The Martyr’s Rest was a relatively safe fortress compared to the rest of the undead-infested wasteland, though it does occasionally get unwanted groups of visitors. Because of such, it was mostly as a jump-off point by the humans to regroup and attack the undead lands rather than a place to stay and garrison.

Archpriest Agrianos wasn’t really surprised that the Varangians wanted to run off into the wasteland to beat the sense (if there were any) off the undead, but it started to worry him when they hadn’t reached back to him after vanishing for two weeks. The remaining northmen at the fort were very vague about what they were up to, and Agrianos wasn’t even sure if they had any idea where the main Varangian army was at since he hadn’t seen any northman messenger return to the fort.

“Archpriest Agrianos, I come bearing news of your Varangian mercenaries,” a Rhankish soldier announced when he entered the archpriest’s office.

“At last! Are they still alive?” Agrianos asked.

“Indeed, my lord. But it wasn’t us that found them first.” The soldier stood aside and allowed two armored warriors into the room, who then respectfully bowed to the archpriest.

“Greetings, Archpriest Agrianos. We’re Aviognese searists that answered the call to arms a long time ago. We wanted to pay respects to you earlier, but we were away from The Marty’rs Rest for quite some time,” an Aviognese warrior introduced. “I am Captain Rems of the Great Southern Company.”

“I’ve heard of the Great Southern Company and you, Captain Rems. I thought you fought for the king, so why are you here?” Agrianos asked.

“King Leosif wanted to have an official Rhankish presence during the course of the holy war, but he couldn’t go with his army. Besides, we’re getting paid to fight in the name of Humanos, so why not?”

Agrianos nodded solemnly before clearing his throat. “My messenger seem to imply that you found the Varangians.”

“Ah. Those men.” Rems scratched his neck with a doubtful face. He continued, “I’m not sure what to make of them. They claim that they have no food at all, but then they have over four hundred men stationed in their fort. No matter how much I ask, they would just deny the existence of any supplies holed up in their little castle of theirs so my company had to find food somewhere else. Rather than food or water, they seem fond of giving us exceptional weapons just for getting rid of some small groups of undead.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” Agrianos held his hand up and knitted his brows together. “Did you just say they have a fort of their own?”

“You are not aware? They’ve retaken a castle from the undead. The first time anyone on Humanos’ side to do so too. It’s caused a ruckus recently on other forts as well. My company set off from Triumphant Shield just to see if the rumors were true.”

“Triumphant Shield? That is certainly far.” Agrianos closed his eyes then fell into deep thoughts. When he opened his eyes again, he kneaded his forehead with a finger. “You mentioned that the Varangians were giving you weapons?”

“We only wanted information about the enemies, but they decided to give us more.” Rems took out his sword and placed it onto Agrianos’ table. Though the archpriest wasn’t a fighter so every sword basically looked the same to him, he could tell the sword was brand new despite its dull exterior. “I’ll return to Aviogna one day to get this decorated. All my men plan to, as well.”

“You’re not the only one?”

“Nay, lord. The Varangians would give small batches of swords per task. I wonder where they crap out these things like they’re nothing.”

Agrianos waved his hand away as if dismissing the captain’s thoughts. “It’s still troubling that they’re cut off from the supply lines. We need to deliver a caravan of supplies immediately.”

“Ah, yes. Food. My company stopped here to get some supplies, actually. The Varangians also wanted us to get more men ‘in preparation’.”

“In preparation for what?”

Rems shrugged and answered, “I’m not sure, Archpriest.”

Deep within Mount Varangia, there was a horde of monsterous frogmen armed with spears and axes. Their bodies were covered in small metal plates, some were even covered in chainmail. They marched into the long dark tunnels, columns of high troglodytes waded through the squirming low troglodyte swarm just to reach the end of the tunnels. When the high troglodytes finally got into position, they could only wait in anticipation.

On the sides of the tunnels were black square screens, and on the ceilings of the tunnels, there were flashing red lights.

The troglodytes checked their equipment one last time before the screens lit up, revealing a blue spotted troglodyte wearing a conical metal helmet. While the low troglodytes were very curious about the televisions up on the walls, their smarter cousins paid their full attention to the troglodyte.

“My fellow Gotters. Our kind has been oppressed by the Inners for too long! We must channel this generations-long anger towards those who reject the blessings of the Iron Lord! This is no longer a rebellion, brothers and sisters! This is a holy war! I, Razugotter, am proud and honored to be the one chosen by the Iron Lords to lead you all to this righteous war!” Razugotter announced.

The troglodytes stamped the end of their spears against the floor, chanting ‘We are the Chosen!’ repeatedly.

“Remember what we had planned, and do not surrender to the heretics!” Razugotter finished and the televisions turned off shortly afterwards.

The red lights stopped flashing, and turned green instead. At the same time, the gates at the end of the tunnels started opening. The troglodytes swarmed into the outer cave systems like a flood of water, and the stampeding feet of the angry frogmen could be heard from across the entire dungeon.

When the tunnels were emptied, the gates closed again. Spider drones hidden on the other end of the gates popped up and started stacking rocks together to hide the gates. Once they were done, they jumped back into their hiding holes.

Inside one of the tunnels, there was still a drone present. He stared at the end of the tunnel, frozen like a statue. Beside him were two horned troglodytes half his size. Unlike the blue-spotted Gotter troglodytes, these troglodytes had a silver skin. They clung onto the drone like little ducklings trying to catch their mother duck’s attention.

‘Princeps. The new Forward Outpost Unit is ready. Move it to the Kojan Forests with an army of drones, and use our personal homegrown organic vassals as auxiliaries.’

‘Finally.’