. Nor was there any report from Valeria. I could see from the menu that she was still on full hit points. And a Ranger would have no difficulty living off the land indefinitely. But still I was anxious for her.

After eight days marching west, through land that became more and more lush, perfect for the large herds of cattle we saw from time to time, we came to the capital of Rockguard. There, despite my growing sense of urgency that my ally might be in danger, I had intended to give my soldiers a day of rest. My advanced riders, however, reported that the gates of the city were closed and that the guards on the walls were refusing us entry. I rode up to see for myself, Lord Arval and Figus joining me.

We halted within shouting distance of the crenelated roof of the gatehouse, on which a dozen soldiers with chainmail coifs stood under the Rockguard banner of a gold sun on a green background.

'Who refuses entry to King Carlos of Greyland?' shouted Lord Arval with genuine anger.

One of the soldiers removed his coif, to show a youthful face and long, dark hair. 'Don't you recognise me, Paladin? And you, Carlos? It is I who refuse you: Connchobair mac Gille Coemgáin, cousin to the king.'

I remembered him, the ambassador from Rockguard who had behaved with such arrogance when he had first come to talk with me and who months later hadn't recognised me as I stood in the Necromancer's tent in my black armour.

Figus called up, 'What of your king's promise? To serve the Necromancer for a year and a day?'

Even from beneath the walls, I could see the sneer on the young man's face. 'The Necromancer will be dead and his city taken by now.'

These words hit me hard. Not because I necessarily believed him, but I was suddenly aware of how much my alliance with the Necromancer meant to me personally. Since arriving in this world, I had more or less been alone. Carlena, Parrin, and Lord Arval had always known something about the real me. But the first two had proven themselves to be uninterested in me. For Carlena, I was simply a means to power. I would certainly consider Lord Arval a friend, yet ever since his captivity and release, a certain deference in his manner – appropriate as it was for a commander towards his king – affected the warmth of our relationship. Then there was Figus. I liked the Bard a lot and I assumed he liked me too, but there was something reserved about Figus, I had the sense that he was always watching and judging.

The Necromancer shared the same challenges and responsibilities as me. Ours was a friendship of equals. And if he had an unfathomable magic and authority over the undead that awed me, I had a relish for war that he was unable to match: he was inclined to shirk the actual test of battle. Together, we complemented each other.

Perhaps too General Strakigos and Sicaria were my friends in this world. They had been my training partners over months and had seen me at my lowest point, staggering into Nekis without a single follower, unfit, starving. They had no illusions about me. For them the aura of authority that I now had, or that of heroism, embellished by the songs of Figus, did not prevent them from seeing me properly. Were I to lose them along with the Necromancer, then I wouldn't be any the less determined to win this game but I would do so while feeling a lot colder inside and more detached from the world of the twenty-five kingdoms.

'Connchobair mac Gille Coemgáin, I give you one last chance to open the gates. You won't take it. But remember this moment. The choice you are making now is a miscalculation that will cost your life.'

'Carlos. You are a fool. You always have been. Everyone but you understands that the Necromancer must be destroyed now, before it is too late. You'd have let him take over the world. Remember how easily Trolland and Southway deceived you? Well, it was the same with the Necromancer. You were a mouse – a fat one – in the paws of a cat.'

I turned Goncendor away from the walls, calling out as I left. 'How well did it turn out for Queen Rorgesta and King Wace to make an enemy of me?'

Tempted as I was to deploy the army and conquer Castel Sliabh and wipe out Rockguard, as well as humble that smug young prince, I didn't want to delay an hour, let alone the days it would have taken to build enough ladders or siege towers to overwhelm whatever garrison was there. Assigning Robert to the task of watching the city and intercepting any individual riders who tried to leave it, I kept the army moving west.

***

The following day we were marching near the south bank of the Silver River and the experience should have been a pleasant one. Under a bright sun, the river lived up to its name, having a sparkling sheen of a surface, which was broken from time to time by the leap and splash of salmon. Birds were calling from bushes and the copses of trees on either side of the cart track we were using. Yet I couldn't enjoy the morning, not with more than 150 kilometres to cover until we reached Nekis.

A stir up ahead and shouts for 'Carlos' and 'the king', caused me to urge Goncendor into a canter and the swordsmen in front of me moved off the track to let me through. Coming around a curve I saw Nurbolat on his short pony, beside Valeria on her tall, dark mare.

'Escorted her to you sire,' said Nurbolat with a nod to the Ranger. 'Nothing else to report, other than signs that a large army passed this very path about a week ago.'

'Thank you. Valeria?'

'The Hailand ambassador used his Swift Travel feat to ride fast northwards and I could not keep him in view for long. His trail was clear enough and his servant on the donkey would have been easy to track, but slow. I choose to leave the servant and move as fast as I could while the tracks of the ambassador were fresh.'

She gave me a glance from under her hood and I nodded. Then the Ranger dropped her gaze to the ground and continued her low-voiced report. Her soft tones must have been frustrating for the soldiers further back who were pretending to mind their own business but were clearly straining to listen.

'I found his first campsite to the south of Callondum and his next one to the west of the city. At the great crossroads, he took the northern path. To appreciate this required me some time because I had been trying to make sense of a variety of tracks on the western road. By the time I found the ambassador's trail again and signs of his fourth campsite I was two days behind him.'

It was difficult for me not to interject and encourage Valeria come to the point. I was uneasy and anxious to hear how matters stood now. But I managed to hold my tongue. It would only cost me a minute or two more to listen to Valeria tell her story her own way.

'That northern route through the Demon Fang mountains on the border between the Kingdom of Lost Souls and the jungle of Zorland is not much travelled and while it was easy to see the hoofprints I was looking for, I also saw signs of danger: a pack of dire wolves; moving trees; humanoids, probably hobgoblins; and even a tiger.'

Again I nodded, though she had not lifted her eyes to me and might not have seen the gesture. I knew it couldn't have been easy for her, this task. Alone and surrounded by danger, I could imagine her in the dark of a restless night, worrying if the wolves or the tiger had scented her.

'The next day, about thirty kilometres to the north of the last mountain pass, the ambassador had joined with a group of other riders, probably five others to judge by their hoofprints, and they had turned west through the forest.'

'Grimdark Forest,' I said and she looked up at me, surprised. 'It is where Figus met the Necromancer. The Necromancer likes to go there to level up and collect silk from Grimdark Spiders.'

'There were spiders I had to avoid. Also a nest of giant wasps. And a panther.'

'I was monitoring you and glad to see you never lost a hit point.'

'No sire, I was careful. On the west of the forest, they found the road to Nekis and took it. Before long, I could see the tracks of a large army. I was now moving faster than the ambassador, who kept company with these other riders and when, three days later, I arrived at Nekis, it was probably the evening of the same day that the ambassador had reached the Hailand army.'

'The Hailand army?'

'It is at Nekis, besieging the city.'

'Details?'

'Can you make some space, I can sketch the situation in the dirt.'

'I can do better than that, I have a map.' While we waited for my chest of parchments and ink to be brought up, I dismounted and gestured to Valeria to do the same. Her mare was obviously exhausted and in her hunger the horse was constantly swaying her head towards the lush grass at the riverbank. I ordered a young swordsman to take care of the mare and made sure the Ranger too was supplied with food and fresh water.

When the parchment was spread out – to save time unpacking my equipment, I used the back of a cart for a table – Lord Arval, Figus, Hernán, Jacintha, Valeria and I were gathered close.

The Ranger drew some marks on the map.

'The Necromancer has abandoned the southern section of the city and destroyed the two bridges, which has therefore cut off the Rockguard army who are camped there. There are six Jomskar longships in the river between the Rockguard army and the northern city. At first, I thought they were there to help the attackers cross but arrows were loosed at them from the south bank of the river and they moved to moor under the walls of Nekis, where the Necromancer's archers can help. So they must be present to assist the Kingdom of Lost Souls.

'In front of the walls of the city are two very large armies, each nearly the size of ours. Hailand has three hundred samurai, who are not yet committed to the battle but are in reserve, about two hundred archers and a thousand footsoldiers. They are busy making ladders. Then there is the army from Langia. They have about four hundred heavy infantry with two-handed axes and seven hundred light infantry with spears. No cavalry, no archers. But they also have six ents and these are capable of hurling large rocks at the walls of the city.

'Although I knew I should hurry back to you as soon as possible, I also wanted to give you a clear understanding. So I waited in the cover of a grove of alder and watched the battle of the ents against four trebuchets of the Necromancer. It seemed to me, the ents had the advantage. They were more accurate and had already demolished a tower in the wall they were aiming at. I fear that as a result the city will be broken into and overrun before we can reach it.'

Valeria looked up.

'Well done,' Lord Arval clapped her shoulder. 'Yours was not an easy mission. This is important information.'

I was looking at the map. 'At least the Necromancer has a way out. If the city has fallen, he might have escaped with the Vikings. And three hundred zombie soldiers are not so easy to defeat, even if the walls are shattered.'

I spoke as much to convince myself as my officers. This was a desperate position and its outcome was likely to determine that of the game as a whole.

Part II Chapter 57: Ents Versus Trebuchets

Dawn was preceded by a brightening of the eastern sky, but until the sun rose properly I had to wait in an agony of impatience. Nothing helped. Not checking the menus – I couldn't concentrate – nor checking my gear for the twentieth time. Nor even stroking the neck of Goncendor. My stallion knew I was troubled, for he kept lifting up his head with a snort and looking about with wild, rolling eyes.

To our west the sky was still dark. Nekis was about five kilometres away and strain as I did to hear something that would indicate whether the city had fallen, the immediate sounds of soldiers preparing weapons and armour were too loud. To reach Nekis by dawn, we had left our tents behind and marched in the darkness, our engineers hurriedly improvising torches. Then we'd rested in our armour for a few hours. I doubted anyone had managed to get much sleep.

The vanguard of the army consisted of myself, the knights, and the Cantreth cavalry and we were at a grove of trees about a kilometre away from a wooden bridge over the river Syth. This was the last intact bridge that would allow us to cross to the city and we had halted far enough away that the sounds of our march and the light of our torches would be hidden by a hill.

Once the sky had become bright enough to ride, I set off with the knights and as I topped the next rise was glad we had taken a cautious approach. I could see the bridge and on our side of it were several tents and a dozen horses: scouts or guards assigned to keep watch at the crossing. The soldiers at this post were from Rockguard, their flag with the golden sun being flown from a lone birch tree. And even in this poor light I could see the blue tattoos on their skin.

I withdrew from the crest of the hill and sent for the Cantreth sergeant. In just a few minutes Nurbolat approached on his pony and gave a bow from the waist.

'Take your riders around that post to the western side to intercept anyone trying to escape. I'll give you thirty minutes, then I'll attack them from this side.'

Nurbolat nodded and turned his pony's head away at once.

'Lord Arval, ready the knights.'

'Sire.' The Paladin was already mounted in full gear too and I watched as he rode up and down the lines, making sure the last of the knights was in position.

As I waited to give Nurbolat time to get into position to prevent any of the enemy scouts from sounding the alarm, the sky continued to grow lighter. The day was grey though and a hint of drizzle touched my cheeks. Did I want it to rain? Would that help or hinder us? It was impossible to say without seeing how matters stood at the city. At least we hadn't had to cope with a muddy path during our night march.

Once I felt I had given Nurbolat enough time to move around the enemy camp, I felt my heart pick up pace. The waiting was over. Now battle could begin. And that prospect lifted my disconsolate spirits. Goncendor too was glad to be moving and he wanted to step up from a trot to a canter. I let him have a few paces, taking the lead of my army, but I did not intend to join the charge. Instead I readied my bow. Seventy knights in heavy armour against a dozen scouts just leaving their tents was no contest. It was more important I was ready to intercept any of them who tried to flee.

On my signal, the front line of knights moved forward and the rest in their wake. Like an avalanche pouring down a mountainside, the pounding hooves of our warhorses drove birds from their nests and the shaking of the ground made the Rockguard soldiers rush to their weapons and horses. Several manged to mount up as we closed the gap to their camp. Fifty, forty, thirty metres and my knights dipped their lances or raised a sword. On we came, me easing up to fall behind the two rows. Twenty, ten…

With a shriek of blade sliding along blade the fighting began. The position was hopeless for the Rockguard scouts and they knew it. After a half-hearted attempt to fight back, some of them threw away their weapons and lay down in surrender. Four galloped westwards; two tried for the bridge. Those were the ones I was on guard for.

My first shot hit the nearest rider under in the ribs as he raised his arms to flap the reins of his horse. He fell off under the impact and I got a kill message for a soldier described as an Uilgaurd. The second had clattered over the wooden planks and kept going northwards. Drawing my bowstring to the maximum I took note of the wind, held my breath and released the string.

The arrow soared with hardly a wobble to its flight and smacked into the back of the rider. A few more strides of his horse that had me worried and then he fell, the kill confirmed by a menu message.

Relieved that none of the enemy troops had escaped across the bridge, I turned my attention back to the Rockguard camp. From the far side of the tents was some scuffling and there were cries of alert and of pain. I hurried Goncendor past the surrendered figures.

'Well done sire!' a knight called out to me. 'I thought that one was away.'

I acknowledged the shout with a wave of my lance, but my concern was to see had Nurbolat intercepted the other fleeing riders. Cantering across a meadow towards a line of trees, I saw the Cantreth riders emerge at a walk from under the branches.

'How many did you get?' I reined in near Nurbolat.

'Four.' Nurbolat held up four fingers and grinned his gap-toothed smile.

'Good. They are all accounted for.'

The first skirmish had gone well and now we had a choice, continue on this side of the River Syth to defeat the Rockguard army while it was cut off from the other two armies, or cross and be outnumbered. Detaching ten of Nurbolat's riders to keep watch on this side of the river, I ordered everyone else to cross the bridge. If the Necromancer was still battling his opponents, I had to be able to bring my whole army into action on the north side of the Syth. This was putting all their lives in danger. If we were overwhelmed, there would be no retreat over the small wooden structure. I felt an ominous shadow on me as I gave the order but I saw no hesitation or doubt in the eyes of the army's sergeants, only determination.

***

It took until mid-morning to get the last of our footsoldiers formed up on the north side of the River Syth, but anxious as I was to assist my ally, I wasn't going to rush towards a superior force with my own troops strung out and disorganised.

The Greyland army should have been tired after all their hard travel and lack of sleep, yet I saw and heard no sign of fatigue. Behind me, as we advanced toward the city, the sergeants called out their marching songs and the troops gave back vigorous responses.

Overhead, the sky was filled with those long, thin clouds that look like someone has taken a comb to them and stretched them from horizon to horizon, so it was not until I picked up the distinct, acrid smell of smoke did I realise that a lot of the grey above me was not cloud, but smoke. A vast swathe of the sky was filled with smoke and this was surely not good. Had Nekis been put to the torch? As I led the army over a final rise, I had my answer.

The black banners of the Kingdom of Lost Souls still fluttered on the towers and tall buildings of the city and with that sight my heart fluttered too. Our effort had not been wasted, we were in time! The banners of my ally, however, were concentrated on an inner wall. The outer wall of Nekis had been taken. In two places, large sections of the wall had collapsed and the towers adjacent to them had been smashed in, as though punched repeatedly by a giant fist. No one on them could have lived through whatever battering had taken place over the previous days. Ents, it seemed, were more effective siege units than trebuchets.

The smoke was mostly from the north of the city and it seemed like almost all of the district between the inner wall and the outer wall was on fire there. A breeze from the sea was bringing the smoke in our direction and while it was not thick enough to be more than a mild irritant to my eyes, there was one positive I could see from the fire, which was that it was holding back three ents – absolutely massive and intimidating tree-monsters – and a huge body of infantry gathered around a cart with yellow banners and a tall wooden rectangle covered in antlers. The army of Langia.

Much closer to us was the army of Hailand. They had some riders and footsoldiers about five hundred metres from us, hurrying around with trumpets blaring. Having seen us, these troops were hurrying to form up to face us. This was a relatively small force, numbering only about two hundred spearmen and fifty light cavalry. Beyond these troops were the tents and carts of the Hailand army. And beyond those, I could see the colourful flags on the backs of the samurai, mixed with banners of yellow on teal that were hoisted above formations of infantry. They were packed into the gap in the outer wall and there were ladders up against the inner wall, with fighting taking place. My heart pounded at the sight. That's where I needed to be. And soon.

'Halt!' My order echoed along the lines and soon the tramp of our marching troops ceased. All around me, faces were turned towards me expectantly.

For now all the pattern of the coming battle was in flux and I had several options. But as soon as I committed the army to a course of action there would be no retrieving the situation. Standing in the stirrups I put my weight on my pommel and took one last look at the panorama before me. It was thrilling, if I was being honest with myself. A glittering sea framed an epic battle in which black lines of zombies held back a surging army of samurai. And we were about to enter that fray. I wouldn't have swapped this for the life of a billionaire back on Earth.

'Nurbolat.'

'Here.'

'Ride ahead, screen our movements. Harass those Hailand lines but don't get caught in an archery battle. When we arrive, ride on towards the army of Langia and do all you can to prevent or delay them coming to the aid of Hailand.'

'Understood.' And already the invaluable Cantreth horse archers were on their way. I felt a great warmth towards Nurbolat and his riders. They were experts in skirmishing and as I could not see many archers among the Hailand troops, would pose a real problem to the enemy ahead.

'Hernán.'

'Sire?' The young warrior stepped forward from his body of swordsmen.

'Who is your second-in-command?'

'Carter, sire.'

'Hernán, today your place is with me. Carter?'

'Yes sire?' A sturdy, bearded man saluted me with his sword.

'You form up in three lines on our right, by those gorse bushes. You then march two hundred metres further back from our front line. Do not commit your men unless those footsoldiers from Langia come to assist Hailand. You have to be ready to intercept them. Is that clear?'

'Yes sire!' Carter shouted his reply with a strong, clear voice that immediately gave me confidence in him.

'Lord Arval. You are with me. Your second?'

'Sir Vivar sire.'

'Sir Vivar,' I addressed a knight whose face was masked by his visor, but I saw glittering dark eyes as he waved his lance. 'Form up the knights on the left. When you believe your charge will be effective, smash into the Hailand army.'

'Yes sire.'

'Spears.' I twisted about to address them. 'You will advance in your two units until contact with that line of Hailand troops.' I pointed to where Nurbolat and his riders were already loosing arrows at the enemy. I noticed that the Arkine trainers had come with the army and caught nods from them at my orders.

'Archers behind the spears, but Isabelle, you are with me.'

'Engineers to the bridge. If you learn that the Rockguard army is coming, you must destroy it before they can cross.

'Heavy infantry, form up between the two units of spears. Advance to the enemy in step with the spears. You will be the spear tip of our formation and first into battle.'

'Now listen carefully everyone.' I stood in my stirrups again, this time turning left and right and raising my voice as loudly as I could. 'We will attack those Hailand troops and press on to the gap in the walls of the city. Do not be diverted to the enemy tents or to chasing fleeing soldiers. Keep close to each other.

'If all goes well, we will unite with the army of the Kingdom of Lost Souls and then turn north to deal with those ents and the army of Langia. If Langia are alert, they will join the battle before we have finished with Hailand. If that happens we face them and hold them until our allies can sortie and attack from the rear.

'Do not try to engage enemy leaders. That's my role today. Those of us with classes will kill them all.

'This will be a long, hard day. Summon up your rage and channel it down your arms and thighs. Be eagles in the charge and tigers in the fray. Fight for each other and fight for Miya!' I settled into the saddle and walked Goncendor ahead of the army and raised one arm.

'Long live King Carlos!' bellowed Lord Arval. A powerful roar came back from the soldiers but it evidently wasn't loud enough for again he cried, 'long live King Carlos!' And this time the reply was deafening.

Pointing my arm at the lines of Hailand soldiers, I waited for the shouts to die away. 'Advance!'

Part II Chapter 58: The Coldness of Death Stills My Limbs

There's something uncanny about the world when you move through it with the intention of waging war. Everything seemed portentous and vivid, even the tussocks of grass over which Goncendor walked; or the flight of a bee, swerving away from my helmet visor and oblivious to the hundreds of warriors making their way toward the enemy (the bee was probably not oblivious to the acrid tang of smoke in the air); the rippling sound of a green and white Greyland banner, caught by a gust of wind. Everything around me was present in a way that it wouldn't have been on my daily runs over this very same ground back when I was living in Nekis. I wouldn't have noticed any of it. Was it really only seven months ago since I had left Nekis with nothing but my determination to recover Greyland? Now I was returning at the head of a veteran army.

Ahead, Nurbolat's riders cleared out of the way to reveal two lines of Hailand spearmen and on my left flank, their light cavalry, also armed with spears.

'Halt!' It took a full minute for my troops to respond, so that the distant flanks of my army were now advanced somewhat ahead of the centre. That was a positive here, because we overlapped the enemy and it would bring my soldiers down on their flanks more quickly.

'Dismount,' I shouted to my immediate team, 'and give your reins to Jacintha.'

The normally cheerful Sorceress scowled.

'Stay back for now and save your mana for when we meet Tokanaga and his officers,' I explained.

Once walking on the ground just ahead of the heavy infantry, I made the blade of the Lance of Light glow bright with a Light spell and gestured towards the lines of dark figures holding their spears with blades pointing towards us. I was at the tip of a wedge that was made up of all those around me with class skills. Striking through the rows of enemy spears was more effectively done from foot than horse and once I had broken the line, my troops without as many hit points could follow up.

'Charge!'

'Charge!' bellowed Lord Arval beside me and the two of us took off, loping heavily in our full plate, the Paladin brandishing Trueblade above his head.

I wasn't going to lead Goncendor or our other horses onto those grounded spears. And I was all the more certain that fighting from foot was the right idea here when I saw that the Hailand soldiers assigned to their rear-guard had a shallow ditch and hundreds of wooden stakes as protection. Should I blind the enemy ahead? Or trigger my two feats, Charge! and Tactical Strike? Since these had twenty-four hour countdowns, I saved them, but Battle Cry was a skill I could use repeatedly and although I'd not had much chance to level it (just some training ground work on it during the winter in Fort 2 having brought it to 17) I triggered it when I was close enough to the spearmen ahead I could see the knots in the yellow cords tying their armour plates together.

Hearing a confident answering roar to my own, I leapt toward the soldier in front of me, crossing the ditch and smacking his spear to the side with my lance. The uneven ground meant that the box for Lunge had not lit up, but all the same, my Wield Lance skill was a maxed out 70 and I struck him right through the mouth, killing him instantly.

Receiving two spear hits for a total of 9 damage, I slashed my blade through the neck of the soldier to my left. I was aware of the solid presence of Lord Arval on my right and Leonora and Figus just behind me. Hernán appeared on my left, crouching to let a spear thrust go over his shoulder. Out of position for the use of the lance blade, I pushed on with a kick attack and jabbed the butt of the lance into the chest of another Hailand soldier who staggered backwards and fell. Already, there was daylight in front of me, although the skyline quickly darkened as dozens more Hailand soldiers crowded in on me.

'Come on Greyland!' Splashed with blood, Lord Arval was beside me, the clang of spearpoints on his large, all-metal shield ringing out from repeated attacks. With surprising dexterity, the Paladin chopped the blade away from one spear while stamping on the haft of another and causing it to splinter. Our eyes met and I felt a surge of comradeship with him. We were the steel-sharp point of the Greyland army.

At that moment Lunge lit up and I took it, thrusting straight through the plates of armour of a man to my right, killing him. But I had to shake his body off of the lance, at a cost to my hit points as I took two more hits from spears. I had 146 hit points left.

All of a sudden, the enemy spearmen were running, most dropping their weapons in panic as Greyland knights surged among them from my left and our swordsmen from my right. Our large army had enveloped the much smaller Hailand rear-guard force. Behind me, Leonora was brandishing her quartz-embedded magical mace creating an Intimidate effect to all those nearby.

A Greyland axeman ran past me in a frenzy, spittle flecks all down his beard, eyes wide with fury, doing his best to catch the fleeing Hailand soldiers with murderous intention.

'Form up again! Form up!' I shouted. 'Sergeants! Get a hold of your units!' Hurrying back through the bodies and debris of the brief but bloody encounter, I grabbed the pommel of my saddle and hauled myself up onto Goncendor. Then I rode up to the confusion of the battleground waving the Lance of Light furiously.

'Form up! Form up Greyland. You there,' I pointed to a soldier of ours holding a banner who was trying with his free hand to take a dagger from the belt of a dead enemy soldier. 'Stand over there and get your unit around you.'

While my sergeants struggled for order and reformed our lines, I raised myself in the stirrups, trying to understand what was happening elsewhere. My difficulty was that the tents of the Hailand army were blocking the view towards Nekis and also most of my view of the army of Langia. From the small part of that battle I could see, Nurbolat's riders were doing a good job at keeping the Langians occupied.

Something flew across the sky, something much bigger than a bird. A large rock thumped into the ground with a noticeable tremor, even though it had landed a long way off, among my Cantreth riders. Since my enemies did not have a trebuchet, there was only one source for such a heavy missile as that: an ent. A quick check on the menu showed I was down to 92 from 105 of the mounted archers. And even as I glanced at it, the figure dropped to 91. Then 90.

'Robert!' I shouted.

'Here, sire.' The leader of my Greyland light cavalry rode up from the reserve.

'Get Nurbolat away from the ents. Tell him to regroup behind the army and skirmish as they see fit.'

'Understood sire!' Robert galloped away to my right, followed by his twenty companions.

'Lord Arval remount and come to me. Leonora,' I looked down at the Cleric, 'well done with the mace. Mount up.'

I rode into a pocket of space between the heavy infantry in the centre of my army and the spearmen to my right. The Greyland army was advancing in reasonable order, cutting through ropes and tramping over tents to keep our formation. All the same, it was slow progress and I knew that any advantage of surprise would be long gone by the time we finally cleared the Hailand camp.

Formed up in the ruined section of the Nekis outer wall, facing us, were the samurai of the Hailand army. With them was their ambassador and – I presumed – the emperor and his brother. There was a cluster of banners around the ambassador and the warrior mounted on Hayashi Nakahu's left held a splayed fan of bright green, which he was using to signal orders. Next to him was a rider with a large drum on either side of his horse and this rider was pounding out an ominous rhythm. On the right of Hayashi Nakahu was another distinct samurai, who stood out by the yellow badge in the centre of his helmet.

Behind the very dense concentration of samurai riders, spearmen and archers of the Hailand army were running to form up. And behind them were the abandoned ladders of their assault on the inner wall of Nekis. The sight of the Necromancer's soldiers pulling up the empty ladders and hauling them over the walls was very satisfying. For now, my allies were safe.

While I was enjoying the fact that I'd arrived in time to prevent the storming of Nekis, I noticed that one of the Necromancer's black and red banners had started to swing back and forth insistently. I raised the lance, metal blade still incandescent with Light, and imitated the motion. The black banner stopped moving, then went back and forth even more vigorously. I copied the same motions, glad that they had seen me and that we had saluted each other.

From that distant wall, there came a distinct cry from a mass of voices: 'Greyland!' 'Greyland!' 'Greyland!'

'Three loud cheers for the Necromancer,' I called across to my own soldiers. 'Let them know we are here. Hip, hip!'

'Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!' By the third cheer, the whole army had caught on and it was a terrific shout, easily loud enough to carry the three hundred metres or so to the troops of the Kingdom of Lost Souls who were gathered on the walls. All the black banners of the Necromancer were now greeting us with swift waving motions that conveyed something of the emotion of those wielding them.

'Where's Valeria?' Our Ranger was missing, otherwise, gathered around me were Lord Arval, Figus, Jacintha (level 5 Sorceress), Isabelle (level 4 Rogue), Hernán (level 4 Warrior), Leonora (level 4 Cleric), Brother Raymond (level 3 Summoner) and Abbot Hugues (level 3 Templar).

No one answered.

The samurai who were formed up at the front of the Hailand army had drawn their bows and the first few shafts were whistling through the sky, a disproportionate number coming close to me. Clearly, they did not intend to advance. Their general, whether Tokanga himself or the ambassador – whom I could see leaning towards the emperor to speak to him – was no fool.

They were probably waiting for the army of Langia, with their unmatchable ents, to come up before advancing. Did this situation oblige me to attack? Again, I felt the pressure of having to make a decision that would be irretrievable. If took on the Hailand samurai in an archery battle, this would play to my personal strengths. I had the range and power to inflict a lot of damage on them.

The problem was that I'd probably lose all my archers and even more of a concern was the army of Langia. They were on the move and although the ents were extremely slow (I could see them lifting and planting their legs as they methodically approached), we just didn't have the time for an archery battle. The moment had come to test my strategy of building a team of people with class progression.

'Army of Greyland!' I shouted. 'I am going to charge the emperor of Hailand and kill him. You must follow up. Spearmen, force their samurai back. Archers, fire over our ranks into their reserves. Infantry and cavalry, wait for us to disorganise their ranks and then charge in.

'Carter, stay in reserve and engage Langia if we are still fighting when they arrive. Don't let them hit our flank.'

Dropping my voice to a normal level, I looked at the people immediately around me, my class progression team. 'Let Lord Arval and I punch our way in, then use your class skills as you see best.'

'What type of elemental should I summon?' Brother Raymond was pale and sounded flustered.

'Fire. As we might need it later for the ents.'

I was about to set off when Valeria came running up.

'Where were you?' I asked. She didn't answer, only blushed and ducked her head deeper into her hood.

I turned to Lord Arval. 'You once said you'd follow me to hell.'

'I did and I will.'

'Come on then so.' I raised the lance and pointed it at the Hailand samurai. 'Charge!' I triggered my level 10 Warlord feat, Tactical Strike.

Tactical Strike

Minimum Intelligence requirement 14.

For 1 minute per Intelligence point over 13, troops under the command of the Warlord and within hearing strike as if flanking (+2 to hit, +2 damage). If already flanking this effect is doubled.

'Charge!' roared Lord Arval.

And the Greyland army gave a great cheer.

Crouching down over Goncendor, I urged him forward, quickly moving from trot to canter to gallop. The drum of his hooves matched my racing heart. A shiver ran through me. There was nothing at all like this feeling. I did not fear death. I was the bringer of death.

At forty metres to their lines I launched two Holy Light spells, whose silent explosions covered the mass of samurai in the breach. At twenty metres I triggered my level 5 feat Charge! so that all the troops near me got an additional 10 hit points and then used the skill Battle Cry.

At ten, I felt a surge of warmth and got the message that I had been enhanced with Miya's Courage (a buff to attack, resistance, and skill check success). That must have been Leonora.

Then I was among the blind samurai, striking hard with the lance. My enemies were stronger than the typical zero level soldiers I had fought in other battles. It needed two, or even three successful hits to kill them. And soon I was stuck in a tight melee of horses and samurai, my legs pressed tight against the flanks of Goncendor, who was trying unsuccessfully to rear up and create some room ahead by lashing out with his hooves, but who just couldn't heave himself up enough.

'King Carlos,' came a shout from ahead of me. 'You madman! You destroy us both! Only the Necromancer will win. You could have shared in the spoils.' It was the ambassador and he was close, perhaps just beyond the next line of horsemen.

I could not reply, the air in my lungs was needed for energy as I chopped through arms, stabbed into eyes and ducked under wild slashing blades. Despite all my advantages in buffs and skill levels, it was impossible to avoid taking hits, some of them strong enough to penetrate my plate mail. Those samurai swords were serious upgrades. I was just over 100 hit points and sinking.

'With you, sire!' Somehow Lord Arval found the space to come up on my right.

The sounds of battle surged up as riderless horses screamed and men trapped in the crush shouted. Spears splintered with cracking sounds louder than bone, and shrieks of iron on iron rang out. This was the fiercest, most intense fighting I'd yet experienced, comparable to when I had been a rhino on that tight-packed bridge at Three Ways.

Whether it was the buffs or my level, I was fighting well with both blade and haft of the Lance of Light. There was a steady flow of kill announcements coming through and after I caught an incoming warrior in the throat, blood momentarily spraying across me, I even had time to look at the army menu.

Spears, minor losses; archers, minor losses; heavy infantry almost wiped out; knights down to three-quarter strength. Swordsmen still full. They hadn't had to delay the Langian's yet.

All I could do was keep striking, keep killing, keep encouraging Goncendor to take one more step forward, until I realised that the samurai in front of me were the emperor and his brother.

'Tokanaga!' I shouted and the warrior who had been issuing orders with his fan roared back at me.

'Miya is weak. You are a fool. Now you die.'

'What poetry.' Figus was behind me and laughing at the emperor. 'I'll record those words and you'll be mocked for centuries.'

'Here! Greyland! On me!' I needed my team.

Tokanaga was now holding a two-handed blade high and he brought it down with a swift cut that would have cleaved me in two from the shoulder if I hadn't pushed it wide with the blade of the Lance of Light: sparks streamed from where the sword slid along the magical weapon.

A fiery humanoid flew past, hammering at the emperor with molten fists. A flurry of magical darts tore into Tokanaga and I struck a beautiful counter-attack into the crock of his elbow between two plates of armour.

You have hit Emperor Tokanaga for 15 damage of which 15 has been absorbed.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance 65 (70)

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse 65 (70)

My next blow did 0 as well, while his struck my thigh for 12. What did the message mean, 'absorbed'? Perhaps it was a feat of his, or perhaps a caster had given the emperor a defensive buff.

'We're not damaging him, swap to his brother!' I glanced over my shoulder to where Jacintha was looking as severe as I'd ever seen her, while Brother Raymond was waving his hands as he concentrated on his elemental. Lord Arval was busy ensuring that incoming spearmen did not disrupt our attack on the emperor.

Figus was able to advance towards the samurai with the yellow badge on his helmet and I moved up between the two brothers to be able to reach him too. Although this led to my getting hit again, this time my strike got through.

You have hit Ashoko for 17 damage.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance 65 (70)

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse 65 (70)

When the fire elemental joined in and Figus got in a strong cut across Ashoko's arm, the samurai pulled on the reins and tried to escape. With the horses and bodies and press of his own spearmen wanting to come and assist him blocking the way out, it was clear that he was in huge trouble.

While I continued to lash into his brother, Tokanaga cut into my shoulder, dropping me to 68 hit points. A heal, however, landed, easing the pain of my wounds and bringing me back to 76. For once I wasn't going to urge the Cleric to save her heals.

As Ashoko's hit points drained away from him a heal, and then another, temporarily brought him respite. But it was no good. My team were lethal. 'I am robbed of my life and of seeing the day that Yahima Hachi rules the Twenty-Five kingdoms.' Then he looked directly at me. 'Unless an idiot dies, he won't be cured.'

A moment later, Ashoko was down, the final damage delivered by the fire elemental but I got a decent share of EXP: 160,000.

Now I turned my attention back to Tokanaga and couldn't see any other option than to keep striking him in the hope that whatever magic was protecting the emperor had either limited duration or was limited in how much damage it could absorb. We traded blows, with him unharmed and me knocked down to 47. Then I realised: it was their ambassador, Hayashi Nakahu. Ducked down low, the ambassador was trying to hide the fact that he was a spell caster. But his hands were making the complex gestures of someone casting and this insight also made sense of the bright silk robes he was wearing instead of armour.

'Kill the ambassador!' I screamed and triggered my Stonewall skill. I decided to concentrate on deflecting Tokanaga's attacks and defending myself while my team transferred their attention to the parrot-bright figure at the emperor's side.

My cry had an immediate effect, with the fire elemental rushing to throw his molten punches; with arrows striking the ambassador; and, best of all, with Valeria surging through the melee to leap from her horse, daggers in hand. For a moment they wrestled furiously and then the ambassador was gone, fallen between the horses.

Now I resumed my attacks and as though I had finally cracked the eggshell of a boiled egg, my lance was cutting through armour and hurting the emperor.

You have hit Emperor Tokanaga for 18 damage.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance 65 (70)

You cannot become better at Ride Warhorse 65 (70)

'All on the emperor now, he's vulnerable again.'

Lord Arval was on the Tokanaga's left, Figus on the right, and still seated on the ambassador's horse, Valeria was holding her own against samurai who were trying to ride up and rescue their emperor.

Tokanaga's evident consternation was increased by the Hailand troops behind him crying out to their emperor for help. He ceased trying to decapitate me long enough to look over his shoulder. Beyond the colourful banners of the Hailand army were a row of black banners. The Necromancer had sallied out to join me!

Again I cut the emperor and the blood was pouring through the gaps in his armour. My comrades too, were either focused on bringing him down or keeping his troops from interfering. I was aware of Hernán somewhere off to my left, thronged by enemy riders.

The emperor was fighting back with vicious blows and despite my having gained another heal, I was down to 27 hit points. Unexpectedly, the Hailand leader looked around him. Everywhere was carnage: dead horses, soldiers, limbs, broken weapons. Then he spoke. 'Tokanaga is dust. The coldness of death stills my limbs. But you will not take experience from death's arrival.' He threw aside his great blade, snatched out a wakizashi and in the same movement cut his own throat, blood spraying into the air.

At the very end, he must have hoped to have prevented me and my comrades from gaining experience from him. But I had no complaints about the 210,000 exp I had obtained.

Figus gave me a nod. 'Great final words. Almost makes up for his earlier terrible line.'

'The emperor is dead!' Lord Arval began shouting towards the Hailand soldiers. 'The emperor is dead!'

I joined in and soon could hear the same shouts, joyful ones from my soldiers. I didn't need Detect Enemy Weakness to know the Hailand troops were demoralised. Even the few samurai that remained mounted ceased from making attacks. And the Hailand soldiers on foot were looking at one another with pale faces. From behind me, Leonora rode forward casting Intimidate from her studded mace.

Like a ripple from a large rock thrown into a still lake, there was an immediate flow of Hailand soldiers fleeing from us in all directions and as my view ahead cleared, the slow, brutal zombie soldiers of the Necromancer became visible.

Even though there was still fighting taking place and still horrendous screams from horses and soldiers, the immediate world around me felt calm.

'May I heal you sire?' asked Figus.

'And I?' Lord Arval looked like a creature from hell, covered as he was with blood and I remembered my words to him before our charge. We had found hell all right, but it was for the Hailand army, not us.

'I'll take one from each of you. We still have to face Langia.'

As the warm pleasure of a heal flowed into me I heard a familiar voice.

'Thanks to the hundred and more bodies you have provided for me, I believe I can help with that.'

The ranks of zombies had parted and there, smiling and removing his black gloves was the Necromancer.

Part II Chapter 59: The High Priest of Langia

'Well met, old friend.' I saluted the Necromancer with a wave of the lance.

'Friend, indeed. For to arrive at a time of adversity and place yourself and your people in danger on our behalf is to prove a friendship deeper than any I have heard about in the seven ages of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms.'

'We must turn to Langia now.' Although the outer wall of Nekis now blocked my view northwards, I could see from the menus that my swordsmen were taking loses and so too were the light cavalry.

'Go! But don't take any risks. For Argax will be here shortly and he can bear the brunt of battle, especially against the ents.' The Necromancer rubbed his hands with relish, then spread his arms wide and began to chant.

Goncendor was exhausted and I could not make him move at more than a walk, but that suited the confusion of my forces, which were all mixed up together now. 'Follow me Greyland!' I shouted and some of my sergeants repeated the cry, rousing soldiers who had been looting dead samurai.

On my left was Figus, on my right Lord Arval and joining us on horse were Jacintha, Leonora (who had levelled up to 5 in Cleric), Brother Raymond (now a level 4 Summoner) and Abbot Hugues, who was still a Templar level 3. On foot were Valeria, Isabelle (now a level 5 Rogue) and Hernán. The young man, who had become an excellent leader and more than fulfilled my trust in him, had reached level 5 in Fighter but was still heavily wounded and on just 7 hit points. All the hit points he had lost before levelling would have been restored, so he must have taken a second battering after that.

'Hernán, take charge here. Rally our knights and pursue the enemy. And try to get our other unit of spears to regroup. Stop any looting. We will share out the spoils after the battle, which is not won yet.'

Hernán opened his mouth as if to argue, perhaps wanting to remain at my side as part of the team who had dealt so well with Emperor Tokanaga and his brother. But I could see that he understood the importance of my orders and after a moment simply nodded. 'Yes, sire.'

Back out of the breach in the outer wall of Nekis and we were faced with battle once more. It took me a moment to make sense of the scene. True to his orders, it looked like Carter, although massively outnumbered, had interposed himself between us and the Langian infantry. He'd been overrun and the small numbers of Greyland swordsmen still remaining were in groups who had been completely surrounded and were desperately fighting back to back. The Cantreth riders and Robert's too were also trying their best to delay the Langian army even though massive boulders were crashing down upon them.

Lord Arval shook his head, grim-faced.

'Can we defeat them?' I asked him. 'Or do we stay on the defensive?'

'I don't like to abandon anyone.'

'Figus?'

'Sometimes sacrifice is necessary. But not today. Not when we have you.'

'So we do.' I laughed and felt myself once more filled by a shiver of recklessness and excitement. 'Soldiers of Greyland!' I raised my voice and the lance. 'Our comrades risked their lives to give us time to defeat Hailand. We go now to their aid. Summon up your strength once more. Strike like lions! Strike for your comrades! Charge!' I gestured forward with the lance and urged Goncendor to bring me to the heart of the melee. This would be as hard a test as I'd yet faced. And I found myself eager to bring it on.

My stallion was all heart and responded as best he could. Foam streamed through the barding plates as he managed a canter, head swaying dangerously as if close to collapse. I learned down by his ear and slapped his neck. 'Come on brave Goncendor. One last effort.'

A ragged cry from all along our line encouraged my mount and he brought his head up, proud again. Now I had to place the last Holy Light and I launched it at an ent who was some fifty metres behind the fighting. There, it would also blind a body of Langian slingers. Triggering Battle Cry (which was now up to 19) I lowered the lance and immediately saw a Lunge option, which I took, driving the blade through an axeman.

Our charge took us deep into the wild, frenzied melee but then my sense of the battle dissolved into a non-stop exchange of blows. Strangely, despite my rage, the screams, and the horror, a kind of balletic feeling filled me as I whirled the Lance of Light around on both sides of Goncendor with a precision and dexterity that used the lightness and sharpness of the magical weapon to maximum advantage. The Langian troops were not heavily armoured: their axemen had lamellar surcoats, their spearmen chainmail of an inferior quality. My lance sheered through chainmail links, found the gaps between metal plates, and stabbed into torsos left and right.

Goncendor could no longer help me with kicks of his iron-clad hooves, nor rear up so that I could come crashing down on my foes, but he kept moving and that was all I needed from him as I carved a red route to the centre of the Langian army. I was aware that in my wake were my comrades, fighting hard to keep up with me despite the press of Langian infantry, but I didn't interrupt the murderous flow of my lance to check. I didn't even turn my head when Carter's voice came from somewhere to my right.

'Miya bless you King Carlos! I knew you'd come.'

My route was not entirely shaped by the pattern of my dancing blade, I was aware of the Langian yellow banners and the tall, wooden frame hosting antlers up ahead. And like a stream undulating towards the sea, my motions kept that point of reference in mind.

My concentration was finally broken by a sense of alarm. Something had moved past me, from behind me. Frantically, I searched around, looking for an enemy Rogue or fast-moving animal. Sweeping the lance all about me, I felt sure that no backstab was incoming. Even so, I knew I'd detected someone.

Goncendor was spent. Ragged snorts came from his flared nostrils and he could no longer even take a step forward. Reluctant as I was to leave him, I had to get to the enemy general. So clearing a space to my right by smashing the butt of the lance into the head of a Langian axeman, I jumped down.

'My lord!' shouted Leonora. 'Take my horse. I'm out of mana.'

'Just follow me. Figus! Lord Arval! Come on!'

'Come on Greyland!' cried Lord Arval in response and he rode up on my left. The Bard, however, was nowhere to be seen. Cutting away the leg of the man in front of me, I flicked up the menu for the Bard during the breathing space I had created. Figus's hit points were on 23… then they dropped to 16… and 9.

'Figus!'

On your right, a whisper came right to my ear. Beneath my horse. Axes.

Despite the clash of iron on iron that made it seem I was in the centre of a busy smithy, and the screams and appeals for help from dying soldiers, I heard the Bard with a clarity that could only have come from his Send Thoughts spell. There was a dead horse on the ground nearby, hooves towards me. And on the far side of it, two bearded axemen were chopping down at someone.

With a scream to distracted them, I leapt and triggered the Lunge that allowed me to strike the one on the left right through his ribs, my blade emerging out of the far side of the body. As the Langian soldier collapsed I let go of the lance and used Lightning Draw to deliver a slash at the other with my rapier. The axeman was able to step back without harm, but I had the space to vault over the dead animal and stand beside the prone body of Figus.

'Carlos,' he gasped, looking up at me with desperate eyes.

'I have you.'

And I did. None of the soldiers from Langia could touch the Bard while I was here to deflect jabs and slashes.

One of the nearest of my enemies was torn apart by fire darts. A glance over my shoulder and I saw Jacintha in her green robes and alongside her Brother Raymond and Abbot Hugues.

'Mana for just one more,' the Sorceress reported in a calm voice.

'Save it.'

'Where's your elemental?' Although I was facing axes and spears my question was directed to the Summoner behind me. Dreading a surprise attack, I was also intensely vigilant for the hidden being that I had sensed earlier.

'Extinguished and I'm out of mana. Sorry sire.'

A flicker to my right and two Langian soldiers went reeling away. Abbott Hugues was at my side. He wore a dark robe, hood currently down to show his balding, bearded head. What he lacked in armour he made up for in the speed at which he could defend himself with a thick, iron-shod stave that seemed almost to spin as he lashed out in all directions. It was the first time I had seen what he could do and I was impressed. Relieved too as the Langian soldiers in front of us no longer came rushing in. Sheathing my rapier, I retrieved the lance and now I too could sweep back the enemy infantry.

Lord Arval had fought his way across to us and, dismounting, I heard him call to someone to help drag the dead horse off Figus. My concentration was on the Langian soldiers in front of us, although I heard the groan from the Bard.

'Mana check!' I shouted.

'Two spells,' said Lord Arval.

'One,' grunted Figus.

'Heal Figus.'

'What about you, sire?' asked the Bard.

I was on 42 hit points. 'That's an order, both of you.'

While they cast their spells, the ranks of Langian soldiers parted and a young man strode into view, confident and proud. Wearing lamella armour, he made me think of a Viking, with his wild, black beard and long, dark hair. His head gear, however, was a crown of serpents and several necklaces were hung with the skulls of small animals, which clattered and swayed as he walked. He drew to a halt a safe distance away and folded his arms.

'King Carlos. I saw your charge and could not believe it. You had nearly saved Nekis. If you had filled the breach with your troops, I would not have been able to take the city. But no, you underestimated the power of the forest and have thrown away your victory.' The Langian leader looked left and right, to where his soldiers were grinning at me scornfully.

The invisible presence was close. But closer to him than me.

'Who are you?' I asked.

'Ignorant as well as reckless? I am Cort, high priest of Weckad, the tree of death. Know that your corpses – all of you – will soon be hanging from the branches of the trees of our sacred grove.'

I was judging the distance to him, preparing a Lunge attack, when he began to cast a spell.

'Come on!' I shouted and sprang forward on legs that were aching from the morning's work. There was surprise in the priest's face, perhaps at how quickly I covered the ground. But all the same, he completed his spell and I was bought to a halt by the very earth around me. The soil had formed hands that had grasped my ankles. I could move but only by straining to my utmost and even then, not far.

In the distance, an enormous, deep voice said, 'Argax is among you. What would you have me do, master?'

Everyone, myself included, looked over towards Nekis, where two clawed hands grasped the tops of the outer walls and what looked like a giant skull with horns came into view.

'I understand and obey.' With booming strides and an evil laugh, full of mischief and relish, the undead demon advanced towards the battle, a red glow in each of the massive orbs of his eyes.

I looked the high priest in the eyes. 'My charge was to provide time for the Necromancer to summon Argax.'

'What have you done? You fool.' Cort stared at the demon, horrified. Then the priest glared at us all with an expression of murderous ferocity. 'Worshippers of Miya, you have chosen to sacrifice yourselves for the cause of the undead. So be it.' He raised his hands and began to chant. Above me, I felt the pressure of the sky on my head and body.

Whatever spell the priest was casting, it was ruined as a slender, masked, dark figure materialised behind him and struck hard with a chop downwards of a short sword that she held in both hands. Cort staggered forward, groaning in dismay

Hauling myself through the enchanted terrain, teeth gritted with the effort, I got close enough to add to his difficulties by stabbing him.

You have hit Cort, High Priest of Weckad for 15 damage.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

'Guards!' Clutching at one of the skulls on his chest, Cort abruptly transformed into a giant snake: two metres long, brown, thick, and hissing as his fangs sprang down. I cut into him as hard as I could, but the priest's reptilian skin was tougher than his armour had been and I only did 6 damage.

The lithe figure ran along the back of the snake and – despite the monster whipping his head around at extraordinary speed – she leapt over the flickering tongue and delivered another two-handed cut downwards, this time issuing a grunt that I thought I recognised.

'Sicaria?'

The Assassin didn't answer me, but the moment I met those pale grey eyes I knew it was her, my old friend and sparring partner. It felt as though the sun had come out from behind the clouds. That my lungs were inhaling not air but the magic of eternal youth. There was no one I would rather have at my side now than her. Sicaria was fast and deadly. All the anxiety that had been growing in me at the plight of my exhausted comrades melted away. Sicaria was more than a match for this snake.

I laughed as I surged forward and my feet finally came clear of the grasping earth. Vaulting over the snake I killed a soldier who had been trying to stab his spear into the back of the Assassin and I drove three others back. 'Good to see you.'

'Save it.'

'Sure, haven't I breath to spare now you are here?' All the same, I shut up and concentrated on dealing blows to the Langian troops, soldiers whose desire to protect their high priest was causing them to blunder into each other. I knew Sicaria's moves so well that as she feinted right I ran to that side, knowing she would pivot and cut from the left.

I was dancing again, this time with a partner.

A terrible cracking, rendering sound hurt my ears and along with everyone else nearby I was showered with splinters. Then came a deep laugh. Argax had torn an ent into pieces, which he now flung down into the Langian army without a care for the Greyland soldiers either: a huge section of trunk landed close to me.

Hissing with dismay and fear, the snake drew back then tried to bite his tormentor. But no matter how quickly the priest struck, Sicaria was quicker still and fierce too. Deep cuts in the snake's body were oozing blood each time it moved. I had detected a pattern to the rise and strike of the snake and as it lifted its head once more, eyes shining with madness and fury, I stabbed with Lunge just as the snake whipped it's teeth downwards. The glowing blade went straight through the roof of the monster's mouth and out through the back of its head.

You have hit Cort, High Priest of Weckad for 37 damage.

You have killed Cort, High Priest of Weckad.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You have gained 280,000 Experience.

Beside me, Sicaria gasped with pleasure, her eyes closed.

'Level up?'

'I did.'

'Better than sex, right?' I felt like an idiot the moment the words left my mouth. Even more so when she opened her eyes and looked at me.

'You are obviously terrible in bed.'

The spell of the high priest having broken, my comrades ran up, while at the same time, the Langian troops looked on with panic and dismay. Once again, Leonora raised her mace high and it might well have had the desired effect. But far more powerful than the magical intimidate was the effect of Argax approaching, picking up screaming soldiers, biting them in half with an audible crunch and throwing aside the remains.

All around us, the Langian infantry threw down their weapons and ran.

Part II Chapter 60: The Fan of the Four Winds

Two armies defeated, but still the battle was not yet won, not until we could be sure that Rockguard had been kept to the south bank of the river Syth. I would not allow myself any sense of achievement or victory until I knew for certain that all our enemies were routing. It had happened often enough in Earth history that the late arrival of a new contingent of troops had completely altered the outcome of a battle.

'Robert!' I ran back through the Greyland troops, looking for a horseman who could scout for me and bring me any news from the engineers at the bridge. There had been a heavy toll on the light cavalry and my menu showed only 7 of the original 21 survived, none of whom were visible to me when I closed the menu and looked around. I could, however, see several ponies with my Cantreth archers.

'You!' I waved the lance and a blood-splattered pony walked its rider towards me. 'Where's Nurbolat?'

'Dead.'

'Ahh hell.' Having been full of energy from seeing the Langian army flee, I suddenly felt despondent and exhausted. 'Poor Nurbolat. He was a great soldier: smart, resourceful, and brave.'

'We are all subjects of the great cycle. And the great cycle bids him begone until it begins again.'

I glanced into the calm, dark eyes of the rider. His was a comforting philosophy. And one that might have even been true in this universe. What would happen to me though, if I died? Would I be a spirit here, waiting reincarnation in the next cycle? Return to my life on Earth? Or just be dead. My intuition was that it would be the latter.

'Can you ride to the bridge we crossed this morning?' I asked the Cantreth rider, 'check what is happening there? Is the army of Rockguard coming?'

'I cannot.' He gestured to the pony, whose head was hanging low. 'She will not go much further today. Not with a rider.'

'I understand.' And his words put me in mind of Goncendor. My stallion hadn't moved far from where I'd dismounted and I was relieved to see that he was still alive. News from the bridge could wait. I walked to my warhorse and unstrapping his shaffron, stroked his long nose. 'You were magnificent today.'

Pleased to see me and probably even more pleased to have that weight removed from his head, Goncendor exhaled gently and pushed his head against mine. That's how we were standing when the Necromancer and his guards found us.

'King Carlos. You live, thanks be to Miya.'

'And Sicaria.'

'Oh, she found you then?'

'In time to save me, perhaps. The high priest of Langia had us trapped.'

'And yet, I believe you would have been successful regardless. The moment I saw you riding on the battlefield, with your lance blazing, I felt that the tide had turned and that we would be victorious. You are a modest man and you don't like to gain the attention of the gods, so you will not say this for yourself, but I say it without hesitation and with considerable pride that you are my friend: you, King Carlos, are the greatest general in the Twenty-Five kingdoms.'

I felt a surge of pride in myself, perhaps he was right. Although, I would never want to underestimate an enemy general. Before I could thank the Necromancer for his kind words, a booming laugh rolled through the sky above us like thunder. Argax was stamping on fleeing soldiers and sometimes scooping up a screaming figure and stuffing his mouth.

'Can you control that demon?' I asked, anxious for those Greyland troops who were pursing the Langians.

'Well, I give the orders but the manner in which he carries them out is his own,' the Necromancer looked a little sheepish.

'Perhaps send him over the river, against Rockguard?' All three ents were dead and there was no sign of the Langians being able to regroup. We didn't need the demon here and he was liable to do more harm than good now.

The Necromancer nodded, then began to mutter and to wave his hands as though casting a spell. The effect caused the demon to stop his merry dance and turn around.

'I understand and obey,' came the deep voice. Turning his horned skull towards us, the demon strode rapidly towards the river, each of his steps causing the ground to tremble. When the extraordinary spectacle of a massive demon marching past had passed, I looked at the Necromancer again and he was smiling.

'This is a transformation in my fortunes that in my most fanciful wishes, I could never have aspired to.' With a gesture that threw out his black velvet cape like a wing, he indicated the piles of Hailand and Greyland bodies in the breach of the outer wall of Nekis, and with his other arm (therefore completing the impression of a large bat) the fields strewn with Langian bodies. 'Instead of losing my city and the menus of the Kingdom of Lost Souls, I will surely have the largest army in the Twenty-Five Kingdoms with the benefit of the zombies that I can raise.'

There must have been something in my expression that alarmed him, for the Necromancer took a step closer and placing his hand on my pauldron looked at me with sincere, dark eyes. 'Forgive me friend, I run ahead of myself. I know you have many dead soldiers here. Together, we will make their sacrifice worthwhile. We will break the control that the gods have over this world.'

***

That evening, Nekis was a city which rejoiced with the fervour of a people saved from murder and flame. People thronged the cobbled streets, cheering every Greyland soldier who walked by. Waves of song surged up, at times seeming to be voiced by thousands, before they broke apart and became dozens of different songs resounding along the streets and squares. Long after dark, music and dancing and chanting could be heard in every open space. The elderly brought out their chairs and nodded happily with gap-toothed smiles. Children ran around with makeshift flags of green and white. Adults opened their reserves of wine and spirits, or barbequed the stores of salted meat they had laid up in case of siege.

As for me, I was pleased – of course I was – that we had saved our allies. Strategically, I repeated to myself, this had been the correct decision. Had the Necromancer fallen to this combination of realms, then I would have been their next target. But the price had been high. My army was significantly reduced; a lot of good soldiers whom I had fought alongside in the past were dead, including Nurbolat and Robert. The light cavalry had bravely thrown themselves into the path of the advancing Langian army to support the swordsman under Carter, knowing they would suffer greatly, but also understanding that I needed time to defeat Hailand and reform our lines.

Greyland

Military

Field army (Nekis): 143 swordsmen (Carter)*; 15 heavy infantry*, 69 knights (Lord Arval)*; 3 crossbows and 58 archers (Isabelle)*; 7 light cavalry*; 51 Cantreth light cavalry archers*; 589 spearmen (lamellar armour, 2h-spears)*; 28 engineers*; 40 spies; 2 Arkine sergeants*

Carrick: 50 archers; 4 ballista crews

Three-Ways: 50 archers; 2 trebuchet crews

Montrose: 20 swordsmen; 27 archers (Guy)*

Texecal: 31 spearmen (Fanon)*; 36 light infantry (stone maces); 25 swordsmen.

*veterans

Military Buildings:

Barracks 3

Keep 2

Curtain walls: Carrick, Three Ways

Port towers (4)

Road Carrick – Three Ways

Tower machicolations

Wall tower: Carrick, Three Ways

Travelling through the streets, I would have liked to have disguised myself with a cape up over my head, because everyone wanted to toast the victory with me. I felt it impolite to decline, but I would have been rolling drunk had I accepted every invite. Since I was carrying the Lance of Light, however, there was no point in covering up my face. And so I had to smile, and bow, and salute, and shake my head apologetically at the proffered drinks.

At one point I had glimpsed Sicaria in the distance, leading her horse towards the stables. Immediately, I changed direction and instead of going directly to the keep, I went to the stables also.

There, my pretext was going to be that I wanted to check in on Goncendor. As it happened, that was no pretext at all. In a muddy paddock adjacent to the main stable building, Goncendor was on his back, metal-shod hooves lashing the night sky. Several stable hands stood nearby, one with a lasso. All were clearly afraid.

Disturbing as the sight was, when the lad with the lasso began to twirl the rope I called out with a laugh, 'don't worry about Goncendor. He's just having a good scratch after hours under a saddle and armour.' I'd seen Goncendor do this several times before and knew there was nothing the matter with him. Soon enough he was done and although now covered in filth and in need of a good grooming session, my stallion came back up on his feet.

I called over to him and Goncendor turned at once, then walked over for me to stroke his muzzle. 'Come on, let's brush out that dirt.' With a stablehand to guide me to his stall, I led my horse past Sicaria, who looked surprised to see me.

I was working hard on Goncendor, a brush in each hand, when the Assassin came to the entrance of the stall. 'Shouldn't you be at the banquet? The Necromancer wants to make a speech. He's been working hard on it.'

'I'll be there shortly.'

'Come with me. The stable boys can do that.'

'They can so.' I gave a final couple of runs down Goncendor's flank and then left him with a pat and another word of praise for his deeds during the day.

Sicaria and I walked together to the Necromancer's keep, making our way through the street parties: I was faced with constant greetings and cheers; the Assassin was almost unnoticed. She took nimble steps that kept her away from the people we passed and who sometimes congregated around me. Her long brown hair was loose, the first time I had seen it that way. And instead of her navy leather armour, Sicaria was wearing a black velvet waistcoat over a dark green blouse. I liked her. She was dedicated to her cause, smart, and always seemed to be able to teach me something. Like the time I had first met her and she had easily taken the lance from me. But did she like me? I knew her well from our sparring sessions and knew that she wasn't the sort of person who enjoyed idle banter. So I asked the most genuine question I could.

'Sicaria, do you really believe that your god, the devil Scrithax, intends to free everyone from the game?'

'I do,' her grey eyes flashed as she appraised me. 'It's natural you should have doubts. His reputation is for wickedness and his powers concern death and spirits.'

'Then why would he do that? Instead of enjoying whatever benefits come to a victorious god?'

'Because he is the most moral of the gods.'

I laughed and although a smile flickered on her lips, the Assassin remained serious. 'The rest of the gods, even yours, treat us like game pieces. Like we have no hearts, no souls. Like our deaths do not matter. Scrithax believes every being who lives is worthy of a god. The gods, he says, are more petulant, greedy, selfish and grasping than a child. Just because they have the power that comes with divinity should not make our lives subject to their game.'

'That sounds admirable. But you mentioned wickedness.'

'His entourage are devils and demons. Vampires and undead of all kinds. They enjoy human flesh and blood.'

'Nobody's perfect though, right?'

She laughed at that and her gaze lingered on mine curiously, as if she had found something new in my eyes.

At the keep, the Necromancer's servants hurried us to our places, mine at the right hand of the Necromancer himself, where the meal had already begun. I found that I had no great appetite, despite the day's exertions. Whether it was the losses the Greyland army had experienced, or a feeling that I should be working on the Greyland menus, or just a reaction to the intense excitement I'd experienced for most of the day, I now felt tired.

Everyone in the rest of the hall, however, appeared to be enjoying themselves. In the bright pools of light around the candelabra that were stood on the tables, I could see Lord Arval eating with gusto, his beard glistening with grease. Jacintha was near him, golden threads in her long red hair catching the light, laughing at something that Leonora had said. The Cleric – who had fought well today and used her magical mace to good effect – was looking down at her plate and smirking. On another bench were several Jomsvikings, including the beautiful Jarl Injeborg the Red, and sat beside her was the equally charismatic Figus, clearly in his element as he talked animatedly with those around him. The Vikings had patrolled the river during the battle and prevented several attempts by warriors from Rockguard to row across in small boats.

I did enjoy a spellbinding performance by Figus of the now-famous rhino battle scene at Three Ways. Apparently, this song had become part of the repertoire of Bards across the Twenty-Five Kingdoms. And it was a privilege to witness the person who had composed the epic deliver it in person. I was also more convinced than ever that there was magic at work in a Bardic display of this sort, for the knives and plates on the tables actually rattled as the rhino – myself – charged across the bridge.

At the end of a multi-course meal, the Necromancer made a speech to a hushed hall. A very long, earnest, heartfelt speech about the extraordinary alliance our two kingdoms had forged. There was no doubting his sincerity, but the ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls was no Bard. And even though my ally had a charisma that came from his power and authority, there was something a little too scripted about the oration for it to be a real success. At the end, however, he said something that revived me considerably.

'We have gained the following magic items from the battlefield: a scroll of Protection from Arrows; a potion of Remove Fear; a heavy steel shield, plus one; enchanted deerskin boots, plus two with Move without Trace; a bastard sword, plus one with a glowing aura; a greataxe plus one; a cloak of Resistance plus one; and this, from the body of Tokanaga, his fan.' The Necromancer opened a fan that I could now see was a fabulous work of art. The guards were lacquered wood on which gold and silver swirls interlaced, the handle was ivory with minute carvings of ships in full sail, and the leaves depicted a god, Yahima Hachi, presumably, leaning down over a green sea and scattering a fleet of oriental-style ships with his breath.

With a slight flick of his wrist, the Necromancer caused a wind to blow through the hall, extinguishing candles and rocking plates on the tables nearby and even causing the tapestries at the far end of the hall to rustle. 'A Fan of the Four Winds. We are fortunate we did not fight a naval battle with Hailand. This, and all the magic items, I gift to King Carlos. The very least he deserves for his efforts.'

Woken up from the long speech by the display of magic and perhaps also delighted it had ended, everyone in the hall stood up and applauded as the Necromancer handed me the fan. It was a heart-warming moment and one that also cheered me up considerably. Those Greyland troops who had died for the cause of their realm and goddess had won us a significant accretion of magical powers.

Fan of the Four Winds

When brandished with a sufficiently vigorous action, once a day this fan summons a wind, which will blow towards the direction indicated by the user. The wind arrives with a powerful blast capable of dispersing the effects of Poison Cloud, Fog of War and similar spells. Poorly constructed or fragile buildings or ships can be destroyed by the blast.

With a gentle action, the fan can generate a small gust of wind unlimited times.

***

Later, when I finally managed to retire to my old chamber, which the Necromancer had returned to me, I woke up to a touch on my shoulder.

'Hush, don't disturb the guards.' It was Sicaria and she was unbuttoning her waistcoat.

'What?'

'I've come to show you there are better feelings than those of levelling up.'

Part II Chapter 61: Love and Dexterity

'Good morning Hernán!' I strode into the dining hall in the Keep of the Lost Souls to find the young swordsman staring at a plate of fried fish. 'How are you feeling?'

'Terrible, sire. My head hurts so much.'

'Never mind. It is a beautiful day.'

Looking up at the large windows to the grey sky beyond, Hernán frowned.

I sat beside him and a servant came to offer me a tray of white, crisp fillets of fish and a beaker of water. Since the scent of the fish was delicious, I helped myself to three and then as the servant was leaving, put a hand on his arm and took another two.

'I bet these are good.'

Hernán just looked at his plate and sighed.

'Congratulations on level five. That's a crucial achievement. Are you aware of your sub-class options?'

'No sire?' Hernán revived a little and looked at me with interest.

'Berserker, Champion, Paladin, Shadow Knight, Warlord.'

'I don't see Lord Arval being keen on a Shadow Knight in the army.'

'Unfortunately, Paladins and Shadow Knights are incompatible in the same army.' I finished my fish – they went down fast – and I looked at his plate. 'Are you going to eat those?'

Pushing his plate towards me, Hernán gave a slight shake of his head and winced.

'It seems to me, you should be a Champion. Warlord is best for leading your troops but we are going to face more high-level enemies where you'll be beside me in our high-level team rather than with the soldiers. Champion will give you excellent duelling skills for taking on opponents one to one.'

'Whatever you decide, sire.'

'I wonder if levelling up cures hangovers?' I mused aloud. Then I selected Champion for Hernán and with the thought that perhaps only menu users got triggers for activated feats, I picked the passive feat Blade Master for him. Now, he had a minimum skill of 25 in all sword-type weapons.

'Oh.' He looked up, open-mouthed. 'I'm changed.'

'I'd like you to take the Glowing Bastard Sword that the Necromancer gave me and return the rapier. Only you or Lord Arval can use it, but Valeria and Isabelle can use the rapier.'

'Certainly sire.'

Standing and drinking all my water in one go – highly refreshing – I slapped Hernán on the shoulder and left the hall, grabbing one last fillet on the way out. It was still early and the streets of the city were being cleared of the debris of last night's party by squads of zombies with stiff brushes. The smell very much reminded me of being stuck behind a slow-moving bin cart.

Feeling full of energy, I made my way to the barracks and training ground, where I was very pleased to see that my old dexterity practice course was still set up. In fact, there seemed to be some additional challenges, such as running along a plank over a muddy pool, while padded bags hung suspended to be pushed aside as you progressed.

As I studied the course and wondered what it would be like to have a go, I thought to myself, why not? For old times' sake, I removed my tunic, rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and set off around the course.

A jump. A roll. Some crawling. Grab two daggers and throw them into a target (one into each eye with a satisfactory 'thunk'). Run the plank. Climb. Roll again down the far side and spring over a wet ditch at the bottom. Swing on a rope and finish!

I turned around to the sound of clapping. Sir Arval was there and looking fresh in new, navy, cotton clothing and with his smile framed by a recently trimmed beard. 'Is this where you transformed yourself from the old King Carlos?'

'Every day for seven months, rain or shine,' I picked up my tunic again and walked over to the Paladin. 'First, I would go on a run, of increasing distance. Then I would work on my dexterity.' As I spoke, I felt a certain amount of pride in my achievement. The honest truth about it, though, was that I had got up every day in the dark, more out of anger at Carlena and with a determination to prove her wrong than to save the people of Greyland from being subject to their conquerors.

'What are your stats now, sire? If you don't mind me asking?'

'Oh!'

'What?'

'My charisma went up. Interesting. Without magic items, I have a strength of sixteen, dexterity of thirteen, constitution of eighteen, intelligence of twenty, wisdom of eighteen and charisma of ten.'

Lord Arval whistled with astonishment and gave me a slap on the shoulder. 'Well done, Sean de Courcy. Your dedication is an inspiration. I remember you when you were unable to ride a horse, now you gallop across the battlefield like a true hero.' Lord Arval's eyes crinkled with merriment. 'Although your bulk had it's value. Remember that toad demon, who couldn't drag you to its mouth?'

'And the rhino. If I got a Polymorph potion today, I'd have to be a much smaller creature. Speaking of potions. The Necromancer has kindly given me the sap of the slain treants. We have enough to make three plus-one strength potions.'

'Very useful sire.' Lord Arval’s, expression became serious. 'The Necromancer… I know it was right to form this alliance and to come to his aid. But I'm worried.'

'Go on.'

Looking around – we were alone – the Paladin leaned on the top rail of the fence surrounding the training ground and said, 'with that demon and all the undead he can create from these bodies, the Necromancer will have a much stronger army than ours.'

I nodded.

'What will happen if Greyland and the Kingdom of Lost Souls win? If we conquer the remaining kingdoms?'

'There's still a long way to go.'

'But it's not too early to raise that question, is it?'

Our eyes met. 'It's an important question. I've been thinking about it too. And I don't have a simple answer, but here's what I take into consideration. One,' I held out a finger, 'everyone in the Kingdom of lost Souls wants to end the rule of the gods and free the world from the game. So much so, they are willing to be turned into zombies. And two,' I continued counting on my fingers, 'the Necromancer, personally, is an honourable man who will not turn against us. Nor I him.'

Lord Arval nodded at that.

'Then there are significant unknowns that I need answers to before I can be clear about what will happen if it comes down to just to our two realms. Can Scrithax be trusted? Whatever they say, I don't want to place our fate in the hands of a devil. And what does Miya want? Does she want to end the rule of the gods over the people of this world?'

Lord Arval must have heard the note of genuine query in my last question, because he looked thoughtful. 'Remembering that vision at Dun Ealglass, I wonder now did she mean something deeper than a temporary trade of iron for food, which was the issue at the time. Perhaps we should perform another Divination?'

'We should. But also, I'm levelling up the church as quickly as possible. As I understand it, the higher the level church more contact a realm has with its god. A cathedral level nine will allow her to become manifest to us.'

'Good.' Lord Arval held out his arm and I clasped it at the elbow in the fashion of the people of Greyland. 'I know you are not a fool and I trust your judgement. But I'm glad to hear you plan to consult Miya as soon as possible.'

It seemed that he was satisfied, but I was still working out my thoughts and I continued, 'if Miya would end the game, then perhaps the Kingdom of Lost Souls would give us the victory. That would be the safe course of action. If not, if she wants to introduce an era under her rule… I'd personally be uneasy.'

'Miya is good, Sean de Courcy, whatever her goal, it will be one that benefits all the people of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms.'

Before we could continue our discussion, I sensed the presence of someone nearby and looking about saw Sicaria walking towards us. She too was in fresh cotton clothing: loose black leggings; deep purple blouse, with ample sleeves; black leather waistcoat. Her brown hair was damp and curled as it fell to her shoulders. And her pale, grey eyes looked full of energy. But it wasn't her appearance that made it feel that the sun had come out (even though the sky was as cloudy as ever), it was her lithe walk that now seemed to me to be filled with sensuality.

'Lord Arval, does your Holy Heal feat heal minor ailments?'

'It does sire.'

'You might then go to the keep and seek out Hernán. Our young swordsman seems to be suffering badly from the effects of alcohol poisoning.'

'I do not believe Miya grants her Paladins this feat in order to cure hangovers.' There was a smile playing around Lord Arval's lips, so that I understood he was not serious. 'Nevertheless, he's a fine soldier and I'll see what I can do for him.'

With a salute to Sicaria, who gave a brief hand motion in return, the Paladin left us.

'Have you eaten?' she asked me.

'Some fish at the keep.'

The Assassin – my lover, unbelievably – took my arm. And on feeling a damp patch of sweat on my shirt, looked up with an affectionate smile. 'You've been around the course?'

'Brought back good memories.'

'Come to my rooms.'

Arm in arm, we set off northwards, away from the keep. 'Did you like me, back then? When you trained with me?' I asked her.

'I'm rarely wrong about people. I was completely wrong about you. It was as though you were two people. A useless failure, come to beg the mercy of the Necromancer and a determined, very smart Warlord capable of transforming the Twenty-Five Kingdoms. It took me a long time to see you properly and appreciate you.'

Her words caused my heart to pound. Should I tell her the truth about being summoned? 'Remember my duel with Conal mac Tíre?'

The look she gave me encouraged me to continue.

'On that day, you gave me advice and, it seemed to me, you touched me as though to let me know you cared for me.'

'By then, I did.'

'I'm not King Carlos. My real name is Sean de Courcy and I was summoned here from a different world entirely.'

To my surprise, Sicaria chuckled. 'We know. Everyone knows. Your troops are very proud to have the reincarnation of a famous warrior as their leader. They boast of it.'

'Ah, I wasn't really a famous warrior in my other world.'

'Well, you are in this.' And she pulled me around to kiss me.

Part II Chapter 62: Hearts and Heads

Sicaria's bedroom had a spectacular view, since it was high up in a tower on the north wall of the inner city. To my left I could just about make out the sea, rose tinted in the morning light. And to the right were orchards whose vivid white and pink blossom was spread all over the ground like a pointillist painting. Ahead of me, on the far side of some cultivated fields, were the sharp, black rocks of Grimdark Canyon, which despite its name was a place of austere beauty, with wind-carved stacks and deep cracks in the ground that made it seem as though someone had written black runes into the landscape.

And if the view outside the room lifted my heart, then so too did that of the interior. By the pale light of early morning I could see Sicaria sleeping on the black sheets of her bed; she was mostly covered with a navy blanket, but had one shoulder free and a hand up beside her face. Before falling asleep, she had said to me, 'it's a long time since I let my guard down with anyone.' And even now, the door to this chamber was bolted from the inside. But dreaming, her face was indeed unguarded, softer and younger than during the day, with strands of brown hair lying careless on her cheek.

I found it astonishing that I was the lover of this woman, someone whose standards were high, whose tolerance for fools was low, and whose focus on her role as ambassador and Assassin was so intense. And someone too, who had another, more tender side than that visible to the rest of the world. That she allowed me to see her caring heart, as well as my being allowed in her chamber, showed a complete trust in me that was deeply moving.

There were moments when I felt like an imposter: that Sicaria's barriers had been lowered for a level 12 Warlord and not for Sean de Courcy. But those moments never lasted long. Just as I had grown into the role of ruler of Greyland, I was already feeling at ease with the idea that I was the Assassin's chosen lover. And what's more, she had been genuinely interested in my former life as Sean de Courcy; we had spent hours talking about the differences between Earth and the Twenty-Five Kingdoms. I felt connected to her for who I was and not just as the figure of King Carlos.

For once, it wasn't easy to withdraw from the world around me to study the menus of Greyland. Settling quietly into an armchair, I nevertheless turned my eyes from my sleeping lover and pulled them up. There was a lot to review, starting with the high level picture.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: Falconry Mews, 7 days, 10 hours

Currently upgrading: Church Level 5, 6 days 14 hours

Monthly trade income: 129 gold

Monthly tax income (high): 206 gold 3 silver

Monthly Army cost: 347 gold 6 silver

Treasury: 2,933 gold

Daily food consumption: 50 units

Grain yield: 260 units due in 4 weeks 2 days

Vegetable yield: 44 units due in 12 weeks 6 days

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 7 weeks

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 28 units daily

Timber yield: 23 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 13 blocks daily

Smithy yield: 20 suits of plate mail, 20 swords with carbon steel blades, and 20 shields with carbon steel rims due in 28 days.

Weaving yield:

Research:

Literacy: 3%

Resources:

Wheat: 102 food units

Vegetables: 45 food units

Meat: 3 food units

Fish: 2 food units

Wool:

Timber: 585 planks

Iron: 105 ingots

Stone: 2,333 blocks

Cloth: 108 bolts

Farmers 60; Firefighters 4; Fishing Crew 140; Sailors 40; Builders 40; Shepherds 24; Hunters 80; Miners 84; Clothmakers 27; Bakers 40; Brewers 40; Carpenters 60; Stonemasons 60; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 10; Spies 20; Pigeon trainers 4; Lumber Mill 20; Lighthouse 8; School 4; idle 11.

The most obvious change was that I had more or less solved my financial difficulties, but not in a way that I had wanted. With the loss of hundreds of soldiers, my army wage bill was down to 347 gold a month, while income remained at 335. The discrepancy was negligible, especially as my treasury had increased with coins captured from the camp of Hailand.

The question of income remained in the background though, because my military priority had to be to recreate a powerful heavy infantry, who could hold the centre of the army while the knights manoeuvred for a decisive strike. To begin that rebuilding of my army's core, I queued up 20 suits of plate armour in the smithy, along with 20 carbon steel swords and shields. This would take a month to complete and I reckoned on doing the same for two more months after that, planning on achieving a body of 60 tanks. The result would mean spending 18 more gold a month on the army.

With my Happiness at 71 (after -2 for high taxes), I could recruit 11 people a day, so I did that and resolved I would keep doing so until I'd built back my pool of idle people to at least 100. This led me to the thought that a new food supply would be welcome, to allow me to keep growing the population. Not only would that give me people in hand for training as soldiers but the extra tax would help close the future cost gap between the army and my income.

My choice of new building was easy, I wanted the Falconry Mews I'd unlocked with my research into falconry. Then I could buy some falconer units and try to intercept enemy communications. There was just over a week until I completed the mews and just less than a week until my much-anticipated church level 5 upgrade. I was really eager to see the benefits of such a high-level church. And to push on to a level 6 cathedral.

The remaining choice for me was that of research. On the whole, I had spread my research interests wide. I had obtained just over two-thirds of the available starting options. Most of these options could be advanced in level, so, for example, it was possible to research Bowmaking, Bowmaking II and Bowmaking III in that order. Additionally, another research route was to follow the path of the Necromancer and go all in on spell research. It seemed that this was paying off for him in that he had obtained the demon Argax. That success tempted me to try to get more elementals for my Summoner, Brother Raymond.

Armour Provectus

Allows smithy to upgrade armour.

Ballista

Allows the construction of ballista. Allows research of carroballista.

Banking

Allows construction of bank (with credit options as a result).

Bowmaking

Allows construction of archer units. Unlocks bowmaking 2 (for crossbow units).

Carbon Steel Blades

Allows smithy to upgrade weapons.

Clockwork

Allows clock workshop and manufacture of clocks.

Drainage

+10% agricultural output. Unlocks Drainage 2.

Drainage 2

+10% agricultural output. Unlocks Irrigation.

Engineering

Allows recruitment of engineer units.

Falconry

Allows construction of falconry mews (for falconer units).

Irrigation

+10% agricultural output; allows reclaimed land. Requires Drainage 2

Jewellery Crafting

Allows construction of Jewellery workshop.

Lawcode

Allows construction of courtroom.

Literacy

Allows construction of schools (for a literate population).

Mathematics

Accelerates research by 10%, unlocks Mathematics 2.

Military Academy

Accelerates troop recruitment. Unlocks Military Academy 2.

Multi-Story Housing

Allows construction of Town Houses.

Navigation

Allows sea travel. Unlocks Navigation 2 (for construction of lens workshop for telescopes).

Pigeon Messaging

Allows construction of Pigeon Coop.

Printing

Allows printshop for mass production of posters and pamphlets.

Sanitation

Allows construction of sewers and aqueduct.

Scorpion

Allows construction of scorpions.

Shipbuilding

Allows construction of shipyard, unlocks Shipbuilding 2.

Spells

Allows research into spells up to the level of the scriptorium.

Steel Pickaxes

Allows Smithy to upgrade pickaxes.

Trebuchet

Allows construction of trebuchet.

Watermill

Allows construction of watermills.

While I was looking over my research options a knock came at the door.

'My lady, the Necromancer requests your presence. The ambassador of Rockguard has arrived.'

'I'll be there shortly.' Sicaria was immediately out of bed and wriggling into a blouse.

Hurriedly, I chose Drainage II for my research project (greater agricultural output fitted with my earlier thoughts about how to expand the army) and closed the menus.

'Good, you are dressed.' The Assassin looked over to me with an appraising glance that was entirely unsentimental. I laughed.

'What is your cause for amusement?'

'In my world, when lovers wake and see each other, they typically express some tender greeting.'

Not until pulling the cords tight on her tall, leather boots did Sicaria speak again. 'This world also. It is me who is not typical.'

'You don't care for affection?' I asked.

'My thoughts were running ahead to Rockguard and their betrayal of us. I was filled with righteous anger. Under other circumstances – in our personal exchanges – I would very much welcome affection.'

'Right so,' seeing she was nearly ready, I stood up and unbolted the door. 'Affection it is. At least, when you are off duty.'

She caught my smile and despite her ambassadorial concerns, allowed me a smile of her own.

The Necromancer's solar was busy. At the top of the hall was his throne, where he sat, flanked on each side by a heavily-armoured infantryman carrying a two-handed axe. Nearby was General Strakigos, the white teeth of his smile bright against his black beard. Along the length of the room were a mixture of officers and civilians, the latter wearing the robes and chains of office of the well-to-do and burghers of the Kingdom of Lost Souls.

As the two of us entered, a hubbub of conversation died away. 'Welcome ambassador and an even warmer welcome, King Carlos. Please, take a place beside me for what promises to be a most interesting meeting.'

Her hard heels clicking on the polished wooden floor, Sicaria walked briskly to stand on the Necromancer's left, in front of the guard, and so I did the same on his right.

'This will be entertaining,' the Necromancer leaned towards me and raised his heavy eyebrows.

'It will indeed, last time I saw the ambassador from Rockguard he was gloating from the walls of Castel Sliabh, calling me a fool and a fat mouse.'

'Well, they will suffer for their words and their treachery.'

The Necromancer gestured towards the far doors, which were opened and a servant announced, 'Connchobair mac Gille Coemgáin, cousin to King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin, ambassador of Rockguard.'

The young man from Rockguard entered the hall under the scrutiny of dozens of eyes. Swallowing heavily and walking up to us, head bowed, the ambassador was the very opposite of the figure who I had first met when he burst into my solar in Carrick demanding to be seen. Now he managed a bow deep enough to allow his green and gold cloak to gather in folds on the floor. The Necromancer didn't acknowledge the greeting and eventually, the ambassador straightened, looking about the room nervously.

'Hail to the ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls and to King Carlos,' – for a moment his dark, anxious eyes turned to me – 'King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin sends his sincere apologies. He knows how his recent actions will be construed by you, but he begs your forgiveness and understanding. He wishes you to put yourself in his position.

'For nearly a year Rockguard has been falling behind all the other realms because we were obliged to constantly research Necromancer spells rather than develop our kingdom properly. Had King Cillian appreciated the consequences of this, he would have not have agreed to it so easily in the first instance.

'He appeals to you both. Would you not also have explored the possibility of escaping a subservient and ruinous agreement if that opportunity had arisen?

'He also bids me make two more points. One, that no soldier of his actually struck a blow against any of yours, and two, that Rockguard has ample resources to make it far more valuable to you as vassal state than a conquered one.

'With these thoughts in mind, the king hopes that you will be willing to accept his surrender and a generous settlement in recompense for his poor judgement. He invites you to name your terms.'

The Necromancer leaned back in his throne (a splendid oaken seat, carved with the howling faces of demons and stained a deep red) and studied the young man in front of us, leaving the Rockguard ambassador to squirm with anxiety in that peculiar type of silence you get when dozens of people are listening intently without moving in the slightest. I felt angry towards the Rockguard ambassador but also took pleasure in the way that his previous arrogance was now being humbled.

'A pretty speech. But answer me this Connchobair mac Gille Coemgáin. Once a king breaks his word, can his word ever be good again?'

'Fool me once,' I added, mentally applauding myself for remembering the quote, 'shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.'

Undaunted, the ambassador responded at once. 'My king anticipated that you would feel angry and unable to trust his word. He therefore bid me appeal to your undoubted mastery of menu management and military strategy. Conquer Rockguard and you obtain a small treasury and a small amount of wood, stone and iron. Allow us to survive and he will research spells for you for a year, doubling your advantage over your rivals. He will also send thirty gold a month; thirty iron a month; and a hundred and twenty units of timber a month as directed.'

The young aristocrat folded his arms and his eyes darted from my face to that of the Necromancer and back in an effort to see if the offer had struck home. In my case, it really had, though I tried to stare back at him impassively. If I could get resources on a regular basis from Rockguard, I could bring my army back to its former strength and push on to enlarge it further.

'Do you have any more offers to make?' asked the Necromancer.

'I do not.'

'Understand, I am about to dismiss you and consult with my ally. If you are withholding any last inducements, now is the time to utter them.'

Connchobair mac Gille Coemgáin blinked. Then said, 'we have some magic items that, reluctantly, we would include in the offer.'

'Indeed?'

A pause. Then a rush of words: 'Daghada's Cauldron produces stew enough for fifty warriors a day; Bracers of Dexterity, plus one; and a plus two Spear of Returning.'

'I see. Anything else?'

The ambassador shook his head.

'Very well, please leave us.'

When the servants at the far end of the hall had closed the doors on the ambassador, the Necromancer waved to his courtiers.

'Thank you for your presence this morning, I will consider the question of war or peace with Rockguard in private. You may go about your duties.'

Dismissed, the people in the room left, except for General Strakigos, Sicaria, and myself.

'What are your thoughts general?' asked the Necromancer.

'Crush them while we can. The world should know that the cost of betraying us is devastating.'

The Necromancer nodded, a severe frown on his long face. 'I agree. Ambassador?'

'We can find those magic items in the ruins of Castel Sliabh,' she too looked fierce. 'And the bodies of their people can provide us with even more undead troops.'

'And King Carlos, do you share our sentiment?'

'Before listening to that unpleasant young man, I would have shared your way of thinking entirely. But now, I'm not so sure. King Cillian made a good point about the benefits of regular tribute. I could really use that gold.

'We can give you more gold,' said the Necromancer.

'I've an idea. What if, in addition to what we have been offered, we demand twenty units of food a month, which he can provide for by disbanding his army? With that extra food, I can expand my population on the menu; that will increase my tax take and stabilise my economy even with a larger army.'

The Necromancer looked at General Strakigos, who shrugged. Then Sicaria spoke, 'I was living in Rockguard for months. They are utterly untrustworthy. In fact, their legends are all about heroes who are tricksters and cheats.'

'I know,' I said, 'but we don't have to demonstrate to anyone the cost of betraying us. Who is there to learn that lesson? The Arkine Empire perhaps? Otherwise, the lines are drawn now for the endgame. We should concentrate on moving quickly north to take advantage of our victory by capturing Langia, then turning east. There's no one army can stop us, I'm sure. But as news of this battle spreads, we might see alliances forming against us. Time is vital.

'Those are good points,' the Necromancer looked at me long enough to make it clear he had heard me. 'Yet I still feel an anxiety about leaving Rockguard unconquered. That this decision might be one we remember with regret. How about this? I will propose your offer to the ambassador. He might refuse it, because without an army and the food to rebuild an army, they are as good as conquered. If he does refuse, we crush them. If he accepts, we will implement the disbandment of his army quickly and install a governor in Castel Sliabh to oversee it.'

I nodded. 'Good.'

The Necromancer turned towards his ambassador. 'Sicaria?'

'Very well. But please, let someone else be that governor.'

'Oh?' the Necromancer raised an eyebrow.

'I dislike the nobles of Rockguard; I should be at your side in campaigns; and… I wish to remain in the company of King Carlos.' A rare flush of colour came to the Assassin's cheeks. 'We are lovers.'

While the Necromancer looked at me with astonishment, General Strakigos laughed and shook his head.

'What?' Sicaria demanded.

'I never thought I'd see you allow your heart to rule your head.'

I took a step closer to Sicaria. 'Sure, what's it all for though, if not the heart?'

Part II Chapter 63: The Demon’s Prophecy

'I still think you should have destroyed Castel Sliabh,' King Olgrim Beartooth tipped up his drinking horn and guzzled the beer that flowed out of it. The art of doing so without spilling drink everywhere was one that I had yet to master and I'd poured my own beer into a goblet.

We were in the great hall of the Jomskar king, one that was heavily permeated by the smell of burnt wood, despite the hanging thuribles from which trails of incense drifted and provided sudden, vivid scents of oils made from flowers: scents that reminded me of church.

Having lost his hall to Rockguard and then Langia, King Olgrim was probably fortunate to have any building at all to host us in. With a new turf roof and colourful tapestries on the walls, it was nevertheless a hall fit for the feast we were having. Packed with Vikings and the senior figures from both the Kingdom of Lost Souls and Greyland, this was a boisterous and sweaty room.

'We will see,' replied General Strakigos, 'but the stew isn't bad eh?' The Necromancer's general would have made a good Viking. He shared their bulky strength, beard (albeit his was shorter and tidier), and propensity to laugh. Following his gaze, I looked over to the fireplace, where sat the mighty Daghada's Cauldron, a large, bulbous container of black iron with a design of interweaving branches around its rim. I'd taken it as part of my share of the items handed over by Rockguard and it was worth 1.25 food units a day. At least, on days when its contents weren't required at a feast.

King Olgrim shook his heavy head. 'All our problems began the day I picked up King Cillian – that weasel – by his foot and dangled him upside down. Did I tell you that story?'

The Necromancer was on my left, bravely taking sips of his beer with every toast. He leaned close to me and groaned, 'not again.'

'Wait, wait. Of course I have!' King Olgrim laughed, crooked yellow teeth on show in his thick, brown beard. 'Let's have Injeborg tell it.' He leaned across from my right towards the Necromancer and said with an air of letting us into a secret, 'she's a Bard, you know. My ambassador. Like Carlos's.

'Jarl Injeborg the Red! Injeborg there! Tell us all the tale of my feud with King Cillian.'

The level of noise in the hall died away and Injeborg looked up with a bright smile. Her long, red hair was down and had been touching the golden spikes on Figus's head as they leaned together. Now she sprang to her feet.

'Sire, when we have a master Bard among us, my own words will seem clumsy and faltering by comparison. I understand too, that some of Figus's new verses concern you and King Cillian.'

'Oh, do they? Then we must hear them!' King Olgrim's voice became a roar, so as to quash the last remaining conversations. With just the creaking of wooden benches and the burning logs of the fireplace as a background noise, it was now easy for Figus to be heard.

'Well, they are not yet in their final form…'

'Ahh, Figus,' laughed Olgrim, 'you've been a whole winter with us. We all know you've never yet turned down a chance to perform.'

Even I laughed at these words and the expression of mock dismay on the face of my ambassador.

'Very well. I invite you to remember the Battle of Nekis and the sounds,' Figus snapped a chicken bone and wrenched it from a socket with a volume that must have been magically enhanced, 'of treants being torn apart by the demon. Then I change the scene.' He raised his hands, then lowered them as if caressing the ripples on the surface of a river, voice low and intimate at first, growing in volume as he spoke.

'On the South bank of the Syth were the soldiers of Rockguard.

'Tattooed warriors determined that they too should strike hard.

'And conquer Nekis even as their allies fled the field.

'Two score and ten, women and men, swam the cold waters.

'Cords in hand they swim fast for the far side.

'To pull across the ropes as their army's guide.'

'"Let slip the mooring lines!" cried King Olgrim. "And row!

'"Now part the water with your oars and fight the river's flow."

'"Today we prove the warriors of Jomskar do not shirk,

'"Their tasks. Our dragon-prowed ships will halt this attack."

'Arrows fly thick as rain, slamming into wood and flesh and bone.

'Arms strong, the Vikings chant in relentless, defiant tone.'

'Rockguard's ropes are struck by the ships. Rockguard soldiers scream,

'As they sink beneath the cold water or are carried downstream.

'"Olgrim! I will kill you! I will kill you!" King Cillian stamps his dismay.

'The lord of the Jomsvikings just laughs. Hand on the mast.

'Shield thick with arrows he calls back across.

'"Once again, you traitor, it is you who has lost."'

'On the field of battle, King Carlos grasps the arm of the Necromancer.

'"Well met, my friend, my ally, but give me your answer.

'"Though here our enemies flee, is Rockguard a threat to our victory?"

'"Never," the Necromancer solemnly replies. "Not with Jomskar as our allies.

'"Their brave warriors will fight, whatever the cost.

'"We can be sure the river Syth has not been crossed."'

Figus gave a bow and the sounds of battle that had seemed to fill the hall as he performed gave way to roars of approval, with King Olgrim leading the way in banging his open hand repeatedly on the table and his warriors joining in until the whole hall shook to the beat.

'Good, fine words Figus. Brave warriors is right, eh?' Olgrim leaned around with a grin, to get the nods of approval he sought from the Necromancer and I.

When the Vikings began singing their sea-shanties, I reckoned it was time to get away from the loud, sweaty hall and breath some fresh air. With a slap for King Olgrim and a gesture of my thumb towards the door, I stood up and overcoming a wobble or two induced by the surprisingly strong beer, made it out to a star-filled, clear night sky.

Having walked in moonlight through the dunes to a beach of stones, I was listening to the sea endlessly rearranging the pebbles when a loud, deep splash filled the darkness. Bringing the lance ahead of me (even when feasting, it never left my side), I was tempted to cast the light spell from it. But that would make me stand out like a lighthouse and the splash had been a long way out to sea.

Another! Somewhat to my left.

It was impossible to make my way silently over the shingle, so I retreated to the dunes and then strode towards yet another splash. What was it? Some kind of whale or sea creature leaping in and out of the waves?

There was a faint red glow, no two. Like two fires on the beach. Then the darkness and the scent of decay and the splashes all suddenly resolved themselves. It was the demon, picking up boulders and hurling them out through the black sky so that they would come crashing into the sea.

'Demon! Argax! What are you doing?'

The two fires turned towards me. 'Is it you, Carlos? I am bored.' A silver sheen from the moonlight picked out another boulder, one that the demon was passing from hand to hand. It was nearly as big as Sicaria. 'Let us play a game. I will toss this high above you and see if it lands on your head.'

'Throw that rock towards me and I will blow you apart with a Holy Light spell.'

The demon chuckled. But I pointed the lance towards him, feeling that murderous violence was only a heartbeat away.

The waves continued to murmur; a sea bird gave a cry; a breeze stirred the long grasses around us. And the demon put down the rock.

'Then let us play a different sort of game,' said the demon.

I straightened the lance and leant on it. 'Or we could talk. I'm interested to know what Scrithax is like.'

The demon chuckled again, a deeper sound than that of the sea. 'He is a god. He is not like anything you – or I – can comprehend.'

'Will he end the gods' game? Will the people of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms be freed?'

'No one can know the mind of a god.'

'The Necromancer believes this is what Scrithax will do if he has the power that comes with winning the game.'

The demon looked up at the stars, then turned his red eyes back to me. 'The first kingdom will be one of light. And the desert will spread. The second kingdom descends from the mountain and the flesh of all will be eaten. The third kingdom is brought by an angel with a fiery sword in each hand. And slaves will outnumber the stars. In the fourth kingdom people will live among roots and be food for spiders. The fifth kingdom will build a temple as big as a mountain. And all will carry stones. The sixth kingdom is won with treachery and sister will plot against sister. But the seventh, the seventh will shatter the very firmament.

'Now leave me, Carlos Not-Carlos. Before I test the powers of your lance.'

Part II Chapter 64: Light Dispels the Forest Shadows

There is a curious rhythm to the chopping motion of hundreds of zombies as they hack a wide path through a forest. They all swing at the same pace, but because different groups start on their respective trees at different times, you get a weird phasing effect where mostly all the chopping sounds are mixed up but occasionally they come together in a series of pulses loud enough to send birds cawing into the sky for miles.

Although we had defeated the main army of Langia, I hadn't wanted to take any chances. If I were them, I'd use my knowledge of the forest and the lack of roads to constantly harass an invading army: setting ambushes and waylaying stragglers then disappearing among the trees. The Necromancer had agreed with me that both for the sake of avoiding any campaign of attrition on their part and for future control of the realm, it would be best to carve a wide path through the forest using the power of 480 zombies. And really, they were very efficient. Six to a tree, at any one time they were chopping into a patch of forest about twenty trees across and four trees deep.

Ahead of the zombies, the demon Argax kicked down trees, snapping them near the ground or uprooting them, and this preliminary work made a huge difference to our progress.

I was riding Goncendor at a leisurely walk, allowing him to pause whenever he found a clump of grass that he wanted to eat. Beside me was the Necromancer, who seemed equally relaxed.

'You encounter with Emperor Tokanaga, his brother, and their ambassador went surprisingly well,' the Necromancer's observation was something of a question.

'Your sally was perfectly timed,' I glanced across to show my appreciation. 'His samurai could not come to help him and he was distracted by a desire to assist them against you.'

'All the same, I think you would have still destroyed him easily enough. You have created a very impressive cohort of soldiers with a variety of levels and class skills. Would you mind sharing the details of them with me?'

'Not at all, but I need a moment to recap them myself.' I called up the appropriate menus under the People tab.

Lord Arval: Paladin Level 9

HP 91

AC 19

XP 42,400 (86,400)

Str 18, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 8, Wis 9 (10), Cha 9.

Trueblade +2, Heavy Steel Shield +1, Ring of Wisdom +1

Top Skills

Wield Longsword             45

Heavy Armour Mastery  42

Shield Mastery                 39

Parry                                   36

Ride  Warhorse                 33

Figus, Bard Level 8

HP 61

AC 15

XP 24,750 (28,800)

Str 14, Dex 15, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 9, Cha 17

Scroll of Charm, Short Bow + 1, Ring of Silent Movement

Ambassador feats: Speak Language; Swift Travel

Bard feat: Inspired Performance

Spells: 4x1st, 3x2nd, 3x3rd, 2x4th

Top Skills

Wield Rapier                   39

Dine graciously               34

Climb                                32

Heavy armour mastery 32

Shield mastery                31

Isabelle, Rogue Level 6

HP 36

AC 10

XP 2,520 (3,200)

Str 11, Dex 18, Con 9, Int 11, Wis 8, Cha 11

Longsword +1

Rogue Feats: Surprise attack; Two Weapon Fighting

Top Skills

Wield Longsword               28

Medium Armour Mastery  28

Wield Longbow                   25

Move quietly                        22

Spot Hidden                         19

Leonora, Cleric Level 6

HP 48

AC 14

XP 2,550 (3,200)

Str 10, Dex 10, Con 10, Int 11, Wis 19, Cha 13

Mace of Intimidation (+1, Intimidation effect), Scroll Cure Moderate Wounds.

Spells: 4 x first, 3 x second, 2 x third, 1 x fourth

Feat: Divine Shield

First level spells: Bless Weapon, Calm, Cure Light Wounds, Growth, Holy Light, Inspiration.

Second level spells: Cure Moderate Wounds, Delay Poison, Delay Disease, Miya’s Courage.

Third level spells: Cure Deep Wounds, Remove Poison, Remove Disease, Invisibility to Undead.

Fourth level spells: Heal, Remove Curse, Miya’s Bond, Vision.

Top Skills

Wield Mace                      25

Heavy Armour Mastery  25

Shield Mastery                 21

Ride Warhorse                17

Combat Casting              16

Hernán, Champion Level 5

HP 53

AC 16

XP 1,350 (1,600)

Str 15, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 11, Wis 11, Cha 14

Glowing Bastard Sword +1

Feat: Blade Master

Top Skills

Wield Longsword             25

Heavy Armour Mastery  23

Shield Mastery                 22

Parry                                   17

Ride Warhorse                  17

Jacintha, Sorceress Level 5

HP 20

AC 5

XP 1,250 (1,600)

Str 7, Dex 10, Con 9, Int 20, Wis 14, Cha 10

Dagger + 1, Wand of Channelling (12), scroll of Protection from Arrows

Feat: Mana Regen +1

Spells: 1 x 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th

Spell Book: Detect Magic, Fire Dart, Freeze, Push, Flash of Light.

Carlena’s Spell Book: Detect Magic; Fire Dart, Freeze, Push, Flash of Light, Telepathy, Solid Air, Shatter, Doppelganger

Top Skills

Combat casting 19

Ride                    17

Wield dagger    14

Spot Hidden      11

Salvage               10

Valeria, Ranger Level 6

HP 51

AC 11

XP 2,200 (3,200)

Str 15, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 8, Wis 14, Cha 8.

Leather armour +1, +2 deerskin Move Without Trace boots

Feat: Trueshot (will not hit an ally when firing into melee).

Top Skills

Wield Longbow                    30

Wield Longsword                28

Medium Armour Mastery 27

Tracking                              21

Spot Hidden                       20

Brother Raymond, Summoner Level 5

HP 20

AC 6

XP 950 (1,600)

Str 9, Dex 11, Con 10, Int 16, Wis 11, Cha 12

Feat: Regenerate Summoned Elemental

Top Skills

Combat casting  14

Ride                    13

Wield dagger    13

Spot Hidden      11

Calligraphy        10

Abbot Hugues, Templar Level 5

HP 50

AC 8

XP 1,350 (1,600)

Str 15, Dex 15, Con 14, Int 11, Wis 11, Cha 14

Feat: Parry Missiles

Top Skills

Kick                      25

Punch                  22

Move quietly      22

Spot Hidden       19

Ride Horse         17

From the recent spoils of battle, I'd given Lord Arval the magical shield; Abbot Hugues the +1 greataxe; Valeria the +2 deerskin Move Without Trace boots; and Hernán the +1 bastard sword (transferring his +1 longsword to Isabelle, who as a level 6 Rogue had a serious damage output if she could flank). I'd also picked two-weapon fighting for Isabelle's feat at fifth level because in an ideal situation, Lord Arval or Hernán or myself would be tanking while she came in from behind with a flurry of damage. The other three magic items (potion of Remove Fear, +1 Cloak of Resistance, and the Fan of the Four Winds) I kept and equipped about myself.

The other feats I'd chosen for my team had been based on my idea that passive ones were probably the way to go. For Abbot Hugues I'd selected Parry Missiles from a choice of several martial art options. For Valeria, the Ranger, there was a variety of ranged weapon feats: I could extend her range, or increase her damage per shot. But simply making her faster seemed the most effective way to achieve a higher DPS. A very straightforward choice of feat was that for Jacintha: an increase in mana regeneration seemed essential for a Sorceress

For Brother Raymond, whose elementals had been so effective and for Leonora, the Cleric, I had no passive feat options. I chose Regenerate Summoned Elemental for the Summoner and a conversation with him revealed that he could not trigger it, but that I could do so from his character sheet menu. This was something, but in the heat of battle it might be a pain for me to have to find the feat and activate it. Similarly, Leonora couldn't see any way of playing her feat, Divine Shield, and again I'd have to do this for her. It gave thirty seconds of immunity from physical damage to her target and might have been the means by which the Hailand ambassador had been able to protect Emperor Tokanaga.

After reviewing these menus, I announced to the Necromancer, 'myself, Warlord level thirteen; Lord Arval, Paladin level nine; Figus, Bard level eight; Isabelle, Rogue level six; Leonora, Cleric Level six; Jacintha, Sorceress level five; Valeria, Ranger level six; Brother Raymond, Summoner level five; and Abbot Hugues, Templar level five.'

There was no response and I looked over to see an expression of astonishment on the Necromancer's face. 'Nine of you!' he exclaimed. 'And all at least level five. What an achievement.' Then he looked thoughtful. 'I wonder if any of our opponents have pursued the same strategy? It could represent a danger I haven't really given due weight to.'

'My spies haven't indicated anything like this.' I shrugged. 'Most rulers seem to be hurrying towards one or two very high level buildings.'

'Which is my strategy. My scriptorium reached level seven last week and I have set it to upgrade to eight, which will occur in about six months.'

'Level seven spells! Congratulations! Now that's an achievement.'

'Thank you. We make a good team.' The Necromancer smiled his genuine smile. 'You have really made the most of a diverse building approach. I had advised you to take such a course of action for economic reasons but, as I've come to appreciate, you are imaginative and resourceful and have also created a very powerful attack force out of the same strategy.'

'Thanks for the compliment. But I'm actually going all in on church building from here on to the end. I get my level five tomorrow.'

'Church? As always, I'm intrigued by your decisions and your reasoning.'

Both of us had drawn our horses to a halt and the troops nearby came to a stop too. The sun was overhead and I looked at my ally. 'Shall we take a break and talk properly over some food?'

'An excellent idea.'

I looked back down the wide track we'd cut through the forest and waving the lance, got the attention of Lord Arval: 'we'll take a break here.'

'Aye, sire.'

Soon, the Necromancer and I were seated in our respective camp chairs (mine, a simple folding one of wood and canvass; his, a velvet padded throne carried for him on campaign by a tireless zombie). We had been served a pretty decent mushroom stew and while the zombies and the demon continued to smash a path north, I settled back, glad to have the opportunity to talk about the endgame with my ally.

'My first Cleric, Anthea Greylord, was killed at the battle of Adelaide's Crossing. She told me that with a ninth level cathedral I can hold a service at which Miya will become manifest. In fact, that was her dream, to meet her goddess. I hope her spirit has done so.'

'And you think this might be a game-winning moment?' The Necromancer put down his bowl and stretched out his legs, looking from his black polished boots to me and then back again.

'I don't suppose it can be. Or everyone would be racing to get their churches built as rapidly as possible. And there wouldn't be a lot of reason to campaign and conquer other realms. We'd all just sit tight until someone got to call on their god.'

The Necromancer nodded, his dark eyes on me again.

'My goal in being able to speak to Miya is to try to understand her thinking and especially to find out what she wants to happen if we reach a situation where there are only you and I left out of all the Twenty-Five Kingdoms.'

'And what will you do if she tells you to attack me?'

Despite being outdoors, surrounded by soldiers, we had privacy and the noise of creaking and falling trees meant I was confident I could speak freely. 'I won't ever attack you. You are my friend and I'm loyal to my friends. But if she says we can't trust your god, Scrithax, then I'm not going to hand over the game to you either. The people of Greyland have faith in me: they've given their lives; I'm not going to lead them to a world where demons like Argax roam free, killing them for fun.'

'And if she says that you should give the power to Scrithax?'

'Then all the people of Greyland will know that such is her will. She summoned me here, I've done my best for Greyland. I would have no problem obeying her. The goddess is likely to have some insight into Scrithax's designs and if she approves of them, then that might mean he really would set the world free from all the gods and the game.'

'Then let us hope this is what Miya will say.'

After a silence, in which the syncopated rhythm of the zombies blows phased in and out, the Necromancer sighed.

'And I am your friend too. You saved the Kingdom of Lost Souls. Whatever fate has in store for us, I will not fight you.'

I felt a weight lift as he said this. And I remembered the test of the lance, where Miya had rewarded me for not accepting the only choices that appeared to be on offer. 'It's a simple idea, but it can bring down the heavens. You and I will stand together, no matter what the gods say. And if we reach an impasse, we'll find a way out of it that does not involve battle between us.'

'Agreed. Even Scrithax will not be able to make me attack you. Not that I think he ever would.'

I stood and he did the same. We clasped arms, hand to elbow and I looked into his face. Under his thick, black eyebrows his dark eyes were on mine.

'This is new, Sean de Courcy. Never before have two rulers refused to fight. But then, you are different to all previous rulers. I feel hope, that this time the great cycle will be broken and we can all escape the confines of this game.'

'That reminds me, your demon made a prophecy.' I let go of the Necromancer's arm and resumed my seat. 'He said something along the lines of there having been seven kingdom, and that the seventh will shatter the firmament.'

'Oh, how promising. Can you remember this with any more detail?'

'The first kingdom was a desert, I think, the second a mountain. The third was an angel with a sword in each hand. The fourth was something to do with spiders and the fifth was a temple. The sixth had sister plot against sister. Does that help?'

The Necromancer nodded. 'These are the past cycles. According to legend, there have been six previous gods to have ruled for millennia after their victory. The first was Yehlios, the sun god of Fahim. The second cycle was a terrible era under the dragon god Kru. The third god to rule the Twenty-Five Kingdoms was Ketizquatocl of Kezatka.

'Fourth was the great treant god, Weckad, whose sacred grove we will destroy before the sun rises many more times. The fifth god to have been victorious was Yahima Hachi of Hailand and the previous cycle was one under Asa of the Arkine Empire. The next, so the demon proclaims, will end the control of the gods.'

'Interesting. But he would say that, being a servant of Scrithax.'

'Scrithax lets his followers speak as they please. I believe there is truth in that prophecy.'

'Good. Well, let's go remount and take another step towards making it come true.'

Part II Chapter 65: Flowers for an Assassin

Zombies were tireless and therefore made excellent workers. Even after the living had made camp and settled for the night (unfortunately, Sicaria's duty was to guard the tent of the Necromancer, or we would have slept together in my tent), the undead continued to hack out a wide path through the forest. After a while, the pounding of their axes grew faint enough that I could sleep, dreaming that I was on a longship where the oars could not be found and the wind had dropped.

I woke to the welcome news that my church had upgraded.

Church level 5

Priests: Senior Cleric Leonora level 6*, Cleric level 1, Cleric level 1

Benefits: heals six persons per day of minor wounds, three of disease, two of poison, removes one magical curse per day. Other healing and benefits according to the spells of the Senior Cleric.

Supplicants spending the night in the church may by visited by Miya in their dreams.

Increases town Happiness by +2.

* Senior Cleric may advance in level.

I could now remove curses. And that gave me a thought, would it be possible to remove the curse on Lysegetus? If so, he could join the army by daytime and fight alongside my team of people with class progression.

The other interesting gain was that of the chance of dreaming of Miya. If I were back in Carrick there was no question but that I'd be spending my nights in the church. The more she visited me, whether in dreams or in waking visions, the better it would be for my understanding of what, exactly, the gods were up to. Perhaps after we had finished in Langia I should sail back to Carrick, using my captured magical fan to generate favourable winds? I realised that I missed the place, that it felt like home.

I rolled off my furs and began to dress for another day in my black platemail armour.

'Porridge sire?' came a voice from nearby. I must have been making enough noise with my grunts and the sliding links of chainmail as I lifted my hauberk over my head that my servants had heard me.

'In a few minutes.'

Even while I got myself ready, I returned my concentration to the Greyland menus. Firstly, my upgrade. To build a cathedral – a level 6 church – cost 456 stone, 216 timber, 16 iron and took 48 days. While I had considerably more stocks of stone, timber and iron than was needed, that was a serious investment of time. I could upgrade four other buildings from level 3 to 4 instead. They key question was whether we were racing the other realms for a high level building, one which led to a finish for the game, or whether a more balanced growth was smarter, playing a longer-term strategy.

There was no way of knowing for sure but it seemed reasonable to assume that the extra features unlocked with each building upgrade got better and better. Which made the level 9 ones likely to give a serious advantage to the player who obtained them. And surely being able to bring Miya into the world – as the level 9 church was supposed to be able to do – was going to have enormously positive consequences? Presumably the game was balanced and all the other rulers had that or equivalent benefits for their level 9 buildings.

Then too, I had an idea for the economy. Food supply and income would become an issue again as I recruited more troops. But had I made the most of my conquests? My menus had filled up with their captured reserves and my trade income had increased. But their populations were now living tax-free. Surely, I could insist on a contribution from them? I didn't want to precipitate a rebellion by imposing a harsh regime, but perhaps the people of Southway, knowing they were out of the running for their own hope of victory, would welcome Miya's conquest of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms as second best and support me without resentment. Kezatka, on the other hand, was more likely to align with an evil victory and if I wanted to try to extract anything from them, I'd probably have to do so by force.

My decision then was to send Figus to Montrose to negotiate a regular tax and food contribution from them and this would allow me to upgrade the church to a cathedral level 6. I started that timer.

Next, I had a recap of the distribution of people to the various workshops. Farmers 60; Firefighters 4; Fishing Crew 140; Sailors 40; Builders 40; Shepherds 24; Hunters 80; Miners 84; Clothmakers 27; Bakers 40; Brewers 40; Carpenters 60; Stonemasons 60; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 10; Spies 20; Pigeon trainers 4; Lumber Mill 20; Lighthouse 8; School 4; idle 89.

Every workplace was at its maximum for its level, except clothmakers, but there was no point bring them up to the cap of 40 because without a regular supply of wool from the shepherds, they would have nothing to do most of the time. I didn't want to divert from my church upgrade to increase the number of workers in the smithy or mines, even though that would be useful. The extra people joining the menu therefore should be soldiers. With both plenty of iron in hand and plenty of gold in the treasury I recruited 40 heavy infantry (greataxes) for 40 iron ingots and 30 gold, and 40 light cavalry for 10 iron ingots and 80 gold. That still left me with 70 iron and I was resolved to do the same again as soon as the idle population had rebuilt sufficiently.

Purchasing new troops like this was relatively inefficient in terms of iron and gold cost compared to creating their equipment in the smithy and I queued up 40 chainmail hauberks, and 40 carbon steel greataxes for 20 iron, with a 15 day wait on those.

'Your porridge sire,' came a voice from the tent entrance. Fixing my helmet and picking up the lance, I stepped out into a grey morning, took the bowl and gave the soldier a nod of thanks. As I ate my breakfast, I took the mood of the army. To judge by the friendly greetings I received and the tidiness of the camp, it was good. No sullen looks; no rusty gear; and an efficiency at packing away the tents that could only come from months of campaigning.

Already, there were soldiers at my tent, waiting for me to move off so that they could pack up my bedding and chair and roll up the canvas. If I fastened the lance to my back, I could walk and eat at the same time, so in that fashion I made my way towards the improvised corral where the warhorses had spent the night.

'Sorry sire, have you finished with that bowl? Only cook will put me on half rations for the rest of the campaign if I don't come back with it.' The soldier who had served me ran up and I passed him the nearly-empty bowl.

'Thank you sire. Thank you.'

Goncendor was pleased to see me, giving me a soft exhalation that was almost like a human greeting and then patiently allowing me to brush and saddle him. Before long, I was on his back and we were walking through the stumps and fallen trees of the path the zombies had made during the night. I sent a soldier for Figus and when the Bard arrived, explained that I wanted him to ride to Montrose with his Swift Travel and try to obtain a voluntary tax donation from the citizens of Southway. As ever, his expression was neutral, so I had no idea if he thought my idea practical or not.

Around mid-morning, a cantering horse caused me to look over my shoulder towards the ranks of soldiers marching behind me and my heart skipped to see Sicaria riding up to join me, a happy smile on her face.

'Off duty?' I asked.

'The Necromancer woke early, so I got a little sleep. Then I thought I'd come find you.'

Spring flowers – white cowslips, yellow dogwoods, and purple lilies – dotted the forest floor, prompting me to say, 'on Earth, back home, lovers give flowers as a gift to each other.'

'Flowers?' Sicaria frowned. 'To make poison from?'

'Not for that! To display, perhaps elaborately arranged in a vase.'

'But what use are they?'

I laughed. 'Flowers look nice and colourful. The point of the gift is to show affection. Bringing a bit of extra colour into your loved one's life is worthwhile for its own sake.'

The Assassin thought about this, then shook her head. 'If you are looking to present me with a gift, I would rather receive something practical.'

'Like what?'

'A garrotte.'

'A garrotte!' I exclaimed.

'It's a cord with a handle at each end, that you whip around the throat of your target to crush their windpipe.'

'I know what a garrotte is, but that's hardly romantic.'

'In that case, a pair of silver shuriken.'

This time I caught the twinkle in her grey eyes.

'Well, I suppose I could wrap them in silk and add a few flowers too.'

Sicaria, I realised, had been holding back a smile the whole time, one which now appeared fully on her face. And looking at her mirthful expression, the uncharacteristic laughing lines around her eyes, and raised eyebrows, it seemed to me that the sun had come out, that the colours of the flowers around me were more intense, and even that I was breathing not air but some kind of elixir of happiness.

'How else do lovers in your world express their feelings?' she asked, 'other than with plants?'

'Well, poems.'

'Ahh, you ask a Bard to compose a song in her honour?'

'You are supposed to do it yourself. I've never tried.'

'Then, Sean de Courcy, I issue you a challenge. Write a poem for me.'

'Oh dear,' I said, 'what have I let myself in for?' Could I remember any classics? Shakespeare had one that began Shall I compare thee to a summer rose, but that opening line was all I could recall.

Although we chatted and sometimes laughed as we walked our horses, I could tell that – just as I was – Sicaria was scanning about her all the time, as though anticipating an ambush.

In the distance could be heard the thumping of the axes of the zombies and although we gradually got closer to the point at which the trees were being felled, we hadn't caught up when all the noise stopped. A rider, a solder of the Kingdom of Lost Souls, came hurrying back and looked set to ignore Sicaria until she called out.

'What news?' all serious once more, it was Sicaria the Assassin whose voice rang out forcefully.

'The tree. We've found the World Tree.

'Very good, hurry on to the Necromancer.'

Long before we caught sight of the tree, I detected a sour-sweet smell in the air that was similar to that of our zombies but required even more of an effort to ignore. It was the smell of death. Ahead, filling the wide path, were our ranks of zombies, axes in hand, and with them the demon Argax. Beyond was a shadow, a dense, dark green tower. At first I thought it was a castle, but then realised what I was looking at: a massive tree.

The base of the trunk must have been forty metres wide and as for height, it was hard to see beyond a thick canopy of oak-like trees that in any other setting would have looked enormous.

There were objects slowly swinging below the largest branches of the World Tree. Dead animals. Humanoids too. They were bound by their ankles, upside down, and were missing their heads.

'Grim stuff,' I said.

'Sacrifices to their god,' muttered Sicaria.

'Well, this is our target. We need to be cautious, probably this is where the Langian army will make its last stand.'

On the assumption the place was defended, I wanted to ride up closer to the tree, to look for signs of guards, but Sicaria said, 'stop. Wait for the Necromancer.'

She was right, of course, and it wasn't long before we could see a disturbance in the lines of soldiers behind us and then several riders came up, including General Strakigos, the Necromancer and King Olgrim. The Viking king was no rider and in contrast to the smooth rise and fall of the others, was slapping the reins of his horse and animatedly using his legs to keep his horse moving.

'Greetings King Carlos, Ambassador Sicaria,' the Necromancer reined in and looked ahead with some satisfaction. 'The World Tree. It grows as it levels up and consumes sacrifices. Eventually, legend says, its roots form a system with the entire world and the Twenty-Five kingdoms become a dark forest.'

'Well, in this cycle, it falls,' muttered King Olgrim. 'And Langia will regret the day they invaded Jomskar.'

'Argax, zombies, advance!' The Necromancer extended his left arm, finger pointing to the tree ahead.

'I cannot!' The demon turned its heavy, horned head towards us and his voice boomed out with a plaintive note. 'The tree or someone nearby has a ward against summoned creatures.'

The zombies, however, were not restrained by magic and lurched forward as one, tramping to the foot of the tree, as though congregating at the base of a huge wooden tower. Soon, the sound of hundreds of axes chipping away at the tree could be heard, all merging together to create a hum that was almost musical. Like a horde of ants chewing at a wooden post, the damage any one of them was doing was negligible, but in their hundreds, they were going to have an effect.

'This will take them some time, days perhaps,' offered the Necromancer, 'I suggest we post guards and allow the rest of army to fall out and have lunch.'

'I'd prefer to keep everyone in arms for now. If the Langians intend to offer any resistance it is likely to be soon. This place is obviously sacred and …' Even as I was speaking something changed. Some dark motion over at the World Tree.

Then I understood. Dozens of black panthers were sliding down the trunk, tails downwards, facing the tree, using their claws to slow them down. Then, when just above the zombies, they sprang off the tree and into our troops, snarling and spitting and clawing.

I dearly wanted to launch a Holy Light to blind these giant cats, with their savage talons that were sweeping limbs and heads from the zombies, but that spell would have blown apart the Necromancer's army. Instead, I drew my bow.

'Call back your zombies,' I said to the Necromancer, 'they are too slow.'

Despite the panthers being outnumbered twenty to one, they were in no danger, the zombies simply couldn't land a blow on the nimble felines.

'Hernán!' I shouted to the nearest of my officers, the unit at my back being my swordsmen. 'Advance on those panthers.'

Soon, my soldiers were running past, swords drawn. And I was firing with some success whenever the opportunity arose. It took three hits before I killed one though, they had around 20 hit points each. That meant the large panthers were a serious threat to my troops too. I rode forward and triggered Charge! to give those soldiers around me an extra ten hit points.

Ahead was confusion as zombies turned unintelligently away from the tree and were torn apart by the ferocious, snarling panthers.

'Hold! Hernán. Hold! Form a line.'

The young captain, waving his large, magical sword above him started shouting, 'line, line!' And after even more confusion a pattern began to take shape. The Greyland soldiers stood facing the panthers, shields in position; zombies shuffled past, clustering around the gaps in our line and pushing through to safety. Beyond them, at the foot of the tree, the panthers… the panthers were gone, racing back up the tree almost as swiftly as if they were sprinting along the ground.

'Oh dear,' the Necromancer came up beside me and looked at the strewn limbs and torsos of his troops. Perhaps forty or fifty of them had been lost. 'That did not go well.'

Part II Chapter 66: Even Timber Can Thirst for Blood

Our council of war consisted of the Necromancer; King Olgrim; the generals, Strakigos and Lord Arval; Sicaria and myself. While we met, sitting on tree stumps in a clearing, our soldiers were busy securing the flanks of the army against a possible attack. Under the direction of my engineers, trees were being felled, wooden walls erected and a ditch created. Despite all the shouts, the hammering, sawing, and the crack and rush of a tree falling, it was quiet enough where we were that I could hear the flapping wings of a large bird and the annoyed cawing of a magpie somewhere nearby.

'We should burn down the World Tree,' said Lord Arval. I caught his eye and nodded, having been thinking the same.

'A proposal that is not without a risk of starting a forest fire that harms us,' said the Necromancer. He looked uncomfortable on a fallen log, too low to the ground, arms around his knees

My own stump was at a good height and I had the Lance of Light in my right hand to lean on. 'The Fan of the Four Winds can help with that. And our engineers can plan fire breaks.'

'Indeed. And perhaps therefore this is what we should do. I believe, though, that it will prove very hard to burn. Which is why if we were able to capture the tree and take the timber, we would have a useful prize. A warship made of that wood would be resistant to fire; a fort the same; and because that World Tree thirsts for blood, I believe that weapons, such as trebuchet, are far more deadly if constructed of that timber.'

'I want a longship made from that tree!,' exclaimed King Olgrim.

'Stop!' said Sicaria all of a sudden and sprang to her feet. 'That bird!' She was pointing to a nearby oak and the largest crow I'd ever seen: it was black, with a grey head, making it seem like it was wearing a hood. Beak turned to the side, the bird was studying us with a shining black eye.

In one fluid motion, the Assassin plucked a shuriken from her shoulder bandolier and it hissed across the glade and would have sliced through the body of the crow, but for the fact that with a flurry of its wings, the bird was in the air. The shuriken cut away a claw and stuck in the tree trunk.

Snatching up my bow and an arrow, I released a shot while still on one knee. It was a beautiful shot, even for me with my magical bow and bracers. I'd anticipated that the bird would make for the World Tree and the arrow smacked it out of the sky in a dark tumble of feathers.

You have hit an familiar of Brunhald for 22 hit points.

You have killed a familiar of Brunhald!

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

You have gained 750 Experience.

'Oh, splendid archery my friend!' cried the Necromancer.

King Olgrim sprang to his feet, 'I've never seen a better shot!'

'Well done sire,' added Lord Arval.

Sicaria, who had run to retrieve the body of the bird and my arrow, came back and simply gave me a nod of respect as she handed it over. And that felt like the biggest praise of all.

'The menu message said it was a familiar of Brunhald.'

'She is a level nine Cleric of their realm and perhaps might be the new High Priestess of Langia,' said the Necromancer, 'she must have survived the battle at Nekis.'

With a light touch on my arm, Sicaria ran to the oak tree on which the bird had been standing and climbed it with deft efficiency. Her goal was not just the retrieval of her shuriken but to survey all the trees around us from that vantage point.

'I've a new proposal then,' the arrow was reusable and I carefully worked it out of the body of the crow. 'We build a large bonfire at the base of the tree, as if to burn it. But my engineers make the structure firm enough to act as a scaffolding for my team to climb. Instead of starting the blaze, I try to surprise the priestess with a sudden assault.'

There was silence. Then the Necromancer said, 'While it seems somewhat rash to put ourselves in any danger, I believe the prize of the timber worth the risk. And I know how powerful you are in such situations. I will come too, with Sicaria and Strakigos.'

'And I with my Bard.' Olgrim slapped his hands together and laughed. 'She can make a song out of this adventure to rival that of King Carlos the Rhino.'

***

Our preparations for an assault on the World Tree took two days. Two days of immensely satisfying work as far as Havid, the portly chief of engineers, was concerned. Not only had he all the soldiers and zombies of three armies to command and all the wood he needed to build an immense fort complete with towers and walkways, he relished the challenge of the ruse I had planned.

Whenever I caught sight of Havid, he was the opposite of his usual bleary-eyed self. All energy and calculation, he was like a spider at work on a web, always on the move, cords in hand to measure out new lines. Unlike a spider, though, he was in charge of a large body of men and women. His voice, whenever he updated me, was hoarse with shouting.

Despite my fears of hit and run attacks from the depths of the forest, the enemy had not shown themselves. Perhaps we had destroyed most of their forces at Nekis? Creating the bonfire, however, had come at a cost. Several soldiers and engineers had been wounded or killed by a sticky green poison that had been hurled down at us in clay gourds that shattered on impact. Even the splash damage could be lethal. Only by having my archers brought up in force to clear the lower branches of enemy soldiers and by the use of large screens held above those working at the foot of the tree had we been able to proceed.

While we prepared the assault on the World Tree, my timer for the Falconry Mews completed. Immediately, I commissioned eight falconers (4 gold, 7 days), whom I intended to add to the army as soon as I could. My new building was a lens-making workshop, because having researched Navigation 2 I could now construct telescopes with that premises (and 4 workers). That cost me just 80 stone, 40 timber and 2 iron, taking 12 days.

Late in the day that the fake-bonfire scaffolding was completed, our assault team gathered at the gate to the camp fort facing the World Tree. We were flanked on either side by dozens of soldiers carrying lit torches, who were to distract the enemy by pretending to light the bonfire.

'All set?' I asked.

The Necromancer was beside me, dressed for the coming effort in a black velvet shirt, whose sleeves were folded back, revealing the tattooed writing on his arms that I had noticed often before. His normally expressive forehead was covered in a dark leather cap but his thick, black eyebrows were visible and showing a frown. 'I believe so. There is an anxiety in my stomach that I hope will pass soon.'

'Don't mind it!' King Olgrim took one hand off his mighty axe to give a slap to the Necromancer's shoulder. 'That goes as soon as the action starts. It's always the waiting that's the hardest.'

'Let's not wait any longer, so,' I said, 'buffs on.'

'Buffs?' asked the Necromancer.

'Advantageous spells that last long enough to be worth playing now. For example, Jacintha has a scroll of Protection from Arrows and Lord Arval the Protection from Evil spell. Cast those now please.'

'I see, well, I have Barrier of Shadows, but it is self only.'

'Play it.' Whatever the spell effect, I wanted the Necromancer to have the maximum protection he could. I was anxious for him. But I could hardly ask him to stay behind, could I?

'I have Disguise,' said Jarl Ingeborg the Red from behind me. 'I was wondering if I should make one of you into a Wood Elf, for the advantages in climbing?'

'Good idea. Use it on me,' I said.

When Injeborg, Lord Arval, and Jacintha finished casting their spells, I felt… different. Definitely more lithe and I could see nuances in the light around me that I hadn't noticed before. I also noted several small symbols that flashed up as menu items before fading. Probably, there was a way to check my buffs through the menu if I needed to and I took a moment to find out how to call it up.

Current effects

Disguise: Wood Elf. You are transformed into an elf of the forests. +2 Dex, -2 Str. You gain +5 in Climb, Spot Hidden and Survival. You have low-light vision.

Protection from Evil: You gain resistance against attacks by evil monsters. Some types of undead and summoned evil creatures may not come within a metre of you or touch you.

Protection from Arrows: Non-magical arrows cannot harm you.

'Open the gates!' Rather than the authoritative command I was used to issuing, my voice was thin and high-pitched and I was grateful when Lord Arval repeated the command with his powerful bellow. Then I called out, 'Torches go!'

Our soldiers streamed past, accompanied by engineers with screens for deflecting any poison gourds thrown at them.

I waited for the sounds of conflict to arise from up ahead, then pointed the lance towards the gate. 'Assault team, go!' And I led the way, proud to be at the head of such people, to be their main weapon.

The huge, lower branches of the World Tree were full of enemy soldiers firing arrows and throwing poison gourds at the feints of my soldiers, who were pretending to dart towards the bonfire and throw their torches, only to retreat to safety. As I passed our troops, I triggered Charge! for the extra speed and hit points to all nearby and sprinted into the heart of the bonfire.

Havid had made a tall entrance – as a wood elf, I didn't even need to duck – and in the interior of the stacks of wood and thick branches were steps upwards which I could take without letting go of the lance. Pushing aside a flimsy covering of branches, I leapt onto the pre-prepared walkway and ran along the top of the bonfire, so that there would be room for the others to come up behind me. The World Tree was so wide here, it was like running along a wooden stockade.

As I looked for a way up the trunk, I was the target of missiles. Dozens of arrows flickered across my vision, some striking me ineffectively. The gourds of poison were much more dangerous and I had to move smartly to dodge them or, in one case, flick it wide with the haft of the lance.

The World Tree was like a military fort with a dozen levels. High up under a dark green canopy, I could see ladders connecting wide branches and far more soldiers than I had expected. There were very many decaying sacrifices hanging from the tree too and – I noticed with dismay – one of them was dressed in the clothes of a Greyland merchant.

By moving around I managed to get a good view to the higher reaches, and there I could see some of the panthers, turning impatiently back and forth along a branch that connected the trunk of the tree to a wooden structure where two people leaned down, looking at me. One of them was a woman with a raven's wings attached to her crown.

Immediately, I launched two Holy Light spells one after the other. The first to blind the priestess (it had to be her) and the second to confuse the soldiers between me and her. Moments later, two silent, incandescent explosions of light momentarily lit up the scene above us.

Sicaria flashed past and gestured at a nearby ladder, fixed against the tree trunk. 'Trap!' she shouted, before moving on to the next.

'Trapped!' I passed the warning on to King Olgrim, who was right behind me and heard him grunt the same back to the others.

Strangely, under the circumstances of shrieks and missiles and danger, I felt a surge of happiness. Not only was I living in that heightened state of danger and challenge that I'd come to relish, but there was Sicaria ahead of me now and she had never looked so beautiful. True, much of her face was covered in a black scarf, but the lithe motion with which she ran up the ladder while throwing knives at the spearmen who tried to oppose her was incredible. And I was right behind her, scrambling onto a branch and cutting down the soldiers before me with stabs and slices of the lance.

'Gah, poisoned!' yelled King Olgrim from the foot of the ladder.

'Got it!' That was Leonora, our Cleric. I'd asked her to pray for two Remove Poison spells for her third level choices and two Delay Poison spells and one heal for her second level spells.

'Which way now?' we'd cleared the branch and Sicaria, chest rising and falling rapidly with her exertions, asked the question and indicated that there were three choices. We could go up the trunk or take rope ladders to branches higher up to our left and right. My enhanced vision was useful here as despite the deep shadows of the higher branches, I could make out the connecting ladders and ropes further up.

'Left,' I said and she beat me to the next branch, though not before I'd killed one of the guards there with a thrown knife of my own. In the middle of our battle with the soldiers of this branch came a screaming that was inhuman and a black ball crashed into Sicaria from above. Then she was gone, falling from the branch, a panther gripping her shoulder and biting at her head.

I jumped down after her.

There was a platform below and although I struck it hard (taking 8 damage) my wood elf form helped me roll and recover in time to get to Sicaria while she was still struggling with the panther. Full of rage, I smashed the head of the lance hard and deep into the ribs of the giant cat and manged to push it off her.

Snarling with sharp-fanged fury, the panther whirled around and struck a blow against the haft of the lance that would have shattered a non-magical weapon. And then it was still and all its hissing had stopped and its fur no longer stood out straight, Sicaria's sword was in its throat. The panther collapsed, dead.

My lover was covered in blood from a dozen deep scratches around her face and neck and dark blood was still leaking heavily with every pulse.

'You need a Heal.' I was using her own black headscarf to staunch the wounds as much as I could without choking her.

We both looked upwards.

'Injeborg!' Among the branches and confusion of bodies further up the tree, I'd seen a flash of chainmail and red hair. 'Injeborg! Quickly, come here! We need your heal.'

The Viking Bard looked down from two levels higher. 'My heals are for my king.'

I was furious. 'Heal Sicaria or she dies. Leonora is with your king.'

I could see the hesitation in her face and I ran for the nearest ladder, intent on dragging Injeborg down after me if I had to. I didn't have to. We passed each other on the next branch, me giving the Viking a pat on the back as we did.

The attack group had cleared the branches and platforms that I was climbing and there was a noticeable diminishing of incoming arrows and poison gourds. In fact, the Langian soldiers seemed to have run out of the latter. I was careful not to tread in the dark green splash marks, which were still giving off steam as if they were powerful acids. At a large platform level with the tops of the ordinary trees of the forest, I found the others, gathered below the branch and platform of the priestess and the panthers. Evidently, the blindness effect of Holy Light had ended as a dozen panthers were snarling at us, grouped along the branch above, while the priestess had her arms raised and was chanting.

I launched the third and last Holy Light some ten metres above the priestess, sufficiently far away that we were outside the bright sphere that flashed into existence for a moment.

'There you are!' cried the Necromancer with evident relief. 'I was concerned you were no longer above us. Someone in armour fell and I thought it was you.'

'I'm good. But hurry, we have two minutes.' I could see that the priestess was blind again, she had abandoned her spell and was holding on to a rail in front of her.

'Follow me,' I called to King Olgrim and Lord Arval, and putting the lance over my back, climbed the ladder to where blind panthers hissed and lashed their claws through the air above me. At the top rung, I used my jump skill of 65 to vault onto the centre of the branch and then a powerful kick (also at 65) shoved a panther to the opposite edge of the branch I had come up and it scrabbled with its hind legs over the edge until I followed up with another kick and made it fall.

Even blind, the panthers were formidable enemies. The ones around me lashed their claws against my platemail, seeking purchase, so they could drag me down to savage me with their sharp fangs. Accompanied by terrible screeches of claw on metal, I suffered hits of 6, 8 and 9 but was not snagged and I was able to get the lance into my hands and fight back. Nearby, I sensed the heavy form of King Olgrim and heard the smack of his massive axe into the flesh and bone of a panther.

'Heal sire?' Lord Arval was beside me but before I could respond, one of the giant cats leapt at me, trying to land with its front paws in my head. I managed to skip back and ground the lance for a critical hit that skewered the animal, killing it.

After pushing the body to the edge of the branch and letting it slide off into the depths, I had breath enough to reply, 'no need, I'm on one three one from one six four. And I haven't used the heal on the helm yet.'

There was enough of a lull that I could check the character sheets of my team and I was very relieved that they were all alive. Whoever the Necromancer had seen fall, it wasn't someone from Greyland. Perhaps he'd noticed Sicaria being struck down and thought she had armour?

'Heal Isabelle, she's down to nine.'

'Where?'

Hernán was up near us; Brother Raymond too, his fire elemental causing havoc among the remaining panthers; I saw Leonora standing behind King Olgrim. She caught my eye, 'no more heals.' I gave her a nod of acknowledgement.

Coming up the ladder in a clumsy fashion, encumbered as he was by the book of Spell Resistance, was the Necromancer, who peered carefully around before joining us. And there, in his wake, was Isabelle, creeping up equally cautious.

'Isabelle, Lord Arval will heal you.'

While the Paladin turned to the Rogue, I took point against the last of our enemies: the priestess was in a hut further along the branch, a panther guarding her. Beyond her the view was spectacular, we were above the tree tops and the dark green canopy of the forest formed an unmoving ocean beneath us.

'Surrender Brunhald!' I shouted across to her. 'Your situation is hopeless.'

'True, I cannot hope to survive. But I can destroy you and revenge our queen. Jump!'

You have resisted Greater Command.

I looked at the lethal drop below and felt a hand on my shoulder. 'Clear me a way to her,' said the Necromancer.

Running along the branch that no longer seemed quite so wide and safe, I lashed the blade of the lance into the shoulder of the final beast and as it squirmed under the blow the Necromancer ran past and grabbed the priestess by her arms, interrupting her in the middle of casting another spell.

Brunhald screamed and sank to her knees.

As the priestess howled – suffering from the Necrotic Touch spell presumably – Hernán joined me and we killed the panther in moments. 'Now her?'

'Go ahead. I'll stay out of it. You can get a lot of experience that way.'

Red eyes turned on me, the priestess glared with pure hatred. But there was nothing she could do, held by the Necromancer’s spell, all Hernán's blows were critical hits. And then she was down and the battle was over.

I let out a deep breath, my heart still pounding at the thought of being made to leap into the void had I not resisted the command. Still, we had won and I looked at the mighty tree with some satisfaction.

'Even split three ways, we are each going to have hundreds of units of World Tree timber.'

I had not anticipated the bitterness of the Necromancer's response or the sorrow in his face. 'I wish we had burned it all.'

'Why?'

'Strakigos, my general and oldest friend is dead. He was poisoned and fell from the tree.'

Part II Chapter 67: Epitaph for a Zombie General

'Probably the general's finest moment was the capture of Callondum. Those of you from Greyland might not be familiar with the episode, since we in the Kingdom of Lost Souls have no Bard to immortalise our bold deeds and must rely on poor memory and fumbling words.'

The Necromancer was dressed in black velvet, both trousers and shirt. A dark leather waistcoat was buttoned across his chest and he stood bareheaded on a raised platform as he spoke before the body of his fallen officer. Beard trim, hair smooth, arms moving to emphasise his words, the Necromancer had the attention of hundreds of soldiers. We were gathered at the funeral in concentric circles around the bier that held several bodies, including that of the general, and I was in the front circle, close to the speaker.

'Strakigos was a master of siege warfare and took tremendous personal pleasure in launching the boulders of a counter-weight trebuchet and even more in watching them strike home. I remember how often, in a fashion that was hardly subtle, though he probably thought was the height of tact, Strakigos used to drop hints that I should research the trebuchet and then the counter-weight version.

'"See now," he would say, having brought up a subject like the distance between the quay wall the headland, "that would be about half the length that a trebuchet would reach."'

This made me smile. Because that was exactly like the old general. I remembered how much he enjoyed smashing up the wall of Three Ways when we worked together to reclaim Carrick.

'We had two trebuchets for the siege of Callondum, one my soldiers named in honour of our ally, Carlos, and the other after myself, Shamas. Strakigos would hurry from one to the next, making some fatal adjustment to the torsion and pulling the release, one after the other, day after day until the weapons had utterly shattered Queen Rorgesta's gatehouse, making it only a ruin.

'Queen Rorgesta was a Warlord and as we all know,' the Necromancer gestured towards me, 'there is nothing more foolish than to fight a Warlord in a dense press of troops, where they can use their group feats to maximum effect. So the general, despite the danger that King Wace would come with the army of Southway, took the time to redirect our fire, first to the wall to the north of the ruined gatehouse, then to the south. Only when we had three points of entry to Callondum did we attack.

'And I remember too, that he was keenly aware of the importance of morale, both of raising our own and reducing that of our enemy. His goal in collapsing the walls was as much to tell the inhabitants and defenders of the city their position was hopeless as to allow us more points of entry than the queen of Trolland could defend in person.

'Not many generals were more able than Strakigos to know when a risk was acceptable. At Callondum he ordered in our reserves to the southern breach, when it wasn't at all clear to me that the decisive moment had come. But he was entirely correct and with him leading our soldiers, they cleared that breach and were able to come around the back of the enemy position at the gatehouse, capturing Queen Rorgesta in person.'

The Necromancer paused. A large and appropriately black flag of the Kingdom of Lost Souls flapped loudly in a lively breeze. 'I now invite you to consider your own memory of General Strakigos.'

I was not usually good at funerals; I always felt removed from them. When my parents were cremated, it seemed to me I was watching the whole scene like that of an outsider, like I was in a cinema and it was on the screen. Now, though, at the Necromancer's last words, I bowed my head and had a vivid memory of Strakigos. It was soon after my arrival at Nekis. I knew no one and for all his kindness, the Necromancer himself was a figure who was rather aloof. We were months away from becoming friends, not least because I was ashamed of my failures.

Strakigos, however, was much more approachable. Always keen to try to raise a laugh from me, and sometimes succeeding, we would meet daily for exercise and training. At night too, we would often eat together. There was one night when I put my hand over my goblet to stop him pouring me some wine. He had looked at me, puzzled.

'No more. Not a drop until I am back in charge of Greyland. I'm determined to lose weight and to get up with the dawn every day. I've got a lot to prove. And drinking won't help.'

'You're right. And what's more. I'm with you.' He stood the bottle on the table with a thump.

'Go ahead. You drink please. This is my mission.'

'Not at all. I admire your goals and your determination. The least I can do is support you in this small way. No more drink until victory!'

'That sounds like a toast.'

'Of water.' He handed me a glass and we touched their rims together. 'No more drink until victory!'

Strakigos kept to that promise and it was only after I had regained Carrick did we share wine and mead together again.

Standing beside me, Sicaria had tears in her eyes. I took her hand and she gave me a grateful smile, then winced, evidently still suffering from the wounds that had scarred her cheek with four thick, pink lines from eye to lip. Despite having being cured back to around half her full hit points, it seemed possible those marks would stay even when she was on full. Perhaps a Regeneration spell would help. I would have to talk to Leonora about this.

'And now, we interrupt the journey of the general's soul. Like every citizen of the Kingdom of Lost Souls, Strakigos believed that the era in which mortals of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms are just playthings of the gods must end. Not for him, therefore, the sea of spirit into which all must go until their rebirth in a new cycle. The soul of the general refuses to surrender to the void. Rather, it will wait, while his body serves us with all his strength and more.'

The Necromancer began casting a spell that caused the demon to suddenly raise his horned head and stare as if fascinated. The sky seemed to darken and the Necromancer's ominous chants rolled around us as though his words were boulders crashing down a mountainside. And then, in a crescendo, the Necromancer lifted both his hands high and shouted: 'zombies arise!'

No matter how often I'd seen this spell cast, I still wasn't used to it. The lurch of the corpses as they sat up as one was shocking. And my heart beat fast at the sight of my old friend standing and slowly marching with the exact same step as four other soldiers raised with him. Poor General Strakigos, whatever that body was, it was no longer my good-natured friend. The new undead soldiers lumbered to join a somewhat reduced zombie contingent that still mustered over 300.

***

Outside the forest at last, King Olgrim, Jarl Injeborg the Red, Sicaria, the Necromancer and I met in the large tent that the ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls brought on his travels. One of the advantages of commanding the supernatural strength of zombies was that while the rest of us tended to travel light, the Necromancer was able to bring a great many comforts including chairs with backs to them; decanters for his port; and china plates for his food; all of which were currently in use.

It was evening and the orange glow of the declining sun lit up the roof of the tent, while three candelabra on a large table were already lit and flickering shadows played on the large map we were studying.

Standing in front of his large chair, the Necromancer's bushy eyebrows were close together with the frown I had sometimes seen when posing him a difficult challenge in chess. He tapped a long finger on top of Hailand, silver ring gleaming in the candlelight.

'Having defeated their army and scattered it, I believe Hailand should be our goal. That realm must surely be on its knees?'

'Agreed,' said King Olgrim. 'Go strip them of everything they've got.'

The Necromancer looked at me and I nodded. Not only had we eliminated Hailand's high level officers, but having caught their army between that of Greyland and the sortie by the Necromancer, only a few stragglers had escaped the battlefield. The loss of all those samurai had surely weakened Hailand considerably. 'I agree, but I believe it's Northway we have to be concerned about now. In capturing Onago we will be depriving King William of that asset. If we are in time.'

'Very well. Onago is our objective. Now, this is us.' The Necromancer drew a cross on the map in purple ink, just at the corner where Langia met Sartas, Kaia, and Jomskar. 'It seems to me we have two viable routes to that goal. The first option is to cross the river Karkelos here and skirting Kaia, reach Ferrok and its capital, Grekreka, secure it and then move on to Hailand.'

The Necromancer's dark eyes reflected the candles as he looked up and checked that we were following him. 'Our second option is to go through Kaia, either with the permission of Queen Xenastha or eliminating her on the way. Can we now please discuss the respective merits of these options.'

King Olgrim shook his head, his thick beard swaying to exaggerate the motion. 'There's another option. We build dozens more longships and sail around the northern coast.' Leaning with both hands on the table, he laughed a deep laugh. 'No better a sight than hundreds of warriors leaping from their longships, armour shining, and forming up on a beach deep in enemy territory. If we all build longships and heavy infantry as rapidly as possible, we could even hope to defeat Northway before the onset of winter weather and stormy seas.'

'I think not,' said the Necromancer, 'my last report from Shadow is that the Queen of Shadow has eight triremes. While she is weak by land, these would be a great danger to any armada passing her shores.'

'There's that,' I said, 'and there's the question of how long it would take. I'm perfectly happy to build longships, especially given all the timber we now have. But let's not wait months for the ships and give Hailand a chance to recover.'

The Viking king folded his arms and his ruddy face settled into an expression a little like that of a petulant child. I noticed him share a look with Injeborg. She shrugged and then he shrugged.

The Necromancer looked approvingly at me. 'It is my belief that we should talk with Queen Xenastha.' Now he pointed to the Ferrok capital. 'Not only would it be a risk, moving across her territory without permission, but I would be distinctly anxious about doing so without a secure supply line and a way back.'

'What's she like? Queen Xenastha?' I asked the Viking king. Looking as though he was annoyed that we'd dismissed his longship strategy, King Olgrim gestured towards Injeborg.

'Well,' said the Viking ambassador, 'she's a lot like their people. Aloof. Proud. As touchy as a bear just awake from hibernation. And honest too, perhaps. At least, she's never broken the peace treaties between us, even when we were invaded by Rockguard and Langia and it would have been easy for her to have joined in for a share of the pickings.'

'Injeborg and I have Swift Travel,' it was a tribute to Sicaria's ability to merge with the shadows without even trying, that as her voice came from her chair it took me a moment to see her properly. 'I propose we approach Queen Xenastha for an agreement that allows passage for our troops and our supplies.'

'If she honours her agreements,' I said, 'why don't we invite her to march with us?'

'Trust a spear when it has thrown straight; a river when it has run to the sea; and a mortal who has nothing to lose.' King Olgrim leaned forward and slapped the table with his heavy right hand. 'By which I mean, let us not do that.'

'Is it not wisdom to have your friends at your side and your enemies in your tent?' asked the Necromancer. 'At least if Queen Xenastha and her army were with us, we would know she is not a threat to our capitals. Nekis is vulnerable for nine weeks until my walls are rebuilt.'

'What you just said about trust.' I looked at the Viking king, 'I've heard it before. They were words spoken by a giant. And he said something else: trust not the gods.'

'I haven't heard that about the gods. But the rest of it is commonplace. I'm surprised they don't use that expression in Greyland. And it's true. I don't trust her. The fact Queen Xenastha has honoured her treaties with Jomskar might be as much to do with her never-ending war with the bird people as her moral character. And let's face it, none of us would hesitate to break a deal if it meant victory, right?'

Jarl Injeborg the red looked disgusted at these words, almost rolling her eyes in a gesture that reminded me of my friends back on Earth. The Necromancer and I glanced at each other before he very smoothly said, 'well, I think that having a reputation for honourable dealings pays off in the long run. And I certainly intend to honour every word of our own.'

'Oh, of course, of course… I was just saying… You know… if tempted…'

'Perhaps we can agree to invite Queen Xenastha to join with us and not put temptation in her way?' After that cynical comment about treaties, I could have obliged King Olgrim to restate his loyalty to this alliance but the Necromancer was right to try to move things along and so I tried to do the same.

'What does that mean though?' muttered the Viking king. 'I don't want to be in some Orc city hundreds of miles from the sea when Northland or Hailand bribe her and we are betrayed.'

'It means making sure she always has more to gain by working with us than against us,' said the Necromancer.

'I don't see how we can promise that. Especially if your army of zombies keeps growing. You don't need supplies for them, they are worth two or three soldiers in battle and they are inexhaustible. She's not going to want to help you get any stronger.'

I felt impatient with King Olgrim now. 'Well, what is your proposal?'

'Build longships. With longships I always have a supply line and a line of retreat with control of the seas.'

'I draw your attention to the map,' there was an edge to the Necromancer's voice. 'We cannot plan a naval invasion of Hailand, even if we could be confident of defeating the navy of Shadow.'

Scratching his large nose, King Olgrim didn't respond.

'My friend,' I said, 'I understand your desire to have a large fleet of longships. And I'm all for building it. Your Vikings will have their battle, leaping from their warships to wade ashore and surprise an enemy. Jarl Injeborg will have plenty of brave deeds to describe in her own epic of King Olgrim.

'In fact, I'm queuing up the first six new longships now.' I checked the shipbuilder's menu.

Standard Longship

Carries up to 24 rowers and 4 passengers at 1.5 nautical mile per hour or variable (wind).

Cargo Capacity: 10

Cost to build: 160 wood; 8 iron, 4 cloth.

Requires: docks, shipbuilder, 5 shipbuilders.

Time to construct: 15 days.

'Make that two, with ordinary timber, and I'll start four more when the first of the World Tree timber arrives at Carrick. But even two ships takes me a month.'

'That long? You haven't upgraded your shipyard beyond level one?' King Olgrim shook his head, but he looked more cheerful.

'Make no mistake either about my thoughts on the matter,' added the Necromancer, 'when your longships arrived at Nekis and stopped Rockguard's army from crossing the river, you saved the city for long enough that King Carlos could arrive. I admire and value your ability to make the maximum use of the sea and the rivers of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms.' A distant expression came over his face. 'I am also commissioning two longships and look forward to the day when you command our joint fleet, perhaps in the invasion of Northway.

'But how should we use the time until those longships are ready? With the permission of Queen Xenastha, we could be in Grekreka within ten days and if all goes well, Onago in twenty. Twenty days! Hailand could not produce much by way of a new army in that time.'

'I will command a fleet of, say, thirty longships?' There was an eager look in King Olgrim's eye.

'Half of which will be built with the timber of the World Tree,' I pointed out. 'And I'll lend you the Fan of the Four Winds for our battles by sea.'

The Viking king laughed then and got up and poured himself a generous goblet of wine. 'Go ahead, go ahead,' he looked over at Jarl Injeborg, 'ask Queen Xensastha to join us. We Vikings will leave our ships for the next month or so and help in the capture of Onago.'

Part II Chapter 68: My Girlfriend Wants to be a Vampire

The five days of early summer that we marched along the east bank of the Karkelos were perhaps the happiest I'd experienced since arriving in the Twenty-Five kingdoms. Four armies moved at an efficient but not too arduous pace through lush lands that reminded me of the wide, green flatlands around the river Shannon in Ireland. The people of Kaia were cattle farmers and although they never smiled or showed any sign of warmth, not even to their own hoplites, our troops were well supplied with milk, butter, yoghurt and cheese.

At my side was Sicaria and we would talk for hours; she was as interested in life on Earth as I was about the way this world worked. At night, if she was not on guard duty for the Necromancer, she would share my tent. And however troubled my dreams, that moment of wakefulness when I realised I was pressed against her was always a joyful one. In sleep Sicaria's face was younger, unguarded; her brown hair lay in gentle curls on our pillow and always some deep instinct would mean that she would sense me looking at her and stir. Grey, amused eyes on mine she would smile and if in need of more sleep, close her eyes and relax again, otherwise I would lean over and kiss her soft and responsive lips.

'It's a shame that General Strakigos couldn't have been raised as a Skeletal Champion,' Sicaria mused, 'he would have liked that. And perhaps he would have had some semblance of his old personality.'

'Really? How does that work?' As was often the case, we were reminiscing about our former friend.

'We've been unlucky with the spell research, but if the Necromancer had discovered the Raise Skeletal Champion spell, Strakigos would have come back at ninth level, with enhanced strength and immunity to non-magical weapons.'

'I mean his personality.'

'The higher the intelligence and wisdom of the undead, the stronger the presence of the spirit summoned to possess the body.'

'Ahh, I see. I'd make a great Skeletal Champion then,' I joked, 'with pretty much all my spirit present.'

'You would, and if the Necromancer finds the Raise Vampire spell, that might be game-winning.'

'Vampire? What classes does he need to kill to raise a vampire?'

'Ranger, Rogue… or Assassin.'

'An Assassin with invisibility, gaseous form and the rest of a vampire's abilities would be lethal.' It was fortunate that only the Necromancer could create undead, because it would be a real threat to anyone, including me, if there were vampire assassins on the loose.

'Especially if she were level ten.'

Even though it was a sunny morning, I felt a sudden chill. It must have run through my body because Goncendor sensed my unease and stopped. 'Wait. You don't mean you would turn into a vampire if he got that spell?'

'I do.'

'But…' I urged Goncendor to catch up, so I could see Sicaria's face. 'What about us? I haven't ever felt this connected to someone. Won't we lose that if you become a vampire?'

Sicaria was solemn. 'Remember how you felt when your Sorceress and Chancellor abandoned you? You said you looked down a mountain slope at a journey of hundreds of miles. To get to a realm that you only hoped you'd find support from. And what gave you the strength to set off was a determination to prove them wrong.'

'I remember.' And I did. I still had dreams in which Carlena appeared. And sometimes in those dreams I would be trying to please her, yet whatever battles I won for her, or whatever choices I made on the menus for her benefit, it was never enough.

'Well, I'm determined to do whatever I have to in order to break the power of the gods to play games with us.'

'Including letting the Necromancer kill you and raise you as a vampire?'

'This is no time for love, Sean de Courcy.' Then, perhaps seeing something in my expression, Sicaria reached across to clasp my hand. 'Or rather, we must enjoy love in the brief interludes between war. In those brief moments in which it is possible.'

'I really hope that he never discovers that spell.'

She smiled at that. 'And yet, I think it would win us the game.'

***

On the following day, Figus caught up with me and we rode ahead of the armies so that I could hear his report in private.

'The Vikings missed you,' I said, 'they've been asking when you might be back so that you can listen to your songs at camp.'

'Did Injeborg ask after me?'

'She did indeed.'

Smiling, Figus handed me a pouch that clinked. 'Fifty gold from Montrose. The merchants and guild leaders are very desirous that Miya should be victorious and allow their prosperous and peaceful lives to continue without a return of war and conquest.'

'Terrific, just…'

Unusually for him, the Bard interrupted me, 'but before you make any decisions based on a supply of gold from Southway they expressed a great deal of scepticism that it would do you any good.'

'Oh?'

'When King Wace tried to tax the citizens who were not on the Southway menu, he wasn't able to add the gold to his treasury or spend it. It disappeared.'

My hopes for leveraging my conquests to create a large army fell at once. That report rang true, because otherwise all the rulers could circumvent the constraints of the game menu. As had been the case from the start, I'd have to manage my realm to maximise food supply and happiness to raise the numbers on the menu and therefore my income. That, plus ensure my trade income was at its cap. At least the situation was the same for all rulers.

'Well, let's test the gold.'

'First though, sire, I have a scroll for you.'

'Oh, you have?'

'A rider from the Arkine Empire came looking for you at Montrose.'

I took the scroll and broke the wax seal.

To King Carlos of Greyland, ruler of Southway and Kezatka, famed throughout the Twenty-Five Kingdoms for your charge as a Rhino and your generosity to your allies.

As a man who always keeps his promises, I take great pleasure in including with this message to you a fifth level Sorcerer spell, recently discovered by my humble scholars. Although it is not the infamous Cloud of Doom, which apparently all fifth level Sorcerers hope to have in their spell book, I'm told you will be extremely satisfied with our discovery of:

Remove Enchantment.

As you are aware, battlefield magic can be decisive and as the experienced general that you are, no doubt you have encountered spells like Freeze and Binding Roots that have been cast by opposition spell-users. Now, your Sorceress – the charming Jacintha - will have the power to remove such baneful effects.

Moreover, some of our common enemies have an array of curses and charms that might be significant beyond the battlefield. I'm told that with this spell, you can remove all such if their caster was below level five. If it were me who owned this spell, I would subject all my officers and advisors to it as a precaution.

I hope it is not presumptuous of me to assume that this scroll is therefore very much appreciated by you and that you will continue to respect our treaty as much as I do. In due course I will be pleased to send you the results of our research into a level 4 and a level 3 spell: may our scholars be as successful with those!

Despite certain internal difficulties that are too tedious to write about, I remain your dependable ally and emperor of all Arkine territories.

Alexis Kemanos, Captain of the Green Charioteers

The Remove Enchantment did indeed seem promising:

Remove Enchantment        Sorcerer Level 5

Range 30 metres. Effects up to one person per level of the Sorcerer casting the spell, within 10 metres of the target.

Immediately removes all baneful magical effects from the recipients, provided these have been caused by the spells of a caster level 5 or less. If the baneful effects have been caused by a caster level 6 or over, the recipients obtain a new chance to resist each of them.

Whatever Figus's curiosity about the letter, he showed an admirable patience while I read it. To save myself having to explain the contents, I simply passed it back to him.

'Very good, sire,' he eventually looked up.

'Let's go find Jacintha first and then see if that gold can be used.'

We left the road and walked our horses along the furrows of a ploughed field. Over to our left, the beat of hundreds of soldiers marching in step marked the passage of time. The Bard wanted to know all about the battle for the World Tree and was particularly interested in the moment when Injeborg had saved Sicaria from bleeding to death.

Among the carts of the engineers and army tents and equipment I found Hernán and Jacintha, side by side on the driver's bench.

'Oh, sire!' Hernán leapt down looking away with an expression that was distinctly guilty.

'How much do you get paid, Hernán?' I asked him.

'Three silver a month, sire.'

'Well, I have some good news for you and some bad news.'

'Sire?'

'I'm going to give you a bonus of one gold Wace.' The coinage of Southway still had the image of their old king on them, much as our own tended to have the fleshy-faced version of Carlos. Mind you, there were some rhino coins in circulation these days, which I liked much more.

'And the bad news?' The young officer looked at me expectantly.

'It will probably be worth nothing. It hasn't come to me from the menu.' I took a gold coin and flicked it, so that it span through the air to Hernán. The moment the small disc of yellow metal touched his hand, it vanished.

My glance towards Figus was met with a rueful shrug.

'Hard luck,' the Bard was amused by the fact that Hernán was staring at his empty hand.

After a pause, I said, 'go re-join your swordsmen and march with them, Hernán. If they see you galivanting with a spell caster instead of sharing their journey, they will come to resent you.'

'Yes, sire!' he practically sprinted on up the road.

'For you Jacintha, I have better news.' I urged Goncendor closer and the cart driver took the scroll reverentially and passed it to the young Sorceress.

'How wonderful!' I'd observed before how Jacintha was the opposite of Carlena, always ready with a smile. And now she really was beaming.

'What's your other level five spell?'

'Flash of Light. It's somewhat like your Holy Light of Miya spell, but not as powerful.'

'Then there's no question which you should learn.'

'Indeed not sire. Thank you.'

'Starting tomorrow, I want you to cast it on our Greyland officers, just in case any are subject to a charm or curse we are unaware of.'

'Oh yes, sire,' she said earnestly, her broad smile fading for a moment, then reviving. 'Beginning with you?'

'Why not? Now go do something useful instead of adding to that poor horse's burden.'

There was no severity in my voice and Jacintha knew it; she skipped down from the cart and looked at me cheerfully. 'I'll write it into my spell book immediately.'

I looked over at the Bard. 'Well done, Figus. You're off duty. Go further improve our relations with the ambassador of Jomskar if you like.'

Figus looked along the road to where we could make out Injeborg by her red hair. 'An admirable suggestion sire.'

Part II Chapter 69: The Demon Bridge Builder

During our march to Grekraka, the former capital city of the orcs, I completed several projects on the Greyland menu. A brand new longship had been finished and was at anchor in the harbour at Carrick. Another was just two days from being launched. My first delivery of World Tree timber had been unloaded at the port: 60 units worth. Not enough for the 160 units that a longship required, but the Vikings were sending regular shipments of that magical timber from Langia to Carrick by sea and it would probably be worth waiting for two more of those to arrive so that I could begin a third longship made purely of the wood of the World Tree.

My food supply was more than sufficient for the current level of population. Even before the next crop of grain came in (282 units worth in just 4 days) and not counting the vegetable crop (55 in 9 weeks and 1 day) I was slightly ahead of the demands of the menu. I therefore allowed myself to recruit another 100 people into the system. That brought me to just below the cap for my current food supply and I would have to consider researching and smithing advanced farming tools if I wanted to push that cap up further, which of course I did. Other than the Necromancer, the ruler who had maximised their food and gold income would be the one with the largest army.

My civilian population were assigned to tasks as follows:

Farmers 60; Firefighters 4; Fishing Crew 140; Sailors 40; Builders 40; Shepherds 24; Hunters 80; Miners 84; Clothmakers 27; Bakers 40; Brewers 40; Carpenters 60; Stonemasons 60; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 10; Spies 20; Pigeon trainers 4; Lens Grinders 4; Lumber Mill 20; Lighthouse 8; School 4; idle 185.

My finances were running at a loss. Although monthly trade and tax had gone up (147 and 217 respectively), my total income was about 100 gold a month behind my army cost, which had risen abruptly with the 80 new heavy infantry, 8 falconers, and 40 new light cavalry I had recruited at Carrack. This was not a particular pressing concern (despite my failed efforts to draw extra gold from the non-menu population), because I had 2,713 gold in my treasury. And the grim reality was that one really serious battle would bring the wage bill for the soldiers down into line with my income.

Literacy in Greyland had crept up to 4% and would soon be at 5%; that was coming along slowly and steadily but it was probably not yet worth me circulating written material. The lens workshop was in business and I had made my first telescope, which I hoped was on the way to join me, along with two potions of Strength of the Oak. I'd sent a message with the Treant parts I'd shipped to my alchemists, that on completion of the potions they were to send them to me by rider.

One really important milestone that I had reached as we rode through Kaia, was that the town walls of Carrick had finally upgraded to level 2. That had been a mammoth, three-month project and I felt considerable satisfaction in the achievement. Only a realm with a large surplus of stone and sufficient time between enemy attacks could have managed this upgrade: it was even possible I was the only ruler to have done so. Since I still had a massive stock of stone, over 2,500 units, I ordered the construction of a level 2 curtain wall at Three Ways. That was a 38 day project.

Greyland's most important upgrade was of course the church. And impatient as I was to see it reach the level of 6 and become a cathedral, high end buildings took time. There were still twenty-two days and six hours to go before I reached that landmark.

With respect to my research, having finished Drainage II four days before arriving at Grekraka I opted for Banking next, because of the description that indicated that by building and staffing a bank I would be able to go into temporary debt if necessary. While I had a very strong financial position just now, I could envisage situations where emergency expenditure could be game-saving, such as if I lost a major battle and had to regroup hurriedly.

Finally, I had to think about whether I wanted to recruit some of the 185 available people into the army and if so, to what kind of unit? The army that travelled with me now consisted entirely of veterans and its makeup was: 143 swordsmen (Carter); 15 heavy infantry, 69 knights (Lord Arval); 3 crossbows and 58 archers (Isabelle); 7 light cavalry; 51 Cantreth light cavalry archers; 589 spearmen (lamellar armour, 2h-spears); 28 engineers; 40 spies; 2 Arkine sergeants.

Clearly I was weak in heavy infantry and light cavalry, an imbalance I'd addressed even before we had left the territory of Kaia. There were 80 heavy infantry and 40 light cavalry awaiting orders in Carrick (and 8 Falconers). Those orders would arrive within the day, because I had sent a pigeon to Carrick that morning asking them to rendezvous with me via forced marches through Trolland, Kaia and Ferrok.

If circumstances allowed, I would ride back to Carrick sometime after the cathedral was complete and spend a few nights there before bringing the next batch of new troops with me. But what additional ones did I need? Thirty-one more knights would bring Lord Arval's contingent of cavalry up to the round figure of 100 and that appealed to me. A hundred Greyland knights thundering across the battlefield could potentially alter the whole course of events. So to save coin and iron, I assigned the Smithy the task of making 31 suits of platemail (with the armour provectus upgrade), carbon steel greatswords, and lances. That was a 31-day task.

My other decision for the army was to bulk up the number of archers. Again, there were scenarios – like the winter sieges against the Arkine Empire – where these troops might make the difference between defeat or victory. And in some field battles too there might be situations where the outcome depended on being able to win the exchange of arrows. Stumping up for the gear for another 60 archers cost me 60 gold and 40 iron ingots, which felt like good value as I still had 43 iron left in the stores.

Closing all my menus, I took a proper look at the orc capital of Grekraka from where I stood on the west side of the river Sauberon. The orc city was in ruins. Most of the walls had gone and from what we could see of the area within the walls, the buildings there had been burned. Even from a distance, I could tell that the effect of the fire had been devastating. Most of the houses and workshops were collapsed. The two bridges here had been partially damaged too, presumably to slow us down as the stragglers fleeing the defeat of the Hailand army had made their way back towards their homes.

Greyland engineers were working hard at the nearest bridge and had erected two large, wooden cranes with long arms holding rope and pulley, which could be swung out from the abutment over the river, to carry stone and timber to where the clear river water flowed around a broken column half way across. The engineers had the eager assistance from the soldiers of the Greyland army, not so much out of urgency to continue our march on Hailand but because of a rivalry that had developed with the soldiers of Kaia. The army of Kaia was reconstructing the other bridge further downstream and a race was on to cross the river first.

I had begun to appreciate that the two armies, Greyland and Kaia, reflected the personalities of their leaders. Ours was relatively easy going. I never punished any soldier for tardiness and as a result, would often see individuals slow to form up for marches, or falling out of formation to pick berries. I also didn't mind them enjoying themselves in the evenings and would sometimes sit in on the music and storytelling around the camp fires.

For me, there was no need for harsh discipline to create an army with fighting spirit, for I'd seen time and again that the Greyland soldiers were ready to die for their cause and for Miya. They did not need to be drilled into mindless obedience. It was still painful to remember the time when I'd been so massively overweight and low level that I'd only escaped at Adelaide's Crossing due to the last stand of a dozen Greyland archers and Anthea the Cleric. And I also felt a melancholy weight on my chest when I thought about Robert and Nurbolat and the light cavalry at the recent battle of Nekis: they had faced the advance of the Langian army for as long as they could, despite shocking casualties, to give the rest of us time to deal with Hailand's samurai.

Up at the other bridge was Queen Xenastha of Kaia and as always she was commanding her troops with harsh discipline. Shouts and even the crack of a whip drove many of them hurriedly back and forth with timber and stone. Others were sawing or shaping rocks with hammer and chisel and the sounds of their efforts were louder than ours. She was a Shadow Knight, level 11, and sat stiff in the saddle of a black stallion, looking like a chess knight. Her plate armour was as black as mine and she held a lance too. Hers was pointing upwards, resting on her stirrup, and it displayed a pennant showing a red symbol like an infinity sign on a dark blue background.

Queen Xenastha's army did not appear to resent the harsh discipline to which they were subject, in fact, they seemed to pride themselves on it. I'd been told that every soldier in the army of Kaia had survived exposure on a hillside overnight at the time of their birth. Only the toughest were wanted in their army. Up with each dawn, with polished shields of brass that caught the sun like the scales of a golden dragon, they marched in tight ranks with precise strides and could turn sharply on command (an action that was ordered by their officers far more often than was really required, just so as to demonstrate their prowess to us). Whipping was a common practice and several times I'd seen a soldier of theirs take lashes for offences that I learned were as minor as gambling.

At first I had tried to establish a friendly relationship with Queen Xenastha, or at least one of mutual respect. But after riding alongside her and hearing her thoughts on the superiority of the intellect over the natural, of her goddess Nyx over my goddess Miya, I had given up. 'Lazy,' 'unshaven', 'ill-disciplined', 'dirty', 'slovenly', 'drunkards', and many other coldly delivered adjectives were directed at my army. She could only have been trying to provoke me for some reason and in the end I rode away extremely dissatisfied with her but pleased enough with myself for having remained polite. The truth was, it really annoyed me to hear my soldiers disparaged by Queen Xenastha but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction she would enjoy if I lost my temper.

It was understandable then, that at this first opportunity to get one over the army of Kaia, my soldiers – who seemed to know to the letter what Queen Xenastha thought of them – would prove so willing and enthusiastic for back-breaking work. All my officers were there too, lending a hand: Lord Arval had removed his armour; Hernán was pouring with sweat; Figus was risking a broken fingernail by helping carry planks; and Isabella looked as she had done when she prepared to swim across Darkwater or under the walls of Texecal, her brown hair was bound tight, her leather vambraces keeping her sleeves tight too, and her long, equine face showing a serious concentration.

There was another difference between the armies too, I did not mind sharing hard work, whereas Queen Xenastha always kept apart from her soldiers. They were too lowly for her to mingle with. Dismounting and using Goncendor as a screen, I triggered Charge! from the lance, so we all had several minutes of a 45% speed bonus. In the overall scheme of things, it wouldn't make a great deal of difference as to who completed their bridge first but the Greyland soldiers enjoyed the sudden boost and even more they liked the ruse. There were many smiles and winks directed my way as I went through the crowds of busy soldiers to the portly Havid, who was supervising the creation of mortar in a vat.

'How can I help?' I asked the chief engineer.

'Oh, sorry sire, I didn't see you come over. We are short of pitch for making a really strong mix, but it should hold when it dries.'

'What's it for?'

'If we build up that column in the river,' Havid waved a hand vaguely towards the fast-flowing water, 'we can drop a platform like a drawbridge onto the top of the column. Then have room to do the same to the far side.'

Looking out over the wide river, I studied the column, it was broken and jagged, with some of the splits in the stone going right down to the waterline. 'Won't the river wash the mortar away without it ever drying?'

'Yes sire. If we pour it all the way down the cracks, it will be no good. I was thinking of rebuilding the column well above the river.'

'And leaving cracks and cavities below your work?'

'That's it sire. Though we'll fill them as much as the river will let us.'

'Even if the column can then hold the weight of the wood, I don't want it to collapse when the army is marching over. Is that a risk?'

'If I'm being honest, it is sire, but I don't see another way. We could cross just a few at a time perhaps.'

'Did you ever hear of a pile driver?'

'Not in my life, sire.'

'It's where you put a large stake in the ground and drop a massive rock in a sling into the top of it, then wind up the rock and do it again. We could do that with tree trunks and drive them into the river bed until we've enough extra columns to prop up the drawbridges for sure.'

'Oh, I'm with you!' Havid beamed, 'we call that technique the hammer and ram.'

'Hammer? That gives me an idea. It'll be quicker to borrow the demon. You get the tree trunks prepared.'

I hurried away upstream, to where the Necromancer kept his army well away from that of Greyland, out of consideration for the dismay that his zombies caused, even after all this time. When I explained my plan and asked could I speak to the demon, the Necromancer looked at me solemnly.

'It is a good idea, but let me be the one who talks to Argax.' He held up his hand to indicate I should not speak, even though I had drawn breath to do so. 'Remember, my friend, Argax is from hell and extremely dangerous and unpredictable. He despises Paladins and has contempt for all mortals, including you and I. Not only do you risk harm every moment in his company, but also, if we phrase the order imprecisely, he might consider it amusing to wreck the bridge he makes only moments after its completion.

'Allow me to make the case that moving our armies to Hailand as rapidly as possible is the best way to please his lord, Scrithax, and I'm sure he will assist in the way you require.'

I looked further upstream, in the direction of the Snowfell Mountains, to where the demon was entertaining itself by making some kind of circular stone structure. Sometimes he would lie down to view the sun from between two stones. 'I'm sure you're right,' I replied.

Sure enough, within an hour, the monstrous demon was midstream, water up to his waist, holding an enormous boulder in both hands and bringing it heavily down onto the sawn circle at the top of a long, thick tree trunk. The subsequent 'thunk' was loud and drew the attention of the army of Kaia, who even paused from their own work to watch as the demon did this again and again, the tree trunk moving downwards into the river bed less and less each time until it was solidly fixed. Only when the whips began cracking did the soldiers of Kaia return their attention to their own tasks.

When the demon had placed two lines of tree trunks across the river in this way, he straightened, then threw his boulder into the ruins of the city where it crashed heavily. Issuing a very human-like grunt, Argax climbed out of the river and without looking back walked upstream towards his sculpture or temple.

Despite the unnatural strength of our demon assistant, it still took us several more hours to lay the wooden floor across the tops of the tree trunks and the column in the middle of the river. Now that it did not have to bear the entire weight of bridge and troops, I was confident the partially-repaired column was well able for whatever weight of soldiers, horses and carts crossed the bridge at any one time.

By late afternoon, we were able to send the first troops to the east bank of the Sauberon and although worn out, my other soldiers cheered loudly at the tramp of a unit of spearmen on the solid structure. From the looks of Queen Xenastha's efforts to build a pontoon bridge, she would not be done by nightfall. The volume of noise from their position had lessened considerably now they knew the race was over.

It was with a great deal of pride therefore and to much cheering from the soldiers, that I mounted Goncendor and rode over the river Sauberon. My stallion stepped on the planks of a bridge that felt rock steady.

That night the songs and merriment at the Greyland camp had an added level of volume and boisterousness because we well knew that at the silent campsite downstream on the west bank of the river, Queen Xenastha and her followers were smarting with annoyance that we were all across long before them.

Part II Chapter 70: When Soldiers Sing

The Necromancer was extremely impressed with my telescope and he stood in his stirrups, studying the Hailand capital of Onago for a long while, holding the brass instrument to his eye. With the arrival of my rider with the telescope (and the two Strength potions), I had expected to obtain an item that folded up and whose focus could be adjusted by turning the top lens. Instead, the telescope I received was so long as to be a strain when holding it without support and you could not change the focus, which was best for viewing items about two to four kilometres away. Anything closer was a big blur and anything further, like the mountain peaks to the south of us, a small blur.

'It came with a stand,' I said to my ally, 'in case your arm is getting tired.'

Taking the eyepiece away from his face the Necromancer said, 'let's do that.'

The telescope's stand was a decent piece of engineering, being a tripod with a grip on top that was mounted on a metal orb and which allowed you to swivel the telescope once it was fastened in place.

Wiping the sweat from his fine, tall brow – it was midsummer yet the Necromancer was in his usual cloak over dark velvet shirt and trousers – the ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls adjusted the height of the stand so he could look through the telescope without bending. 'That is much better. Without any strain I can discern the finest details of the city. And see, I make the smallest of adjustments with my hand and I can scan along the tops of the walls, counting the individual soldiers. It is as though I were beneath the walls of the city and yet I am so far away that they probably do not see me, let alone release arrows towards me.'

When at last he was done, the Necromancer straightened and shook my hand. 'Well done, King Carlos, a most admirable device.'

'Thank you. And of course, you shall have the next one.'

'I should like that very much.'

While the Necromancer had committed himself to researching spells, I was researching practical technologies, like Navigation 2, which had led to my being able to build the Lensmaking Workshop and thus telescopes. I was glad that I had something useful to share with him.

'What did you see?' I asked.

The Necromancer stepped back and gestured towards the telescope. 'I suggest you look for yourself. Unless there are many more troops hidden around the city, they do not appear to be too formidable.'

Moving up to the telescope and looking through it, I had to agree. The walls of Onago were only about eight metres high. We could assault them with ladders. And although bright flags fluttered in constant motion from every tower, their density was not matched by soldiers, not ones I could see in any case. I counted twenty archers and only four of those were in samurai armour, the rest being dressed like peasants.

'We could build ladders and assault them from every side,' I offered.

'Indeed, or perhaps even one sturdy, well-covered battering ram would be sufficient.'

I stood up. 'Since we have the resources and engineers, let's build both.'

'Agreed.'

While packing up the telescope on to a spare horse brought for the purpose, the Necromancer put a hand on my arm. 'What do you make of Queen Xenastha?'

'Oh, don't get me started. She drives me nuts.'

'Drives you nuts?' A smile half-formed on the Necromancer's face. 'I shall assume that this is a negative expression of discontent.'

'Very negative. She constantly tries to provoke me by sneering at the Greyland troops.'

The Necromancer said, 'by contrast, she urges me to betray you and work with her. She makes a visible effort to express approval for the strength, endurance, and – above all – inexpensive nature of my zombies.' Although there were no soldiers nearby, since we had ridden up a small rise together to get a view of Onago, the Necromancer came closer and dropped his voice. 'Last night, she visited me and attempted to seduce me. I allowed her to believe that her form and character were appealing to me. That I was flattered that she would consider me for her lover.'

I must have been smiling, for the Necromancer shook his head solemnly. 'I felt that a crisis had come. That I was a sailor faced with a storm and with having to make an instant decision whether to set the ship this way or that. And also I felt that a mistake would sink me. My reply was to the effect that much as I would be honoured, thrilled, delighted and so on, my sexual energy was required for certain spells in the canon of the Necromancer.'

Now I did laugh aloud. 'That's a terrible excuse.'

'Indeed and alas, I don't think she was taken in. My intuition is that despite her subsequent expressions of understanding, she was in fact very angry with me.'

'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,' I said and the Necromancer raised a bushy eyebrow.

'You are a poet now I see.'

'I have my moments.'

Letting out a deep sigh, the Necromancer turned away from the capital of Hailand to look at our long lines of troops marching towards the city through the shimmering heat haze of the hot summer's day. 'What are we to do Carlos? Queen Xenastha cannot be trusted.'

'I agree. I would not like to go into battle, against Northway for example, with her army on our flank or at our rear.'

'Would you object if Sicaria were to assassinate the queen of Kaia when she is next in my tent without her guards, as I believe I could easily arrange?'

Would I? Above me, it seemed that the sun was watching me with interest. I felt the heat of it on my head. 'Let me ask a question of you. Why do you think we are in such a strong position, perhaps even ahead of all the other rulers?'

'I can think of several reasons.' Paused in his motion to remount, Necromancer rested a gauntleted hand on the black saddle of his stallion. 'I have a demon in my army. You are a brave and skilled warlord. Our united territories provide abundant food, iron, stone and timber. '

'And our alliance?'

'Oh, indeed. No one else has managed such a consistent and self-sacrificing collaboration.'

'I was thinking only recently of how the people of Greyland work hard and the soldiers are prepared to die for their cause. And that cause is a good one. It is of making the Twenty-Five kingdoms a place of abundance and happiness. They are striving for heaven on earth and to avoid hell: slavery, death, cruelty.'

'I believe you are going to reject my proposal.'

'You are right, my friend. Deceiving Queen Xenastha and murdering her would be a notorious act and the word of it would spread around the Twenty-Five kingdoms. Some people would admire such an assassination as the height of cunning; in Greyland, however, most people would say it was wrong. You only have to imagine what Lord Arval's response would be to understand.'

'He has a Paladin's code to adhere to. You do not.'

I shook my head. 'All the same, I've learned to do what's right. When I was the old King Carlos, shifty and lazy and unfit for battle, no one even dared look towards me. Now the soldiers meet my gaze with their own, confident that I'm a comrade of theirs. That we have a common cause. That they can trust me. There's a kind of moral strength that comes to the battlefield when soldiers believe they are in the right and this army possesses it.'

'What if I had said nothing to you? Can you pretend this conversation did not take place? We have to get rid of Queen Xenastha before she does us harm.'

'I cannot. But you've given me an idea. The next time she insults my troops, I'll challenge her to a duel.'

At once, the sombre and unhappy expression that had been on the Necromancer's face lifted. He took two steps towards me as though about to shake my hand, then he paused. 'A Shadow Knight is very dangerous in a duel. She has spells like mine as well as her combat skills. You might be higher level but your feats are really for battlefields not duels.'

'Will she have her skills capped?'

The Necromancer shook his head. 'Not by a long way. It simply takes too long unless you have both a high Intelligence and Wisdom. Her Intelligence will be notable, I would guess it to be around sixteen, so her upskilling will be quite efficient once the opportunity is triggered. But with a Wisdom that is only average at best, those opportunities probably only arise once a week, and that with constant practice.'

For me, with Intelligence and Wisdom at 20, a few hours training was all it took to bring a skill up. And that's what gave me hope I could defeat the Shadow Knight. Whether our battle turned into an archery duel or a melee, I should have the advantage. All the same, the magic the Necromancer mentioned was an unknown danger. 'There is a risk, true, but I'll fight her all the same. If you don't mind though, you might lend me your Book of Spell Resistance.'

'Of course, my dear friend, of course. But I do wish you would allow Sicaria to simply cut her throat.'

***

I had no difficulty in arranging a duel with Queen Xenastha. In fact, when I challenged her she laughed and said, 'you are a fool after all. I've wanted to kill you since before we met. When you allowed insults to stand that should have led to this duel weeks ago I thought you had understood my hidden intention and were a man of considerable depth and wisdom. You were almost a worthy opponent. Now I see you were no such man, just a coward who was afraid to challenge me. And with good reason. I will kill you.'

I simply said, 'our officers can arrange the terms.' And I left her presence while feeling a cold, righteous anger course through me.

The agreement made by both sides quickly became known throughout the four armies. The fight was to the death and should either of us flee the arena, our life was forfeit. The army of the loser agreed to surrender its armour and weapons to the Necromancer for his zombies and then the soldiers would disband. All magic and personal equipment on the loser's body became the property of the victor.

The site of the duel was a large square of grass, which had been staked out in some style by my enthusiastic engineers. They had marked the boundary with hundreds of tall wooden stakes, which were connected by two ropes. In the perfect, right-angled corners of the field were small wooden platforms, alternately flying either the green and white flag of Greyland or the red and dark blue of Kaia. The engineers had even erected a stage half way along the south side of the field, on which the Necromancer had placed his comfortable seat and behind which stood the demon Argax.

The Greyland army was ranged along the eastern rope and my soldiers were full of encouragement for me. Their rivalry with the army of Kaia had grown since the race to build a bridge, for the hoplites of Queen Xenastha had gotten into the habit of rising early and marching ahead of our troops. Often we found ourselves having to breath the dust that the Kaian hoplites raised during the long, dry days of the journey. Not to mention that they always hurried to obtain the most favourable places for their campsite, even if that meant a potentially dangerous gap of several kilometres opened up between the vanguard and centre of our once-united army.

'Serve her good, sire.'

'For the honour of Miya and Greyland!'

All along the lines of Greyland soldiers I was greeted with cheers and even the occasional bold pat on the arm or shoulder. My officers, too, all wanted to shake my hand and wish me luck. There was, however, more than a hint of concern in their expressions. Even Lord Arval looked worried. That was nothing, however, to the disheartening greeting of King Olgrim.

'There you are at last King Carlos! I'm looking forward to this. I'm betting on Queen Xenastha by the way. Oh don't look so put out. Of course I'd prefer you to win. Of course! It's just, you know, Shadow Knight versus Warlord.' He laughed. From behind him, Jarl Injeborg rolled her eyes and mouthed to me that she was sorry.

Figus stepped in to steer the Viking king away, giving me a long look and saying, 'thank you in advance for providing me with another admirable episode in the epic song of King Carlos.'

Standing beside Goncendor on the inside of the roped arena was Sicaria.

'I've checked all the straps. But you should always do so yourself.'

'Thank you.' I set about my battle routine, patting Goncendor on the shoulder as I worked my way through a checklist of buckles.

'Queen Xenastha has eight spells memorized, with mana enough to cast five or six, depending if she uses the lower level ones or the higher level ones.'

'Go on.' I loved Sicaria when she was focused like this and something of her intense efficiency entered me.

'Unfortunately, Xenastha and her people are closed mouthed. I know only that she has a spell that works like the Druid and Shaman spell Entangle, except that it doesn't need plants for the purpose. She also has a spell that harms you every time you hit her, if you are close enough. While that one is up, you must try to use archery only.'

When I was sure Goncendor was ready, I turned to Sicaria. Hugging her in my full armour was awkward, especially because I had the Book of Spell Resistance strapped to the left angle of my breastplate. But we managed and when I started to let go she pulled me back down by the ear and kissed me firmly on the lips, which drew a great cheer from the troops just behind us.

'Kill her,' she whispered.

And then there were just two knights in a field. Each wearing black armour that gleamed under a bright sun. A bugle sounded. Roars of cheering, whistles, and cries came from either side of the arena. For the twentieth time that morning I called up my character sheet to make sure I was aware of every important detail. As I studied it, I drank a potion of Strength of the Oak, which temporarily brought my Strength up a point.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Warlord, Level 13         HP 164          AC 20

Str16 (19)

Dex13 (14)

Con18 (20)

Int20

Wis18 (20)

Cha9

Magic items:

Lance of Light

+3 lance (+5 vs undead), +2 Wis, +2 Str, +5 Wield Lance, +5 Ride Warhorse, +5 Ride Flying Mount.

+2 Rapier

+1 Bow of Accuracy

+1 Dex, no long-range penalty

Bracers of Archery

+5 Wield Bow, +10% haste, +50% range

Ring of Wisdom (+1 Wis)

Amulet of the Bull (+2 Con)

Boots of Protection (+2 AC)

Amulet of Protection from Magic Missiles

Coif of Swift Heal 15 hit points restored

Potion of Remove Fear,

+1 Cloak of Resistance

Fan of the Four Winds

Exp 5,575,000 (7,000,000)

Top Skills

Wield Longbow 65 (70)

Wield Lance 65 (70)

Ride Warhorse 65 (70)

Wield Rapier 65

Lightning Draw 65

Kick 65

Grapple 65

Lunge 65

Heavy Armour Mastery 65

Medium Armour Mastery 65

Swim 65

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

Tactical Strike (Int)

In order to use the Book of Spell Resistance I had to have it in my hand, so I walked Goncendor forward with the reins wrapped around my left wrist, my fingers and thumb firmly gripping the magic book by its spine. If I understood resistances correctly, we began with a 60% - 40% chance of my resisting her spells due to my being two levels higher than her. The book gave 5% additional resistance per Wisdom point over 15, so that was another 25%. And the cloak looted from the battlefield at Nekis gave me an effective +1 level, so another 5%. In total, therefore, depending on her own magic items, I should have 90% resistance to her direct attacks on me. This was a comforting calculation.

In my right hand was the lance: my plan was to blind the Shadow Knight then swap to the bow and shoot her at long range.

Far short of the range of Holy Light, Queen Xenastha cast her first spell. As she gestured towards me, I urged Goncendor into a trot and then a canter, but then my horse panicked.

You have resisted Dread

The spell my opponent had cast was some kind of fear and if I'd have failed my resistance I'd have fled the arena and lost. Even as it was, I had to loosen my feet from the stirrups and roll backwards to tumble to the ground while Goncendor screamed as only horses can, a terrible shrillness ringing in my ears. His eyes rolling around wildly, he galloped back to the rope, where Greyland soldiers in his path scattered, and then he jumped out of the field, taking my bow with him.

I was already on Plan B.

Queen Xenastha was casting again so I triggered Charge! for the 45% speed increase and sprinted towards her, watching her closely all the way. On completion of her spell, the air around her seemed to darken with a ruby tinge but nothing came at me and nor did I get any menu messages. Now that I was in range at last and even though I had to take a hand from the magic book to do so, I launched Holy Light. The sphere of light flew from the lance and I continued my run.

Flash. The silent explosion engulfed the Shadow Knight and her mount. Were they now blind? It was hard to tell because she was casting again and neither were moving. Rushing at her, I was just a few seconds away from being able to lunge at her with the lance, when everything went dark. Was I blind?

I cast Light from the lance and a very dull flicker moved back and forth along the blade. No, I was not blind but had found myself inside some magical darkness that made it feel like I was in the underworld, I could barely make out the grass underneath my feet and all that I could see of it and of my armour was coloured grey. The sounds of chanting orientated me, but I made sure to grab the magic book again before walking forward as quietly as I could.

All of a sudden, a howl came from the darkness ahead, a slathering growling. And then leaping onto me before I could get the lance into position was a massive, muscular dog. A glimpse of sharp teeth in a wide maw and then fire, roils of burning fire, poured down onto me from its mouth.

You have been burned by a Cone of Fire for 27 damage.

You have been grappled by a Hell Hound.

As I fell under the heavy weight of the dog, I managed to twist, so that we landed side by side, rather than with the monster on top of me. And then I started laughing into the savage face of that ferocious dog, because I'd felt him give way. Although I was being buffeted by blows to my helm as the Hell Hound tried to find purchase with his teeth, we had wrestled, that monstrous dog and I, and I was the stronger! Slowly, a hand on each of his front legs, I forced him to the ground beneath me and then as his mouth opened wide – perhaps to blast me again – I let go and rammed my right fist deep, deep into the animal's throat.

Eyes wide with shock, the Hell Hound panicked. Unable to breathe, it became more and more frantic, scrabbling against me with its hind legs. I shoved deeper and it spewed vomit over us. Deeper, twisting my gauntlet into its soft innards. And then the beast convulsed one last time and went stiff.

You have choked a Hell Hound to death!

You have gained 110,000 EXP!

Stinking from the coating of dog vomit, I scrambled around for the lance and was relieved when I had it in my hand once more. Now what? I listened carefully and from somewhere ahead and to my right, I heard Queen Xenastha casting a new spell. She had played Dread; the unknown spell that gave her a translucent covering; a spell that had created darkness; and was it a spell or a magic item that had summoned the Hell Hound? If the former, then his might be her last spell.

Again, I closed in towards the Shadow Knight, feeling the effects of my Charge! wearing off. Still, it had saved me 10 hit points. I was on 147. Then the darkness lifted and as cheers rang out from behind me I looked at Queen Xenastha, book gripped by my left hand, lance in my right.

'Got anything else?' I asked her.

The Shadow Knight pointed at me as she completed the spell with a shout.

You have resisted Mark of Evil!

'Nope.' I took another step and triggered the Lunge! Box that appeared.

You have hit Queen Xenastha for 18 damage.

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You have been harmed by Blood Shield for 36 damage.

Ouch. Careful.

I backed away and she laughed. 'Come on you oaf. You stinking mess of shit. Not even the vultures will want to eat your corpse.'

The bright sunshine allowed me to see the extent of Queen Xenastha's magical protection. A constant flow of pale pink, like diluted blood, went from about a metre above her head to just below her feet. And it extended from her by a good two metres.

As she drew her sword I swung the lance with all my massive strength and sheered through the unprotected shinbones of her horse's two front legs. Screaming as horribly as had Goncendor, her stallion collapsed, frantically lashing the amputated legs around, spraying me in blood.

I leapt onto the side of the fallen animal. The Shadow Knight had dropped her sword and was using both hands to try to push the dying horse off her trapped leg. With my extra weight as I knelt on her outside leg, however, her escape became impossible.

I had a beautiful opening on her neck with a Lunge! But of course I wasn't going to take it.

Queen Xenastha snarled at me. Then she stopped struggling in order to start casting a spell. Instinctively I raised the lance to strike at her arms and interrupt her. But instead of following through with the attack, I waited, taking my left hand to hold the magic book.

'Keep going,' I said.

And she did.

'That's a long casting time,' I observed.

'Sod you Carlos,' she said at last, giving up on the pretence.

From beyond the ropes nearby, the soldiers of Kaia had been screaming abuse at me and roaring for their queen. Now, though, a stillness began to spread among them. From the far side of the field, from the Vikings, and also from the human soldiers around the Necromancer, my name was being shouted out in increasing volume as more and more people realised I had won the fight.

'Carlos! Carlos!'

At last, the damage shield disappeared.

'Nyx will rule the next cycle,' Queen Xenastha said trying to sound defiant.

Even though I scored critical hits each time, it took me six blows to kill her. With each, three quarters of the audience around the field cheered. After the sixth and the kill message, I saw that I'd gained over a million experience and it was no longer inconceivable that I might get to level 14.

'She's dead!' I shouted at the soldiers of Kaia, wondering did I need to cut their queen's head off to prove the point. 'Throw down your weapons and armour.'

If there was any thought of resistance among the ranks of hoplites, the lively temper of the Vikings and Greyland soldiers, not to mention the possibility of the ranks of zombies moving against them, quashed it. First one, then another spear was dropped, then a general stir took place among the Kaian troops as they abandoned their weapons and unstrapped their breastplates and greaves.

'Kaia!' sang some of my soldiers with gusto, 'you've lost your queen!

'Oh, Kaia, you've lost your queen!

Soon, the entire army taking up the refrain.

Part II Chapter 71: The Castle of a Master Strategist

The former emperor of Hailand, Tokanaga, had upgraded his keep to an impressive level 3. It was beautifully constructed with the ornamented, tiled roofs that I was familiar with from images of medieval Japanese castles. Four stories high, it was bigger than any other keep I'd been in and the banquet hall on the first floor was larger even than we needed for our celebratory dinner.

Having prepared a hundred ladders and a covered battering ram, our assault on the walls of Onago had been overwhelming and had cost us very few casualties. With me being able to blind the defenders of the north wall – that assigned to Greyland – Hernán, leading his unit of swordsmen, had been right behind me in the race up the ladders to the wall walks. We'd hurriedly cleared away the twenty odd defenders, then I'd taken half the Greyland troops to the east wall, Lord Arval to the west and we had all regrouped at the main gates, where the Necromancer's zombies had broken through by swinging a battering ram with their supernatural strength.

In total, the Hailand army had numbered less than a hundred, whereas my army, that of the Necromancer, along with the Vikings of King Olgrim, amounted to over two thousand soldiers. About half of the Hailand soldiers surrendered at the end, to the disappointment of the Necromancer, who wanted their bodies for zombies. Still, he had gained some forty more than he'd lost and was very satisfied with that morning's work.

The very same evening of the assault we gathered in the great hall and the chefs of three armies combined to explore the Hailand food stores and improvise a banquet for around a hundred officers. On my right was the Necromancer, on my left Sicaria, and although extremely tired from my exertions earlier that day, I felt very happy. This was one of the longest days of the year and the light from a late sunset entered the hall via lead-lined crosshatched windows and turned the roof orange. All around me was the cheerful banter of people who had a shared sense of purpose and success.

'I had this drawn up and copied for your consideration.' The Necromancer passed a parchment to me, which I quickly realised as a map and turned it around to study it.

'Green is territory controlled by you and I,' I observed.

'Correct. Light green are realms with whom we have alliances and even lighter green, realms that have been conquered by others.'

'Orange?'

'Realms with no known affiliation.'

'Red?'

'The biggest remaining threat to us, King William Ironheart of Northway and his conquered neighbour, Tsichen.'

'The situation looks promising,' I said after a while.

The Necromancer nodded. 'And what this drawing doesn't convey is that the current moment is extremely favourable in terms of the alliances and history of the various realms still in play. Sartas has been bitterly fighting Kaia. Shadow has been forced to pay tribute to Northway and there is a build-up of troops by both rulers on their common border. The dwarves of Grimlar are well-disposed to us for having released their slaves from Underworld. And Zorland and I have long adhered to a truce and trading agreement.'

I nodded and took a drink of the very good red wine that we had found stored in the cellars of the keep. 'If we move quickly, before the others catch up with events, we can eliminate another one or two.'

'I would go further. If we can conquer Northway and maintain our alliances, particularly with Jomskar and Cantreth, I don't believe anyone else will be able to match us in military terms.'

By nature I was cautious and I certainly was not the kind of person who went around claiming victory before I had actually won. All the same, to deny how well we were doing would be a mistake too. Tempted as I was to consolidate and concentrate on developing the economy of Greyland, the situation depicted by the map encouraged me to be bold. There was a very good chance that no ruler outside of this banquet hall really understood how far the Necromancer and I had come. No pigeons had been spotted leaving Onago and riders bearing news of the fall of the city to us would be several days away from the nearest capital.

'So, we march on Northway?' I asked.

'Exactly the same conclusion I reached on contemplation of this map.' The Necromancer gave me a thin smile and a slight nod to acknowledge our mutual understanding. 'We should leave tomorrow.'

Although we were in a very public place, the cheerful background noise meant that I felt no risk in leaning towards the Necromancer to continue our discussion. 'I have some questions about the endgame.'

My ally raised one black eyebrow and tipped his head even closer to mine, inviting me to continue.

'Firstly,' I said, 'might one of the other realms be ahead of us in building a very high level church or some other building that might give them a route to victory that doesn't depend on military conquest?'

'That is possible. As far as I'm aware, a level nine scriptorium would potentially yield game winning spells, namely: a Sorcerer might obtain a spell to summon their god; a Necromancer one to raise their god in a suitable body; a Shaman a spell that manifests their god in a suitable animal; a Summoner to bring them to the world in elemental form. Of course the caster's spell must match the nature of the god. No Necromancer could ever raise Miya as an undead being.'

'Any other endgame buildings? I believe a level nine church would allow Miya to materialise, for example.'

'Well indeed. Many gods could come into the world via their places of worship, although I think that you also require a Cleric of sufficient level to cast the appropriate spell.'

Ahh. I hadn't considered this. Leonora was level 6, which wasn't bad, but it wasn't likely to be end-game level. Presumably then, the high end building that a realm worked towards should match the ruler's class, I said as much to the Necromancer and asked him what a Warlord should therefore aim at, a barracks level 9 perhaps?

The Necromancer shook his head. 'Warlords, Champions, Paladins, Shadow Knights, and so on, they all have a significant advantage on the battlefield. Their way to victory is through conquest. I doubt a maximum level barracks would unlock more than the most powerful military units your realm is capable of building. The world is balanced that way.'

'If someone had focused on building a scriptorium this entire time, what level would it be at?'

'Mine is level seven and I require another three months to reach eight.' The Necromancer took a small sip of the Hailand wine and then a deeper one, looking into his glass appreciatively. 'It will then be six months until I obtain level nine.'

'So probably no one else is close?'

'It hardly seems possible that anyone has created a level eight building yet. If they had, the whole world would have heard about it. And even when they – I – get to nine, we still have to spend weeks researching level nine spells with no certainty the result will be one that can bring our gods into the world.'

This was reassuring. If we had over a year before anyone had created a level nine building, then our military advantage really meant something. Perhaps I was being overly anxious but in this world of magic and gods it seemed to me that I had to not only win the battles and sieges but also be thoroughly prepared for dramatic developments arising from magic and divine involvement.

I felt a touch on my left arm and pulled my hand away, not wanting my thoughts to be interrupted. The touch returned, this time gripping my arm almost painfully. Of course, it was Sicaria.

'Sorry, I was miles away.'

'You should relax and try to enjoy the banquet. Life – at least until we end the game – presents us with more causes for grief than happiness. Appreciate this as one of the better times, both for your own sake and for all those present who want you to enjoy our victory and relish your personal survival in that highly risky duel.'

She was right of course; I could feel Lord Arval's eyes on me and smiling at the Paladin I gestured with my glass of wine, to share a toast with him across the hall. My smile as I turned to Sicaria was genuine. 'Are you required to guard the Necromancer tonight?'

'I am not,' she smiled back and we clinked our glasses together.

***

Rillou, the capital of Northway was daunting. Not only were the city walls level 2 – dispelling my hopes that I might be the only ruler to have achieved this – but the city had incorporated a level 3 keep into its defences. Every other city I'd seen, including Carrick, had the keep at the centre of the town. Here, it stood before us as a massive and intimidating prospect. Theirs was an all-or-nothing form of defence. There was no barrier between us and the keep, the keep itself was part of the front line. But if you had the stone to make such a powerful defence, it was a smart move.

All I had heard about King William Lionheart indicated he was a dangerous opponent and as I looked at his city and felt the mind of a strategist, I experienced a troubled moment unlike any before, except perhaps the time I had first met the Necromancer. I was intimidated.

Even if we took the time to build trebuchets, the massive towers would give the defenders a range advantage. Perhaps with World Tree timber, that could be reversed but the design of their towers was smart too: almost circular, the stone would deflect much of the energy of incoming blocks. A battering ram would have to be moved up a steep ramp to between the huge gatehouse towers, where it would be subject to a barrage of counter-measures, including boulders dropped from a great height.

Nor had King William just contented himself with sitting tight behind his powerful defences. Perhaps appreciating that we were a slow-moving, ponderous army, he had harassed us over the five days it had taken to march to Rillou from Onago. Frequent ambushes had been set against us or raids undertaken on our flanks and rear, mainly in the form of volleys of arrows released by squads of soldiers with longbows. And when we tried to counter, as often as not by the time our cavalry was galloping towards the enemy they had mounted light horses and escaped. Our journey had cost the allied army some 100 soldiers, while just 37 archers of Northway were killed.

There was at least the fact that King William's modest victories were lessened by the fact that the 37 dead Northway soldiers were in our ranks now, marching with the slow tread of the zombie contingent. And if the Necromancer could have had the bodies of the dead Greyland soldiers (whom he cast a covetous eye on), we would have come out ahead.

Our engineers were hard at work building a large wooden fort. There was no doubt at all that King William would be looking out for opportunities to counter-attack. Probably too, he was trying to mobilise alliances and forces from Tsichen and Shadow. We had to be prepared for an assault from all directions. Then too, we needed protection from possible assassination attempts or a high level Rogue coming to try to steal the lance. Densely guarded walls would go a long way to help keep intruders out.

'Oh, sire, it looks like an embassy is setting out.' Jacintha straightened up from where she had been using the telescope and gestured for me to use it.

Ever since I had put the telescope on its stand just ahead of the engineer's first ditch, something of a queue had developed as my officers came by to have a look through it. Thus, I was in the company of Figus, Lord Arval, Hernán, Leonora and Valeria as well as the chirpy Sorceress.

Bending over the eyepiece, I could see quite clearly that a group of five riders were leaving the keep, coming down the steep slope, cloaks billowing behind them. The lead rider had the banner of Northway held high, in the manner of an embassy, and none of them were holding weapons.

'I believe you are right.' I stood up for a moment. 'Figus, would you mind alerting the Necromancer and King Olgrim?' Then I studied the figures again and my stomach tightened hard. There was no doubting the flowing silver hair of one of the riders. An elderly female was in the sweet spot for the telescope's focus and I could see her as clearly as when I'd arrived in the twenty-five kingdoms.

Carlena.

Part II Chapter 72: A Good Man; A Sorry End

Carlena.

Her name alone caused my teeth to come together in a fierce clench. I wasn't the kind of person to murder in cold blood but I deeply regretted not having imprisoned her after the capture of Texecal. Ever since she'd abandoned Miya and Greyland and poured scorn on me after the battle Adelaide's Crossing, I'd gained an insight into the true extent of her ambition. Knowing just how determined she was to gain both magical and political power, I could have predicted she'd find a new place with a dangerous enemy. At some level, deep down, I had even anticipated seeing her again, because although I was angry – and concerned – that she was here, I wasn't at all surprised.

The five riders drew up their horses some fifty metres away from me. The man in the centre of the group had a fine, chestnut stallion, shining plate mail, and a very distinctive golden shield that was large, like that of a Greek hoplite. He shouted with a strong, deep voice: 'We wish to parley with you. May we approach?'

'Not yet.' I answered and sent for my archers. Behind me, the soldiers and engineers had ceased work on the fort to watch and that was just fine with me. I ordered them to form up, weapons drawn. If King William Ironheart was anything like Carlena, he couldn't be trusted to honour ambassadorial protocols. And I was not going to let them come close to me without the presence of overwhelming force on our side, force that included the Necromancer, King Olgrim, and all my senior officers.

It was frustrating, however, that while we waited under a hot sun, I could see them studying our armies. They were close enough to make an exact count of our zombies, archers, knights, and every troop type. Perhaps I should have just driven them off, but before I decided that this was the right course of action to take, the Necromancer had hurried up, Sicaria with him. She and I shared a glance that in her case was entirely professional. Moments like this required her to be fully alert to any threat to the Necromancer.

'What do they want?' asked the Necromancer.

'I really don't know,' I replied, 'but they are taking advantage of being here to survey our armies.'

'It's a shame your Paladin wouldn't allow us to dispose of them now.'

'To be fair, I wouldn't either.'

The day was bright and the Necromancer shaded his dark eyes with a hand as he looked out over a field full of nearly-ripe wheat. 'Is that…?' He shook his head.

'My former Sorceress? I'm afraid so.'

'I wish I'd turned her into a lich long ago.'

With King Olgrim, Jarl Injeborg the Red and Figus hurrying up to join us and with several rows of my troops forming a near circle about me, I beckoned to King William. 'You can dismount and walk over.'

The soldier who had waved the Northway banner got off his horse and gathered the reins for the others to leave their horses and walk up to us.

King William raised a gauntleted hand. With his helmet removed I could see his face. He was about forty years old, bearded, had frown lines on a forehead from which light hair was receding, and dark, searching eyes. 'Greetings. You must be King Carlos, the Necromancer, and King Olgrim.'

'Greetings,' said the Necromancer politely. 'And you must be King William Ironheart.'

'I am indeed. And escorting me are Ambassador Lefanque, Chancellor Maurice de Prendel, and...' he paused, 'I believe you know High Sorceress Carlena.' Each made their bow, Carlena's a somewhat contemptuous (or was I reading too much into her gesture?) tip of the head.

There was definitely a smirk on King William's face.

'Hello Carlena,' I said coldly. 'You've had good warning in the past. You swore an oath. If you assist King William in the defence of Rillou, your life is forfeit.'

'An oath taken under duress is no oath. Lord Arval said that himself when Rockguard forced an unfair trade on us.'

'There was no duress, Carlena; you swore on this lance, the relic of Miya.'

'It was that or prison,' she waved an arm towards me dismissively. 'You've done well Carlos. Or Sean, I should say. But not well enough to capture this city. What level are you?'

'Eleven,' I said immediately and no one on my side gave the lie away.

'Don't tell her anything,' the Necromancer scowled at me and his dark, furrowed eyebrows really made for a fierce expression. Then he turned back to the group of enemy leaders. 'What do you want?'

Instead of answering, King William looked at my telescope, which was still pointing towards his keep. 'A telescope, I believe. Was it worth the time? Let me see, seventeen days for Navigation Two, right? Twelve for the lens-making workshop. Another eight to make it. And four workers assigned to it. You could have had a new high level spell, and a more economically useful workshop for that.'

'Oh, it was certainly worth it. I can see every soldier on your walls.'

'Might I have a look?' Much to my surprise – to everyone's surprise – King William stepped up to the telescope.

With a swift motion, Figus span the telescope around before the Northway ruler could put his eye to it. Then the Bard picked up the entire stand and passed it to Hernán, who took it away through the silent ranks of soldiers.

'Oh well,' King William shrugged, 'I was simply curious.'

There was something about his manner that was at odds with the moment, an attempt at nonchalance in his expression perhaps, that looked more forced than natural.

'Let me repeat, one last time. Why are you here?' The Necromancer was genuinely angry.

'That's not quite what you just asked, but I'll take the spirit of the enquiry as you no doubt intend it.' This time it was the Northway ambassador who spoke. Lefanque was probably a Bard, he wore a rich outfit of trousers, a flared shirt with puffed sleeves, and a waistcoat, the latter made of tweed, and all were themed around shades of scarlet. He really was a vivid splash of colour, especially given the bright sunlight. Moustache, black beard (thin and carefully sculpted), shoulder-length black hair, and swift-moving, dark eyes gave me the impression of someone very aware of their own looks.

Setting out on a speech that sounded rehearsed, Lefanque gestured with his arms as he talked. 'Well, it is a difficult matter and one which I would prefer to address to King Olgrim alone, followed by King Carlos. But I suppose there Is no possibility of an intimate tête-á-tête?'

No one answered.

'I suppose not. Very well, in front of everyone, including these fine swordsmen of Greyland, let me make the case against giving the game to the Necromancer, which is something that is assured unless you stop him right here and right now.'

There followed the usual arguments about the runaway nature of an army of undead; about the advantages in food requirements and gold costs that the Necromancer had. While Lefanque was talking I caught sight of Carlena and she looked… anxious. She wouldn't meet my eyes. And I had a sudden intuition.

'Sicaria!' I whispered. 'Run to Jacintha's tent. I believe this is all a play for Carlena's spell book. Watch out for a Rogue. Parrin is missing. If you see him, kill him.'

Assassin now, not lover, Sicaria nodded, ducked behind a rank of soldiers and was gone.

If I was right, I was furious with Carlena and King William, who were abusing the tradition of ambassadorial immunity both to steal from us and to scout out our army. Conscious of everyone's eyes on me, I took five rapid steps over to Figus, explained my concern and asked him to use his Detect Magic and hurry around the camp in case Parrin had acquired a magical invisibility.

King William raised his arm and his ambassador stopped talking. 'Something amiss?' he asked, looking at me.

'Perhaps.' I placed the lance in front of me. 'Lord Arval!' I raised my voice, so everyone could hear, not just the Paladin.

'Sire?'

'Do you think Carlena capable of violating a truce to steal a spell book or in other ways harm those she is pretending to negotiate with?'

The instant I voiced my question, all four faces in front of me hardened. I knew then that I was right.

'I believe it, yes.'

'And what would be the penalty for that?'

'If she didn't surrender immediately, then death.'

'I…'

King William interrupted me, 'I can see you are not attending to our proposition. We will leave and perhaps when winter comes you will be willing to reconsider your alliances.' He turned and strode away rapidly towards his horse. I looked to Lord Arval with a question, but the Paladin shook his head.

Clinging on to his arm, trying to slow down the ruler of Northway, Carlena was urgently speaking to King William. But he was angry and threw her to the ground. Both the Necromancer and I took several steps towards the fallen Sorceress and she too, with a last, despairing look over our heads, turned and ran for the horses.

'Search the camp!' I cried. 'There is a Rogue among us. If you have detection spells, use them now.'

Even as the troops broke ranks and turned back I heard a loud cry of pain and then shouts of alarm. Triggering Charge! so that I (and everyone nearby) had a 45% speed increase, I sprinted towards the noise, barging soldiers out of my way.

Here was Parrin, being chased by Figus and Sicaria, leaping over ropes and firepits and swerving around stacks of spears. When he saw me, the elderly scout dropped the spellbook he was holding and sprinted with more agility than I'd ever seen in a man of his years. Even so, he was slower than me and closing the gap, as soon as Lunge! became an option I took it, smashing the lance into his ribs.

You have hit a level 10 Scout for 42 hit points.

You cannot become better at Lunge.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

Off balance, Parrin crashed through a rack of armour, stumbled to his knees, and before he could get up, a black figure smashed into his back and I heard the distinct sound of metal stabbing deep into flesh.

A level 10 Scout has been slain by Sicaria!

You participated in the fight.

You have gained 180,000 Experience.

The Assassin stood up, leaving Parrin face down in the dirt, a pool of blood spreading around him. The troops that had arrived first had to push back against those hurrying to the scene or find the blood reaching their boots.

'What a shame I don't have the spell for raising a vampire. All the same, round one to us.' The Necromancer was just behind me.

'Poor Parrin,' said Figus.

'Was his death unjust?' I asked, not that I felt any remorse, but I was anxious about the impact of this news on the Greyland army.

'He broke his oath to you. He broke the sacred nature of a truce. His death was just.' Figus looked at me from the other side of the crowd. 'Why I feel some sorrow for him all the same is that there is a tragedy in his fate. On his own, he was not a bad man, in fact, he was a good one. I'd say that he'd still be Chancellor and still at your side, but for his one great weakness.'

'Carlena,' said Lord Arval bitterly. The Paladin had arrived and was looking at the body of his former comrade.

'His love for Carlena meant that despite his reluctance, he followed her, even into betrayal of Miya and Greyland and his king,' Figus followed his judgement by turning away and I shouted at the soldiers to resume their duties: an order quickly repeated by the sergeants around me as they urged their men back to the task of building a fort.

'Hernán,' I said.

'Sire?'

'Get a burial party for Parrin and have Leonora preside over whatever ritual is appropriate for a worshipper of Miya.'

From behind me the Necromancer whispered, 'I could always use another zombie.'

I shook my head.

Part II Chapter 73: Preparing for the Attack of the Zombie Army

Five days after our arrival at Rillou, Havid, my sergeant for the engineers, pronounced himself satisfied with our fort. Having seen his work during the winter campaign in Cantreth I was certain that this new one was an excellent construction, but it would have disappointed the stout officer if I'd have stayed in my tent and simply accepted his report with a nod. Instead, I got to my feet, lance in one hand, helmet in the other, and said, 'let us collect the other rulers and make an inspection.'

With King Olgrim too hungover to join us, it was in fact just the Necromancer and I who strolled along the outside of the ditch, having walked over a wooden drawbridge that was lowered from in front of the only gate. We took a counter-clockwise route around the fort, the stockade on our left. It was late summer and tall stalks of wheat filled the fields around us, the heavy heads of the crops swaying and marking the flows and spinning course of a light northerly breeze. Soon, the wheat would be ripe.

'King William is going to be so frustrated when his timer on these crops runs down but it is us who gathers them.' I made this point while checking my own menu. Greyland's grain crop had been safely brought in over the previous week with a massive 282 unit boost to my stores.

The Necromancer chuckled. 'Do you remember that enchanted quicksilver I used in a bowl to see and speak to Queen Simara of Underworld?'

'I do.'

'Well, if it was to hand, I would use it again, just to observe King William's face as my zombies gather his wheat.'

I laughed and enjoyed the sparkle in the Necromancer's dark eyes. Typically, my friend was serious and thoughtful; it was good to see him in a more light-hearted humour.

'And here, sire,' Havid had been several steps ahead of us, he came back to gesture to a corner tower that protruded high over the stockade. 'Two stories, covered in leather treated for fire resistance, with double slots for archers to see along the entire length of the wall.'

'Excellent, Havid, and how did you treat the leather?' I asked out of politeness rather than genuine interest.

'With horse urine, sire. Ideally, we'd have alum. But this works well enough.'

'Shame about the smell, though, eh?'

'There's not much of that sire, not really, after it's all absorbed.'

We continued around the corner, walking south now, away from the city of Rillou, with me giving appreciative grunts and nods as Havid explained all the features of the fort's defences. As we approached the tower at the south west of the fort I could hear axes on wood. But whoever was working around the corner was doing so at a desultory pace for the sound of blade entering timber was very intermittent.

We came around the angle of the tower to see a group of four Vikings standing about ten metres from the walls. One of them had a throwing axe in his right hand and was paused, about to launch it. A patch of pale, torn timber showed where they had been hurling their weapons into the stockade.

Clearly annoyed, Harvin opened his mouth as if to shout but then closed it again and looked towards me with an appeal in his eyes.

'Lads, can you not find a better target for your practice?' I said. 'One that doesn't harm our defences.'

Despite my reasonable tone, all I got was sullen looks from the Vikings as they gathered up their weapons and walked towards a copse of trees about a kilometre away that stood out from the wheat crop like a green island in a yellow sea.

The three of us continued our journey until the capital of Northway came back into view, with its daunting castle facing us.

'What do you think of the keep at Rillou?' I asked Harvin, 'does it have any weak points, do you think?'

Havin paused and looked at the huge castle, the Necromancer stopping on his right, me on his left.

'None sire. You'll never storm that, not with an army of zombies. Nor will you destroy it with trebuchets. They will hit and smash ours long before we make even a crack in those walls.'

'How, then, shall we obtain that city?' asked the Necromancer.

For a while Havid didn't answer and we listened to a pair of magpies croaking their characteristic warning sound. After searching the wheat field for the cause of the birds' consternation I saw some stalks swaying counter to the pattern of the rest of the field and then a glimpse of fox.

'I think I'd settle down to starve them. And although it will take months, I'd start a tunnel.'

I patted his shoulder. 'That's a good idea Havid. You may start that today.'

'Very good sire.'

Having done our duty to the engineer – and really, he had made a sturdy and effective defence for the army – the Necromancer and I were walking up the main road within the fort when a Greyland soldier ran over to us, saluted, and addressed me. 'There's a woman at the gate wants to see you sire.'

'Very good. I'll come now.'

I arrived to see that the gate was closed and above it a dozen of my soldiers were peering down over the stockade. Leaving the Necromancer at the foot of a ladder, I clambered up and joined them.

The woman in question wore a plain, rough cape that was of grey wool and the clothes of a peasant or town worker: pinafore down to her shins, tied at the waist with cord.

'What do you want?' I asked her.

She threw back her cowl and looked up at me. 'Do you recognise me, sire?'

It took me a full minute but then I realised that I did. 'Let her in and escort her to my tent.'

I hurried back down to the Necromancer. 'My spy from Rillou is here; let's rouse King Olgrim and hear what she has to say.'

Soon there were six of us gathered in my tent: the Necromancer; King Olgrim; Sicaria; Lord Arval; Figus and myself. My spy, who went by the name of Matilda, took a drink of the wine I offered her but declined any food.

'I heard about your victory at Nekis,' she said with a warm smile for us all. 'Everyone in Rillou was alarmed by it. The belief here had been that Hailand would lead a successful alliance against the Kingdom of Lost Souls, while Northway invaded Shadow and that then the momentum for a Northway – Hailand finish would become unstoppable. You ruined that expectation and I had to pretend to be just as dismayed as all the other citizens, even though secretly I was rejoicing.

'And then the news came that you were coming east, with a monstrous army swelled by all the dead of the battlefield. Even so, no one expected you to arrive before the harvest and the popular feeling was that you'd be caught outside the walls by the onset of winter and that then, during your retreat, Northway would counter-attack. Now, they are in a panic and hurrying to create new defences.'

Matilda came over to the table, where I had been making a map of the city, and picked up my quill, dipping it into a pot of ink.

'King William's main fear is the zombies. They are certain you are going to cross the river and attack from the west, through the town. The plan therefore is to start a massive fire once the zombies are too close to the walls to escape the flames. We citizens have all been evacuated to within the walls or told to leave for the countryside if we have any relatives to stay with. Dozens of houses have been packed with straw soaked in oil and all the archers on the walls have permanently lit braziers beside them. Every day, every hour, the citizens are wrapping arrow heads in cloth so they can be dipped in oil and used to set the prepared houses on fire.

'If, when the conflagration has died down, you still have the advantage and can breach the walls, then their plan is to fall back across the river to the keep. Again, there are houses filled with flammables on the west bank. All their preparations are focused on wiping out the zombies. They have even started digging pit traps in streets and alleys for the undead to fall into. Also, the main bridge has been destroyed and the smaller bridge has a spell on it, cast by Carlena, who is a popular figure here. They see her presence as proving Northway is the best realm in the Twenty-Five Kingdoms.'

'What is the spell?' asked the Necromancer.

'Glyph of Lightning: you need a password to be able to cross safely and unfortunately I have not found it out.'

The spy sounded a little downcast at this, so I clapped her on the shoulder. 'Don't worry about that, carry on with your account. It is quite brilliant.'

'Thank you sire. Well, that's about it really. Their knights and heavy infantry are in the keep, with a ballista on each of the west towers aimed at the city and four trebuchets on the east towers and the gatehouse towers aimed at your fort.'

'How many troops do they have?' I asked, confident now I'd heard her report that Matilda would give an accurate figure.

'About five hundred light infantry, two hundred archers, a hundred and fifty heavy infantry and fifty knights.'

There was a long silence after this answer and I realised the others were waiting on me. But I couldn't see a weakness to exploit. We outnumbered the garrison a little more than two to one. But it wasn't going to be enough if our 800 slow-moving zombies got burned up outside the walls of the city.

'What is the state of their food supply?'

'Reserves are currently good, good enough to keep the army fed for two months at least. I don't know about the citizens but the price of food is steady. The only sign of concern about food supply is that King William has decreed there will be no trading in grain. He will buy all available local grain at current prices and distribute it when necessary.

'And of course Rillou is a major port, so King William can import the grain they need so long as they have gold. I haven't sensed any concern about you being able to starve the city into submission.'

'We need control of the sea,' said King Olgrim, with an emphasis that said, I told you so.

'How many warships have they got?' I asked my spy, feeling proud of her competence. It reflected well on Greyland.

'Eight longships. All in port now.'

'I have eight!' exclaimed King Olgrim, 'enough to match them.'

'And I have three,' I added.

The Necromancer had a distant look on his face. 'Two and another in five days.'

''The difficulty will be sailing past Shadow,' I spoke my concern aloud.

As if to brush my reservation away, King Olgrim threw his arms wide. 'You said you would lend me the magic fan of the winds. We can use that and outsail her triremes, even if she wanted to intercept us, which she might not.'

No one spoke and I felt the attention of the Necromancer on me. With another look at the map, I tapped the marks indicating where King William had planned for fires to break out. 'We don't want to play into their hands with a direct assault that loses us all the zombies. So I suppose the siege strategy is best. How about the Necromancer and I take the harvest and cut off the land trade routes while King Olgrim hurries back to Jomskar to the lead the united fleet?'

'At last!' King Olgrim clapped his heavy hands together. 'Me and my Vikings are bored of all this marching. It's time to plough the seas once more. There's nothing like the tang of salt in the air and the panic of your enemies as you arrive unexpectedly on their shores to make life worthwhile.'

The Necromancer sighed. 'I had rather hoped that our advantage in numbers and swift progress would allow for a storming of the city at once. The longer we are obliged to besiege Rillou, the more time King William will have to bring about a change in thinking in the other rulers. I doubt any of them, even the queen of Shadow, would welcome our victory. And they might even take the field against us to relieve the siege.'

'You're right of course,' I answered and studied the map again, 'you don't have any magic that would get rid of the fire that they plan to create?'

'I do not.'

My spy was staring at me meaningfully.

'Matilda?'

'I believe I could start the conflagration manually. Then when the fires have burned out, you could march the zombies to the walls and capture the east part of the city at least.'

There was a change in the room. Sombre expressions became lively, showing interest, excitement even. I, on the other hand, probably looked like Gandalf in the scene at Rivendell in Lord of the Rings where Frodo offers to carry the ring.

'That sounds too dangerous Matilda. I was going to propose that instead of going back to Rillou you take charge of a new cohort of spies at Carrick that I'll recruit for you and you hunt for enemy spies in our city.'

My spy shook her head and there was determination in her eyes as she said, 'I'm aware of the dangers, but I can do it. When King William built a clothmaking workshop I managed to get onto the Northway menu as one of the workers. They are looking for spies among the merchants and strangers but not so much among those in the workshops. It would be a waste of that stroke of luck not to try.'

This was right of course. Still, I looked at her: a seemingly ordinary middle-aged woman, short brown hair, blue eyes, shawl, nondescript clothes. And yet she was far from ordinary; she had risked her life to get this invaluable information to us and she was preparing to go back to try to help us seize the city. Failure could have terrible consequences for her personally. While I sent a silent prayer to Miya to protect our spy, I gave Matilda a curt nod.

'How did you get onto the menu?' asked Lord Arval, clearly impressed.

'When King William is ready to take up new people, they have a town crier walk around the square ringing a bell. I could see that they weren't making any checks on those who came forward. A foreman was simply picking out people he liked the look of. Fitness was mostly the issue, but he also had an eye for women.

'So I took to drinking where he did. Flirted a bit with him. Made sure to seem busy and responsible though, which was a good reason to leave when his hands were on me. And it was easy then.'

'Well done,' said Lord Arval earnestly. 'Very well done! When do you think you can start those fire?'

'I'll try tonight,' Matilda said, 'if you don't see any burning buildings by midnight, I've failed and you can implement the siege instead.' And before I could even extend my hand or make some short speech of appreciation, she was walking out of the tent.

'A most resourceful and impressive spy,' said the Necromancer when Matilda was gone. 'I hope she survives.'

Part II Chapter 74: When a Demon Calls You, Come Running

One of the differences between being on Earth and being in the Twenty-Five Kingdoms was the appearance of the night sky. Normally, there was almost no light pollution in this world, even near a major city. And in the unchallenged darkness, the stars here shone with extraordinary richness and complexity of pattern. This night, though, the sky above Rillou was far from normal: not only were roils of thick smoke rising up like clouds to obscure the stars, but often the stars would seem to fly up in the wrong direction as thousands of orange sparks raced upwards on the collapse of a building.

Rillou was burning and Matilda had delivered. I just hoped she had found safety somewhere.

'Imagine,' said Figus, who was standing next to me, an orange burnish to his breastplate provided by the skyline of fire we were both looking out at, 'you were the officer who came up with the plan of trapping the zombies with fire. For days, everyone in the entire city was implementing your plan and getting ready to create the ambush. All you then needed was for the enemy to attack and you would be your city's hero. Statues would be built in your honour.

'Instead, the enemy starts the fires and waits. Leaving you as the person who gets the blame as half your city burns.'

I chuckled. 'I would not be that officer just now.'

'What a splendid sight,' the Necromancer came towards us out of the darkness, illuminated by the yellow light of a dozen flaming buildings. He was dressed for war, albeit impeccably as ever. Tall boots, shining with the reflection of the fires; tight trousers held with a belt whose silver skull seemed to be grinning with animated eyes of fire; and leather waistcoat over a black shirt whose arms were rather less puffed than was his usual style. In his right hand was the Book of Spell Resistance.

Behind the Necromancer, downhill from our fort in the direction of the river, were the 800 zombies. It had occurred to me that in the confusion of the fire, it might be possible to march them underwater again and capture the keep by surprise. The Greyland army too had been mobilised and while a small garrison held the fort, the rest of my troops were drawn up outside our camp facing the city of Rillou. Over to the right, somewhere in the wheat fields were the Vikings of King Olgrim.

'The wind is favourable, it must be uncomfortable in the keep with the smoke that is flowing over them.' The Necromancer grinned but then looked at me with alarm. He could see my expression.

'I'm a fool!' I said. 'We have the Fan of the Four Winds. We can drive those flames higher and give them more intensity. We might get them right over the walls and set fire to the inner city.'

'Not a fool at all,' said the Necromancer, coming up to hold my shoulders. 'That's brilliant.'

'I should have thought of it earlier.'

'There is time. The flames are not yet diminishing.'

The Necromancer was right and calling on my team of senior officers to follow, I went on foot towards the zombies. They were close to where I needed to be and could provide me with protection while I got a suitable angle and range to use the fan. As I hurried through the pungent ranks of festering bodies I called up the menu for the magic item.

Fan of the Four Winds

When brandished with a sufficiently vigorous action, once a day this fan summons a wind, which will blow towards the direction indicated by the user. The wind arrives with a powerful blast capable of dispersing the effects of Poison Cloud, Fog of War and similar spells. Poorly constructed or fragile buildings or ships can be destroyed by the blast.

With a gentle action, the fan can generate a small gust of wind unlimited times.

No range specified. But the description of buildings and ships being destroyed gave the impression that the powerful wind would act over a considerable distance. There would be no need to cross the river, which turned sharply west just two hundred metres from the city wall. Once I'd got a position far enough along the bank, I could stand on our side and use the fan to summon a wind that would probably have the range to flow from me over the city's southern gate and towards the main square.

Impatient with the slow tramp of the zombies, I ran on ahead, Lord Arval and Figus right behind me, then Jacintha, Leonora, Hernán and the others. There was a well-used path beside the river, one that was easy to see in the firelight and although I was leading my officers to within bowshot of the city walls, I felt safe enough. There were nine burning buildings between us and the walls and if I could hardly make out anything beyond them through the flame and the smoke, the same must be true for the Northway soldiers.

Catching my breath upon reaching a suitable spot, I drew out the fan and admired the sheen of the lacquer and the detail of the images. The picture of a god whipping up a storm in a green sea, as he blew ships so hard their sails were shredded was encouraging. With a glance to Lord Arval, who looked eager for me to begin, I took the fan in both hands and stood with my arms in front of me, pointing in the exact line along which I wanted the wind to blow. Then I worked the fan up and down with all my strength and speed. Up and down. Long, powerful sweeps through the air. I could feel the resistance to the fans and a tingle like a mild electric shock ran through me.

A howling sound sprang up, like a choir of ghosts trapped in huge caves. The noise was louder than that of the fires in the city and it gathered strength, becoming a roar that was utterly intimidating. My heart shrank and I wanted to hide. Then the wind was with us, blasting across the water with a sustained shriek. I felt that this was what a banshee must sound like, a high-pitched ululation that was loud enough to be painful. All of us had our hands over our ears. And although just a few metres away the river water was parted by the force of the wind (like the story of Moses and the Red Sea) there was no force pushing us from behind. All the rage of the wind began near the top of the fan.

As the screaming wind lashed over the city, the flames actually diminished and the skyline darkened to a point where I could no longer make out the buildings. But like a fire that has been blown upon with bellows, the smouldering core of it grew wilder and more intense. Everywhere now a red and amber glow took hold of the base of buildings, spreading and spreading like lava until the scene in front of us was just as brightly lit by the melting walls and timbers as when there were flames. If there was anyone on the city walls, somehow able to resist the blasting wind, they would be able to see us, but it didn't matter. Nothing could come from that direction towards us.

Sometimes, long streaks of yellow flame would stretch away in the exact direction I'd pointed, before being pushed downwards and extinguished by the strength of the hurricane. But always the heat and glow of the molten buildings grew. Even more often, as houses collapsed, thick bundles of sparks would explode through the air like orange fireworks being aimed at the heart of the city.

It was impossible to speak and most of the people around me were awestruck. It was as though we were witnessing the melting of a city as it descended into hell. The one exception was Jacintha, who was laughing and tossing up stones that as soon as they passed an invisible barrier only a metre away from us were instantly flung away like bullets being fired from a gun.

Although I had continued to wave the fan, I was tired now and stopped. As I had hoped, the hurricane carried on as intensely as before and I had the strangest and most disorienting experience of hearing the deafening roars of a nearby storm but of standing in relative calm. Every minute of this magic was spreading the fires another ten metres or more in all directions, including back towards us, where the protection of the river meant we did not need to retreat. And after about five minutes, Lord Arval shook my arm and pointed, it being too loud to speak.

In the distance, beyond the black line of the city wall, a new fire had sprung up. Then another one. After another ten minutes, the storm abruptly stopped, although there was a natural wind now, which I felt from behind me, blowing firmly towards the city. The magic had worked, all of Rillou was burning except the keep.

'Carlos!' the zombies had come up and with them was Argax, the massive demon. It was his deep voice that had called my name.

'Here, demon.'

Lord Arval drew his sword and raised his shield.

Argax loomed up, blocking the stars in a vast swathe of the sky. 'The soldiers leave the keep to put out the fires. Come with me now and I will get you inside.'

'Just me or all of us?'

'You. On your horse. Hurry.'

'Don't go,' said Lord Arval, eyes fixed on the demon.

'Argax is right, this is our chance, run everyone.'

The demon led the way, pounding back up the slight rise to our fort, whose walls were almost white with the brightness of the conflagration nearby. While we caught up with him, Argax put a massive foot against the front of the stockade and grabbing one of the chains of the drawbridge, pulled it screeching from where it was fastened. He did the same with the other, then set off again, dragging the drawbridge behind him like a sledge. What did he want it for? To throw like a grappling hook? The chains weren't very long.

Taking the reins of Goncendor off a soldier who had been stood with them, I mounted, patting my stallion's neck.

'Buffs everyone. Give me everything you've got.' By now, they all knew what I meant by buffs.

'You might not want Protection from Evil,' said Lord Arval, 'not if you are going with him.'

'True.'

Miya's Courage landed on me, cast by Leonora, Greyland's level 6 Cleric. For six minutes I had +5 to all my attack and physical skills along with +5 spell resistance. Then I got a Regeneration from Leonora too, unfortunately it also only lasted six minutes. Spirit of the Panther, however, gave me eighteen minutes of +1 Dexterity.

'Who cast Spirit of the Panther?' It was a new buff for me.

Valeria gave a brief motion of her hand to indicate it had come from her. At level 6 Ranger she must have started to get spells. I would follow that up another time and find out what her choices were.

Now, though, I hurried after the demon who was rushing through the fields directly toward the main entrance of the keep. The most heavily guarded and unassailable defences in the whole realm, possibly the whole world. I still didn't see what his plan was, unless he had magic I wasn't aware of that could perhaps teleport us inside the keep.

Once the first arrows and bolts started to fly into or past Argax, he began to sprint, the powerful thumpings of the demon's feet sending waves through the ground that I could feel even through Goncendor. We were galloping now to keep up and opening up a long distance to my officers who were running after me.

At the foot of the path up to the first portcullis, the demon halted and knelt down on one knee, adjusting the drawbridge like a cloak, to make it a ramp reaching from the small of his back to the ground. As he did so, a fireball soared from the top of the keep and exploded over him, just ahead of me. The demon was on fire and groaning with pain.

'Come on! Come on up my back!'

No other horse would have kept going into those flames and up the uncertain footing of the ramp. No other horse but Goncendor, who trusted me completely and whose bravery and desire for adventure was greater than my own. Slowing to a canter, we nevertheless came through the flames and onto the demon's broad back, where there was room enough for my stallion. Now the demon rose carefully to bring us high, high off the ground and right up to the castle walls.

Still suffering both from the flames and from missiles thumping into him from close range, the demon placed his left foot on top of a small gatehouse tower and pushed himself up to a height where he could place a hand on each of the main towers and then heave himself upward until his head could peer over the top. There on the roof of the keep was Carlena, King William and a dozen soldiers staring at us in disbelief.

'Go!' Argax tipped his head and at my urging Goncendor leapt over the abyss.

I heard myself laughing. This was a moment to relish.

Part II Chapter 75: The Duel of the Two Artefacts

As Goncendor jumped through the night air, I launched Holy Light of Miya but at the same time a volley of Fire Darts slammed into me.

You have been hit by ten Fire Darts for 40 damage.

Your Amulet of Protection from Magic Missiles has absorbed 40 damage.

The ball of light from my lance flew to the point I'd aimed at, some twenty-five metres away, and exploded with silent incandescence. Yet something was amiss: the usual flawless sphere of light had a black presence in it in the area around King William. And when Goncendor landed, running several steps before pulling up, I could see the ruler of Northway looking into my eyes from within his silver helm.

King William held his golden shield up towards me defiantly, then looked over at Carlena. 'Fireball him. Though it's a shame to kill such a fine horse.'

Carlena's voice was shaky. 'I'm blind. Hold him off until I can see.'

'I'm also blind!' shouted a panicked soldier from behind King William.

'Blind here too my lord!'

'You men there!' King William was looking northwards, towards the tower there that had three soldiers standing beside a trebuchet. 'Attack him!'

There was plenty of room up on the top of the keep, so before I could get caught between King William and these new arrivals, I wheeled away and rode along the connecting wall towards the north tower and the incoming soldiers. As the clattering hooves of Goncendor approached, the nearest man looked up in horror, panicked, and couldn't draw his sword. Leaving him to be knocked aside by my stallion, I leaned forward in the stirrups and as Lunge appeared over the second soldier killed him with a thrust to the throat. The third soldier managed to jump aside and slash at my left leg, hitting for me for 5 damage.

There wasn't quite enough room to ride around the trebuchet, so I had to wheel about in a tight circle, managing it just in time to parry a new attack. Regeneration was still up and healed me of 3 damage.

Two slashes and the soldier was dead, with only 5,000 experience as a reward. I was close to level 14 but close at this point still meant I needed another 215,000, against which the 5,000 was negligible. The soldier who had fallen against the keep wall was on his feet but he really didn't want to face me. A Regeneration notice told me I was back to my full 164 hit points.

'Run and you live,' I said, matter-of-factly.

The soldier turned and fled but unfortunately getting to the stairs involved running past King William, who smashed the man to the ground with a heavy blow of his longsword. 'Coward!'

My move to the north tower had posed a challenge to King William. Should he follow me? And face me one to one? Or wait for the blindness to end? He choose to wait, posed defensively at the end of the walkway. Smoke from the burning city sometimes billowed up over the walls of the keep and obscured the view between us. The air here was acrid and made my throat sore.

The fact there was a lull in the fighting suited me perfectly well. I swung the lance over my shoulder, fastened it, and used my 70 skill in Lightning Draw to instantly pluck my Bow of Accuracy from its place alongside the saddle and fit an arrow. With Miya's Courage still running (93 seconds left), my Wield Longbow was at 75 and I had no difficulty striking Carlena with an arrow as soon as the smoke cleared enough to see her.

You have hit a level 10 Sorceress for 14 damage.

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

'I'm wounded!' she screamed. 'He's shooting arrows at me.'

'Lie down by those rocks!' King William yelled. 'All of you lie down.'

From this distance, Carlena's cover was effective, so I released my next arrow at the ruler of Northway, catching him in the elbow joint of his armour.

You have hit King William of Northway for 8 damage.

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

'Let's run,' I heard Carlena say. 'He's too powerful.'

'No! My city is destroyed. There's nothing left, other than to make him pay with his life for this catastrophe.'

Even though King William was crouched behind his shield, I could see the lower part of his right leg and I sent an arrow into the gap between his shin greave and thigh plate.

You have hit King William of Northway for 10 damage.

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

'I can hear you talking about me,' I said, as King William tried to squeeze himself more tightly behind the cover of the golden shield. A moment later, the timer on Miya's Courage ran out and Regeneration shortly afterwards. That meant Carlena and the soldiers would be blind for about another two minutes.

'Carlos!' shouted Carlena, 'Sean! It's not too late. Don't you see? You are gifting the game to the Necromancer!'

'It is too late, far too late for you, Carlena. You made a terrible mistake when you left the Greyland menu. And then you repeated it by breaking your oath when I let you have your freedom. You brought about Parrin's death and now you are going to die.'

Whether it was the mention of Parrin or her fear at the merciless tone in my voice, Carlena wailed.

'Come on, rally yourself,' King William addressed her contemptuously, 'can you see yet? Blow him off the walls.'

Fireball was the spell that Carlena had dreamed of obtaining back in Carrick, when her main goal was to get me to increase the level of the scriptorium and research spells for her. Well it looked like her dream had come true. She had hurt Argax badly with a Fireball and there had been no sign of the demon after he had fallen back from the walls. If she got to cast the spell again, Goncendor would die and I would be badly hurt.

'Listen carefully everyone,' I shouted, 'Your city has fallen and I am going to kill you if you stay here. Leave your weapons and flee and you can enjoy a peaceful and happy future. Stay another minute and die here.'

After speaking, I put my bow down so it hung from the pommel of my saddle and drew the lance again, then I launched my second Holy Light. Once more the sphere that blazed into existence for a moment was blemished by a dark flaw at the spot where King William crouched.

'Let's run,' Carlena cried. 'William, Lead me to the stairs.'

'Never. There's nothing left for us. The Necromancer's zombies will come and occupy the square and I don't have any defences. It's all destroyed. Everything is burned. All my workshops. The scriptorium. Everything. All that's left is the chance of getting vengeance on Carlos.'

'Just show me the stairs.'

'Don't despair; there's only one more of those light spells left.'

That was a valid point, I thought. I couldn't afford to be merciful just yet. And after counting to sixty, I took up my bow again and killed two soldiers who were not fully under cover of the piles of rocks they were lying next to. Then having forced King William into an even tighter crouch with shots that ricocheted away off his shield, I quietly hung the bow from my saddle and dismounted.

From the burning city a sound like the hissing of white noise was all about us; the light from the flames was strange: intensely bright in places but with constantly flickering dark shadows that made it seem everything was in motion. I hoped these would conceal me as I walked behind a trebuchet as silently as my armour allowed and then skirted around it towards King William. He, I had seen, was in such a bloody minded temper that he would never surrender.

'Where are you going?' the ruler of Northway shouted fiercely and for a moment I thought he was talking to me.

'I never saw him properly.' It was Carlena and she was pleading. 'There was this immense, lazy, coward in charge of Greyland. It stopped me from seeing the real person we had summoned.'

'Get back to your place; how dare you talk of cowardice!'

The Sorceress dropped her voice, but I was close enough that I could still hear her above the groans of the dying city. 'You don't understand. In a dreadful, terrible way, he's magnificent. I couldn't see it at the time, but Miya chose him for a reason. He's single-minded, daring, unafraid. And if we stay here, he's going to kill us.'

'If you crawl another step towards that trapdoor, I'm going to kill you. All of you! Stay where you are!'

'Just let me go.' There followed a scream. 'What are you doing? Our agreement!'

'A coward is no use to me. All of you are cowards. We were so close. Now everything is ruined.'

Stepping around the side of the trebuchet, I saw King William standing above Carlena, who was on her hands and knees. There was something pathetic and heartrending even, about the elderly, blind Sorceress howling for mercy as the ruler of Northway lashed blow after blow of his longsword onto her shoulders and back and head. Blood was splashing all around the stone tiles.

'Sod you, Carlena, and your promises. All worth nothing. Nothing, Nothing left.' The king's purple face was monstrous: gritted teeth visible through a terrible grimace, eyes bulging.

Carlena collapsed, unmoving, although King William continued to strike with fury, spiting on the corpse. Did she deserve this? Probably. All the same, now the moment had come when she had paid the price for her treachery, contempt and ambition, I found I actually felt sorry for her.

Lining up Lunge, I caught King William as he raised his sword again.

You have hit King William of Northway for 18 damage.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

'There you are, you sodding devil. Look what you've done!'

Now it was me who was the focus of King William's fury and that was just fine. I preferred an opponent who had lost the run of himself to one who was cunning. Matching the speed at which he cut and thrust (and sometimes tried to catch me with a shield bash) I found I was able to parry, deflect and counter his attacks.

As the menu messages flickered past the corner of my vision, I could tell I had the advantage. King William's skills were not maxed but even if they were, I had the advantage of an extra level and I probably had the better melee stats. Mine were 18 Strength, 15 Dexterity (with the Ranger buff still active) and 20 Constitution. Within a couple of minutes, I had taken more than 60 hit points off him, while I had lost 42.

The frenzy that had been gripping King William abated and his attacks became more cautious. There was something else too, an attempt to shift our relative positions. He was trying to line me up with an area behind me. To drive me backwards with a feat perhaps, or some magical property of his shield. The walls were too high for him to hope to knock me off the battlements, so perhaps his intention was to push me onto a long, thick timber stand on which the nearest trebuchet stood. It came up above my knee. Did he want to trip me over it?

Still trading blows at a ratio of 2:3 in favour of me, I allowed him to get the position he wanted and just as his shield came across his body to present its full golden face, I leapt to my right.

The attack was indeed an explosive rush. King William powered his way through the space I had occupied, off balance when there was no impact with me and he crashed into the base of the trebuchet. I had a clear line to Lunge into his back, which I did for 22 damage.

Both of us knew he was finished. As I launched a relentless sequence of blows, his expression went from fury, to panic and then self-disgust. Perhaps too, at the very end, there was a look in his eyes that was one of respect.

You have hit King William of Northway for 8 damage.

You have killed King William of Northway.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You have gained 415,000 Experience.

You have gained a level! Your hit points are restored and your timers on skills and feats have reset. Please view your character sheet for other benefits.

There was no one else left on the roof of the keep and I stood for a moment, relishing my victory and feeling that I really had become the person Carla had described. What had she said? Single-minded, unafraid. That wasn't quite accurate but I had devoted myself to winning this game and a lot of my determination had come from wanting to prove her wrong about me. And I certainly felt fear from time to time, not so much of death in battle but of failure. Of making a mistake. And I felt that now, as the smoke of the burning city rolled over me and in the distance Goncendor gave an unhappy whinny. The Necromancer and I had created a winning alliance, but for who?

Hurrying over to Goncendor, I reassured him that all was well and I led him back to the wider space over the gatehouse. Down below, there were yells and metallic clashes, I could make out my officers gathered at the first portcullis, trying to damage it. I could also see the body of Argax, the demon, slumped and filling the moat to the south of the entrance.

'Below there!' I shouted until I got Hernán's attention. 'King William is dead. I'm safe. Fall back and wait. Either I'll get that gate open or the zombies can come at the keep from the other side.'

A lithe figure in dark leathers stepped out of the shadows. Sicaria. 'Do you need healing?' she called up anxiously.

'I do not.' I laughed. All that fighting and I was not one hit point down. 'I levelled up and it cured me.'

'Can you throw me a rope?'

'Just a moment.'

There were plenty of ropes attached to the trebuchets, but it took me a few minutes to find one of suitable length and re-tie it so I could heave its coils over the wall to provide a secure support for the Assassin. I watched as she raced up, running against the outside wall of the keep to the top. Then she took my arm and I pulled her over and into an embrace that she held to for a long time.

At last she leaned back and smiled. 'I feared for you.' Her eyes fell on Carlena. 'You have your revenge on the oath breaker.'

'I do, but it was King William who killed her.'

Sicaria raised an eyebrow in surprise.

I shrugged. 'She was terrified of me and wanted to escape. He lost his temper, not just with her but the whole situation.' I looked up to the burning city, where although the brightness of yellow flames had diminished a deep red glow that lit the thick clouds of smoke from underneath.

'What magic did his shield give him?' Sicaria turned her attention to the body of King William.

'Good question. Let me equip it.' I slung the lance over my back and undid the straps of the golden shield, then put it on my right arm.

Shield of Absorption

This is a unique item, the artefact of the goddess Jehu.

+3 AC, +2 Wisdom, +2 Strength, +5 Heavy Armour Mastery, +5 Ride Warhorse, +5 Ride Flying Mount.

Light: permanent, unlimited Light spell on command, centred on the shield.

Absorption: Up to 50 levels of hostile spells cast at the wearer of the shield are absorbed per day. This will not protect nearby allies from area of effect spells.

'Very nice.' I passed it to her. 'Here, equip it and see for yourself.'

Sicaria did so and looked impressed. 'Excellent, will you wear it?'

'Perhaps for certain situations, such as if I have to fight the Queen of Shadow. But the lance is a two-handed weapon so perhaps this shield would be better used by Lord Arval.'

My lover walked over to the far wall and looked down. 'What next?'

'Next, we have to get some engineers up here to rig a sling. Poor Goncendor has no way down.'

Part II Chapter 76: Black Knight Shoulder to Shoulder with the Black King

It took three days for the temperature of the ruined city to fall to a point that we could occupy the main square with our troops. During that time, I sent my 7 light cavalry and 51 Cantreth cavalry archers to Tsichen, which had already fallen to Northway, while the Necromancer sent his cavalry to Grrysthis, which had been conquered by Hailand. This gave me trading rights with six new realms since my duel with Queen Xenastha. With my forum acting as a multiplier by its level of 3, that was 18 new routes, each worth 6 gold. My trading income had therefore leapt a very satisfying 108 gold a month during the course of this campaign. My income was ahead of my army costs for the first time in about a year.

Sadly, there was no sign of my spy, Matilda, whose efforts had been decisive in winning us control of Rillou. Whether she had been captured while starting the fires, or, having been cut off by the inferno, found herself unable to escape smoke and flame, I probably would never know. The fact she hadn't returned to us by now strongly suggested that her decision to return to the city had been a fatal one. Again, I was reminded of how committed were the people of Greyland to their cause. They gave their lives for each other and for the goddess Miya.

With the smoke of the burning city dispersing at last, the night sky was clear and filled with stars once more. A rider had reached us from Carrick with a new telescope, which I had gifted to the Necromancer and he was delightedly examining the heavens with it. We were standing on a slight rise near the wooden fort. The sun had recently set and an orange-tinted moon was currently the subject of the Necromancer's attention. Keeping guard was Sicaria and even though I couldn't see her face properly in the shadows, I sensed that she was amused by his enthusiasm for the device.

'Extraordinary detail. I do believe I can safely conclude that there are no cities on the moon and that the marks, which previously seemed to be suggestive of lunar civilisations are in fact deep ravines and circular mountain ranges.'

'Where I'm from, the moon has no atmosphere, so even quite small rocks from space hit the surface without burning up on the way. This makes for a moon covered in craters.'

'Indeed? Perhaps the same applies here, care to look?'

I went over to the stand, careful not to touch the telescope at all as I bent down to look into the eyepiece. The Necromancer had spent a long time getting the exact position he wanted and I was anxious not to cause the telescope to move in the slightest. There were craters, definitely, some very large ones too. But unlike our moon, the bigger craters seemed to be connected to one another by thin lines. What were they? Unfortunately the resolution wasn't strong enough to see more precisely and my eye was soon watering from the effort.

'Those are craters. But I think there is a difference from my moon. Did you see the lines? What did you make of them?'

After I had straightened, the Necromancer indicated that Sicaria could have a look through the telescope, but she shook her head.

'I cannot even speculate on what they might be,' said the Necromancer. 'If it were the Twenty-Five kingdoms, I would say perhaps that they were roads. But from this distance, I don't think we would see a road, even with this powerful tool.'

'Right.'

'Do you remember the high priest of Kezatka and his followers?' asked the Necromancer.

'I do indeed; the fight on the bridge. ' I found my teeth clenching in anger at the memory of the Cleric's attempt to use magic to paralyse me and then drown me in my armour.

'They had a philosophy – or more accurately a theology – based on the belief that the gods were communicating with us via the night sky. As a result of their studies the priests of Kezatka had books filled with prophecies.'

'Not that this did them much good.'

'Surely, though, there must be some merit in their belief system? Some indication that they could gain knowledge by carefully watching the passage of moon and stars?' The Necromancer was over the telescope again, this time swinging the brass tube around and paying attention to one of the brighter stars, which was low and to the north west of us. 'Why would they have persisted in their efforts to read the skies if there was no true meaning in the motion of planets.'

'Perhaps because it served their high priest? The right prophecy might have helped him govern?'

The Necromancer glanced at me with an expression of scepticism.

'Even if the gods are leaving messages up there,' I continued, 'the nature of their communications is cryptic and sometimes downright misleading. Do you recall the prophecy that no person born of this world other than a priest of Ketizquatocl would ever possess the square of Texecal? That made them underestimate the threat I posed them.'

'Hah, of course,' the Necromancer gave up on whatever he was looking for and came over to clap my shoulder. 'It was a carefully worded prophecy. Sean de Courcy, your presence in this world gives me hope that everything is changing. That the cycles of constant warfare will be at an end soon.'

During our wait to enter Rillou, our armies had brought in all the grain, leaving fields of knee-high stalks that now began to make a rustling sound all about us due to a southerly breeze that had sprung up.

'Would you mind, sire, returning to the camp? With this wind, I couldn't be sure to hear the movement of an enemy and the darkness, too, might allow a potential Assassin to come close.' Sicaria spoke politely, but her tone was firm.

'Oh, quite right Sicaria. In any case, I have in my tent a chess puzzle to show Carlos.' The Necromancer fiddled with the screw holding the telescope to the stand and then looked up at me apologetically. 'If I might trouble you to assist?'

'Certainly.' When the opportunity arose to do so without urging him to stand aside, I pushed open a clip the Necromancer had failed to appreciate the importance of and passed him the telescope before picking up the stand. To have carried such a weight of wood and brass would have caused me a real strain back on Earth, but now this burden was no bother.

We settled in the comfortable chairs of the Necromancer's tent, Sicaria standing in the shadows just inside the flaps of the entrance; I admired her dedication and concentration when on duty but missed the affectionate Sicaria I had come to know as my lover.

Having poured me a goblet of his favourite wine, the Necromancer pointed to the chess board. 'I created this puzzle and named it The Carlos Manoeuvre in your honour. Please, take a look. Black to play and win.'

'The Carlos Manoeuvre?'

'The clue is that you are the black knight, Argax is the black queen, and King William Lionheart is the white king.'

'Well then, I must move the knight towards the enemy king, with check. He must move across. Then, perhaps, I check again.'

For a while, I couldn't see what I should play. Moving the knight back and forth pushed the king in and out of the corner but to no decisive effect.

The Necromancer looked at me with a smile, his face lit up by candlelight. 'I shall give you a clue. The real meaning of the name of the puzzle refers to the fact that you must sacrifice the demon.'

'Aha, now I have it!' I moved the black queen right across the board.

Then I took a drink of wine before capturing the queen with the white castle and moving the black knight to the checkmate position.

'A very well constructed puzzle. Congratulations. But I'm sorry about the demon. Can you summon him again?'

Despite my reference to the death of Argax, the Necromancer looked pleased with himself. His eyes dwelt on the board. 'It's possible, but the cost in corpses would rise considerably, to three hundred. And in any case, it is hard to manage a demon of his power. Although obliged to do my bidding, there are many ways to carry out the letter of an instruction that undermines the spirit. We must be grateful that although Argax was becoming increasingly bored and inclined to break loose in some violent fashion, he shared our goals long enough to bring about two major victories.'

'To Argax,' I raised my goblet and the Necromancer did the same.

'What do we do next?' I asked after we had lowered our drinks, 'is there time for one last campaign before winter?'

'Well now,' the Necromancer got up from the table and moved around to his large, comfortable chair. 'To my mind, our next move is not a matter of whether we have enough time for a campaign but whether we have an opponent. No remaining independent realm is close to our strength, nor have any of the remaining rulers indicated hostility towards us. Not openly at least, although the nature of the game that the gods play means that all are enemies to all.'

'If they combined against us?'

'Indeed, that would be their best hope of overturning our lead. I wonder, though, are we more likely to bring about such an alliance by striking at someone without cause – and thus alerting the rest that they are all just waiting before receiving similar treatment – than consolidating and using our advantage in trading income and treasury to continue to grow our armies. Having an overwhelming military lead would act as a deterrent to any of the rulers who took the first steps in trying to bring about an alliance against us.'

I understood his point immediately. It was like a game of Risk where you were sitting on the largest completed continent amassing troops faster than your opponents. What was the point in making the first move when time was on your side? And no one wanted to be the first to take you on, because that meant certain elimination. 'My one reservation about such an approach is a concern that someone who is weaker than us militarily, builds a level nine cathedral or scriptorium and suddenly obtains a winning spell or divine assistance.'

'That is a valid concern my friend. What do your spies tell you on the subject of advanced building production? Mine report that the Queen of Shadow now has a level seven scriptorium; Jomskar has a shipyard level three; Zorland a temple level six; the dwarves of Grimlar a mine level seven; Fahim a temple level six; the Arkine empire a scriptorium level six; and Sartas farms level five.'

'I need to return to Carrick to catch up on news from my spies, but I'm sure your reports are accurate. Shadow sounds dangerous and even Grimlar might pose a threat if there are end-game level magical gems or something that can be obtained by a level nine mine.'

'What an interesting thought, a game-winning strategy by mining. I think that their mines will produce wealth, which in turn will provide the basis of an army. Probably, too, rare finds in mines can assist with the manufacture of magic items. So indirectly, you might have a point.' The Necromancer leaned  back and sighed. 'I must be careful not to come to a poor decision simply because I am tired of marching and war.

'Does Shadow have access to a good supply of stone? Or must the queen use her own quarries?'

'She is very limited in stone, I believe.'

'Well then, let us keep it that way and you will have a considerable lead in the race to the first level nine scriptorium. And similarly, if we refuse to trade stone to Fahim and Zorland I might complete a level nine cathedral before them. I am only a matter of days from level six.'

'That's a reassuring way to look at matters and reinforces my inclination to try to hold what we have for now. Are we in accord then? We consolidate, at least until there are indications of an alliance forming against us.'

'Agreed.' I picked up the black knight from the chessboard and found myself hesitating before returning it. 'And when you have raised Scrithax and I have enabled Miya's appearance, and the rest of the world has surrendered, what then?'

'We humbly ask that they free the world from the game of the gods and leave us in peace.'

'There can only be one winner, though, right? And that god will rule for the next age, until the game begins again? How can we trust either of them? I mean, I'd rather trust a goddess of fertility than a demon, but what if Miya said she would end the game? Might we give her victory and trust her, only to find ourselves deceived?'

'The gods are immortal but not invincible. There are tales in which a mortal hero gets the better of a god. If we are betrayed by our gods, then we fight them.' The Necromancer's tone was grim, his eyes deep and dark.

I put the knight back down beside the black king. 'Shoulder to shoulder.'

Part II Chapter 77: Forth the Banners Go

My church upgraded to a Level 6 cathedral on the day we left our fort at Rillou for the return journey to Carrick.

Cathedral level 6

Priests: Senior Cleric Leonora level 6*, Cleric level 1, Cleric level 1

Benefits: heals ten persons per day of minor wounds, five of disease, three of poison, removes one magical curse per day, regenerates one damaged limb per day. Other healing and benefits according to the spells of the senior Cleric.

Sanctuary: No evil summoned creature may enter the building.

Supplicants spending the night in the church may by visited by Miya in their dreams.

Increases town Happiness by +4.

* Senior Cleric may advance in level.

That was impressive, I read the menu report three times before closing it. Hopefully, with my sanitation and town housing, I had minimised the risk of a disease outbreak at Carrick, but the fact that the Cathedral would cure five people a day of a disease would go a long way to preventing an outbreak. The regeneration of a damaged limb sounded amazing, although was perhaps more for civilians than soldiers. As far as I'd noticed, getting healed after combat cured all wounds. But then I hadn't specifically seen what happened when a hand was cut clean off, say, and then a heal landed. Maybe you regained your hit points but not the limb? Not without a Cathedral (or a Regeneration spell?).

Sanctuary was an exciting new feature of the Cathedral that I hadn't anticipated. Clearly, there could be circumstances in which being able to escape an evil, summoned creature would be life-saving. But with the Necromancer as my ally and Kezatka and Underworld defeated, I wasn't sure which of the remaining rulers had the capacity to summon a devil or monster and how it might arrive at Carrick. At least if it happened that an enemy summoned a flying demon with the goal of assassinating me, I now had the option of taking refuge in the Cathedral.

I was slightly disappointed that the connection with Miya did not seem any stronger than with the level 5 church. The phrasing was the same: supplicants may be visited by Miya. Perhaps the probability of a visitation was higher in the Cathedral?

Happiness +4 was welcome, of course. Back when I arrived in the world of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms, I would have been delighted with that, because a low Happiness had been my choke point that was preventing me recruiting people onto the menu and making any progress at all. Now, the jump from 71 to 75 Happiness was far less significant than that from 14 to 18. Still, I could recruit 13 people a day onto the town menu if I needed to and that was a valuable recourse should I suddenly need to bring a lot of people quickly into the army.

Even before my recent conversation with the Necromancer about the endgame, I had been committed to a strategy of trying to bring Miya into the world. Therefore I had no hesitation in commissioning the level 7 Cathedral. The cost was 684 stone, 324 timber, 24 iron and it would take 72 days.

The other focus of our endgame strategy was to keep building our armies, utilising our advantage in trade income to create an intimidating deterrent to the remaining rulers. Only a relatively modest force was needed to retain control of the keep at Rillou, which was undamaged by the fire. I had reassigned 16 spearmen to train as crew two of the trebuchets there and another 16 to the two ballista, which had pushed my army cost up slightly. Also stationed in the Rillou keep were 19 spearmen, 4 spies, my three crossbow archers, and 18 longbow archers. They had six pigeons to keep me informed about local developments.

I was riding at the head of an army of 100 swordsmen (Carter their commander); 15 heavy infantry, 69 knights; 40 archers (Isabelle); 538 two-handed spearmen (2 Arkine sergeants), 28 engineers; 36 spies and dispersed in a fan, scouting ahead, were my 7 light cavalry and the 51 Cantreth light cavalry archers. Somewhere between us and Nekis, I should meet the force of 80 heavy infantry, 40 light cavalry and 8 falconers whom I had sent for before the march to Rillou. I knew from the military menu that this force was intact, but the location descriptor was a vague 'Ferrok', the entire realm formerly run by orcs.

Assuming we met as planned, I'd keep the infantry and cavalry with us but send the falconers to be based at Rillou and with orders to deploy around the borders of Shadow, to see if they could intercept any messaging pigeons. It was a remote enough chance, but any intelligence they got could be quickly sent to me by our pigeons and could make a huge difference to the endgame.

There were still nine days to go before the smithy completed the equipment for 31 knights. And the level 2 curtain walls at Three Ways needed another 16 days. My research into Banking had completed four days ago, which had unlocked the option of building a bank. That was underway, at a cost of 80 stone, 24 timber and 12 iron, with another 13 days until it was complete.

My real challenge was to raise the population on the menu. While my new trading routes had allowed me to close the gap between military expenses and income, the way to push on again and sustain an even larger army was to increase my tax base and that meant raising the numbers on the menu. Currently, my population was just over the limit set by my food production. I had 902 civilians on the menu and 1378 soldiers, which gave rise to a requirement of 57 food units daily.

The main source of food for Greyland was our fishing fleet, which I congratulated myself on having built up from nothing to being able to supply 28 units a day. With my World Tree longship complete, I decided to order three more fishing vessels from the shipbuilder.

Instead of the usual confirmation, I got the following message:

The maximum number of fishing vessels for a harbour level 1 is 15

I could only build one more fishing vessel. That was a shame and I didn't want to interrupt the race to a level 9 cathedral to upgrade the harbour. I ordered the final fishing vessel and then looked at the other sources of food supply.

From the Necromancer came 150 grain units every two weeks, so that was equivalent to 10.7 a day. My hunters delivered 9 units of meat daily. Then there were three grain crops a year and three vegetable crops. With my current farming equipment and drainage 2, I was obtaining 282 food units of grain and 55 of vegetables. Assuming I could bring the crops in and that they weren't stolen by an invading army – as had been the situation when I arrived in the game – this averaged to 2.8 a day. And it was here I hoped to make improvements. Adding on the 2 units from Daghada's Cauldron gave me a daily supply of 52.5: not enough.

Upgrading farms, hunting lodges and the harbour was out of the question, not while I was racing to upgrade the Cathedral. To improve my daily food supply, therefore, I had three options.

Firstly, better technology: drainage 2 had unlocked irrigation, which I had selected after banking was complete. I had another 11 days to run for irrigation to complete. That would give me another 10% output on grain and vegetables and also, if I had suitable waterlogged terrain to reclaim, allowed me to bring that under production and add additional workers to farming.

Second, I could upgrade the farming tools using my iron surplus and the smithy. It was unfortunate that I would therefore interrupt arms production, but it was the right idea as I had a massive 3,740 gold in the treasury, which I could use to buy ready-made arms and armour, whereas there didn't seem to be an option to purchase fine steel farm tools. I would need 60 units of those, which would take 15 iron and 15 days, which I would order once my smithy had completed its current work.

Thirdly, I could try to find another ruler who would trade food with me. That might be difficult, because they would be well aware of my lead and not wish me to extend it further, but I thought it worth exploring all the same, especially with the 'friendly' realms of Cantreth, Grimlar and the Arkine Empire. Yet what could I trade? I had just agreed with the Necromancer not to supply stone to any of the other rulers, which left me with just a small amount of spare iron, a limited amount of cloth, and products from the smithy.

Maybe they would take gold in a straightforward sale? I contemplated sending riders out with that offer. But I held back. If I was one of the remaining rulers and got an unexpected request from Greyland to buy food, at the very least I'd double my prices. Such a negotiation was best carried out as if food was not my main interest and for a subtle approach towards one of the other rulers, I'd want to send Figus. For now, I choose to wait.

Literacy was up to 6%. Slow progress. And I wasn't entirely sure what the payoff would be for this growth, probably it was connected to the realms Happiness score. My idea was to build a print shop and keep the people informed of developments, run a newspaper even.

Supplies of World Tree timber were still being shipped to Carrick by the Vikings. I was up to 140 units worth and wondered about the best use of it. Three Ways was a very effective defence and would be even more impressive when the level 2 curtain walls completed. From the time when my old friend General Strakigos and I had captured Three Ways, I'd learned the importance of being able to counter enemy trebuchets, preventing them from setting up in range on the east side of the bridge over the river.

I currently had two trebuchet crews at Three Ways and I decided to build two more trebuchets out of World Tree timber and, as soon as I could, a brand new tower to place them on. That would significantly stiffen my defences and even if some alliance of the other realms came about that drove me back to Three Ways, I might be able to sit tight there while continuing to work towards a level 9 cathedral from behind my wall. From the barracks menu, I assigned 16 people, 36 iron, and 80 World Tree timber to the production of two new trebuchets.

With everything up to date on the menus, I enjoyed the ride and the pleasant, early autumn day. There were few clouds in a light blue sky and just enough of a cool breeze to make the morning feel fresh. Goncendor seemed to be enjoying the day too and wanted to carry me at a canter, perhaps even a gallop. Leaning down to pat his strong neck, I said, 'come on then old friend, let's review the army.'

At the insistence of the Necromancer and King Olgrim, Greyland had the honour of marching first, which had practical benefits in terms of avoiding dust and finding good camping spots. And I was at the very front, a clear road ahead. Yet an impulse to share my good spirits with the troops caused me to turn Goncendor about and we rode through a meadow alongside the road, my warhorse stretching his legs and hammering his hooves down as he began to gallop.

The Greyland army was formed up into their respective units, marshalled with a variety of flags. Some marched under the original banner I'd seen when I arrived, a white circle of entwined braid on a green background. Most had the white rhino version of the same, while Carter's swordsmen marched beneath the banner the Necromancer had given me, of the black knight on a turquoise background.

Many of these soldiers had been with me in the winter campaign in Cantreth and their faces were familiar. As I passed such veterans, I saluted with the tip of my lance and received smiles and salutes in return. Their gear was well-worn: faded cloaks, scuffed leather, tarnished metal. But they were tough, efficient, they would follow me anywhere, and they would fight with grim, ruthless blows. They knew what it was like to win on the battlefield, what courage and ferocity it took. What comradeship too.

My heart was beating proudly by the time I'd run the length of the army and back. I was encouraged too, by this thought, that the absolute numbers of troops on a menu was important, but so too must be combat experience. If being battle-hardened counted for a lot, then I had the finest soldiers in the Twenty-Five kingdoms.

Part II Chapter 78: The Goddess in My Dreams

My journey back to Carrick had been uneventful, which perhaps was not surprising given that for most of it I was in the company of over two thousand soldiers, not to mention high-level comrades. No unexpected ambushes were set by enemy realms and no wandering monsters appeared in our path.

We had met the new troops from Carrick near the border between Kaia and Ferrock and thereafter I'd been somewhat amused by the way in which the veterans lorded it over the newcomers. While the new arrivals had pristine gear and seemed almost to glow whenever the autumn sun was on them, any pride they might have had in their appearance was knocked out of them by the scorn of the battle-hardened troops. Whenever the opportunity arose, the newcomers would be told, 'that's the way we did it in the Cantreth campaign' or something similar. And even if the new way of stacking spears – for example – looked more efficient to me, they would be stacked in the earlier fashion. No argument could be given against the enormous authority of those who had faced powerful enemies and been victorious.

To be fair to the new recruits, they moved aside from the road as we turned into the final stretch towards the impressive gatehouse of Carrick. The cavalry rode ahead to line the road for the final two hundred metres and from there they could join in the cheers that grew in volume as we marched towards our home city. Although it was a soft day, grey and full of a light rain, it felt as though the sun were shining. The bells of Carrick were ringing and among them was an extraordinary deep note, like the thumping of massive waves against a cliff. All along the walls were citizens of Greyland, shouting and banging pans.

The tone of the greetings were cheerful enough to start with, but as we reached the portcullis and waved back, the volume increased and the pitch of excitement rose an octave. Goncendor was not impressed, he lowered his head and gave a harrumph. Beside me rode Sicaria and we were the first of the returning army to enter the city. Again, I noted with approval the impressive water-filled moat and extra ditch that the shadow giant had constructed while in charge of Carrick.

Once through the huge gatehouse we were surrounded by the crowds of the city. Flower petals were thrown across the road in front of us and everywhere were upturned, smiling faces. Like the last time the army had returned after a victory, that of Texecal, most of the town's children were excitedly running around in packs. Some though were standing with their parents close to the road, and as I passed these children, they were struck with a sudden shyness and simply stared at me with wide eyes.

Although I could see a magnificent double-spire where the church had been, a full view of the new Cathedral had to wait, because the road I was on led to the keep and there were several blocks of town houses and workshops between me and the new building. It was from one of the new spires that the deep bell was clanging, accompanied by a higher, sweeter note from the bell in the other tower.

The main square of Carrick was full and noisy; a laneway between the crowd had been created with a cordon of ropes and we walked our horses along it and up to the keep. There, the servant who had met me on my first morning as king, Gabriella, kept curtseying from the top of the stairs. Her broad face was blushing red. 'Welcome home, sire. Welcome home. It's not the same without you. Cook has been stocking up. He hopes you'll stay a while now sire.'

'Thank you Gabriella. We'll see.' I dismounted, eager servants grasping the reins of Goncendor and leading him away. Later, I would go to check he was happy in the stables. For now though, I knew I had to say a few words from the top of the steps.

'Citizens of Greyland!' I found I had to start again several times; the cheerful cries died down until one last shout rang out in the silence, causing a ripple of laughter spread among those near the unfortunate man.

'Citizens of Greyland!' Now I had their full attention. 'As you entertain them tonight, you'll hear from those in the army the full details of our campaign. I will only say this, Greyland and Miya approach the endgame in a very strong position thanks to the bravery of your family and friends who are in the army and to your own hard work at home.'

There were cheers at this.

'An alliance of Rockway, Hailand and Langia came very close to destroying Nekis, the capital of our main ally, the Necromancer. They had gotten beyond the first wall of the city. Our army arrived in time, however, and we defeated them all.'

Another rousing cheer. And I realised that I hadn't explained anything. It was such a simple sentence to call out to the crowd, we defeated them all, so hard to achieve.

'The turning point came when our allies from Cantreth and our own light cavalry and sergeant Carter with our swordsmen faced overwhelming odds to hold back the army of Langia while we fought through the samurai of Hailand to reach the army of the Necromancer. It was hard, hard fighting…' I paused, remembering the urgency of the crisis, the carnage in every direction, the losses. The citizens watching me seemed to sense my thoughts as there was silence, but for the clacking of ropes on flagpoles and the cry of a child.

'But it was worth it. After that day, we could march and eliminate Langia, then Hailand, and then Northway. I know you'll all have been dreading the possibility of another invasion. Of being conquered again. Now, that possibility is remote. No one realm has the forces to threaten us.'

The cheers began again, and quite right too. It did occur to me that I hadn't quite been honest with the people. In theory, the Kingdom of Lost Souls had the forces to mount a threatening invasion.

'What next for Greyland and Miya? The Necromancer and I have agreed to consolidate our position, improve our economies, and, in our respective fashion, prepare for the arrival of our gods. In our case, we will build our Cathedral up to level nine so that Miya can manifest in it.'

There were real cries of enthusiasm and passionate shouts at this announcement. It would have been a good note to end on, but I waited for the cheers to diminish so that I could make one more announcement.

'Also, I'm very happy to let you know that your king has a consort,' I held out my hand to Sicaria. She, however, rolled her eyes and stepped into the shadows, becoming almost invisible.

'Ahh. Well. I do, honestly. Her name is Sicaria; she's the Necromancer's ambassador; and she's not given to public displays of affection.'

There were a few laughs at this but mostly the reaction of the crowd was a curiosity and a good-natured murmuring.

'There's so much more to tell you, but you can hear it from your returned family and friends. I suggest you treat them well tonight, like the returned heroes they are!'

That was a decent way to end my speech and after I gave a wave and turned away, I could hear the enthusiasm of the people swell up in applause and calls and the growth of the chant, 'Carlos! Carlos! Carlos!'

Ahead of me, inside the corridor was Sicaria and she was frowning. 'Why did you do that? They will think I'm here to kill you at an opportune moment.'

'That's exactly why I made the announcement public. If people found out by rumour that I'm sharing my bed with a high level Assassin whose loyalties are to the Kingdom of Lost Souls, they would be fearful and hostile towards you. This way, if they see us together, see how much we like each other, and that it's a genuine match… well, I'm hoping they will accept you.'

'I hate any attention on me.' All the same, Sicaria took my arm as I made my way to my room past bowing and smiling staff and guards.

***

Much as I wanted to spend my nights with Sicaria in the huge royal bed of King Carlos, there was, of course, the chance that if I slept in the Cathedral, I would speak to Miya via my dream. So, late that night, after an official meal with the guild leaders and burghers of the town, Sicaria and I went to the magnificent new cathedral, a dozen servants bringing blankets and lanterns in my wake. I was feeling virtuous, in having sacrificed a comfortable bed for what I anticipated would be a night on a hard, cold floor.

That virtuous feeling was reinforced as I entered the Cathedral. As I came through huge, wide double-doors under a tall stone arch I saw across the vast space of a domed hall an extraordinary mural of Miya in three panels.

On the left was a beautiful brown-skinned young woman in a green tunic, her long, blonde hair, flying free of the ivy braids that had once held it. The young goddess was leaping towards the left side of the frame. In the centre panel was the same woman but middle-aged, with less vivid hair, now greying; she wore a yellow dress that came down to her ankles rather than the knee-length height of the dress of the younger goddess. The mature goddess was facing directly towards us. And in the right panel was the elderly goddess, white-haired, sky-blue gown over a white dress, in mid-step towards the right frame. All of them were of the height that I remembered from my encounter with Miya on the lance quest: taller even than a shadow giant.

Surprisingly, the Cathedral was busy, full even, despite the vastness of the space under the dome. Hundreds of Carrick citizens had make-shift beds here and I quickly realised why. If you got a chance to meet your goddess in your dreams, wouldn't you take it?

Leonora hurried over to us, smiling. If I was delighted with the new Cathedral, clearly my senior Cleric was even more so and her eyes seemed to glow brighter than any of the lanterns on the walls of the building. Although only young, it amused me that Leonora was dressed as the mature version of the goddess, her bright blonde hair was carefully braided and she was wearing a full-length yellow dress. One obvious difference from the middle mural, however, other than Leonora's youth, was that the Cleric kept her studded, magical mace at her side.

'Welcome sire, welcome. I've kept a place for you at the west wall. Lord Arval and Figus have had beds made there too.' Leonora guided me between rows of citizens of all ages, including families with children. Everywhere, I was greeted by name and with smiles. It was a complete reversal of the situation I'd faced when I'd arrived in Carrick, where people would duck their heads to avoid eye contact and children would flee in panic.

'We have assigned each district of the town a night in which they are allowed to sleep in the Cathedral, and so if someone wishes – and they all do – they can sleep here every eight days.'

'A fair system,' I said, taking Sicaria's hand as we walked towards our sleeping spot. 'And tell me, Leonora, do many of them dream of the goddess?'

'Oh, indeed, sire,' Leonora nodded earnestly. 'My Clerics tell me that most people do see the Goddess and a few speak to her. They say it is the most marvellous, refreshing sleep and that everyone wakes feeling blessed.'

'I look forward to that.' In fact, I was wondering how easy it would be to sleep with so many people under a dome? Wouldn't their conversations and coughs and stirrings keep me awake?

Having brought us to a spot where there were already several layers of blankets (so I had my servants share mine out to those further off who had less), I was greeted by a clean-shaven Lord Arval and by Figus, who had washed away the weeks of marching and looked as well turned-out as I'd ever seen him. We had barely exchanged pleasantries when from the centre of the hall, Leonora clapped her hands and immediately all conversation died away.

'Welcome, people of Greyland. Now that we are all present, we will close the doors and settle to sleep. May your dreams be visited by the goddess.'

There was an upsurge of sound, as people took to their beds, but it quickly died away. Sicaria and I lay on the floor on several blankets; although the arrangement was firmer than a bed, it was still softer than sleeping in my tent while on campaign. With all these people nearby, I had thought it would take me a long time to sleep. But as the Clerics went around the room turning the lamps low and as the body heat from Sicaria spread through me and as I inhaled a pleasant aroma from sandalwood incense burners, I found my thoughts falling apart.

I was with my Occupational Therapy class, as we stood watching the flight of several young dragons around the snow-covered peaks of the Dragon Mountains.

Our lecturer, Ms Devlin, was explaining the risk. 'These are blue dragons and their queen, Scarratharat, is capable of blasting a cloud of ice shards from her maw that will inflict between sixty and a-hundred-and-twenty damage on those directly in its path. Now, can you offer your clients any mitigation?'

'A potion of Resist Cold?' Martha Kaminski was always quick to offer answers. And as always, I hung at the back, just watching.

'Very good Martha. Anyone else?' There was a pause. 'Sean de Courcy?'

'Would a Cleric heal rotation work?' I had been wondering about this. If my client were toe-to-toe with a boss dragon, then we were talking raid tactics.

'It would, but only while the mana of the healing classes lasted. That would give you perhaps two minutes, even with the Clerics of Greyland and the Kingdom of Lost Souls combined. So, it would only work if you had a means of dealing a large amount of damage very quickly. What kind of damage would be most effective?'

A hand went up. And it seemed to me, Ms Devlin had a slightly tired note in her voice when she asked, 'Martha?'

'Fire.'

'Naturally, fire. Do you remember the Hell Hounds that Queen Xenastha summoned during her duel? Their naphthalene sacs can be used by alchemists to create potions of Breathe Fire, which should be suitable for the client to use in a Cleric-rotation strategy.'

'Oh man!' Collin Morris laughed and slapped me on the back, 'imagine telling our client to breathe fire.'

'Class dismissed,' announced Miss Devlin. 'Except you, Sean de Courcy. Come with me.'

As the others drifted away, hoisting their backpacks and chatting to each other, I followed Miss Devlin through a door that led to her office and which she closed behind her. Then she went to her low, comfortable chair and sat on it, staring at me with large, dark eyes. 'You know I love you.'

'I know.' And I discovered that I did.

Pulling up her skirt, she said, 'come here then.'

And I spent the rest of the dream in a very intense, erotic embrace with my Occupational Therapy lecturer.

In the morning, as everyone excitedly exchanged the details of their glimpses of the goddess and, in Lord Arval's case, of her turning to him with words of encouragement, I felt embarrassed. I kept the specifics of my own dream vague, other than to say that I thought she had advised me on the way to go about a battle with Scarratharat, the dragon queen.

Part II Chapter 79: Training My Army: RPG Style

After two days of rest, I implemented a training schedule for my troops. Firstly, I summoned Carter and my 100 swordsmen to the barracks, where I'd previously had a conversation with Sergeant Major Grudd. The trainer stood beside me; I sat on the top rail of the wooden fence that ran around the barracks square. With considerable efficiency, despite their hangovers, the swordsmen formed up in three rows, their banner guard two steps ahead of them, displaying the black knight on a turquoise background.

Jumping down from the fence, I walked along the first row. 'Swordsmen, you are famed for your efforts at the battle of Nekis. Quite rightly. You'll dine out on the story of that battle for the rest of your lives. You are tough, fast, and know what it means to fight furiously for your lives. But you could be tougher. You'll all know Sergeant Major Grudd from your basic training. Well, he's going to take you into the wild for a month and bring you back before winter as an even hardier band of men.'

Back in my first days in this world, I had talked with Carradock Goblinbane about improving my Constitution and I had learned that a month in the wild, living off the land, would do that. There was little that these soldiers could be taught about fighting from the parade ground so my idea was to boost their hit points. After all, they were a vital part of the army, able to move relatively fast as they were light infantry – wearing hardened leather armour – and still hit hard.

On hearing this news, if I was one of these soldiers, my heart would be down in my boots around now. Instead of cushy leave, enjoying the company of friends and the food and drink of Carrick, they would be shivering in the late autumn weather and eating only what they could forage. Turning along the second and third rows, I walked up and down inspecting the swordsmen for any failure of gear. There was no sign of dismay in the eyes of the men who met mine. They understood the game was far from over and where their duty lay.

'Very good, Sergeant Major, these are your men.'

'You have one hour to make your farewells and assemble with full gear at the gatehouse,' Grudd shouted at them in his loud voice. 'Dismissed!'

Immediately, the formations broke up as men ran in every direction.

Not long afterwards, the barracks square was filled again. This time with the 538 two-handed spearmen, marshalled by the two surviving Arkine sergeants. Also present, riding around the perimeter, were Sir Vivar with our other 99 knights. For a while I watched them practice various scenarios of knight versus two-handed spear. If the spears could react quickly enough to form a square, with triple rows of grounded weapons, there was no way for the cavalry to break in. If the infantry were too slow, however, their weapons were far too unwieldy to allow them to recover. In a real battle, they would be slaughtered with very little loss to the knights.

Pleased with the efforts of the troops at the barracks, I walked over to the east (inland facing) wall of the city, beyond which we had set up the archery fields. There my 40 archers from the field army were competing with the 50 archers who were garrisoned in Carrick. Also practicing their archery were the 51 Cantreth riders. Watching the soldiers releasing arrows that mostly struck the straw-figure targets, I was tempted to join them, even though my archery skill was maxed. There was a real pleasure in sending an arrow arcing through the sky to plunge through the head of the target from long range. But I had at least one more task, which was to address the core team of Greyland soldiers, those with classes.

Just beyond the gatehouse, mounted and in full combat gear were Lord Arval (Paladin level 9); Figus, (Bard level 8); Isabelle, (Rogue level 6); Leonora, (Cleric level 6); Valeria, (Ranger level 6); Jacintha, (Sorceress level 5); Brother Raymond (Summoner level 5); and Abbot Hugues (Templar level 5). Lord Arval looked particular impressive, having had the opportunity to clean and burnish all his plate mail, but also because he was carrying the golden Shield of Absorption; his +1 Heavy Steel Shield was now being used by Leonora.

'Friends,' I said, 'travel south to the ogres as we agreed. Take care with your pulls, Valeria, and avoid the Mages. Remember, the priority is to level up Leonora, so if you see the opportunity for her to gain the experience from a kill, let her have it all.

'Depending on my duties here, I'll join you tomorrow. Lord Arval is in charge, best of luck.'

'And to you sire,' Lord Arval gave me a salute and wheeled away on his stallion, the others following in turn.

As they rode out of sight, I felt a slight twinge of anxiety. There was a risk of a bad pull leading to several ogres and an ogre mage coming their way. But really, with their feats and magic items, they would be very unlucky to suffer casualties even if that happened. The risk of casualties, I felt, was worth taking. Not only was my core battle strategy one of having this team as strong as possible (ideally, far ahead of my rivals), but Leonora had to be capable of summoning the goddess when the Cathedral reached level 9.

The goddess. What a dream I had experienced. I was still embarrassed about it. Still, the information about the Hell Hounds had proved correct. We'd brought the bodies of the monsters with us, gutted and wrapped in broad leaves of a palm-type plant to preserve them. My original idea, encouraged by my officers, had been to mount the heads of the monsters in the great hall. But my alchemists were thrilled with the beasts and assured me that they could indeed make potions of Fire Breathing: four, in fact. As for potions of Resist Cold, on the advice of the chief alchemist I had teams of gathers searching the Greyland mountains for snowbells and the lair of a Frost Troll, which I would have to kill for its blood.

***

That evening, Sicaria and I ate alone. We shared a large fish. There was always fish to be had in Carrick these days, including rare and strange ones, the preparation of which stretched cook's skills and therefore kept him happy. Really, he had not been happy since I had taken over King Carlos's body: he was one of the only citizens who missed the old king.

While we were eating and talking, mostly about her training as an orphan being brought up in the Assassin's guild, we were interrupted by a servant.

'Sorry sire, that giant is here. The one from before.'

'Lysegetus?'

'I think that was his name sire.'

I stood up and so did Sicaria. Outside the entrance to the keep, visible in the lamplight was the giant, wrapped in a cloak, with his spear and shield over his back, and carrying his golden horsehair helmet under his right arm.

'Lysegetus, homoioi of Jekas, well met.'

'Well met, King Carlos, wielder of the Lance of Light.'

'You are not in charge of Montrose any longer, I see.'

'A most observant king,' he smiled. 'No wonder fortune favours you.'

'This is my consort, Sicaria. Sicaria, this is the shadow giant I talked about. Although I don't believe I ever described Lysegetus as having a sense of humour.'

'I am honoured to meet you.' Sicaria leaned forward and placed a hand that seemed tiny on the giant's arm.

'And I you,' the giant boomed out, then turned his grey eyes to mine. 'It has been more than a year and as you face no immediate danger, I return to my people.'

'I'm sorry to learn this. You've been a true comrade of ours Lysegetus. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart, not least for the defences of Carrick that you built.'

'You earned my help the day you killed the vampire.'

'Come with me, Lysegetus, please, and visit my Cathedral before you go.'

'Must I? The weather is fine and I will make a good camp before dawn if I leave now.'

'In my new Cathedral, my Clerics can remove one magical curse from a person each day. I'd like to see if it can remove yours.'

The change in the giant's expression was dramatic. No longer displaying a good-natured but distant look, he was now alert and anxious even. 'Very well.'

As we walked through lamplit streets, Sicaria and I ahead of the giant, his deep voice came from behind.

'Sicaria, you are the ambassador from the Kingdom of Lost Souls?'

'I am.'

'An unusual alliance.'

The Assassin glanced back over her shoulder. 'Him and I? Or the two realms?'

'Both.'

'And yet they work.' Sicaria glanced at me.

I enjoyed her reply and smiled at her.

'King Carlos,' said the giant.

'Aye?'

'You are an admirable person, for a human. You are honourable without losing the ability to be an effective strategist. When you made that meal for the Arkine Empress at the siege of your wooden fort, for instance, I was most impressed. And now you have as your consort an ambassador from another realm, a realm whom your goddess will one day expect you to war against.'

'Let's hope not. Our goal is the same as yours. To end the game forever, to free the peoples of the twenty-five kingdom from the gods.'

'That may be your goal. It is not true of Miya or Scrithax.' The giant had stopped walking and so we too halted and turned to look at his earnest face. 'Don't believe the gods. Don't ever trust them. Every one of them has but one ambition: to be the one winner and thus become the supreme deity and lord it over the other twenty-four for an entire cycle.'

'Scrithax will break the hold of the gods over this world,' said Sicaria with conviction.

For several deep breaths, no one spoke.

'Lead on,' said the giant at last. 'Let us test this spell.'

The doors of the Cathedral were already closed for the night. Trying not to disturb those inside too much, I knocked at them and was let in by a Cleric. The new entrance was so tall that the giant did not even have to crouch to move into the main chamber. There, a space was hastily made for him to kneel in.

'Can you cast the one Remove Curse a day that the menu says is possible in the Cathedral?' I asked of the Cleric, concerned that she was only level 1.

'I can sire. Either myself or Lucia can perform all the daily rituals. We've been providing Regeneration almost every day. Other than that, though, there has been little need. Certainly, this is the first curse we have encountered.'

'Good. Carry on and cast it so.'

'Now?' the Cleric was a young woman and she looked anxiously up at the giant and then at the huge gathering of onlookers who had paused their preparations for sleep to watch.

'Lysegetus has a long journey ahead of him. Please begin.'

'Very good sire.' She smoothed down her pale tunic to dry her hands and then guided the giant until he was under the very centre of the dome and had him kneel there, head bowed. Chanting a prayer and wafting an incense burner, the Cleric stood half way between the giant and the north alcove until she was done with that set of lines and she then moved to the west of Lysegetus, then the south and finally the east. In all, the ritual only took a few minutes and when it was done I was convinced that I saw a dark haze drift away from the giant. That was promising.

'Well?' I asked him and a hundred people listened for his answer.

'Something changed. My vision is somewhat different. I believe the curse might have been lifted.' Tentatively, the giant stood up and looked around as if seeing the Cathedral for the first time. 'This cure is of immense importance. We giants have been denied the sun all our lives, forced to live in darkness. It is a curse that weighs heavily on us and if it is truly lifted... oh, how I shall seek out the sun's warmth in the morning and stand facing it, arms outstretched, to feel it on my face.

'King Carlos, if this indeed the case, then do I have your permission to bring my fellow giants to your Cathedral for the same ritual?'

'You do. Recall, though, that we can perform this but once a day.'

'I understand, we will come in small groups at a time.' Lysegetus stood up. 'I must go and let Queen Xenatha know. But King Carlos, people of Greyland, I am confident in speaking for her and all my fellow giants when I say if you can lift our curse, you will have an army of giants for your allies and that is no small matter.'

With that, he hurried to the Cathedral doors and out into the night. I looked at Sicaria and she raised an eyebrow. 'An army of giants?' she said, 'we will be uncatchable.'

Part II Chapter 80: On the Interpretation of Dreams

Deciding I should stay in Carrick in case of visitors, or news brought by pigeon, I spent my nights in the cathedral. Every night there I dreamed of Miya.

I was climbing a mountain with Lord Arval, Figus, and Leonora alongside me. It was a pleasant day and walking up the heather-covered slopes of the mountain was not too difficult. On reaching the top, however, we were in for a shock. Thousands of zombies were on the far side and marching towards us, towards Carrick. And we had no walls. No hope of defending the city.

On the way back down we encountered a white mare who, though wild, allowed me to ride her.

I was talking with Carlena about Miya.

'Do you miss her?' I asked.

'Very much.' Carlena ran her finger over the letters on the front of her spell book. 'Every day, in fact, I think of her.'

'Why did you leave her then?'

Carlena threw me a weary glance. 'Everyone knows that story. I thought there was nothing more I could achieve with Miya. Certainly, that there would be no more spells for my spell book.'

I found myself feeling some sympathy for this answer. 'You know,' I said, 'if I could do it all again, I'd like to be a Sorcerer. I think I'd have a talent for magic but whether I did or not, I'd enjoy it.'

'Talent is all very well. But a Sorcerer needs a spell book with spells in it. And you didn't have one.'

We were sitting beside a statue of Miya and the stone suddenly animated. The goddess got down from her plinth to sit beside me. 'Leave us now Carlena, we need privacy.'

'I'm jealous,' Carlena replied. 'You can still enjoy the pleasure of kisses. Let me stay a little longer and watch.'

'You're dead, Carlena.'

The Sorceress looked impossibly sad at this remark and withdrew into the dark.

The Necromancer and I were high up in a tower, looking out of a window at Lord Arval. The Paladin was attempting to walk along a tightrope to another tower, using the Lance of Light to help keep his balance. Miya, in her form of an elderly woman, was standing in a window of the far tower, watching.

'I'm coming, goddess,' said the Paladin. But a moment later the rope went slack and a lose end sprang from our tower to fall to the ground with Lord Arval. It was impossible for him to have survived that fall and I felt horrified.

'He's gone. Lord Arval is gone.'

'I know,' said the Necromancer, who was putting a sharp knife back into a black, leather scabbard.

I was back on Earth, playing soccer. There was something important about the space created by the two white posts and white crossbar of the goal and the darkness beyond. I had to get the ball into that goal. The day was grey and the ground muddy, which meant the zombies that were playing for the other side had better traction than me. I was running and running and never did the ball fall in the right place for me to kick it through that goal. And I so very much desired to launch it with a powerful shot. Then I realised that the goddess was looking down at me, from above. She was a giantess and she loved me. The ball fell perfectly for me to smash it well beyond that white goal.

I was speaking in front of a large crowd of citizens from Carrick and explaining that although the Necromancer appeared evil, he was, in fact, good. This was because the world of the Twenty-Five kingdoms was a form of hell and the Necromancer was going to bring us all out of hell. Just as I thought I'd done well, the sun came out from behind the clouds. A vivid orange flower was suddenly visible within a cluster of vines; a beautiful woman in the crowd – Miya – was smiling at me with love; the scent of a delicious meal wafted over me; a falcon circled upwards on a rising thermal with extraordinarily delicate adjustments of its wingtips. Suddenly, I realised I was completely wrong. That the world could be a wonderful place and would be such a place with Miya victorious. I told the crowd so.

I was a god. Floating in space, I felt a blissful energy radiating from me as though I was a star. I knew that if I wanted, I could have whatever experiences I wanted. I could listen to intensely ecstatic music; I could have incredible sex; I could defeat all my enemies with less effort then raising an eyebrow. Yet I didn't want to move. I was perfectly happy basking in my godhead and feeling, too, the loving presence of another star nearby. Miya.

Scrithax was chasing me through my old school corridors. The demon god had taken the form of my old deputy-principal, Ailín Murphy. He did not bother to run, because every door handle I tried was locked. At last, I was trapped and with a sinister smile the demon flexed his fingers and closed the gap between us. He would have torn me to pieces and devoured me with his shark-like teeth, except that Miya stepped out of the wall behind me with a Protection from Evil 5 metres radius in place. Snarling, the demon could no longer hope to touch me and gave a painful scream before vanishing.

I was listening to Figus sing his epic song about me. The hall was full of the living and the dead, including Carlena; Parrin; Queen Rorgesta of Trolland; King Wace of Southway; the Arkine Empress; Queen Simara of the Underworld; Emperor Tokanaga; King William of Northway and many more. The Bard was brilliant and I had goosebumps in several places of the tale. At the end, Miya made me stand up and raised my right arm, an action that caused the whole hall to cheer loudly, including my former enemies.

I was at a practice golf range with the demon Scrithax and he was hitting a line of balls, one after the other, hard into the nets. There was an unpleasant sound each time the demon smacked through a ball and I realised he was decapitating my officers. They were buried neck high in the ground: Lord Arval; Figus; Leonora; Hernán… and the demon was standing at each, making a few practice swings and then cutting their heads off with his drive.

Appalled, I screamed, 'stop!' as he lined up on Jacintha.

'Why should I?' the demon only laughed, 'you put them here.'

Afterwards, when the demon had gone, Miya consoled me. 'Don't worry, all are reborn.' And she waved her arm towards a field where my officers had all grown from the ground and were ready to be released back to the world by my touch.

I was studying the menus and knew I was missing something. It was the chancellor's role. That role should not be left vacant because the chancellor could make civic decisions in my absence, including economic ones. Flushed with shame, I wanted the dream to end so that I could appoint someone to the role. Probably the carpenter who had become my shipbuilder. When I said this to Miya, she laughed and kissed me and I woke up.

After this last dream, I had hurried to the shipyard and asked Corrin, the master, to be Greyland's chancellor. A serious man, he talked over the responsibilities of the role with me for some time. When we eventually shook hands, I left confident that he was a good choice.

As for the other dreams, I discussed them with Sicaria as we took a ride northwards along the coast. Apart from two nights when she had preferred to take to our bed in the keep, I had been joined in the cathedral by Sicaria. She had never once dreamed of Miya.

'The messages I'm getting from the goddess are unmistakeable,' I said, keeping Goncendor on the path, despite his interest in moving closer to the sea to our left. 'She doesn't trust Scrithax and is making it clear the Necromancer will betray me. The one about him cutting the rope to kill Lord Arval was a terrible nightmare and an explicit warning.'

Sicaria looked sombre. 'That's a shame. I thought Miya was in favour of the alliance between our realms.'

'She was, initially. But evidently no longer.'

'Do you believe her dream messages?'

I thought about this while our horses walked along the sandy path, past trees that were bent over by the prevailing onshore wind. 'Honestly, I don't trust Scrithax. I do trust the Necromancer. And you, of course.'

'So Miya is lying to you about the Necromancer?' Sicaria's tone was harsh.

'Possibly. Or possibly she's warning me about Scrithax and is limited by the format of dreams, so that results in the Necromancer behaving as my enemy. It might not be lying, so much as trying the hammer home her message.'

'He's your friend, Sean. He admires you more than anyone else in this world and he is well aware how much he owes to your support. The Necromancer won't betray you.'

'Even if Scrithax demands it?'

'Even then. But our god won't.'

I could see from the look in Sicaria's eyes that she really believed the Necromancer would never turn against me. That was a relief and it was what I believed too, but perhaps without the same force of conviction. What if the Necromancer came to believe that the only way of ending the rule of the gods over the world was to take me out and finish the game as victor? I raised that point with my Assassin girlfriend.

'If he did believe that, the Necromancer would talk to you not attack you. He'd try to persuade you to hand over the control of all the realms whose menus you currently control.'

'Let me exercise Goncendor some more and think about this.' We had reached a beautiful stretch of coast, where the grass-covered dunes had evened out to a long, flat run of soft ground, perfect for a gallop. For several minutes I revelled in the powerful rhythm of my brave horse as he thumped his hooves down. When we eased up and Sicaria drew alongside again, I realised I felt quite strongly that I couldn't just give control to Scrithax and hope for the best.

'Whether Miya is misleading me or not, I can't see myself ever letting your god become the supreme deity, with so much power.'

'I understand,' Sicaria said, 'I'd feel the same if I were you.'

'But you trust him?'

'I do. All the people of the Kingdom of Lost Souls have been brought up to consider the game to be a version of hell and to see Scrithax not as a demon, but as a god who offers his people freedom. It would be a betrayal of us all if he kept the powers of the supreme deity.'

'Would he care though?'

'I believe he cares for his people – all people – very much.'

'I hope so. But I think we have to talk to Miya about this as soon as I can do more than experience her thoughts in dreams. Perhaps she is willing to end the game forever. And perhaps that's possible even without one of them being victorious?'

'A pleasant but unlikely scenario, given that it hasn't happened already.'

We rode along for a while in silence; I was too troubled to enjoy the fresh air and gait of Goncendor. Eventually, I turned about and suggested we ride back to Carrick.

'it's cruel, that the gods have so much power over us,' Sicaria said, 'but this is the first cycle where mortals have a chance to escape them.'

'And our two realms are united on this goal, even if we don't know how to achieve it.'

***

That afternoon the ambassador of the dwarven kingdom of Grimlar arrived at Carrick on a pony, leading a pack animal behind him. I was at the barracks, helping assemble a course to train Dexterity and felt somewhat dishevelled in the presence of someone wearing very a fine padded silk jacket: it was navy with abstract designs stitched on it with golden threads. The dwarf was middle-aged, with a fine deep-brown beard and sharp emerald eyes.

'Greetings, King Carlos, from King Olaf Bloodaxe of Grimlar. I am ambassador Rognvaldor.'

'Welcome ambassador Rognvaldor,' I straightened up and rolled my sleeves back down over my bare arms. 'Perhaps you would not object to some refreshment in the keep while I dress more appropriately for our meeting.'

'Refreshment would be very welcome,' the dwarf gave a deep chuckle, 'but no need to be over ceremonious. We dwarves appreciate hard work more than fine etiquette.'

I gave him a glance and could see his smile was sincere. 'In that case, let's go straight to the dining room in the keep.'

I took his pony by the bit and as we walked through the town, asked the dwarf about his journey and was heartened to learn that all was well at Texecal, from where my governor sent his greetings.

Having helped the ambassador dismount, I made to lead him to the dining room. Gabriella was already in the hall, twisting her apron and asking whether the visitor would like rabbit stew. But first Rognvaldor went to his pack mule and took a polished box from a saddle bag. Soon we were settled, eating the stew, with a bottle of wine on the table (one of my best, captured from Hailand) and that very interesting box between us.

'I'll be direct. King Olaf Bloodaxe believes it impossible for the dwarves to win this game. He – and his council – agree that the most favourable result from this position is a victory for you and Miya. You have proven yourself a friend of dwarves already, after releasing our citizens enslaved in the Underworld. And you defeated Hailand, when we were under their domination.

'Above all, we fear that the only other result will be a victory for Necromancer and the demon Scrithax will turn the world to hell and a place where his minions torture mortals for sport.

'King Olaf Bloodaxe therefore sends you this gift.' The ambassador pushed the box towards me and gave a nod.

While I unclipped two brass clasps, Rognvaldor took a deep drink of the wine and smacked his lips appreciatively.

In the box was a necklace of silver with a dozen blue sapphires.

'Go ahead, pick it up.'

I did.

Necklace of Cold Resistance

+1 Constitution

The wearer feels no discomfort in the cold.

All cold-based attacks do half normal damage.

'This is amazing, thank you.'

'We dwarves are not short of precious gems, though we have struggled with food supply and thus soldiers. You know why we chose to make you this particular gift?'

'In order that I can face Scarratharat, the dragon queen?'

The dwarf smiled. 'Exactly.'

Part II Chapter 81: Happy in Love; Happy in War

By every indicator, I should have woken up happy. Beside me was Sicaria, her dark brown hair fanned out on the pillow. It was still amazing to me that this woman, whom I was rather in awe of, should have chosen me for her lover and should give strong evidence of caring for me. On Earth, I'd dated a couple of great girls. But no woman on Earth that I knew had such an ability to read the people around her, not to mention having the litheness and combat skills of a level 12 Assassin. No former girlfriend was going to be able to assist me in battle the way that Sicaria had come to my aid against High Priest Cort at the battle of Nekis. Sicaria was the most independent, self-assured woman I'd ever met and I had to remind myself of my own achievements to allow myself to believe that I was worthy of her.

Happy in love. And happy in war. There was still no sign of an alliance forming against the Necromancer and I. In fact, unless the dwarves were running a complicated deception involving gifting me a fabulous magic item, the tide was flowing the other way. The surviving rulers were looking towards the end and choosing their preferred outcome between the Necromancer and I.

Happy in realm-building too. Having completed my research of Irrigation, I'd gained more than I'd hoped for. Not only did the research bring an immediate 10% increase in crop yield, but a menu box had opened offering me the option of settling 18 new farmers on reclaimed land (which was shown as mostly being around the estuary of the Darkwater, the river that marked the border between Greyland and Southway). Given that I had hit a cap on my number of farmers at 60, this was going to be a 30% increase in yields in due course. With my final fishing boat complete and crewed I was up to an effective 56 food units a day. Just one below my current requirements. And I still could look forward to the benefits of upgrading the farming tools to fine steel. I was five days away from having those.

Of my other timers, the new bank was just two days away; the level 2 curtain walls at Three Ways was five days from completion; literacy was at 7%; I had two new trebuchets, made of World Tree timber, waiting for the construction of a new, large tower at Three Ways; and most importantly of all, I was 61 days out from the Cathedral level 7. All my stores of raw materials were in good shape: I had an abundance of iron, timber and stone. My alchemists were working on the potions of Breathe Fire and I had set my research to Bowmaking 2 (11 days). My thinking was that perhaps the desire of World Tree timber to inflict harm would improve bows as well as large siege equipment and some archers wielding crossbows with extra range or damage or both would be very useful units.

Another source of satisfaction was that the level grinding of my senior officers was going well. From the report of my spies, I knew that no other realm had constructed the necessary buildings to unlock such a strong team of character classes. And by combining them at the ogre camp, I could see by checking their character sheets that they were accumulating XP at a steady rate: about 100 a day for those on lower levels. That meant Jacintha, (Sorceress), Brother Raymond (Summoner), and Abbot Hugues (Templar) had all reached level 6 and those who had started the grind on 6 were closing in on 7, including Leonora, whose level as Cleric might prove vital to the endgame. She was only 150 XP away from going up.

Really, the overall situation of Greyland was very strong. There was no comparison at all with the pathetic state of the realm that I had inherited on my arrival here. Not that I was patting myself on the back for that. The more important comparison was with the best of the other realms. Here, I doubted that even the Kingdom of Lost Souls was any better than Greyland. The Necromancer had lost some time having to rebuild after the fires in Nekis. He was, however, ahead of me if the goal was a level 9 building. His scriptorium level 8 would complete just a few days after my cathedral level 7, putting him a good three months ahead of me. On the other hand, he then would lose time having to research spells, while I gained the benefits of the new building immediately.

It was in thinking about the Necromancer that I came to my main reason for being unhappy, despite all the positives. I had torn loyalties. It seemed to me that I could win the game for Miya by eliminating the Necromancer. And for all this time, including some desperate moments where I was close to losing my life as well as the game, that was my goal: to win; to prove Carlena wrong and the goddess right about me; to save the people I was responsible for and bring about the victory they were willing to die for. Winning at any cost though?

The Necromancer had taken a risk in becoming my ally and had brought me back to power in Greyland. Not once had he let me down, nor acted against the spirit of our alliance. More than that, in his own sombre fashion, he'd become my close friend. We'd really gotten to know each other well and I admired him greatly for his loyalty to his people. I enjoyed it too when the Necromancer let me see glimpses of merriment in his manner. There had been rare and precious moments in which he had allowed his focus on the game to relax. I could not betray him. And I could not betray Sicaria.

On the other hand, I could not grant him victory, because that would mean trusting a demon. Everyone but the people of the Kingdom of Lost Souls believed that the Twenty-Five Kingdoms would become a playground for demons, a place of horror and torture, if Scrithax were to become the supreme being.

If neither conquering Nekis nor surrendering Carrick was an option, then what was the third way? My dilemma reminded me of the challenge to obtain the Lance of Light. Had I accepted the choices given, I would have failed that test. Did Miya want me to find another way? Were her dreams not so much urging me to turn on the Necromancer as reinforcing my belief that I should not hand the Twenty-Five kingdoms to Scrithax? Then there was the prophecy of the demon Argax: the seventh, the seventh will shatter the very firmament.

I would find a way to shatter the firmament, to break the menus, a way that did not involve either betrayal of my ally or trusting a demon.

Immediately on reaching this conclusion I felt a lot happier and even though I did not yet know what my solution would be, I got out of the huge bed with a sense of purpose. From those days when I had lived at Nekis, it had been my morning routine to exercise. By doing so, not only did I cap all my most important skills, but also I had a chance of getting an improvement to STR or DEX. And this routine had the advantage too that I was showing the army that I didn't exempt myself from the hard training we were all undergoing in order to sustain and widen our military lead over the other realms.

There was something else that drove me to put on armour and practice my battle skills though it was only just after dawn. Strange as it seemed, I preferred the hardship of campaigning to the ease of city life. The truth was, I'd even enjoyed the harsh winter siege we had endured in Cantreth. Living with the prospect of imminent battle, with an opponent and armies in the field against me, that gave me an intensity of existence that I relished. The comradeship, too, of being among soldiers who were as serious about warfare as I was – soldiers who knew what it meant to hold fast when sharp blades and fierce blows were raining down upon them – that was impossible to replace. The closest I could come to experiencing such solidarity again was to push myself hard in training at the barracks, surrounded by soldiers, many of them who had been at my side in battle and who understood exactly why we were working so hard.

As I dressed, I looked over my character sheet:

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Warlord, Level 14         HP 184          AC 20

Str16 (18)

Dex14 (15)

Con18 (20)

Int20

Wis18 (20)

Cha9

Magic items:

Lance of Light

+3 lance (+5 vs undead), +2 Wis, +2 Str, +5 Wield Lance, +5 Ride Warhorse, +5 Ride Flying Mount.

+2 Rapier

+1 Bow of Accuracy

+1 Dex, no long-range penalty

Bracers of Archery

+5 Wield Bow, +10% haste, +50% range

Amulet of the Bull +2 Con

Exp 7,330,000 (14,000,000)

Top Skills

Wield Longbow 70 (75)

Wield Lance 70 (75)

Ride Warhorse 70 (75)

Wield Rapier 70

Lightning Draw 70

Kick 70

Grapple 70

Climb 70

Lunge 70

Heavy Armour Mastery 70

Swim 70

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

Tactical Strike (Int)

Boots of Protection (+2)

Amulet of Protection from Magic Missiles

Coif of Swift Heal 15 hit points restored

Fan of the Four Winds Summon powerful wind once / day. Unlimited small gusts.

Potion of Remove Fear

+1 Cloak of Resistance

Necklace of Cold Resistance +1 Con, half damage from cold-based attacks.

Wisdom, Constitution and Intelligence were effectively capped. Although it was difficult and slow, I could still hope to improve my natural Strength and Dexterity.

On my opening the door to our bedroom, Sicaria stirred. 'Are you going to the training grounds?' she murmured.

'I am.'

'I'll see you there shortly.'

The first frost of the coming winter had given a glittering white coating to the roofs of the houses of Carrick and the city sparkled in the early sunshine. Perhaps it was my new determination to find an alternate way to end the game, or perhaps it was simply breathing the crisp air and appreciating the bright world about me, but I felt happy.

No one else was yet at the barracks training ground. Out of habit I followed my warmup with weight training, putting the Lance of Light to the side before I did so as it was a lot more likely that I would increase from 16 to 17 than from 18 to 19. I'd long ago surpassed the use of a set of dumbbells and kettlebells that our smith had made and I was working with bars with a range of heavy weights. Probably, I was doing thigh lifts of around 400 kilograms and pushing 200 kilos or more above my head. Back on Earth I'd be up there with the professional athletes. It was in moments like this, as I heaved the bar upwards, that I particularly missed General Strakigos: he and I had spent months on this kind of training, encouraging each other as we strained to the utmost.

By the time I'd done with weight training, my troops had finished their breakfast – fish or porridge – and were coming in to the barracks grounds, many of the veterans calling out greetings. Acknowledging each one, I did some sprints and then set my eye on the Dexterity course. For this, I stripped out of my armour.

'Want to make it more of a challenge?' Sicaria had arrived, dressed in her black blouse and dark leathers. Her hair was tied up in a black band, one with enough length that she could have wrapped it around her face, in which event she would have looked a lot like a ninja.

'Always.' I smiled across at her.

'You go clockwise, I'll go counter-clockwise. First one back is the winner.'

'Game on.'

'Three, two…' before completing her countdown, she started with a laugh, a leap ahead of me.

The balance beams I could take at top speed; same with the jumps over stepping stones. Then I slowed slightly to swerve between hanging bags that were filled with sand. Sprinting again, I leapt at the rope that carried me over a muddy pool. If I wanted to win – and I did – I had to figure out a way of bringing other stats into play than Dexterity: Sicaria was two or three points ahead of me there. Intelligence maybe? Treating the course like a puzzle might work: was there an unexpected move I could make? There was!

At the far end of the course, about the mid-point, was a large rope net that hung down from between two huge poles. These poles were supported by stanchions and this was my idea: that I could run up a stanchion to begin my traverse of the net from the top instead of taking the usual way via four spinning platforms to the bottom of the net. With that goal in mind, I ducked, leaped, ran, and climbed as fast as I could, conscious that on the opposite side, Sicaria was a little ahead. Conscious too, that dozens of soldiers had paused their own exercises to watch.

My new route worked well and I was half way across the net as Sicaria entered along the bottom. I would have given her a triumphant smile, but all her focus was on the footholds for her hands and feet. Mine too. Except that just as she passed beneath me, I felt a strong tug on my ankle. It came at the worst possible time. I missed my handhold and was gone.

You have taken 12 points of falling damage.

I'd landed on my right arm and it hurt.

'Oops.' Sicaria was leaping from the net to the spinning platforms.

'That's breaking the rules.'

She laughed. 'What rules?'

I got back up, but it was hopeless now. On completing the circuit, the soldiers present gave Sicaria a big cheer and although she was not one for public displays, she gave a bow. My own return to the start was greeted with ironic cheers.

Irritated by the pain in my arm, I nevertheless tried to offer gracious congratulations.

'Another? Swapping directions?' she offered.

It was good Dexterity training, even if I would probably suffer another defeat. So I agreed.

'First, though, I need a heal.' Walking over to my armour, I put on the Coif of Swift Heal and triggered the 15 hit point restoration it gave. The feel of the magic was cool and pleasant and I stretched my arm happily.'

'Sire! Pigeon sire!' A messenger ran up to the training grounds.

'On my way.' I put on all my wearable magic items and picked up the others, including the lance. There could be opportunist enemy spies in the city.

'Coming?' I asked Sicaria. She nodded and we walked briskly towards the dovecote.

By the time we arrived, the dovecote workers had gotten hold of the bird and extracted the message. Their chief was an elderly, white-haired woman who was proudly holding the pigeon and whispering to it.

'This one is from Nekis, sire, I call her Rea, she's one of our best.'

'Very good, and the message?'

'Here sire,' a young man stepped forward with the scrolled up paper and tiny writing.

Excellent news. I have a researched a spell that allows me to talk to Scrithax. Also, the ambassador from Shadow made me an offer, to stop you winning. We should meet up and talk.

Having passed the paper to Sicaria, I turned back to the dovecote workers and asked, 'have you scroll and pen? I'll write a message for one of the Necromancer's pigeons to carry.'

'Here sire,' the woman in charge of the dovecote carefully released her bird back into the large wicker space in which most of the pigeons resided and showed me her desk.

After I'd finished writing, I let Sicaria read the note and although for a moment her expression showed a flicker of anxiety, she rallied. 'Well, it has to be done sometime.'

Then I handed the message over, feeling eager for the challenge.

Well done. I had a similar offer from the dwarves. Let's rendezvous at Texecal in ten days. Bring the people and the items you need to fight dragons.

Part II Chapter 82: Questions for a Demon God

Early winter and Texecal was an even more beautiful city than I remembered from when we'd captured it the previous autumn. Massive level 2 walls should have made the city look overbearing, but it felt modest, slender even, in comparison to the background of snow-covered mountains that reached half way up a sky that was so pale a blue as to be almost white. Even higher than the great walls of the city was the massive ziggurat, which still had its shining copper gong on top.

Fanon had lined up his troops to greet us: 31 spearmen and 18 heavy infantry one side of the road, 61 light infantry with stone-embedded maces on the other.

The burly infantryman-turned-governor was beaming with a white smile out of his bushy beard and his thick eyebrows were raised high. As he walked over towards me, Fanon was clearly delighted to see me and I felt the same. Fanon had been one of my few experienced sergeants when I'd regained Carrick and I'd made him the first heavy infantryman in the new army. He'd fought well when in command of the troops at what now looked like a very inconsequential affair, the ambush of some of King Wace's troops between Montrose and the River Darkwater.

Back then, of course, even small skirmishes were in fact extremely consequential and the weapons we'd seized had allowed us to undertake a daring raid on Montrose itself, where Fanon had secured the gatehouse and then brought up troops to assist me at the town square. That same willingness to take initiative had been evident at the battle of Akad, when he'd seen that the right flank of Queen Simara's inferni army had collapsed after I'd used the Holy Light spell and he'd hurried his spearmen into the fray to take advantage of the opportunity. I'd missed him at the subsequent battles but Texecal was a long way from Greyland and had a significant proportion of the population who were irreconcilably hostile to my rule. The city had needed a firm, competent governor.

It was with a real feeling of comradeship then, that I leaned forward and clasped Fanon's arm. 'Good to see you again.'

'You too sire. Very good.' He met my eyes in a fashion that gave a heartfelt emphasis to those words, then let go, because Isabelle had ridden up, her long face lit up by the bright sky and also by her evident pleasure in meeting Fanon again. These two had been the first soldiers I had promoted to officers as I'd grown the Greyland army after regaining the menus and it seemed they had a strong bond.

After saluting the troops and leading the army to the main square of Texecal, I saw to the stabling of Goncendor and then allowed Fanon to take me up the ziggurat to where the former priests had rooms. One of them was to be mine, but also there was a carpeted chamber whose window looked towards the mountains and which provided a comfortable place to hold meetings.

There, having washed in a basin of cold water and eaten fresh bread and goats cheese, I settled down with a bottle of wine and two goblets for a long chat with Fanon. Although he had been able to count on the support of the ex-slaves, Fanon had encountered a persistent resistance to his control of the city. Greyland troops were never attacked outright, but the wealthier parts of the town could only be visited by our soldiers in large groups, otherwise the youths – sometimes lead by student priests – would gather and harass the Greyland troops.

Thanks to alerts from those less supportive of the former slave-owning regime, Fanon had been made aware of an underground movement, one that had been planning a rebellion. This had been almost exactly a year ago, and while Fanon had considered sending me a request for more troops, he had been kept up to date with news coming from traders from Montrose and knew that I needed every soldier I could get for the winter sieges in Cantreth. So, he'd maintained the troops in a state of high vigilance and in a fortified barracks, stocked with enough supplies to hold out in the face of a mass uprising.

At the time of the Hailand-Langia-Rockguard invasion of the Kingdom of Lost Souls, the rich citizens had become quite brazen, refusing to provide any goods or services to our soldiers and disobeying curfew regulations. But that visible discontent had all collapsed when news of the battle of Nekis reached Texecal. With demoralisation came splits and Fanon was able to jail a few ringleaders, expel all the priests and student priests, and rely on ex-slaves to manage the city.

After Fanon's impressive account of affairs at Texecal, I answered his questions, which were mostly about the battle of Nekis. I placed cheese and bread on the table to illustrate the positions of the various units and went over the details, pausing when I remembered the sacrifice of those who held up the army of Langia for the vital few minutes we needed.

'I'm sorry I wasn't there, sire. It sounds like it was hard going.'

'Very hard. But the Greyland soldiers were like lions. And they weren't going to run. If I hadn't come up in time, Carter and the heavy infantry would have died where they fought rather than allow the Langian army to hit our flanks.'

Fanon rubbed his beard beneath his lower lip as he studied the table. 'That was the most decisive victory. Let me congratulate you again.'

'Thank you.'

'Were you a king, in the world you came from?' He looked over somewhat apologetically, as though unsure if such a personal question was welcome.

I laughed and the smile he returned was one of relief. 'I was not. I was pretty low down in the world. A student of Occupational Therapy. That would be like… an apprentice herbalist or Cleric, or some role that helps heal people. Someone just learning the art, too. I wasn't yet much good at it.'

'You were young?'

'I was… I still am really. Twenty-two years old. Wait, twenty-four. My birthday is early summer, so I've missed two.'

'That surprises me.' Fanon leaned back and his chair creaked with the muscular weight of him. 'You act like someone much older.'

'I've had to. It came with the role.'

'Greyland is lucky you came. The old Carlos was a right horror. Always bad-tempered; you couldn't ever hope to please him. Not without hurting someone. Some people tried to win his favour by acts of cruelty they thought he'd approve of. Those of us with any integrity just stayed out of his way.'

'I'm glad I came. In my old world, I'd never have experienced anything as intense as the battles here. And I'd have never learned about myself, that I relish such moments. That I thrive in them. That it is here and leading soldiers like you, that I feel glad to be alive.'

'Well,' said Fanon, 'As far as I'm concerned, you're the kind of leader every soldier wants.'

'What kind of leader is that?' I asked.

'Someone who knows how to win.'

***

Three days after my arrival at Texecal, the army of the Kingdom of Lost Souls marched into the city. Or, more accurately, the human part of the army did; the zombies were stationed far enough away that the scent of decay that always accompanied them did not reach us. The same night, the Necromancer met me in a room deep in the ziggurat, one that allowed us some privacy for the ritual he was eager to perform. With us were Sicaria, two of his guards, and an unconscious inferni prisoner brought to the city from the Underworld.

By the amber light of half a dozen oil lanterns, the Necromancer painted a complex circular design in red on the floor, one that reminded me of a pentagram, although not as regular, and one that was filled with cryptic symbols.

'Thank you for facilitating my request,' he said as he worked. 'The spell I've learned requires a sacrifice and I don't think your people would approve.'

'I'm not sure I do, either.'

The Necromancer stopped painting. He looked at me and I shrugged.

The ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls squatted on the balls of his feet and turned serious eyes towards me. 'I thought you would want the opportunity to talk to Scrithax. From my perspective, it is very important that you do. On the other hand, I appreciate that the values of your realm are not the same as mine. We don't have to proceed. And this troublemaker can be returned to prison where he will probably die in due course.'

'Can you use an animal for the ritual instead?' I asked.

'Scrithax will occupy the body and speak to us through it. The body therefore needs vocal cords adapted to our languages. Even an ape's body wouldn't be able to manage that.'

'A parrot then?'

Sicaria gave a snort of laughter and a moment later the Necromancer smiled. 'The juxtaposition of the image of a powerful demon god and a lowly bird is intentionally amusing I'm sure. As is the thought of a god of Scrithax's immense authority speaking with the squawky voice of a parrot. I'm confident therefore that you don't need me to answer: that your words are in jest. In any event, we have no means of obtaining the bird, even if the spell would work.

'Leaving your humorous comment aside, the serious difficulty of requiring a sacrifice for this spell remains. Do you want me to proceed?'

I thought about this for a moment and looked at the prisoner. Sadly for him, it was essential that I speak with Scrithax now the opportunity had arisen. 'Keep going.'

While the Necromancer completed his summoning circle, I studied the walls of the room. This had been one of the inner chambers of the priests of Ketizquatocl, the evil god who had required regular sacrifices. Quite possibly the room had witnessed similar rituals in the past, as the walls had images of two-headed eagles tearing apart the bodies of bound captives, while figures in ornamental robes stood nearby, arms raised.

At last, the Necromancer was done and he straightened with a sigh of relief. Then he nodded to the guards who placed the prisoner in the centre of the design. To make the ritual easier, he'd been drugged into a stupor, which I was glad about. It would be very unpleasant watching your enemies make preparations to sacrifice you to their god.

'Now, please.' The Necromancer looked at his ambassador – my girlfriend – and the Assassin briskly stepped to the prisoner, avoiding stepping on the wet paint. Picking up a pale arm, Sicaria made a shallow cut along it and then resumed her place standing outside of the design.

'We must not damage the vocal cords, so no strangulation. And we must not have a pool of blood obliterate the pattern. Poison, therefore, is the best way to prepare the body.' Even as the Necromancer finished his heartless but practical explanation the inferni started to shiver and convulse; the arm, as it flapped about, was black. The prisoner started to inhale with difficult heavy rasping sounds. And all at once his entire body stiffened and he stopped struggling; it was as though he had been turned to stone.

The Necromancer began a chant.

Although we were deep inside a building where the light from the six lanterns was steady, it seemed to me as if they all dimmed. One or two nearly went out. A dark cloud filled the small space. Or was it my mind that was filled with the presence of darkness? The Necromancer ceased chanting.

Nothing. Everyone was looking at the body. After a long interval, which might only have been a minute as I was so keyed up, the corpse of the inferni gave a twitch; then another. His eyes were open.

Then, he pushed himself into a sitting position and head moving from side to side, said, 'I am Scrithax. I have granted your request. What do you wish to ask of me?'

The Necromancer, the two guards and even Sicaria were on their knees giving bows to the animated corpse. Appropriate enough, perhaps, if he was your god; I'd probably feel like doing the same in front of Miya. Out of politeness, I was tempted to join in but it would have felt false.

'My lord,' said the Necromancer, 'King Carlos is with us and has many questions that he wishes to learn the answers to and that only you can provide. May he ask them?'

'Speak, Carlos, worshipper of Miya, ally of the Kingdom of Lost Souls.'

I had lots of questions, of course, but the one that was crucial to my alliance with the Necromancer was to the fore of my thoughts. 'How do we break the power of the gods over this world?'

The corpse turned its blind eyes in my direction and there was a disturbing misalignment between its slack, expressionless face and the animated response of the demon. 'An excellent question, O friend of the Necromancer. No doubt you think that a god can do whatever He pleases. But what if it pleases a god not to be all powerful? And there are gods. And there are gods. The universe is full of pathetic gods whose worshippers have souls as worthless as those of worms. And the universe has a few mighty gods, whose worshippers have souls the strength of colliding stars.'

Expressions of awe and reverence were visible on the faces of the guards and even the Necromancer seemed much less authoritative than usual. For my part, though, I wondered if Scrithax could see me or only hear me? In any case, it seemed wise to hide any feeling of impatience that he was yet to give me a clear answer.

'You and the Necromancer, your ally, you deserve mighty gods. Twenty-five gods agreed to let one rise above them all. To let that one become a power unrivalled in the universe. Each made sacrifices in their own way, to give that one god a thousand years in which to bask in the glory of mastery over everything. But each reckoned their worshippers and their own traits to be superior to the others. And so we created the game.'

'Does this spell have a duration?' I whispered.

'Sssh!' The Necromancer looked angry at my interruption and Sicaria shook her head more by way of reprimand than as an answer.

'To answer your question,' said the demon, managing to project a certain tetchiness, even though the voice of the dead inferni, 'you need to understand that the gods voluntarily shackled themselves to the game. This was necessary, as even the good gods could not be trusted to honour the rules; the temptation to assist their people being too strong. And so we designed the Hall of the Gods. Only while in the Hall can the gods view and – subject to certain conditions being met in the Twenty-Five kingdoms – intervene in affairs here.

'The Hall of the Gods supresses our powers, to prevent cheating and to ensure that the winner does indeed take all. The way to end the game is to destroy the Hall of the Gods, which I will do when I am the supreme being. For that happy day to arise, you, all of you together, need to kill Scarratharat and take her heart, which is her menu. Then, King Carlos, you must allow the Necromancer to place a soldier in all the realms, including those who will surrender to you or be destroyed. That will bring this cycle to an end. But for the first time, the winning God will not wish to treat the Twenty-Five kingdoms as a playground. I will bring devastation to the Hall of the Gods and in doing so set my people free: set all beings free.

'Why would you do that?' I asked.

Although the Necromancer frowned and Sicaria looked at the painted floor, avoiding eye contact with me, I thought it a reasonable question. The demon seemed to agree, for his tone was conciliatory.

'I would bring the walls of the Hall crashing down for two reasons. One is that the game makes the Twenty-Five kingdoms a hell for its inhabitants, who are doomed to cycle after cycle of intense conflict and, for most realms, centuries of subjugation. I have empathy with mortals, especially those of the Kingdom of Lost Souls. My other reason is personal.' He paused and there was almost a laugh in the corpse's voice when the demon resumed speaking through it. 'I'm bored of the game. And I'm not the only god who is bored. I'd rather take back my invested power from the Hall of the Gods and create a new world to my own tastes. Yes. I would rather this, than the rare occurrence of being the supreme deity once every twenty-odd cycles.'

'I see.' And I didn't need Miya's dreams to tell me that this demon was not to be trusted. Even now, I could hear his enthusiasm for being the supreme deity. Would he really give up that power once he had it? Out of boredom? He wasn't likely to be bored once in possession of the powers he was describing.

For a while there was silence. It was cold enough in the room that I could see condensation from our breath had gathered on the walls, glistening in the flickering lamplight. 'Have you a question for me?' I asked.

The Necromancer looked over at me. 'The nature of the spell is that we must be ones who ask the questions.'

'Very well. Lord Scrithax, what question do you hope I will ask you next?'

The demon laughed and even the Necromancer lightened up enough to give me a smile. 'I hope you will ask me what reward will you obtain when I am supreme.'

'What reward will I obtain when you are supreme being?'

'Everything you have ever desired.'

'Can you bring back the dead?'

'In a manner of speaking, but alas, not in the sense you mean it. Those recently dead can return here as vampires or a lich, or some similarly powerful undead.' Whether he could see my expression or not, the demon knew his answer was far short of what I was thinking. Of course, I was thinking about my parents. That's all I desired, for them to be alive again. Everything else I wanted, I had already.

The dead inferni gave a spasm and said. 'All the souls of the Twenty-Five kingdoms are reborn each cycle. I can ensure that a child of the new cycle remembers their former life, but I cannot restore their former life.'

I found I had been holding my breath and I let it out now. It was time to be clear with this demon and with my allies that I was not going to gift him the game. 'If I were to say to you that I will not willingly allow you to be supreme being, that I will look for another way to break the game system, what would you say?'

'I would be disappointed.'

'Is there another way to end the game forever?'

'Necromancer.'

'My lord?'

'I must depart this frail vessel. End the spell. Thank you for your questions, King Carlos. Give due weight to my answers.'

With a gesture from the Necromancer, the corpse of the inferni slumped to the ground.

'I wonder,' I stood up. 'Does this spell require the summoned god to speak the truth?'

'I have no information about that. But Scrithax does not lie.'

'Nor did he want to answer my last question.'

Part II Chapter 83: Dragon Hunting

Waking with the dawn, I stood up, relishing the comfort provided by the dwarven necklace of Cold Resistance. We had marched up into the mountains from Texecal and it would have been very cold up here even in the summer. While Sicaria grumbled and drew an exposed foot back under the heavy furs that protected her from below-freezing temperatures, I dressed at my leisure, my breath clouding around me. Outside the tent it was another perfect day for dragon hunting. The pale blue sky was mostly clear but a few thin clouds, tinged pink by the dawn, stretched out among the peaks. They were drifting south west, which placed our camp in the lee of what wind there was.

My heavy boots crunching on grey shale, I first went to the main camp fire. There, Figus and Jacintha were heating up a large pan of porridge. They had been the final shift of our night watch rota and with the luxury of an uninterrupted sleep pattern came the duty of cooking oats in the morning. Looking into the pot, I picked up the large ladle and stirred the mixture, so as to prevent a crust forming at the edges of the porridge and to bring the dried porridge back into the centre, keeping everything smooth.

'Good morning sire,' said Figus, 'did you sleep well?'

'Not bad. Although I dreamed of Carlena. At least in my dream she was fairly civil.'

Jacintha – who had been learning her spells for the day from the book that Carlena had once owned – looked up, startled, causing me to feel that by mentioning the name of the former Sorceress I had broken some taboo. She closed the thick-leafed volume.

'Sorry,' I waved a hand. 'I didn't mean to disturb you.'

'No need to apologise, sire. It's just that when I was a child and showed an aptitude for magic, it was Carlena who began my apprenticeship. I looked up to her so much; we all did. It is almost impossible to believe that she abandoned us: that she is dead and I now have her spell book.'

I nodded and put the large ladle to the side. 'There was a general back on Earth, one of the greatest ever. And he promoted many officers from lowly ranks to great heights. To being kings even.' Both Figus and Jacintha were looking at me with interest. 'His name was Napoleon and he said something like this about the ambition of his officers, "great ambition is the passion of a great character. Those with it are either brilliant or despicable, depending on the cause they focus their ambition on." It was Carlena's tragedy to be more devoted to her own position in the world than to the people of Greyland.'

'Well put sire,' said Figus.

The Sorceress sighed. 'I know. Even back then there was a coldness, a lack of interest in my progress.'

I left Jacintha to resume her study of spells and went to the corral we had made from ropes for the horses and pack mules. As soon as he saw me, Goncendor walked over and affectionately pushed his long, heavy head into my shoulder. I gave him a few pats and told him it was a beautiful day for dragon hunting.

We were set up at a place I had called 'base camp' in the valley made by a cold, small stream, about a two hour trek below the snow line. And this was as far as the horses would go. They would be too vulnerable to the icy breath weapon of a dragon to bring them with us when we went further up the mountains. Because of time it took to travel to and from the camp, I really didn't get any opportunity to exercise Goncendor. Now though, seeing as I had perhaps an hour before everyone in the hunting party was ready, on impulse I led my stallion to the gate and mounted him. We could have a walk around the camp for a short while.

This was our fourth day at the camp and we had successfully fought a dragon already, which gave me considerable encouragement that the goal of killing Scarratharat was feasible. Since the Necromancer had no better plan and since no one at all had heard of the Hall of the Gods – let alone knew how to get there – we had decided to test ourselves against dragons with a view to eliminating their ruler. If the endgame involved having to control all 25 menus, then we had to complete this challenge. A few more battles by way of practice and we would be ready to go up against her.

As was often the case when I was exercising Goncendor, I fell into reviewing my menus for Greyland. Since completing Irrigation and equipping the farmers with fine steel tools, I'd made a very welcome discovery, which is that I had underestimated the impact of these achievements. I'd made my initial calculation based on the situation around the time of my return to Carrick and had simply multiplied the size of the food supply at that time by the percentage gains, each separately. But of course their effect was cumulative. And in particular the result of new land under the plough being followed by a 12% efficiency increase from using fine steel tools was that I had 2 more food units daily than I had anticipated. Instead of being behind my requirements (57 a day), I was ahead by 1. One daily food unit was more significant than it might have seemed. It was, in fact, enough to feed 13 people.

Rather than bring another 13 people onto the Greyland menu, I had offered to feed 6 giants if they would join me in the field. Boatloads of giants had been arriving at Carrick to have their curse removed and the first six to do so had readily agreed. They were with me now at the camp, the proud Lysegetus among them. The twelve other giants who had been cured of their curse had returned to their island with the promise to come and aid me if I sent word. Unfortunately, I just couldn't afford to feed more giants and they therefore had to tend their own fields. Still, the six giants I had with me were formidable and at least in terms of gold, cost me nothing.

I called up the Greyland summary.

Greyland

Economy

Currently building: Town Houses (24)

Currently upgrading: Church Level 7, 21 days 4 hours

Monthly trade income: 207 gold

Monthly tax income (high): 238 gold 3 silver

Monthly Army cost: 485 gold 5 silver

Treasury: 2,407 gold

Daily food consumption: 57 units

Grain yield: 446 units due in 12 weeks 2 days

Vegetable yield: 89 units due in 19 weeks 1 day

Wool yield: 12 bales due in 18 weeks 3 days

Meat yield: 9 units daily

Fish yield: 30 units daily

Daghada’s Cauldron 2 units daily

Timber yield: 23 planks daily

Iron yield: 5 ingots daily

Quarry yield: 13 blocks daily

Smithy yield:

Weaving yield:

Research: Printing

Literacy: 9%

Resources:

Wheat: 343 food units

Vegetables: 47 food units

Meat: 3 food units

Fish: 2 food units

Wool:

Timber: 285 units   World Tree Timber: 132 units

Iron: 32 ingots

Stone: 1,429 blocks

Cloth: 228 bolts

Civil Buildings:

Church 6

Espionage training centre 4

Hunting lodge 4

Monastery 4

Tower of the alchemists 4.

Scriptorium 3

Wizard’s tower 3

Forum 3

Lumber mill 2

Mines 2

Quarry 2

Sawmill 2

Aqueduct

Bakery

Bank

Brewery

Clothmakers workshop

Dovecote

Farm buildings

Fire Station

Hospital

Jewellery workshop

Leather workshop

Lens Making Workshop

Lighthouse

Public baths

School

Shipyard

Smithy

Town Housing (48 units)

The menu for the distribution of people showed: Farmers 78; Firefighters 4; Fishing Crew 140; Sailors 40; Builders 40; Shepherds 24; Hunters 80; Miners 84; Clothmakers 27; Bakers 40; Brewers 40; Carpenters 60; Stonemasons 60; Smiths 4; Researchers 4; Shipbuilders 10; Spies 20; Pigeon trainers 4; Lens Grinders 4; Lumber Mill 20; Lighthouse 8; School 4; idle 107.

Bowmaking II had completed, so even though I was already running at a slight loss, I commissioned 40 new crossbow soldiers, wielding bows made from the timber of the World Tree. My large treasury reassured me that I had months before the small discrepancy between army size and income became an issue. And while I did not want to lose a single man or woman, the fact was we were likely to do so at some point and this would balance the books.

Two other completions since my march out of Carrick were the level 2 walls at Three Ways and a new bank. The new bank gave me the option of borrowing money, which again favoured a strategy of spend now to keep the army growing rather than economise. And just to make sure the land route to Carrick was even more secure, my military building was now focused on a new tower at Three Ways to provide a platform for a World Tree trebuchet. That would be ready in 7 days.

For the city's construction, I had decided on 24 units of town houses, due in 14 days. I'd seen for myself how much cleaner and straighter were the streets around the town houses I'd already built in comparison to the winding, filthy alleys of the rest of the city. If we had an outbreak of disease or fire in Carrick, that might set me back hugely in the race to a level 9 building. I couldn't see any other buildings that I urgently needed to build. Therefore I resolved to embark on some risk mitigation and improve the houses throughout the city.

The all-important church timer was at 21 days to go to level 7.

Satisfied with the healthy, fairly well-balanced position of Greyland (although, as always, wishing for more food and gold income), I closed the menu and rode back to the camp for my share of the breakfast porridge. I'd eat heartily in preparation for the long day ahead.

***

Our walk up the mountains was invigorating. For me it was pure joy to climb higher and higher into the snow covered peaks, enjoying dramatic views back towards Texecal and the austere, sharp skyline ahead. Of course, I had the magic necklace and also the constitution of a bull. For some of the others the hard walking – climbing in places – was tough going.

Last of us all was the Necromancer and I dropped back to find him panting, heaving clouds of warm breath into the freezing air, red-faced from his exertions.

'Ahh, there you are Carlos. I'm sorry to be slowing us all up. I really don't know how you walk so fast in your heavy platemail armour. I find that I must take regular pauses to restore my heart and breathing to a steady rate.'

'What's your Constitution?'

'Seven.'

'That's the issue I think. Mine is twenty and my Strength is eighteen. Here, this might help.' I unclasped the necklace and handed it to him. Immediately, I felt the cold of the air around me and pulled my cloak tighter, so that the fur lining warmed my neck and shoulders.

'As always, dear friend, you are so generous. I will borrow your magical item, not only for personal benefit but in the hope this will allow me to progress more swiftly to the gain of us all. Do remember though, not to begin your battle with a dragon until you are wearing this valuable necklace once more.'

On and upwards we went. Although I felt the cold now, I also felt a surge of warmth throughout my whole body as I passed Sicaria on my way back to the front. Wrapped as she was in her black scarf, she said nothing. But she did glance at me with her intelligent grey eyes and extend her hand and when I raised mine, bumped fists with me.

At last, around midday, after clearing a rise, I caught sight of two dragons flying high above the mountains to our west. These were even taller peaks than the one we were on. None of this region was explored, there were no maps and no names for the mountains, so I simply pointed towards the dragons. Lord Arval came up to me, treading in the footsteps I'd left in the snow.

Shading his brow, he studied the skyline. 'I have them sire.'

Soon Valeria, our Ranger, was with us and then came the giants. The stragglers were spread out along the route below.

'What do you think?' I asked Valeria. 'How can we get closer to them?'

The Ranger took off a glove and ran her hand through her short, black spikes of hair, then wiped her forehead. Despite the cold, she had been sweating from the walk. Valeria pointed south west, 'I think we go back down that ridge to our right, then across that scree west of those rocks.'

'Do you think it's safe? For the Necromancer, I mean. Or a giant.'

'I do.'

'Well, if a level seven Ranger says so, I believe her.'

Pleased with the reminder that she had levelled up not so long ago, Valeria gave me a grin. 'I'll go first, if I may sire.'

'Lead on.'

With several loud whistles, I got the Necromancer's attention and with a Light spell making the blade burn bright waved the lance above my head. I gestured to the ridge we would be taking. There was no point the Necromancer coming all the way up to where I was standing and then descending the south west shoulder of the mountain when he could angle across from where he was now. A gesture of his arm indicated he understood and soon all those below me were altering their route to come to the ridge I was now taking.

As we closed in on the dragons, I kept an eye out for a place suitable for a battle. My preference was for a flat area yet with plenty of cover for the others. The tops of ridges were flat, but exposed. So after crossing the scree (perfectly safely, even the giants only dislodged one or two boulders), I assembled everyone in an area that was somewhat sloped but had plenty of stacks and large rocks, from where we tested spell ranges. I stood in the area I was likely to fight in while the Clerics found cover within healing range of me; the Int-casters the same for their offensive spells; and the giants and other warriors ensured they were within range of their missile weapons. There was no hope in hiding from a dragon, but if I had the aggro, it was important no one else got caught in the blast of cold that it could breathe upon us.

Taking back my necklace from a grateful Necromancer and then obtaining a Spirit of the Panther buff from Valeria, I climbed fast, watching the dragons, whose scales were visible now, glittering turquoise and blue whenever they caught the sun. With the extra range on my bow, I could hit a target more than half a kilometre away but I needed to be careful. If I pulled both dragons at the same time, that would be very dangerous. The subsequent fight would still be winnable, probably, but it would be one in which I could accidently get a lot of people killed. The dragons were smart and almost certainly one of them would break off from fighting me to kill our healers. I would probably also have to use my potions of Breathe Fire if I were up against two dragons, potions which I wanted to save for the boss fight.

At this distance, the dragons were splendid, beautiful creatures and it was almost a shame to hunt them. They were beating their way up, up far into the sky above and then as though sliding down the spiral of an invisible helter-skelter, curving back down to the mountain top. I waited patiently, until one of them suddenly swerved away and disappeared. Immediately, I released my arrow which flew on an elegant arc and caught the other dragon somewhere near a rear leg.

You have hit an Ice Dragon for 12 hit points.

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

Even at this distance, I felt the fury of the gaze of the dragon as it hurtled towards me. Laughing with the joy of being alive, I ran back down, triggering my feat Charge! for an additional 10 hit points and 45% movement, and concentrating fully on each foot placement. A twisted ankle now might be fatal. Fast as I was, I was barely in position – dropping the bow and using Quick Draw to equip the lance – when the dragon soared over me, blasting me with its breath weapon. For several seconds I was in a dizzying storm of ice shards.

Even with the protection of the necklace and my cloak, I took 36 damage. In a surprisingly tight turn, the dragon wheeled around to strike at me with claws as sharp as icicles and to bite with teeth like swords. I used my skills Defensive Stance and Stonewall. The roar of the monster shook the mountains and left my ears ringing. Not that I quailed, I struck at the monster again and again with the lance, concentrating on forcing the dragon's head away. It could not try to bite my head off without risking being impaled. Our frenzied exchanges saw me lose another 40 hit points (putting me on 154) while it lost 56.

My comrades had, quite rightly, been waiting for me to build up aggro and now they came in. The Necromancer's Cleric and Leonora both healed me, for a total of 17. A fire elemental from Brother Raymond melted a path through the snow as it rushed to batter the dragon with its fists. Arrows flickered and javelins from the giants thumped hard into the monster's flanks. From the Necromancer himself came a whirling deep purple mist as though ink were flowing through the air. Its constantly changing images were nightmarish and as it flowed around the dragon's head, the dragon noticeably slowed.

Clamping my teeth hard, I concentrated on defence, parrying claws and always the lance tip at the dragon's ferocious jaws. Our sustained onslaught was having a visible effect. Spears and arrows bristled from the dragon's body and the wounds I'd inflicted - mostly to its neck - were deep and bleeding. The roar of the dragon seemed now to have a mournful quality that echoed around the mountains. And all of a sudden the fight was over. With a final, human-like, groan the monster collapsed, head crashing into the stones; the dragon's last breath covering the ground around its nostrils with ice.

In Ice Dragon has been slain by Lysegetus, homoioi of Jekas!

You participated in the fight.

You have gained 280,000 Experience.

Perhaps because of my level, more than the proportion of damage I was delivering, I was gaining by far the most experience per kill. It was just a shame I needed over 6 million more for level 15 and a new feat. Still, Lord Arval was coming up to level 10 and Leonora was only a fraction short of level 7.

Hernán came running over, eyes blazing with excitement. 'Got him, sire! We got him.' It amused me to see his enthusiasm. But after all, only a year or so earlier he was a merchant's boy, leading slow-moving carts to town, now he was fighting dragons.

As the others emerged from cover and drew near, I studied the dragon. It was about fifteen metres long and the wingspan would have been about the same, though it was hard to tell now as they were crumpled. The massive head make me think of a crocodile, one with unusually large teeth. This reminded me that my alchemists wanted a dragon's tooth for potions of Dragon Strength. And that the whole camp would want to eat dragon stew tonight.

I ordered Hernán to get to cutting out some meat from the haunch, while I worked the lance into the jaw of the monster and started prising at teeth, searching for a loose one. While doing so, I felt a little guilty. Like I was spoiling something sacred. The dragon was a powerful monster, but it was also an intelligent creature and fabulous to watch in flight.

'Another success.' The Necromancer clapped his gloved hands together. 'This bodes well for Scarratharat, don't you think? When we take into account the potions of fire breathing, it seems to me that we can defeat the dragon queen.'

'It does. But Scarratharat probably has extra feats, or abilities, or spells that might upset our tactics. Do you know much about her?'

'I do not…' he paused. 'Well, there is a tale of the queen of the dragons negotiating with a former ruler of the Kingdom of Lost Souls, in the tale she took the form of a very tall woman.'

'Do you know anything about Scarrathat?' I asked Lysegetus, who had one boot on the monster's body and was pulling at the spear that had gone deep between the dragon's ribs and killed it.

'Not I,' his deep voice boomed. It was strange, seeing the huge man in the bright sunshine, his bronze breastplate and greaves shining and the horsehair plume of his helmet a vivid gold.

Lord Arval and Figus, having congratulated me, cast their heals. And together with six minutes of Regeneration from Leonora, and the 15hp heal from my coif, I was back to near full: 169 from 184. As I looked around the mountain tops for a sighting of the other dragon, I did wonder about whether we should stay here and battle it. It would save us some time to do so and probably if the fight went anything like the last two, we would win with me still above 50 hit points. But as soon as I thought of the risk (no heals, something goes wrong and I get killed) versus the reward (an extra day saved), I realised that to attempt another pull would be a mistake.

It took about an hour to cut up the meat and then we set off back down to base camp, with me carrying a large dragon tooth over my right shoulder. Sicaria caught up with me and took my left hand.

'King Carlos Dragonslayer is a suitably heroic name, don't you think?' she gave me a smile.

'It really does sound well, but I won't deserve it until we have slain Scarrathat.'

Part II Chapter 84: To Enter the Mind of a Dragon

An inhuman scream woke me from my dream. What was it? A horse. Horses. They were shrieking and neighing and running through the camp, their hooves hammering on the shale like warning drums. Sicaria was up even more quickly than me, shoving her arms into those of her black leather tunic and pulling straps. Fragments of dreams dispersing, I yanked my chainmail hauberk over my head, then put on the Coif of Healing, pulled on my boots, and snatched up the lance, my amulets, my rapier, and cloak.

By the time I'd reached the corral, I had put on my magic items. Only one horse was left. Goncendor. My brave stallion was staring wide-eyed into the darkness, neck braced, nostrils wide. He was edging one way, then another and although my voice seemed to help calm him, there was no doubt he was frightened. Frightened, but he had not fled. I patted his shoulder. 'True heroism, my friend, is facing your fears.'

I raised my voice and faced towards the threat. 'Who is there?'

Ahead of me was only silence. The terrified horses and mules had alerted the whole camp and from that direction was a great deal of sound and motion. Sicaria was already at my side and I saw Valeria on her way towards me, while there was shouting and the metallic ring of armour and weapons coming from among the tents. I cast Light and lifted the blazing lance tip high.

A very tall woman was standing about a hundred metres away. She was almost the size of a giant, but slender, dressed in deep blue robes and with long black hair. Her eyes had no whiteness, but were black circles on green orbs. 'You have eaten the flesh of my brothers. Know that I will eat you. All of you. My fangs will break your bones and I will savour your blood and brains.'

You have been subject to the psionic attack Stun

You have resisted Stun

Blood streamed from Sicaria's nose as she slumped to the ground and at exactly the same time Goncendor collapsed, his head thumping into the shale as he fell.

This could be a catastrophe. For a moment I just wished I could roll back time to before we decided on an expedition into the mountains. Yet to think like that was already a kind of surrender, an admission of defeat. And we weren't defeated yet.

'Your orders sire?' Jacintha had been on watch and had run up from my right, the far side from the camp.

'Keep away; tell everyone to set up for a dragon fight; get what cover you can. Lie down if necessary.'

'All animals are stupid; humans and horses are little more intelligent than sheep,' Scarrathat – for this sinister figure must be her in humanoid form – pointed at me. 'You at least have something extra. Let's see what it is.

You have been subject to the psionic attack Dominate

You have resisted Domination

My mind clouded over and when I could think again I was in a strange environment. Beneath my feet were the grey walls of a large maze, which I knew instinctively was representative of my brain, well, Carlos's brain. I could see for several kilometres as the whole area was bright: not that there were any lights, the entire region above me glowed white. Although the channels of the maze were deep and dark, it was very easy for me to step across the tops of them and walk to wherever I pleased.

'Where are you?' The voice of the woman was angry. I could hear the footsteps of someone running.

'Everywhere,' I replied and my voice gave a satisfying echo from all around … where … where. This strange world was enclosed.

The footsteps came closer, then turned away. Gripping the lance tightly, I leaped from wall to wall, closing in on the sound. As I moved, I could see that ahead of me was a pale blue stream of light, about the thickness of my arm, coming up from the maze and swirling higher and away. Moving to the source of the light, I realized that it was flowing from the head of Scarrathat, who despite her height only came half way up the walls.

Was she blind? Those green eyes were closed and her fingers were on the walls.

'I take it you are the dragon queen?' I said. It would be just about possible for me to stab down with the lance and hit her. But she could then easily duck away and there was a risk she might grab the lance and pull it off me or pull me into those dark corridors.

Immediately, the woman's head jerked up and her striking eyes opened, but she was not quite looking at me. 'I am Scarrathat. Who are you?'

'You can call me King Carlos.'

'That is an interesting turn of phrase.' Although confined to the narrow halls below, the dragon queen stepped quietly in my direction, I took a stride back across a corridor. Now she would have to run ten metres, find the turn and hurry back if she wanted to be directly underneath me. I couldn't see her any more, but the stream of blue showed me exactly where she was. 'Are you King Carlos? Because you don't seem to inhabit his mind. Are you a god assuming his body? Are you attempting to cheat in the game? That would explain a great deal, including why you didn't fall to my stun.'

'I'm not a god.'

'I don't believe you, but if you release me, I'll leave you and your people in peace and I will keep your secret from the other gods.'

Release her? That was interesting. She seemed to think that I had control over this situation? Did I? I looked all about me. The area above the maze was completely featureless. I could have been underneath an infinite, white sky, except I knew from the echo there was a roof not too far about me. The only motion was the flow of the misty blue light, which was not too far from away. Without much hope of learning something useful, but with nothing else to examine, I moved over to the stream and touched it.

'Stop that, you filthy animal!'

As my hand entered the blue light, I experienced a feeling that was tender, intimate, soulful. And there was resistance. But whatever was trying to stop me was not strong enough and I pushed it away, becoming more and more immersed in the blue until it seemed that I was forcing my way along a tunnel whose walls shimmered with aquamarine and turquoise gems. At the end of the tunnel was a chamber of translucent greens. No longer in the white chamber with the maze, it seemed as though I was stepping into one of those under-the-sea aquariums.

'Nooo!' There was one last scream from the dragon, accompanied by a push against my chest. But I clenched my teeth, forced my will upon her, and broke through.

I was the dragon.

My brother is trying to eat first. Fury runs through my body and I clamber over his back, precariously close to the edge of the nest. I'm aware of a long, cold drop to oblivion on the other side but I don't care. He has to understand. Of the four of us, I was the one who hatched first and I am the most powerful. When our mother returns with an animal in her claw, it is I who have the right to tear at the flesh first. The power to Stun reveals itself to me and I use it, over and over, until my brother's eyes are bleeding and he is unconscious on the floor of the nest, my two sisters looking at me with fear and retreating from the sheep that our mother has brought, waiting until I have had my fill. I laugh and laugh and laugh. My brother thought the time had come to supplant me. Instead, we have all discovered that I have a power he lacks. There will be no more challenges after today.

***

These are lean times. I still cannot fly and our mother comes back to the nest less often. Nor does she always bring us something to eat. Hunger is my constant companion and my thoughts always turn to flesh and blood and bone. Oh, how I would relish a bone to chew upon, to crack open for its marrow. In the depths of my suffering, I feel the hunger of my siblings and I discover a new power, the power to Dominate. My brother and sister are dragons and not easy to affect but I manage it by drawing upon the pain of hunger and upon my desire to live. Controlling two of them for long enough, we heave and push and drive our youngest sister up to the edge of the nest and push her off, screaming into the abyss. When our mother returns and discovers our sister has gone she spends hours flying into the darkness, into the snow storm. We can hear her, howling with anxiety and loss. My surviving brother and sister look at me with eyes full of hatred, but they will say nothing. They too want to live.

***

I can fly! I can fly! There is magic in these wings. The joy of flying is all that I hoped it would be and more. It is the most thrilling and liberating feeling. Again and again I throw myself down the mountain, down sheer drops that would have killed me in the past. Swift as lightning I plunge, until the strain on my wings threatens to rip them from my shoulders and until the slightest mistake would cause me to hurtle into the ground. Just as it seems I must smash my head open on the rocks, I pull myself out of the dive and screaming with happiness, soar high once more. Creatures of the world, know dread. For the most powerful Ice Dragon to have been born in the last thousand years is on the loose and hungry.

***

I am growing into my powers and my brother and sister often join me in the sky: our games are rough but teach us to fight. There is still no sign of psionic powers in the others, powers that our mother says mark me out to be queen of the dragons one day. She will not yet let us meet our brethren, because a full-grown dragon could destroy us and perhaps would wish to, rather than learn that a queen has been born.

***

My mother flies with me on our longest journey yet, to the moon. As we fly closer and closer to the silver disc, my body becomes lighter and then I feel a pull from the opposite direction to the mountains. The moon is below and the mountains are above. Here, the air is sweet and I feel full of energy. There are tantalising scents that make my appetite grow: many animals roam the bright plains, feeding on the grains that grow from a rich, iron-filled soil.

My mother sighs. 'This is our home, from which we have been exiled.'

She leads me to a building tall enough even for me to enter without having to lower my head. The interior is a mystery. A blankness. A block to my senses. I will not be able to enter there, I know. A spell wards against me and my kind.

There are two dozen beings gathered outside the tall building and from them rises a curious mix of scents: sulphur and honeysuckle; metal and rosewater.

'There you are at last.' A tall woman glares at me and I hesitate, sensing the power that radiates from her. No animals these but gods. Perhaps, if I caught one by surprise with the blast of ice that I can draw up with my mighty lungs… but no, any one of these gods is too powerful for me.

'Let's get on with it, I want to start,' says a demon.

The woman places her hand on my chest and performs a brief … ritual? And I have something new, a means of commanding the other dragons. I am Scarrathat, queen of the dragons!

'That's your menu,' says the goddess, as though listening to my thoughts. 'It's a boon and a curse. You now have the power to see information on all your dragons and to send them orders. But be warned, the rulers of the kingdoms below need your heart to win the game. Your role is to prevent anyone becoming victorious without having to level high enough to defeat you. In the event that there is a stalemate position reached, you and your dragons also have the task of ending the game by devouring the inhabitants of the world. You will know when that time has come, because you will be freed from the mountains to fly where you please.

'I am Scarrathat, I take orders from no one; not even a god! Remove your menu.'

The goddess yawned. 'If you like, but it will mean your death.'

I hated her. Wishing I could crunch my fangs through her skull, I nevertheless gave in to my fate. The land filling the sky above me was all I had known, yet now I had experienced the richness of the moon I didn't want to leave.

'Come,' said my mother, sounding as resigned as I.

I pulled back from the dragon's memories to stand above her again, in the maze that was somehow Carlos's brain. And I was full of excitement. That must have been the Hall of the Gods she remembered. So it was on the moon. And there was no vacuum between the Twenty-Five kingdoms and its moon: she could fly across. I'd made the mistake of seeing the moon through the eyes of someone from Earth, as a very large body a long way off. But having experienced the flight of the dragon, I now realised it was smaller than Ireland and very close, closer than a TV satellite.

'Dragon.'

'You dared occupy my mind. You disgusting beast.' She turned her blind head in my direction but made no move to draw nearer to me.

'Don't be a hypocrite Scarrathat, you were trying to do the same to me.'

'But I am a dragon and you are an animal. You are honoured if I take over your mind. I am humiliated.'

'Well, you have my apologies if you feel that way. But listen carefully now: we should be allies not enemies, because I want to tear down that hall I saw in your memories and destroy the game. Freedom from the menu, isn't that what you want? And if I succeed, all dragons can leave here and live on the moon once more.'

'The gods will never allow it. And they are far too strong to defeat, even for you.'

'Perhaps. But it might be that some of them are ready and willing to help me end the game.'

'Do such gods exist? Are you prepared to risk destruction on such a hope?'

That was a good question. If I turned up at the Hall of the Gods, looking to vandalise the place, I could easily end up blasted to pieces by a god, or killed in some fashion or other. And would I then return to Earth? I very much doubted it. But there was another consideration that for me meant the risk was worth taking. 'To stop each other from cheating,' I said, 'the gods have restricted themselves. Once inside the game, they can't assist their realms unless in limited ways allowed by the rules. The demon Scrithax explained this to me.

'Because I have built a church level six, for example, Miya can visit me in my dreams: providing I am sleeping in the church. They…'

'I know their power. You cannot hurt them.'

'You met them outside their hall. Inside is where they play the game and where I believe them to be weak.'

There was a very long pause, until the dragon queen lowered her head. 'Very well. Let me leave and I will carry you and one other to the Hall of the Gods.'

Part II Chapter 85: You Have Become Better at ‘Ride Flying Mount

'The gods are on the moon?' Figus sounded sceptical. 'I had always conceived of them as being more… unreachable. Outside of what to us seems real.'

'You are a philosopher, Figus, as befits a Bard.' Lord Arval shrugged. 'I believe they are up there.' He tipped his head up to view the bright moon. 'I used to think the devils were underground and the good gods were among the stars. But it makes sense that they are all together.

'Where I have doubts, however, is over whether our king should go there with the intention of destruction. That seems reckless and also irreverent. There's something about the idea that seems to violate my promise that my actions will never dishonour Miya.'

After Scarrathat had departed – promising to return at dawn to take me to the moon – I had called the Greyland officers and soldiers together along with the shadow giants and told them what I had learned. We were gathered around a large fire, whose amber and yellow light made the faces of everyone present more dramatic, with black pools of shadow for eyes and bright, shifting planes of colour on cheek and forehead.

'I am hoping that this is in accord with what Miya wants,' I answered. 'This is my ideal scenario: I reach the Hall of the Gods; I enter and find Miya; she confirms that she wants the game to end, for ever; with her help I destroy whatever allows the system to work; I return to you all and we live in a world without menus.' I nearly added and without gods but thought better of it.

There was a long silence, other than the sound of burned logs settling into the ash at the base of the fire, and then a sudden babble of questions.

'Without a menu the realm will break apart like a ship in a storm. How will we live? Who will give the orders?'

'Will we keep our levels?'

'What about magic, will magic still work?'

'What's to stop someone invading Greyland? War will continue, with or without the game.'

'What will we do if you die up there?'

'How can Miya oppose all the other gods, even with you at her side?'

'Can you trust the dragon? Won't she kill you once she has you alone?'

In the wake of the questions came answers, speculations, and an exchange of opinions that grew louder and louder. Although I was not following the detail of the various disagreements, I did concentrate on the tone of them. And that tone was of anxiety, dismay and doubt.

'Enough!'

Surprisingly, they all stopped talking. Now and again I was really struck by how much authority I had as king. Had this been a group of my friends back on Earth, we'd have never fallen silent like this mid-argument.

'They are all very good questions and I don't have an answer to any of them. My approach is guided by the following thought. I refuse to attack the Necromancer and I refuse to surrender to him. Therefore, we cannot win the game in the way it is supposed to be played. We have to find another way. Trying to break the mechanism of the game might be that other way. Or it might not be. But I have to try it because we have nothing else.'

Jacintha, who was normally so cheerful, sounded close to tears. 'What if your action causes the gods to be outraged and they destroy the world?'

'Be careful, King Carlos,' rumbled the deep voice of the giant Lysegetus, 'we Jekasoi know how cruel the gods can be.'

I felt angry. Not at Greyland's Sorceress, but at the gods. They really could wipe everyone from the world, either to finish with it, or to start the game over again. Argax's prophecy suggested they had done so in the past. The second kingdom descends from the mountain and the flesh of all will be eaten.

Perhaps it was because I came from Earth that I found that I couldn't stand the control that the gods had over me, over us all. We were pawns to vastly superior beings who could easily destroy all life in the Twenty-Five kingdoms. And much as I had enjoyed the game, I did not enjoy living with the prospect of an extinction event happening. 'That's possible,' I said honestly. 'But remember, I heard a goddess tell me – tell Scarrathat – that her dragons would be used to devour the inhabitants of the world in the event of a stalemate. We have to find a way out of this game. And if Miya is as kind as we all assume, she'll want that too.'

No one was satisfied. No one thought that my flying to confront the gods was a wildly exciting idea.

No one but me.

***

In dragon form, Scarrathat was huge, twice as large as the dragons we had fought. I sensed her joy in flight as she descended in circles, sun just emerging to colour the clouds pink, air cold and refreshing. And I knew of her contempt for us animals, her desire to chew on our bones. Still, we had a common cause and I had seen enough of her mind to know how much the dragon queen wished to be set free of the gods.

'Tell me, Carlos, how do you nerve yourself for this adventure?' The Necromancer was beside me in his purple shirt, tied tight at the neck with a scarlet silk cravat. His polished black leather boots shone, even in the dim morning light. Around his shoulders was a cloak lined with black fur. Very wise, as it was likely to be cold on our journey.

'I'm looking forward to it. Riding a dragon! It's been my ambition ever since I saw I had the Ride Flying Mount skill.'

Frowning and shielding his eyes from the new sun as he watched the dragon draw close, the Necromancer said, 'it's not so much the thought of sitting on that monster which unnerves me but the prospect of meeting the gods. The more I contemplate on the possibilities, the more I convince myself that I am an ant whose antenna are touching a boot and as I try to address that boot the owner lifts it and crushes me.'

'Did you ever see a blackbird defend its babies in the nest from a hawk?'

'I have not had that experience.'

With a loud 'whump' sound the dragon queen landed, the final beat of her wings sending shale skittering in all directions, some of the stones striking us. She looked over at me expectantly. Curiously, while each breath of the Necromancer and I sent clouds of mist into the air, the dragon's breathing was loud and odorous but showed no vapour.

'Well, the blackbird is heroically courageous. It launches itself at the larger bird with extraordinary bravery.' I began walking towards the dragon and after a moment the Necromancer followed. 'And the point is this: reason creates fear, passion abates it. Concentrate not on the many rational objections to our plan but your emotions. Summon up your anger at the cruelty of the gods. You believe this world to be hell. What does it feel like to have been put into hell by the gods? Not just you personally, but those you love, those you lead. For their sakes, be that blackbird.'

Running up the extended forearm of the dragon, I took hold of a fin-like protrusion of her spine and settled across her back. My position was somewhat like that for riding a horse, with the natural bone spines of the dragon equivalent to the pommel and cantel of a saddle. The dragon was much wider, of course, so my legs angled back, rather than splayed wide. Tying my bow and the lance securely, each attached to two spines, I felt that I was secure. Now I was all anticipation. It was a little like buckling up before going on a roller coaster ride, one that I knew would be frightening and yet exhilarating.

You have become better at Ride Flying Mount 2 (7)

'Like this.' I helped pull the Necromancer up to a suitable space for him to sit in; the one directly behind the spine at my back. Once he was settled, Scarrathat looked at us with green, contemptuous eyes. Then she turned to the slope of the mountainside and began to run downwards.

Gripping the spine in front of me with both hands, I swayed from side to side, feeling the cold air on my face as she ran faster and faster. And then with a flurry of beats from her wings that sent snow and stones swirling all around us, we were airborne. I was flying on the back of a dragon!

You have become better at Ride Flying Mount 3 (8)

Taking an anti-clockwise, gradual curving path the queen of the dragons began to ascend towards the moon above, which was losing its brightness as the sky became less indigo and more blue. Now our flight was smooth, I could take one hand off the dragon's spine to wave to everyone at the camp. Already they were far below us and I barely make out their motion as some of them waved back.

'Thank you Carlos, for that advice. I find, however, that after a few moments of indignation against the gods, my doubts return in full force. It also occurs to me to ask what happened to that brave blackbird in its fight with the hawk?'

'Ahh now, let's not get too pedantic. Try to enjoy the experience.'

'It was torn apart, wasn't it?'

***

After several hours of ascending, ascending, beat after beat of the dragon's wings, my legs were aching and I was regularly bringing them forwards or even, carefully holding tight to a spine, bringing my knees up to my chest for a break. This discomfort aside, the journey was extraordinary. We were high enough that I could see the entire flat square that was the world of the Twenty-Five kingdoms and its border of mist where the seas poured endlessly into the void.

Above us, the moon was growing larger and exerting more of a pull. My weight was diminishing all the while and there came a time when I felt myself to be floating and could see my own cloak drifting up around me. At no time had I felt the air become thin and if anything, it was richer, more easy to breathe than back at the mountain.

And then up was down and down was up. We were starting our descent.

Since I had experienced this before as the dragon, the change came as no surprise; it was natural even. From behind me, however, came a retching sound and rising slowly above us was a thin orange stream of vomit.

'Oh, do please excuse me. I believe I have managed to avoid being sick on you or the queen of dragons. I realised just in time that the contents of my stomach were likely to float in this strange region between land and moon where the attraction of both is evenly matched. So I aimed upwards.'

I laughed. 'Well done. Was that your high intelligence or wisdom coming in to play?'

As far as discomfort went, that was the worst over. For with the return of gravity as we grew closer to the moon's surface, along with the invigorating quality of the air, the ride became a real pleasure. Below, the details of the surface of the moon became clearer. There were pale white hills and silver rivers; there were ivory coloured lakes and cream coloured plains. And there were clearly artificial constructions, not least a grey circle from which radiated straight lines, twenty four of them. It was the circle towards which we were flying.

Down and down. The grey structure was a building and as we came closer it was clear that the monument was enormous. Dark roads arrived at the edge of a circle where a dozen steps around the perimeter led to a hall was surrounded by a line of tall pillars. We were closing in on a domed roof built of a scintillating white stone, one like marble flecked with quartz. For a moment it seemed as though Scarrathat intended to land on that roof, but gliding in just past the edge, a flurry of her wings brought her to a stop near a massive double door of bronze.

'Thank goodness that journey is at an end, my nightmares will be filled with this experience.' The Necromancer groaned as he brought a leg across the spine of the dragon so as to dismount.

'I rather enjoyed it,' I replied.

Probably, the effort had been arduous for Scarrathat, for she lay still with her head on the ground, chest rising and falling.

Having untied the lance and my bow, I slid down the dragon and for a moment thought about patting her, as I would Goncendor. I had been in the dragon's mind though and knew just how much she would hate that. So I confined myself to thanking her aloud.

'Well then,' the Necromancer straightened his cravat and I couldn't help but smile. He wanted to meet the gods in his usual fine style. 'Are we trying to enter with stealth, in the hope of seeing Scrithax or Miya before we encounter another god? Or are we brazen, walking boldly – though I confess for my part it will be an act – through the front door?'

'Let's just go in and see what's there.'

The Necromancer's mouth twitched. 'Do you remember the battle against the high priest of Kezatka, when he thought he had paralyzed us on the bridge?'

'Oh I do. He had read the stars incorrectly that day.'

'Well, after he ran away, I wanted to hurry back across the bridge to my army. To safety. But you… you charged after him, right into the hordes of enemy troops. What bravery.'

I laughed. That had been a great moment. 'I had Holy Light though. Three of them.'

'Even so. It was brave but it was also the right move. Not reckless; yours was a calculated risk. And the sight of you going into battle drew me on in your wake. For a moment I too was filled with that glee and wildness that seems to come over you when you fight. And I felt too a comradeship that I had never experienced before. Thus, I ran to guard your back and stand or fall beside you.'

I looked across at my friend and ally. 'I felt that comradeship too. The two of us in that small space. Hate-filled enemies all around us. Surviving because of the circle around us made by your zombies.'

'The reason I recall that moment here, is that I feel the same comradeship now. Although full of dread, I will follow you through those doors, even if it means my death.'

Until these words and the earnest expression that accompanied them, I realised I had been complacent about confronting the gods. For some reason, the possibility of my own death hadn't deterred me from feeling eager about the coming encounter. That I might get this honourable man killed was far more sobering.

'Neither of us know how the gods will greet us,' I said, 'and it may be that they destroy us in an instant. But what else can we do?'

'You could surrender your positions to me.'

'And trust Scrithax? I cannot do that. At least, until I understand better what is happening beyond those doors.'

'Then let us go find out.'

It was the Necromancer who led the way up the high stone steps, past the curving row of columns and who pushed at the bronze doors. They opened easily.

Part II Chapter 86: It’s not an Easy Matter to Meet your God

Peering inside, I saw that the interior of the building was one enormous room under a well-lit dome. At the centre was a massive square table holding a model of the Twenty Five Kingdoms. Each edge of the square had six chairs along it and all were occupied. The gods! Twenty-four human-looking people were chatting, laughing, arguing. It was hard to catch individual sentences but the overall tone was cheerful. The sounds reminded me of my old school at lunchtime, when several different groups of us would be talking. And in the same way that at school the noise very quickly abated when a teacher entered the room, one of the gods shouted, 'there's someone here!' and they all ceased talking to stare at us with looks of amazement.

'If it isn't King Carlos and the Necromancer!' A red-bearded man wearing a green tunic, hooded cloak, and a headband of ivy jumped to his feet. 'Welcome, welcome. You're the heroes of this current cycle.' He walked around the corner of the table that was to our left and waved us in. 'When you reach the end of your lives, we'll make you stars if you like, to shine on the world for a thousand years in memory of your achievements.'

'Daghada, god of Rockguard,' muttered the Necromancer.

I stepped properly into the hall and a smattering of applause greeted me. From my right, a small, bronze-skinned man in a cloak of green and yellow feathers hurried over and offered his hand. Although reluctant, I shook it, feeling the warm skin of a normal human.

'Well done on besting my high priest,' he said, squeezing my hand tight, 'I tried to warn him, but his skill at reading the stars was only seventeen. And your capture of Texecal was bravely done.' There was something about the man's manner that made these words feel deeply insincere.

As the god turned away to go back towards his seat, the Necromancer said, 'Ketizquatocl.'

'Miya was very fortunate to have you,' a woman in a white gown, long brown hair tied up on top of her head now spoke. 'I watched you training…'

'How dull, and how typical of you Asa, while the rest of us are looking at people having sex,' someone interjected, to laughter.

'I watched you training,' she repeated pointedly, 'and I was envious of Miya. Such dedication and determination. You must love your goddess very much?'

All this time I had been looking for the goddess of Greyland and I recognised Miya at last in the corner to my left. She was in her youngest form and there was something diminished about her. Gone was the long, blonde hair and ivy braids: her dull brown hair was shoulder length. Instead of a body that seemed to glow with vibrancy, she looked like an ordinary young woman; one with a cynical expression. In fact, all the gods appeared to be unexceptional. If they were dressed suitably and stood in the town square at Carrick, I wouldn't have noticed any of them at all.

What did Miya think of my being here? Did she welcome it? Was I right in hoping she wanted to end the game and that this was an opportunity to do so. Nothing in her demeanour gave me an answer.

'At a loss for words?' the white-dressed goddess, Asa, who was worshipped by the Arkines, gave me a smile. 'That's understandable. It must be intimidating, being in the presence of the gods. But if you can manage a sentence or two, you might tell us why you are here and how you avoided battle with the dragon queen. It seems as though instead of eating you, she has assisted you in coming here.'

There was definitely an edge to her words, and all around the great model of the world the gods' smiles were fading. Nor had it escaped my attention that there had been one god in a red silk cape over at the far side of the board who had done nothing but scowl at me with hostility since our arrival.

'We want you to stop the game. End it forever.' My words rang out around the hall more loudly than I'd anticipated.

Several of the gods laughed. The majority though looked annoyed.

'Tell him to go home, Miya, and finish the game properly.' Asa looked across the table to the goddess of Greyland.

Miya nodded. 'You should go… Don't anger my fellow gods.'

That was a discouraging answer and I stared at Miya, trying to see if somehow she had been coerced into saying it.

'My lord?' The Necromancer took two steps towards the table and I noticed the gods nearest to us shrink back, looking distinctly anxious as he neared them. The god that the Necromancer was addressing was in the middle of the left hand side of the game table. Scrithax was a fleshy, middle-aged man whose grey, thinning hair was held in a ponytail. He wore black trousers and a black tunic over a dark grey shirt. Hardly demonic, the paunchy man could have been one of my dad's old friends.

'Leave us, Necromancer. There's nothing for you here.'

'There has to be a way to destroy the game; help us.'

But Scrithax just shook his head.

The Necromancer turned back to me, his expression disconsolate. As he walked towards the door the scarlet-cloaked god from the far side of the room shouted: 'Wait!'

The god was tall, bearded and muscular. 'We can find out the winner right now. I assume we all agree it has to be Scrithax or Miya. Let's have these two duel and settle this cycle.'

'I don't agree,' said Asa, 'the Arkine Empire can still win: once Greyland and the Kingdom of Lost Souls war against each other.'

The powerful-looking male god laughed and several of the others chuckled. 'I think not. What do you say, King Carlos, can the Arkine Empire win?'

'You speak of making the Necromancer and I duel,' I replied coldly. 'We are here because we are resolved never to fight one another.'

'See,' he addressed Asa, 'they are not going to war with each other. Come on, let's finish this cycle and hope for better fortune in the next.'

'Who is that?' I asked the Necromancer.

'Jehu, god of Northway.'

With a frown, Asa looked at me for a long while. Then she said, 'very well. I agree.'

'Do we all agree?' Jehu asked the gods, ignoring my statement. 'Sathrat? Hanseto? Nyx? Bavrahanta? Yehlios? Daghada? Nebehkios?' Making sure he had the assent of everyone, Jehu then turned to the Necromancer and I. 'Congratulations, mortals, one of you will be the winner of this cycle. Let us now adjourn outside and watch you fight.'

'We will not be participating in any kind of duel,' said the Necromancer.

Jehu shook his head, the movement of his beard emphasising the motion. 'Scrithax, what are your wishes on this matter?'

The demon lord rubbed his chin. 'The Necromancer is level twelve. A serious disadvantage against a fourteenth level Warlord. Yet I would accept the duel. It will be a matter of whether King Carlos resists Necrotic Touch or not. And that is around a forty percent chance. So yes, yes, let's do this.'

'My lord,' said the Necromancer, 'I will not fight my friend and ally.'

'Ahhh come now.' Scrithax smiled knowingly. 'The alliance with Miya has served us very well. But now we have arrived at the moment where the issue is to be decided. You can win this duel and make me the supreme being for the next thousand years. You will be the most powerful human in the world. Everything you ever desired will be yours.'

'And what of your promise to end the game?'

There were several sniggers from the other gods and Scrithax smirked back at them. Then he saw the look of anger on the Necromancer's face and flapped his hands as though waving away a wasp, before sitting down and putting his feet up on the map near Nekis.

'After the invasion of Greyland by Trolland and Southway it seemed that Miya was bound to be eliminated. Neither her nor I wished for this. But how would a people loyal to a goddess of fertility and goodness become allies with a demon? My solution was to spread the growth of a philosophy that the diabolic was the path to true goodness.'

'This philosophy was purely pragmatic then?' The Necromancer's voice was steady, but it was bitter and I knew how hard he was striving to control himself. It was the voice I had heard when the Necromancer faced an enemy he was about to destroy.

'Well, I wouldn't put it that way.' Scrithax waved an arm around the table. 'None of us here are really good nor evil. Such terms are irrelevant here, where morality is effectively a matter of style. We choose our style of play and type of unit, but I'm not an evil god really…' He laughed. 'My demons are another matter. It's very hard to control them.'

'Just to be completely clear then,' the Necromancer swallowed. 'You do not intend to end this game if you are victorious?'

Scrithax looked at the roof, looked at the map, looked at Miya, then – momentarily – looked at the Necromancer. 'Don't take it so hard. You've been marvellous. I could not have hoped for a better ruler.'

A loud clap of his hands drew everyone's attention to Jehu, who said, 'And you, Miya, are willing to finish this game with a duel between your king and the Necromancer?'

Was that an attempt at an alluring look that she gave me? Stripped of her divine powers I could not see why I had found myself smitten by her presence. 'I appreciate the danger of Necrotic Touch, and several other spells that the Necromancer has learned. But King Carlos, you can stay away from him and fire your bow.'

'You won't help us end the game either?'

'Oh no. Not when I'm this close to victory.' She laughed, 'I thought I was eliminated. But with Scrithax's assistance… here are.' She gestured at the map. 'And you, well you and I have our little secret. I'm sure that you appreciate how well rewarded you will be when I'm supreme being. You can have whatever you want. Anything.'

My heart was pounding hard; I took a deep breath and tried to calm the rush of anger that had surged up in me as I had listened to Miya. 'You rewarded me with this lance because I wouldn't be forced to choose between two paths, both equally mistaken. Help me find a third way now. Because I will not duel the Necromancer and there's nothing you can say that will change my mind on this.'

'I'm sorry, my favourite mortal, this time there is no third way.'

Jehu leaned over the map and his voice boomed out with a severe edge. 'Unless the two of you fight, we will clear all mortals from the world and start again. Do you understand? You really do not want this game to end as a stalemate.'

'I want to try something,' I said in a very low voice. 'Are you with me?'

The Necromancer did not turn to look at me but he pulled off his gloves. 'Our gods have played us false, but you, my friend, have always been true. I'm with you, whatever you do.'

Using Lightning Draw I fitted an arrow to my Bow of Accuracy and released it to strike Asa in the throat. The shaft went through her neck; she fell to her knees, gripping at the edge of the map, while a thick stream of blood gushed from her nostrils. Unable to breathe, the goddess kicked frantically until she fell to her side.

You have hit the goddess Asa for 18 hit points.

You have killed the goddess Asa!

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

You have gained 1 million Experience.

'What have you done, you fool!' screamed a goddess I didn't know. 'She can't return to this instance of the universe.'

'Idiot mortal, don't you understand? We gods do not have our powers here in this room. Your arrows do us actual harm.' Daghada was red faced with shock and anger. 'You could have ruled the world. Had anything you wanted. Now you will be punished.' He walked swiftly towards the doors.

My next arrow went through the centre of his chest and there was time for his face to register surprise before he fell to the floor, blood pooling around his body.

You have hit the god Daghada for 16 hit points.

You have killed the god Daghada!

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

You have gained 1 million Experience.

All of a sudden everyone was scrambling to get under the map or behind their seats and the hall was filled with shouts and screams.

From the far end of the room, Jehu shouted, 'friends, Carlos is going to shoot his bow until he has slain us all. But we only need one of us to get outside that door and we can resume our powers and destroy him. So let's all rush at once. He will only be able to release one or two arrows.'

'The first of you to show yourselves will die!' My voice rolled around the hall and I could hear the power of my own threat. At the same time the Necromancer began to cast a spell, his arms waving and disturbing guttural sounds coming from his throat.

'You lead us, Jehu,' a goddess on my right called out.

'We all have to run for the door at the same time,' Jehu replied. Perhaps I should have killed him with my first shot instead of Asa, whom I had estimated to be the greatest threat based on her seeming to have a more serious approach to the game than the others.

The huge risk with my action was that the doors to the hall were large and opened easily. Even if I stood blocking the way with the lance, some of the gods would manage to scramble past and bring about disaster for me, for every mortal.

Jehu shouted again, 'prepare yourselves everyone. I will count down and we all must run. Three… two… one.'

Ready for him, as soon as Jehu stood up I released an arrow that flew straight into his right eye and brought him crashing down. Thankfully the rest of the gods had ignored his plan and were still cowering.

You have hit the god Jehu for 16 hit points.

You have killed the god Jehu!

You cannot become better at Wield Longbow.

You have gained 1 million Experience.

'Run now! Now! Jehu was right!' came a voice and three other gods broke cover, all from the front of the map, the row nearest us and the door.

The first I sent sprawling with an arrow mid chest, he was a stocky man and the hit didn't kill him immediately but he fell on his side, clawing at the ground in pain. Lightning Draw brought an arrow into place just in time for me to release it into the frightened face of a tall, thin, androgynous god who had sprinted fast enough to reach me. The third of the runners, a short woman, I used my Kick skill on, sending her crashing into the wall beside the door. Dropping the bow, I pulled the lance off my back and slashed off her head as she staggered to her feet.

I received the death notices for Hefarstus; Rysaka and Nebehkios. And their deaths were well timed, for the Necromancer finished his spell, which was to raise the dead as zombies. I'd ruined Nebehkios by decapitating her (had I known which spell he was using I'd have stabbed her with Lunge instead), but the bodies of the other four dead gods now rose slowly to their feet and shuffled to stand just behind us, lined across the door.

'We have to all go at the same time!' someone under the table shouted, panic very evident in her voice. 'If we wait, hoping someone else will take the risk, none of us will survive.'

'King Carlos!' another shouted, a male god. 'I'm Dverg, god of the dwarves. My people have always been friendly to yours, ever since you released the Dwarven slaves of the Underworld. We're not to blame for whatever makes you terrible and wrathful. Spare me please, King Carlos, I beg you.'

'Spare me too, King Carlos, Fahim and Greyland were never enemies.'

'Don't you understand?' I shouted back. 'I will rid the world of gods, good or evil, allies or enemies.'

'What words! What audacity!' said the Necromancer, 'before I met you, I could not have conceived of them. Now, I am determined to see them come true.' And he began to cast another spell.

Again the female god from under the middle of the map called out. 'We have to run. There is no reasoning with these two: they have lost their minds. This time everybody run. Everybody! It's our last chance. Five… four… three… two… one… Run! Run! Run!'

More than a dozen gods broke for cover and for the door. Triggering my feats Charge! and Tactical Strike I lined up Lunge so as to thrust the lance right through the stomach of one god and into the chest of the man holding her shoulders and pushing her ahead of him. Pulling the weapon out of the corpses, I used the haft of the lance to trip a man in a blue cape. Then I spun and cut off the head of a woman with long brown hair, strands of which floated down slowly even after her body had collapsed.

Seven gods were past me and at the door; two, though, were melting as a savage-looking Necromancer gripped tightly onto the arms of a man with his left hand and a woman with his right. The zombies blocking the door were too slow. A man lying on the ground was pulling hard at their legs and opening a space wide enough for someone to squeeze through.

I felt as though a precipice was opening up under my feet, one that I could do nothing to avoid. And then, from outside the building, came an enormous roar.

Beyond the door was a howling ice storm. With renewed hope, I realised that Scarratharat was assisting us with her breath weapon. Even though not one shard of ice was able to enter the building, to step beyond the magical protection of the doorway was to be torn apart by bullets of ice. An oriental-looking god risked it all the same, treading on the head of the man on the ground, tearing his kimono as a zombie grabbed it, and shoving himself beyond the doorframe. His upper body fell, blue, frozen and lacerated; his lower body writhed for several seconds before becoming still.

All the while I was chopping and stabbing, the screams of the dying gods ringing around the chamber more loudly than the storm outside. This was a strange fight. I was never in any danger of being hurt but the entire world of mortals would suffer should just one of these gods escape to assume their full powers. I could not relent and even though it was butchery, I killed them all.

Outside, the whirlwind of ice abated: the dragon was unable to sustain her blast of ice any more. It did not matter. Like a pile of gutted silver fish, the bodies of the dying gods quivered as blood leaked in all directions. As though a character from a horror film, the Necromancer was covered in gore and I realised that I was equally bloody.

He looked at me. 'I should be appalled. My mind should be reeling from this terrible act of deicide. And yet I find I am in full command of my emotions. As soon as you released your first arrow I knew what was to come and some part of me – the more daring part – was ready for it.'

I nodded and met his dark eyes. 'The gods are dead. And at our hands.' I moved the tip of the lance to point at the corpses. 'I make the body count twenty-two, including the zombies. You?'

A little anxious-looking now, the Necromancer did a count. 'The same.'

I hurried over to my bow, picked it up and nocked an arrow. Then I shouted, 'come out Miya and you, Scrithax.' For their bodies had not been among the dead.

Tentatively, the balding ponytail of Scrithax emerged as he crawled on all fours from underneath the table. A dishevelled and tearful Miya came after him. Both were pale and as Scrithax looked at the pile of bodies behind me, he visibly winced.

'What now?' he asked.

'Now you must die too,' replied the Necromancer, walking determinedly towards the demon god. All of a sudden, Scrithax started to run and his unexpected sprint gave him a lead on the Necromancer of about half the length of the table with the map. It didn't last, however. Red-faced and panting, by the time Scrithax came back down the other side of the table, the Necromancer had closed the gap and was able to slap two strong hands onto the shoulders of his god.

With a scream, Scrithax sank to his knees, and then his torso seemed to collapse.

'I thought all this sacrifice – all this war and death – I thought it was for you, so you could end the game and lead us out of hell. But you would have made the world a paradise for demons, agony for mortals. And a thousand years later, no one would have remembered. You could have played the same trick again.'

Scrithax was dead, his body merely a husk.

'If you kill me Sean,' said Miya, 'you'll never return to your old life.'

'What happens when a god dies? Where do you go?'

'There are infinite universes.'

'But you'll be unable to return to this one?'

'Sadly not. It was fun.'

My arrow struck her in the heart.

Part II Chapter 87: The Feat Options of a Level 15 Warlord

In the aftermath of the death of Miya, the hall was silent and the beat of my heart was no longer so fast or so loud. I lowered my bow.

'The tightest bonds are those of our own mind,' said the Necromancer, straightening up from the corpse of Scrithax. 'It had often occurred to me that our world would be a better place without the gods, but only as a fancy. After your arrow struck Asa was I able to act on the thought. Deicide as a concept was in my mind, but as an action, it would have been impossible. Thank you for daring to strike them down.'

The gods were dead. It was a thought that took some getting used to. 'Because I am an outsider, it didn't seem so… sacrilegious.'

'Indeed, that must have helped. In which case, Miya inadvertently brought about her own expulsion from this world,' the Necromancer smiled a grim smile, evidently enjoying the irony. Then he pulled on his black gloves and walked away from his dead god.

My menus were still working and I had a cascade of combat messages, including one that told me I had levelled up and had unlocked a new feat. That was interesting, exciting even, but it could wait as I had seen something more important, 'The realm menu system is still intact.'

With a faraway look in his eyes, the Necromancer stood still. 'Indeed, I have it too. What implication does this have for our next act? Do we try to smash this map? Or take a seat as though a god and alter the rules of the game in some way?'

'Taking a seat is a good idea… I think.' Stepping over two bodies, I went to the corner of the board that Miya had been sitting at and looked at her chair. It was identical to all the others, with four curved legs, a little like those of an animal, and a back that narrowed and widened like a figure 8. Sitting in the chair, I leaned my head against the upper rest.

You are not Miya. You may not access the World of the Twenty-Five kingdoms from this seat.

'I'm locked out. You try one?'

The Necromancer sat at the nearest chair and as soon as his head had touched the backrest, he called out, 'I may not enter.'

Giving up on the chair and instead examining the table in front of me, I could tell that the frame at least was metal. The model itself was a little softer; the material it was built from felt like plastic. Possibly, with a great deal of effort expended over a long time, I could smash it up with the lance. But I had my concerns about the wisdom of this and said, 'The fact that our menus are still working and yet we can't command the menus of a god is welcome news, I think. Because it means that even if someone else arrives at this hall, they won't be able to take over.'

'You are considering leaving the game without destroying it.'

'I am. Even now, we can't be sure of the consequence of our actions for the world below. Presumably, the magic of Clerics, Druids, Paladins and Bards and all those with a divine source of spells no longer works. But what if we inadvertently loosen all the magic that keeps the moon from falling, for example, and the seas from constantly flowing?'

The Necromancer stood up and began walking towards the door, carefully skirting pools of blood, even though he was covered in it. 'You are quite right my friend. Let us just leave the gods where they lie and let this building become their mausoleum. Perhaps we can continue to use the menus to our advantage, at the very least as a method of communication between ruler and ruled.'

With a last look at the carnage I had been responsible for – and no feelings of guilt, after all they would have destroyed the entire world for their sport – I followed the Necromancer out of the hall.

In her form as a very tall woman, Scarratharat was waiting just beyond the circle of steps. 'You know my mind,' she said, turning her green eyes to me. 'So you know the truth of these words. I no longer consider you an animal to be eaten but a dragon-friend. You too Necromancer. Your deeds deserve nothing less. By killing the gods you have allowed all dragons to return here. I never even imagined such a longed-for event was possible.'

'And everyone else?' I asked. 'Will you and your dragons live here on the moon and leave all mortals in peace?'

'I cannot speak for all dragons for all time, but so long as I am alive it will be so.'

'Thank you,' I said.

The Necromancer nodded solemnly. 'I thank you too, queen of the dragons.'

For a moment no one spoke, then Scarratharat looked at the Necromancer and back to me. 'What did it feel like? To be inside the hall with the gods, as you brought them down?'

While I thought about the answer, the Necromancer replied. 'At the time, I could not dwell on the monumental implications of my actions. It was necessary to give my full attention to the crisis: the slightest mistake and one of the gods would have escaped. Now the moment is in the past and cannot be undone I am beginning to feel the full weight of what has just happened and my part in it. At the time, I felt nothing; now I feel a sense of achievement. It is a wonderful thing to be able to say that I was there when King Carlos fought for the entire world of mortals to be rid of the gods.'

'I couldn't have done it without you.'

'Then we are both god-slayers. And I find that I am already feeling pride in that fact.'

***

During the long flight back to the Twenty-Five Kingdoms the Necromancer and I agreed to land near Texecal to wash in the River Sigrit before returning to the town and sending a rider to recall our people from the mountains. For my part, I was extremely concerned about the reaction of Lord Arval to being told that I had killed Miya. If I presented myself covered in blood and gave him the news without a proper context, there was a real danger he would be appalled, interpret my actions as diabolical, and our friendship – which I valued very much – would be lost.

It was fortunate that cold water was the best means of removing blood and even more fortunate that I owned a Necklace of Cold Resistance. Taking turns with the item, we could enter deep into the dark water and have the current assist in washing us clean. The near freezing temperature that otherwise would have been unbearable was, if anything, refreshing.

As I walked up and down the riverbank, to stay warm as the Necromancer took his turn, I read over the notifications that had flown past me during the battle. An important one was that which announced I had reached level 15.

You have hit the god Nyx for 14 hit points.

You have killed the god Nyx.

You cannot become better at Wield Lance.

You have gained 1 million Experience.

You have gained a level! Your hit points are restored and your timers on skills and feats have reset. Please view your character sheet for other benefits.

My hit points were at 204, an incredible figure. When I had entered the game, they had been 8. What a journey. Tempting as it was to spend my new attribute point on Charisma, mostly in order to impress Sicaria, I couldn't be sure the new age we were about to enter would be a peaceful one. In case I was called into battle again in the future, I spent the point on Dexterity, bringing me to a natural 15 and 16 with the Bow of Accuracy.

The same concern about the future led me to take seriously my choice of feats. No Warlord in the histories I'd read had reached level 15, so I couldn't be guided by my reading. Queen Toxota, who had been described in the very entertaining and informative book, The History of the War of Grimtooth Mountain, had been level 12. And if she had levelled up further after the period covered by the book, there was no record of it.

All three options were powerful and desirable.

Phantom Infantry. A contingent of 200 heavy infantry bearing the arms and insignia of your realm will join the battle with a roar as if emerging from hiding from a region within 500 metres of the you. These are illusory soldiers and will not do damage. They will, however, fight with great realism for one minute per level of the Warlord.

Message. Open the menu for one of your officers. For the next five minutes or until the menu box is closed, everything you say will be heard by your target as though you were standing beside the officer.

Blast of Fear. All enemies within 50 metres of you must test morale and if they fail, flee for a minute per level of the Warlord.

It was a real shame I could only choose one of these. In the end, I opted for Message. While the other two clearly had the potential to alter the course of battles, there seemed to be no limit on the range of Message: so not only would it be valuable in issuing orders while on the battlefield, I might also find it very useful in peace time. Even now, for example, I could let Lord Arval know to bring the expedition members back to Texecal. I held off from doing so, however, because I wanted to be able to see him and read his expression as I told the Paladin about the fight with the gods.

Looking over my realm's menus, one obvious decision to make was to halt the construction of the cathedral level 7. Instead, I started an upgrade for the harbour, to bring it to level 2, which would allow me to build five more fishing vessels and therefore expand the numbers on the menu. I no longer felt the same competitive pressure, the same sense of my imagined opponents racing ahead of me, but all the same, I wanted to future-proof Greyland against any unforeseen harmful consequences of removing all the gods.

When the Necromancer came out of the water, he offered me the magic necklace.

'Keep it until you have dried out a bit. I'm warmed up from walking.'

'Thank you.'

Side by side we approached the huge walls of Texecal from the west. As we neared the city, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The farmers and their families and workers were still out on the fields. Our banners still fluttered from the towers. High above me, a hawk drifted against the pale blue sky, while at the foot of hedgerows, rabbits cautiously hopped about and sniffed the air. It was hard to believe that a change so fundamental as the death of all the world's gods had taken place.

'At the end there,' said the Necromancer unexpectedly, 'Miya made the threat that without her, you could not return to your home. How do you feel about the fact you are stuck in this world?'

How did I feel?

'In the heat of the moment, I didn't care. Whatever the personal cost, I had to finish the rule of the gods over this world.'

'And now?' the Necromancer looked at me attentively.

'There is a lot I miss from Earth: mostly certain foods; drinks; entertainment. Nothing too important really. My parents were dead. I had some good friends, whom I will miss, definitely. But then, I've made even stronger friendships here and I've met Sicaria… I've never been in a relationship like it before.'

'I never knew my parents,' said the Necromancer. 'I was brought up in an academy for youths with a talent for necromancy. There were twelve of us, children that is. And three teachers: Brother Arredax; Sister Esterella; and Sister Joaxia. Brother Arredax is dead now, he was elderly at the time. But it was a family of sorts and I miss them.'

'What about the other children? What happened to them?'

'They still reside in Nekis, and sometimes I see invite them to the palace. But it's not the same. There is something about being a ruler that detaches you from everyone else. Even with General Strakigos and despite his easy-going nature, there was a barrier preventing us from becoming true friends, as equals.'

'I know,' I said, thinking of Lord Arval and Figus.

'Carlos, I'm sorry you cannot return home; but I'm very glad that you will remain among us.'

'We have a lot in common,' I said.

'Such as a love of chess.'

'There's that. Although I was thinking more that only the two of us know what it's like to kill a god.'

The Necromancer chuckled.

Once inside the city – past guards whose evident curiosity I did not satisfy – I went to the barracks and found Guy. First reassuring him that everyone was safe, I arranged for a pair of riders to find and recall the others from the mountain expedition and also for a large banquet to be held on their return.

'Something to celebrate, sire?'

I trusted Guy completely, but having agreed with the Necromancer not to tell anyone about the death of the gods until we had briefed our senior officers, I just said, 'I believe so Guy, but I am obliged to say nothing for now.'

'Very good sire,' and with a soldier's ability to put his questions to the side, Guy set out to arrange the feast.

Then I tried using my new feat, opening up the menu to Figus's character class and triggering Message.

'Figus, this is me, King Carlos, using my new feat. All is well. The Necromancer and I both live and have returned to Texecal. I have just sent two riders with orders for you all to return here. But I know everyone will be anxious for news. Please inform them we are both safe, that our mission was a success. Make sure to speak with Sicaria. Once this message has been confirmed by the riders, you can use your Swift Travel to return ahead of the others and bring Goncendor with you please…

'I've a lot to tell you for your epic; I might have a possible ending for you.'

Part II Chapter 88: The Judgement of a Paladin

By the time I met Lord Arval and the others, I had rehearsed my account several times over. We were gathered in a guardroom room above the northern gatehouse. Outside, it was a cold day and occasionally gusts of winds managed to penetrate the draughty lead-and-glass windows to stir the flames on the candelabra. Inside, though, the room had a large fireplace, in which a dozen logs burned. The guards usually stationed here had made the room comfortable too, with old carpets and an eclectic variety of chair, which is why I had chosen it.

'You are aware that the gods are gone?' I was standing near the fire and began when they were all seated.

There were murmurs and nods in response. Of course those – Lord Arval, Figus and Leonora – who prayed to her for their daily spells had noticed Miya's absence.

'I know you picture Miya as a kind, honourable goddess, representing the very best traits of us, such as the honesty of Lord Arval. And it may be, at some higher level, she exists in this way. But when I met the gods who were playing this game, Miya was nothing like the way we imagined her to be.'

I described the Hall of the Gods: how Scrithax had been lying to the Necromancer as a ruse thought up with Miya to unite our realms. How Jehu had demanded that we finish the game by fighting each other. How all the gods, Miya included, had threatened to kill all mortals unless we did so. How to them, good or evil was just a choice over their style of game play and type of unit. I told them how the Necromancer had stood by me and would not be tempted by Scrithax. All those listening were attentive, hardly even lifting a goblet to drink.

Over and over I found the focus of my gaze returning to Lord Arval. Having shaved off his beard, the Paladin looked much as he did when I had arrived in the world of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms, a little older perhaps, slightly more gaunt.

This fine man had been at my right hand ever since the first battle of Three Ways. I only had to ask myself what Lord Arval would do, and I knew the honourable answer to any question. My stomach felt like it was in the grip of a powerful tentacle at the thought of his anger as I readied myself to inform him that I had killed Miya. It had occurred to me that I could lie: make up a story about the gods agreeing to end the game and leave. But not only was I a poor liar, I'd learned to face difficult truths. If I made up a story now, those lies would become part of the mythology of our new world. People would not know the real nature of the gods. My actions had been right; the difficulty was to explain this to everyone, especially Lord Arval.

I continued to talk, conscious that the attention of everyone was on me. And at last, I came to the critical moment. 'Miya almost laughed and said, "sadly not, it has been fun". Then I shot her and she was banished from here, gone to another universe.'

No one stirred. 'That's all we were to the gods, a source of amusement. The fact that we had the same feelings and emotions as them, that we could love and suffer, meant nothing to any of them, good or evil. They would have set loose the dragons to devour every mortal on the surface of the world, just so as to start their game again. We are much, much better off without them. Now our future is entirely in our own hands. And Greyland above all can show the new world what is possible. We are the strongest realm and we have admirable values: no slavery; no sacrifices; no torture. Our new goal will be to maintain peace across the world and by example to show how to create a happy, prosperous world.'

That was a positive note to finish on and so I stopped, waiting, still in that grip of a terrible anxiety. No one spoke and I wasn't the only person who looked over at the Paladin. There was a deep flush developing over his face and even to his bald head. His eyes were blinking back tears. At last, he drew breath.

'I know you Sean de Courcy. I followed you over the bridge when you turned the fortunes of our realm around with victory over Trolland and Southway. I remember how you used your bulk to save us from the Toad Demon. How you won over the hostile giants of the Isle of Shadows.' He stood up, so as to be seen by everyone. 'For more than two hundred days, I was a prisoner of King Wace. And every day, they would beat me so as to keep my hit points just above zero. You came for me, as I knew you would, even though back then we were so few.'

Lord Arval gestured with his arm, 'You were with him then, Hérnan, and you Isabella, and you Fanon. You know him too. We all know him. Our king never gave up even when he had nothing. He reshaped himself and put himself in danger over and over again for our cause. And most importantly of all, he forged an unbreakable alliance with the Necromancer. I could never have done it. I couldn't have seen past the abhorrent magic to an honourable man who always acted in good faith.

'It is painful, it tears my heart, to learn that Miya was not the pure goddess of my prayers. But I believe Sean. Miya was playing the game, she was guiding us to win, not to create a world filled with goodness. That's our task now. Sean is right, Greyland can show the way. And the Kingdom of Lost Souls too. We've fought and marched with their people and they are no different to us. It's up to us now, us mortals. We can still achieve the kind of world we dreamed about.'

All the while Lord Arval had been speaking, the tension in me had been easing. A glorious happiness welled up inside me. He understood.

The Paladin came and stood before me and clasped my right arm at the elbow in the Greyland fashion. His blue eyes fixed on mine.

'Fear not, I'm still your comrade, with or without Miya. You came to us a good man and you stand before us now an even better one. My king, it has been an honour to share this journey with you.'

Epilogue

'What do you fancy, your majesty?'

The dinner time queue had formed for the residents of St Patrick's ward and the serving woman on the other side of the hot food counter smiled cheerfully at him. Beside her, another middle-aged woman gave a chuckle.

'Well, this is another splendid repast. My congratulations to the chef. If I might trouble you for a plate of lasagne and chips, with gravy – on just the chips mind. You could also give me a portion of that fine looking steak. Again with chips. I can't have too many chips. One of the many great inventions of this world, in my opinion.' Sliding his tray, already full, along the rail to the dessert counter Carlos clapped his hands.

'Excellent, apple pie and custard. And this is cheesecake? Another admirable creation. I'll have both and please add a few scoops of ice-cream.'

Bearing his laden tray with care – this body probably only had a Dexterity of 8 or less, not that he could tell without the menu – Carlos passed by several tables on his way to the extraordinary device they called a television.

'Psst, Sean, I mean Carlos, come and join me,' an elderly man with an unshaven, grizzled white stubble on his chin made room at his table.

'Just for a moment my friend. For A Game of Thrones is on shortly and I am agog to see the next episode.'

'You're the king, right? From another world?' the man leaned in conspiratorially.

'I am indeed, King Carlos of Greyland.'

'Right. Right.' He nodded wisely. 'I believe you.'

'Thank you my friend. Alas, you are the first. Everyone else sees the body of this commoner. This – pathetic – Sean person. It is quite demeaning. The youth lacks any skill or class. What mess he has made of my kingdom I can only hazard a guess at. No doubt we are overrun by our enemies or have a crisis of food supply.'

'My advice, say nothing. Keep your identity a secret. Or they'll never let you leave here. Play along.'

'Excellent advice, my friend, no doubt, except that I would rather be here than in Sean's small room with no food and no entertainment.'

For the next few minutes, King Carlos enjoyed his meal and even after filling himself, considered going back to the counter. The affable servants would indulge him with extra servings.

'Do you want to know why I'm here?' The elderly man gave a long, searching look around the ward to check that no one else was watching them, let alone listening.

'Not particularly, but as you have been so good as to believe me, I shall indulge you.'

The man's voice dropped to a whisper. 'I shot Michael Collins.'

'Who is Michael Collins?' King Carlos whispered back.

'Ahh, I forgot. You aren't from here. Sure, didn't Michael Collins sign the Treaty with England that left Ireland in an awful state altogether?'

'He was a ruler then, this Michael Collins? He had control of Ireland's menu?'

'Exactly, now you have it. Only I killed him. But don't tell anyone.'

King Carlos eyed his companion with disapproval. Was he really expected to show enthusiasm for the assassination of another ruler? 'I must watch A Game of Thrones.'

'Go on so.' The elderly man seemed disappointed that Carlos had not responded with more interest but King Carlos didn't care. He had a full stomach.

Author’s Note

This book began in the first week of January 2021 and ran for just over a year. It was my COVID project. And the fact that I managed to write so much whilst also working from home and doing family stuff owes a lot to the community that sprang up around the story on Royal Road and then Space Battles.

Thanks to every who commented and encouraged me. It was enormously motivating for me. Some of you are expert proof-readers and I consider myself very fortunate in having effective a crowd-sourced proof version of the text. I’m sure that over the course of 330,000 words there are still errors, but so many have been weeded out that it’s a near professional read.

Special thanks are due to those who support my writing on Patreon. Also to those who hit me up via PayPal for a cup of coffee or two. And to Mayors for the early maps, which really helped. Other very encouraging feedback and reviews came from many readers on Royal Road and Space Battles, including: Omkilorn, JasonFanastico, Pythraithia, DracoMorlock, Conteur, Lance Wheeler, E Anon, grovekeeper, General Peaceful, tfisb, Xolid, raulleite, Klaus, Red Jon, masada, Nomad1701, BrokenOlive, Angeuss, Tribbles, rose383, FuzzyBananas, argustthecat, blkov888, ForeignWriter, Raujour, simonatack, Gibster, Tuftears, Deo V, Malphaslnanis, Luigi Galaxy, todd, Cplumb, LordShea, Rukurock, Evilutionary, Borderline Valley, Greater thunder, The Orchestral Inventor, sdmx, EdgeCR, FunctionalityOfSystems, Aedrik Doubletree, Arafell, Tangent. My heartfelt thanks to everyone who took the trouble to write a review or positive comment.

Speaking of which, it makes a huge difference to the impact of a book on Amazon if it has a lot of positive ratings. That way the algorithm knows to put it before readers interested in similar titles. If you could take a moment to give Summoned! a rating that would be a big help to assist this book finding more readers.

There are lots of LitRPG communities that I am part of, mostly as a lurker on the look out for good recommendations.

The Reddit community around LitRPG is really lively and a great mix of discussion, memes, news and recommendations.

LitRPG Forum a terrific Facebook group, as is the related page LitRPG Reads (the former is better for discussions, the later for announcements). Another really lively Facebook group is LitRPG books. And LitRPG Releases is good for keeping up-to-date. Although smaller, LitRPG Reviews Group (Viewers Choice) is fun as is LitRPG Adventures: Reviews & Discussions.

I have a Discord.

To learn more about LitRPG, talk to authors including myself, and just have an awesome time, please join the LitRPG Group.

Other Writing

I have published one previous LitRPG book and it’s nothing like Summoned! I had the idea that The Wizard of Oz would make a good LitRPG story if we put a system over the world of Oz. Dorothy is a Sorceress; Scarecrow is a Bard, attempting to remove a Curse that has brought his Intelligence to 0; the Tin Woman needs an Atonement to get her Paladin class back and the Lioness is a Barbarian who cannot Rage.

The Wonderful LitRPG Wizard of Oz is just a very light bit of fun and I’m slightly shy of mentioning here after the epic that is Summoned! But unusually for a LitRPG book, it has been picked up by a traditional publisher (a Spanish one) and if that goes well, I will return to the idea for the sequel.

***

At the time of publishing this book, I’m currently at the beginning of another isekai LitRPG story on Royal Road. Summoned! To Grimworld (LitRPG, Base Building, 4x, Rimworld). This is a story whose game-system is inspired by the planet survival game, RimWorld.

Planet Earth's greatest - but unrecognised - artist, Marcus Korol, is mind swapped into a crashing spacecraft. Ejected to the surface of Grimworld, a planet with a base-building system, Marcus has to master the system in order to survive and prosper. Even if he can cope with the monsters and environmental dangers, there are warlike tribes to consider, twenty of them, in a complex arrangements of alliances. Staying alive, let alone prospering, is a daunting challenge that even a battle-hardened general would find daunting. Yet Marcus treats the situation with relish.

Marcus's one companion is another person summoned from Earth, a former princess, Duchess Sina Koskina: Sina is a young woman who has never done a serious day's work in her life. Having previously had servants for every task, Sina has no idea of her real abilities or talents, but she is keen to find out.

Marcus and Sina must find a way to work together, build a settlement, and master the strange system of the planet. If they can do so, they might even find and solve the Ultima quest that Grimworld is reputed to be host to.

And I’m also half way through a more traditional fantasy story on Royal Road, The White Dragon.

It is the year 472 and the Roman empire is still strong in an alternative Earth where magic exists. The Roman authorities hate and suppress the use of magic, which by its nature is wild and uncontrollable.

Unknown to the empress and her brother, rulers of the mighty empire, they have an enemy, one that is inexorable; destructive; remorseless; a conduit for elemental forces. By driving magic away, the Romans did not make it weaker, only wilder and darker. And now the White Dragon is back, the empire is at her mercy.

From a remote village in north Wales comes Arthyr, a beautiful young man of nineteen, who is the antithesis of Roman values. Yet the empress and her officers need his power over magic to assist their armies and face the White Dragon.

Sent to train in Roman boot camp, Arthyr is the most difficult, insubordinate recruit the Roman sergeant-majors have ever had to deal with.

Hopefully, if you’ve enjoyed Summoned! you'll enjoy following these other stories too as they develop.