--- Kandros

At a first glance, the tower looked like it had been abandoned for ages.

Kandros had followed a long trail of clues and shady characters until he had reached the village of Poles, around fifty miles West from Lyngard. Nobody among the locals seemed to be involved in any way with Rickhart, however, so the paladin was forced to stop his search for a while. That situation went on for a couple of days, until he found that some people had seen lights in the nearby guard post, a ruined building that dated back four or five centuries.

Since every step of his trip had pointed him in that direction, Kandros decided that the next step was probably investigating that forsaken place. He waited for the day and entered cautiously, checking if someone lay in ambush, but the tower was completely deserted.

From the dust and webs, I wouldn't say that people use it. Even still, I'm pretty sure the villagers weren't lying. Maybe a random traveler stopped here for a while?

Nearly everything made with wood had rotten away, including a ladder that lay scattered around, in a dozen pieces. The top was inaccessible, and a huge hole in the wall made the only room hazardous to live in. It was winter, after all, so the chilling wind and rain were free to enter.

Still, after rummaging a bit more, the paladin discovered a bedroll hidden behind the remains of an old table. He wasn't sure to who it belonged to, but it couldn't be there by chance.

This doesn't give me the idea that a person took shelter in this place for a night. It's more like... It's some sort of safe house for someone who doesn't like to be seen.

Signs of a campfire between the rubble confirmed his hypothesis. Maybe it was worth to scan the area for anything unusual. It only took a single sweep of Kandros' aura to identify what looked to be a fake stone in the floor.

"What's this?" murmured Kandros, moving it away.

There was a folded piece of paper inside the cavity, not that much else would have fit.

An encoded letter. I can't read it as it is, but there's also a drawing... This is the sea, definitely, and this square must be Lyngard. Let's say this scribble is a mark... The fords of the Sibrin? No, there aren't even villages in that area.

Yet, the map clearly pointed at that place, for some reason. The man huffed. He wasn't fond of taking chances.

"I see," he said, "This is the only lead I've got, it seems. I swore I would pursue this enemy no matter what, but... What if all this is just a treasure hunt where the prize is an empty box? This could totally be the work of small-time criminals at this point."

The clues were too few and too vague. What if the necromancer had nothing to do with that written message? Kandros took his head in his hands, went outside and glanced at the western horizon.

If Rickhart's trail brings me beyond the river, it will be impossible to find him.

He tried to figure out something more from the content of the paper, but solving ciphers wasn't his specialty at all. However, he spotted a detail he hadn't noticed before, a small circle near the marked spot.

It could be... A direction? No, it wouldn't make sense. What if it's...

A drip of sweat came down the paladin's forehead, as his eyes widened.

"The moon. It's... The full moon."

The ink seemed fairly recent, so... Maybe it was worth a check after all? Kandros hurried back to Poles, to retrieve his horse from the poor stable where he had left it. If the message was less than a month old, that meant he only had one day.

***

Barely containing the excitement, Kandros rode to the West. He made two stops to let his mount rest, so it wouldn't collapse on the road, though road wasn't exactly the correct term to describe it. Few people roamed in that direction. If the locals needed to cross the Sibrin, they usually followed it upstream with boats until the Grey Lake. Not that anyone would have had a reason to do it, apart from going to Greyhan.

As far as I know, that town is the last civilized place before the Steppes and most of its traffic is over the lake. It's much safer, with the Barbarians and all...

That region lay on the extreme border of the Kingdom, so it wasn't a secret that it had become a haven for smugglers and other scum in the last few centuries. Anyway, things hadn't always been like that. Many rulers of Cassidia had attempted at colonizing the lands ahead of the river, to extend their dominion even more. Being a preexisting settlement, Greyhan represented a good starting point. The fact that it was still there showed the effort of those people, who had stubbornly sent men and resources via land or water in the desperate hope that they could develop it into a stronger town, one that could endure the hostile environment.

But they knew life on that shore of the lake wasn't safe at all. The area had been razed by the Barbarians multiple times through the course of history, and every activity was basically relegated towards the water. There was no way to cultivate land with raiders constantly around.

The place where Kandros was headed, however, was the fords of the Sibrin, at least a hundred miles to the South. It was famous as the theatre of the famous battle between Lynn and the invaders, an event still remembered in the hearts of those who dwelled in Lyngard. Many hollow mounds, built in that age, stood near the river and were visible from a remarkable distance. The most interesting part about them was that they contained not only the corpses of the soldiers who fought for the Lords of the East, but also their enemies'. Judging from what the chroniclers said, it was a way to show respect for the Barbarians, who had fought valiantly despite their harmful intentions.

Nevertheless, the paladin hadn't traveled for a day straight just for a history lesson. Something was bound to happen that very night, or so he wanted to believe, because now he was completely out of ideas.

I'll approach with the darkness. It will act as a cover if I need to make an escape.

Since there were plenty of groves around, Kandros hid his horse and proceeded on foot. The sun was setting so he didn't need to be overly careful, but without even knowing if the enemy was already there it was better to avoid being detected for the time being.

He found a spot relatively close to the area of the mounds, and just let the hours pass.

***

It was very late when it finally happened.

As a servant of the Light, Kandros possessed many useful abilities, including spells that slightly increased his senses. He had been watching the fords from afar while checking from time to time that nobody was coming from the opposite direction, but when some lights appeared on the other side of the Sibrin the paladin took a breath of relief. At last, his long search seemed to have brought him to a concrete result.

A group of people carrying torches was crossing the river. With his enhanced sight the man could clearly see Barbarians and unidentified cloaked shapes blending together, all following those walking ahead.

That huge guy must be a chief... But who's the other one? Rickhart? If only he hadn't that hood, I could at least confirm his identity. Plenty of Lord Isaac's guests have described him in the detail.

The party counted at least thirty individuals, too many for Kandros to fight at once beside the necromancer. They reached the first mounds and some of them scattered around, while the main bulk advanced towards a clearance in the middle. Yet, from where he stood, the paladin couldn't observe them well. He had to get even closer.

Alright... Let's do this.

Having previously left behind every item that could make noises except for his sword, the man projected his aura in a way that would suppress his presence. It wouldn't have worked if the Barbarians had a shaman, but those people were rare enough to not bother about them too much. He slipped forward, stealthily, using the scarce vegetation and the mounds as cover, eluding the gaze of the guards easily and reaching a better place.

Yes! It's him, for sure. I'm really eager to see where this is going...

"We came all this way," said the Barbarian chief, in a surprisingly well-spoken way. "Now, show us if you don't want to lose your head."

"Fine, fine. I only need a couple more minutes of your patience, Shar," replied Rickhart.

Then, he snapped his fingers and four of his cultist arrived, carrying shovels and pickaxes. Without a word, they started digging the entrance of one of the mounds. While they worked, Kandros used another spell that constantly monitored his surroundings, to avoid being caught with his pants down by the foreign warriors.

What are they doing? They plan to desecrate graves? No way... Those people would see it as a sacrilege. Barbarians don't like when their dead aren't honoured properly... Now that I think about it, that must be why this place exists.

"Come, come!" exclaimed the necromancer, urging his followers to hurry.

They came out of the burial site with what seemed to be a mummified corpse. To whom it belonged, the paladin couldn't remotely say.

"This is... One of them. The ancient clan," observed the tall man. "You little... The souls of these warriors are going to get angry at us-"

"Fine by me," replied Rickhart. "Just stay there and watch."

He is going to use his magic.

The body's wrap was removed, and the young necromancer imposed his hands on its chest.

Wait... This is new. Usually, they do complex rituals even for...

One of the cloaked men took out a knife and cut his own throat, collapsing on the ground like a stone. Immediately after, the corpse began moving.

Impossible!

Kandros struggled to contain his disbelief. A reanimation, done without any formula and with a single sacrifice? Just what kind of magic had that guy at his disposal? He had never even heard of a spirit user who could do something similar.

He... He's dangerous.

The undead stood, moving like a real human being rather than a puppet. Either Rickhart had a crazy degree of control over his movements, or his powers were insanely developed. Nobody in the Holy City would have believed that such a thing could be practicable.

"One of your ancestors is here, Shar. Won't you give homage to his presence?"

Kneeling like he had just witnessed a miracle, the chief didn't answer. The corpse didn't move, it just glared at him with his lifeless eyes and nodded.

No, he just... Acknowledged him? It should be mindless! It must be Rickhart's doing. But if the Barbarians have never seen an undead, they...

As the paladin formulated that thought, the other warriors from the West did the same as their leader. That unprecedented, flawless display of power had fully convinced them that one of their proud forefathers was indeed walking among them again.

Rickhart smiled. "Stand before him, Shar."

"I... I can't even think properly right now, stranger," replied the other man, examining the body, which was even bigger than him. "He... He is alive, right?"

"Do you wish to speak with him?"

What? He can't do that!

Shar agreed and remained motionless, in front of the abomination, for at least a minute. Then, he bowed respectfully. The necromancer patted his shoulder and asked what did it say.

"He told... He told me the spirits of this place have kept their watch on us. They know we are brave and... Men! Come here! Remember this night! Those who died against Lynn... They are joining our side!"

Kandros' mouth went wide. The people of the West, usually prudent and distrustful towards strangers, had just fallen prey of a cruel trick. Rickhart had used the thing they valued the most, the respect for their ancestors, to make them tools for his scheme. And there wasn't any need to guess what his final goal was, at that point.

That man... He wasn't exaggerating when he threatened King Sebastian. He is going to wage war on Cassidia! I have to warn everyone...

"He was brought back by my power," explained the young necromancer, "But his companions won't join us without many sacrifices. A life for a life, that's all I'm asking for."

The chief took a step towards the caped man, growling. "Are you saying I should slay my own? Who then will-"

"No, don't misunderstand me. The warriors who sleep here won't allow any of your people shedding blood. Think of what they fought against. Think of who they must still hate."

"Cassidia..."

"Right. For every prisoner you bring me, one more of your ancestors will rise," explained Rickhart. "You should be able to take Greyhan by surprise if you attack now. There's plenty of people there."

"Yes..." replied the Barbarian, with a bloodlusty expression.

"Trusting me was a good choice, Shar. This is your chance to be remembered as the one who freed all the clans from the slavery of the East. Gather your forces, and your fathers will turn into an unstoppable army."

Shar had completely lost it. He literally was hanging from the necromancer's lips.

What can I do? What? If I turn back and run, many innocents who live in Greyhan will die for sure... But if I don't the entire kingdom could fall...

"Men! Hurry back! We'll help Rickhart! We'll help our ancestors! We'll take Lyngard and claim what's ours!" roared the chief. "Show our noble spirits how strong we have become!"

He was so excited that he even forgot that he didn't need to use the common tongue with his own clansmen. The paladin retreated hastily, without losing any more time. Shortly after, he had already left the area and was riding to Lyngard to raise the alarm.

This is bigger than me. Bigger than anyone. Makers, protect us.