Victorian ran his hand along the stone wall as he climbed the stairs of the crypt. Awakened by the Devil’s servants just a short while ago, he was told to get dressed and – following a quick meal – to make ready for the promised journey. A chance for retribution, he was told, was finally at hand.

That fated time was now upon him. The last son of House Rotwald slowly made his way up from the bowels of the earth and towards a morning bright, knowing fully well that he could only expect more death from this point onwards.

All along the way he was shadowed by a single guard – a woman dressed in a blue robe. She didn’t talk to him when questioned, but Victorian reckoned that he had spent more than a day in the realm of the dead. With that in mind, the young paladin was very much looking forward to returning to the land of the living.

Even the sunlit graveyard seems like a welcome sight after the darkness of the crypt, he thought to himself as his eyes begun to adjust to the brightness of the world beyond the entrance of the tomb. But the sight that welcomed him at the end of his long climb was not at all what Victorian had expected.

As he emerged from the ancient tomb Victorian found a small army of the dead already assembled before its steps. Undead warriors in their hundreds had gathered themselves into a marching formation. Their withered bodies cast long shadows on the ground as the silent soldiers stood motionless, awaiting the order to head out into the wide world, in the name of Victorian’s vengeance.

“Does Lady Albrecht plan on leading this force into war?” Victorian asked the hooded figure escorting him.

As before, the woman remained silent.

Victorian’s concern grew as he counted the number of the dead.

At the front of the formation were some sixty death knights and their skeletal horse mounts, covered from head to tail in thick chain mail armor. The riders themselves were clad in full plate mail and carried long lances as their primary weapons.

“Shock cavalry,” Victorian noted. “Must be quite the experience to see death itself charging you down on the field of battle…”

Behind the two columns of shock cavalry stood the undead infantry. They were lined up in four columns, each a hundred dead men long. Compared to the death knights, the footmen were poorly armed and armored. Most of their clothes had long since rotten away and the bare bones that stuck out from beneath the rusted armor made for a sorry sight. The undead soldiers carried a variety of weapons ranging from swords and axes to halberds and pikes.

“A mix of light and heavy infantry, but I don’t see any archers among them. This is not a force fit for siege,” Victorian reasoned. “No, this is an escort party… but why is it so large?”

The young paladin picked up on the sound of footsteps echoing from the stairwell behind him. They were heavy and staggered – as if taken by someone either drunk or clumsy.

“This is but a small fraction of our Master’s power,” Lemmy boasted in his low, booming voice. The huge man slowly emerged from the darkness of the tomb and took up a position next to Victorian, overlooking the undead forces assembled below.

“If only you could see our legions on Ish’Talar!” Lord Grey said. “I bet that none of your human armies could go up against them and hope to win, no matter their size.”

Victorian felt skeptical of such a grand claim. “You talk about the matters of warfare as if you possess intimate knowledge on the subject. Out of curiosity – just how many campaigns have you fought in, Sir Grey?”

“Me?” Lemmy raised an eyebrow. “Why, I have been fighting for as long as I can remember, little man. I don’t believe that there is anyone else currently in the service to our master that has seen more bloodshed than me.”

The demon grinned, brimming with confidence. “You could say that my entire life has been one long war against the worst that the Oblivion has to offer.”

“But have you fought in an actual war?” Victorian persisted.

Lemmy frowned. “I thought that I just gave you my answer,” he said. “If you are trying to confuse me with your human logic, then I am not amused by the attempt.”

“That is not what he meant,” a woman’s voice coming from Lemmy’s emerald earring chimed in on their conversation. “Our new friend wants to know if you have taken part in a larger conflict, not just fought strong enemies on your own.”

Victorian nodded. “The lady of the earring is right, Sir Grey–”

“My name is Silphi!” the banshee protested.

“I apologize, my lady,” Victorian bowed his head and continued.

“Wars are far more difficult to win than individual encounters, Sir Grey. Sometimes one party might choose not to engage in open combat at all. Most commonly when their enemies are as powerful as you claim your – that is – our master’s armies to be.”

“Then they are cowards,” Lemmy announced. “No true warriors would ever serve a commander that avoids battle.”

“And that is how I know that you have never fought in a war,” Victorian said with confidence. “Nobles and duelists concern themselves with honor. Wars, on the other hand, are honorless – they are fought for victories, not ideals. Fighting honorably leaves you at a disadvantage. And if you can be expected to act in a certain way it becomes a weakness that your enemies can exploit.”

“Unless you are strong enough to win either way,” Lemmy objected.

“I have no doubt of your fighting prowess, Sir Grey,” Victorian said. “But, just like so many other warriors that I have met, you are overestimating your ability to carry the battle all by yourself.

To oversimplify warfare is to invite defeat. And fighting well does not always lead to a victory. That is to say that strength is not enough.

I don’t mean to insult you – you could probably easily beat me to a pulp if I ever did – but you are a warrior, not a war winner.

The strategists and tacticians win the wars, while warriors like us are merely the tools that they wield to that end. It is something that I have been reminded of over and over by my mentors: To fight without the certainty of victory is rash and a gamble, but a certain victory is always worth fighting for. Or something like that…

Lemmy furrowed his brow. “You sound quite confident in your appraisal of my character, little man. We might both serve the same master, but I have my own pride as a warrior to consider.”

“It is not your honor or your ability as a warrior that I have doubt in,” Victorian said as he stared down Lemmy, who was easily twice his size, without flinching. “But I have often seen those that are far more able than me fail because of their hubris. And if you cannot take advice from a fellow warrior to heart, then you are deeply flawed as a student of the martial arts.”

Lemmy and Victorian exchanged tense looks, waiting for the other party to make the next move.

“Is this advice of yours a sign that you are willing to train me, little man?” Lemmy asked. “Or are you just testing my patience?”

“It could be that I am trying to help,” Victorian admitted without looking away, “Unless you decide otherwise.

Then again, what are you going to do about it? Kill me? At this point I don’t even care anymore.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Lemmy burst out in hearty laughter. “I like your honesty.” He patted the young man on the back in a friendly gesture that sent Victorian reeling towards the edge of the steps.

“I wish that there were more people like you – not afraid of speaking truth.” He pointed to his emerald earring. “You could learn a thing or two from him, Silphi.”

“I refute that claim,” Silphi protested.

“Come,” Lemmy told Victorian as he once more placed his hand on the wounded man’s back, careful this time not to hurt him. “Let us head down there and join our master’s forces.”

“I assume that we will be traveling by horse?” Victorian asked.

“Well, we don’t have any of those fancy horse drawn box things–” Lemmy admitted.

“Carriages,” Silphi corrected him.

“Yes, those,” Lemmy shrugged, “Don’t have any ­– didn’t need any until now.”

It’s hard to gage the temper of this demon, Victorian thought to himself while listening to Lemmy’s long winded confession about how he has never actually ridden a horse before.

“Ah, and those must be the riding beasts,” Lemmy announced. He pointed at three slender figures dressed in dark blue robes, their faces obscured by the hoods of their clothes. They were leading an equal number of horses towards the crypt.

“Hmm, a lot of lean meat on the creatures,” Lemmy added, “I wonder how to best prepare them.”

“You don’t usually eat horses, Lemmy,” Silphi explained, “They are far more useful alive than dead.”

Victorian thanked the robed figure as it handed the reins of his horse over to him. As they exchanged silent nods, for a split second he could make out the features of the person beneath the hood.

Why does it feel like I know her?

A strange presence clouded his mind and Victorian grabbed hold of the edge of the hood. He pulled it back revealing the face of a young brown haired woman. In his haste, he had ruffled her long silky hair, leaving it a tangled mess.

The woman took Victorian by the hand and stared at him in silence, waiting for the young paladin to let go of her clothes.

“Why does it feel like we’ve met?” Victorian asked.

“Please release me,” the woman politely requested as it had become apparent that Victorian was not about to let her go of her on his own volition.

Victorian felt a strange sensation of warmth emanating from her hand. His confusion grew to a point where he no longer understood why he had grabbed hold of her in the first place.

Victorian finally recovered from his shock and let go of her clothes. “I am sorry about that,” he said. “I don’t know why I acted so rashly. I was surprised… It’s just that–”

“There is nothing to forgive, Lord Rotwald,” the woman said. She bowed her head. “I should not have been hiding my face when I approached you.”

Did she just call me a Lord? Who is she? “How do you know my name?”

“We have all been made aware of you, Lord Rotwald,” the woman explained. “Lady Albrech has instructed us to treat you as a friend and according to your position.”

The girl curtsied like a true lady. “My name is Leonora,” she introduced herself.

“Leonora is one of our master’s handmaidens,” Silphi explained as she emerged in all of her ghostly glory from Lemmy’s earring. She flew over behind Leonora’s back.

“Lower your head for a moment, my dear,” she ordered the girl in a soft voice. She then set about fixing her hair.

“Handmaidens?” Victorian asked. “For the Devil?”

“Yes, handmaidens,” Silphi reiterated, “They are our master’s personal servants. The handmaidens tend to her needs, day and night.”

Feeling the necessity to explain the situation further, she continued, “Is it so strange to find that our master has servants attending her? She is very busy, you know.”

“No, it’s just that I am surprised to find them to be human,” Victorian said. He quickly glanced at Silphi, Sir Grey and then at the undead army assembled before the steps of the tomb.

“I mean, Lady Albrecht has all of you…

“Do not underestimate them, Lord Rotwald,” Silphi said as she put the finishing touches on Leonora’s hair. “The Devil’s handmaidens might not look as seasoned warriors, but that is the whole point. Trust me when I say that these girls know how to kill.”

“Show him what you can do,” the banshee ordered.

“But Lady Silphi…”

“That is an order.”

Before Victorian could react, Leonora had drawn a dagger from the sleeve of her robe and positioned the edge of the blade at his throat. He could feel the weapon touch his skin.

“They are one of our most versatile agents, Lord Rotwald,” Silphi explained.

“You can lower the dagger now, Leonora.”

“Yes, My Lady,” the handmaiden said and withdrew the blade.

“I apologize, Lord Rotwald,” Leonora averted her look as she spoke. She was desperately trying to hide the fact that she was blushing.

“Are they spies?” Victorian asked.

Silphi carefully drew the hood back over Leonora’s head to avoid disturbing her long hair. “Assassins, spies, and brides – they are whatever our master needs them to be in order to achieve her goals.”

That’s a cold hearted way to describe living people, Victorian thought.

“You mean to say that these women are to be used as tools for political games?” he asked.

Silphi sighed, “That is such a simple way to put it. I would prefer calling them assets over tools. In the end, aren’t we all?

I am certain that you understand, Lord Rotwald, that there are goals that require more than just strength to achieve; tasks that someone like Lemmy could never perform.

Sometimes to get what you need you have to find a way to avoid fighting in the first place. A dagger in the dark can kill more men than a hundred swords by daylight. Whispers in a king’s court can echo louder than his own exalted words. And, thanks to the way that your human society works, a single marriage can bring over an entire house to our side. Without the need for bloodshed, I should add.

Is it not the same thing that you were trying to explain to Lemmy just a moment ago? That war is not fought and won with bravery alone; that the wise and patient can overcome overwhelming power?”

“It does sound similar,” Lemmy added.

“It is the same,” Victorian conceded.

Would it have bothered me any less if the Devil’s assassins had not turned out to be women? Why do I still find it so hard to accept? The logic behind the choice of the gender was sound, but he still could not agree with it on a deeply personal level. Maybe I just don’t want to see that potential for cruelty in them…

Victorian’s gaze followed Leonora as she returned to the other handmaidens. The twelve women were gathering next to the steps of the crypt, quietly awaiting the arrival of their master.

Why does it feel like I have met her before?

The sudden rush of emotions bothered Victorian, but his concerns would have to wait.

“Your forces have been assembled, Master,” a polite man’s voice announced from atop of the stairs.

Lady Albrecht emerged from the tomb, closely followed by the necromancer, Boniface.

Compared to her plain attire when Victorian had last seen her, Diana now radiated an aura of splendor and wealth. Lady Albrecht wore a long crimson mantle over her shoulders to guard against the cold winds. She carried a gold tiara on her head and wore as gold necklace around her neck. It had the largest ruby that he had ever seen nestled in the middle of it.

Her majestic presence left him speechless. Victorian could do nothing but look on in awe as she walked past him.

Lemmy assisted Diana with mounting her horse. He then struggled with climbing onto his own.

“Are you going to make us wait?” he asked Victorian while fighting with his stirrups.

“Right…” Victorian answered and went for his horse.

Just as he had eased himself into the saddle, Victorian was approached by Bones.

“Lord Boniface, I presume,” Victorian addressed him with the proper courtesy.

“Lord Rotwald,” the necromancer returned the kindness. “I was hoping to pass on to you a few words of advice, if you would lend me your ears.”

Victorian nodded.

Lord Boniface gestured for Victorian to lean in closer.

“You might think that the vengeance you were promised is going to be the end of it,” Boniface whispered. “I would certainly expect you to be aware of nothing else right now. I know how dominating such a concern can be on a human mind… But you have to understand that by sparing your life we have set into motion a number of catastrophes.”

“Catastrophes?” Victorian asked. “What do you mean?”

“To be honest, it would be better for everyone involved if you were to simply disappear,” Bones told him. “We have already set plans into motion – plans that don’t concern you, but would be made harder to accomplish with you present.”

Victorian was confused. “You want me to run away?” he asked.

Boniface shook his head. “Not run away,” he whispered, “No. I would like to politely ask you to die.”

The young paladin felt the bone fingers of the necromancer tightening around the reigns of his horse. There was an unspoken sense of cold hostility emanating from Boniface.

“I don’t understand,” Victorian said.

“Just consider that you have but one life to give,” Boniface said, “One life to lose.

But if you carry out you vengeance, then I can promise you that it the price for it will be great. And that it will not be you who will end up paying it.

Boniface let go of the reigns and stepped back. “Consider your actions carefully, Lord Rotwald. The lives of your people now rest in your hands.”

As the army set out for the Rotwald estates, Victorian spent his time thinking about the necromancer’s parting words. He was at once terrified and confused about his request.

What will it cost? he wondered. What is my life worth…

***

It was still early in the morning as Diana, the demon-turned man Leonard Grey and Victorian rode side by side down the lone dirt road leading out of the swamp. The sun slowly rose behind them, for the last time casting warm light over the crumbling ruins of the haunted graveyard as they set out on their quest to avenge Victorian’s family.

Their horses kept an even pace so that Diana and Victorian could hold their conversation.

Meanwhile Lemmy was having some difficulty controlling his steed and was increasingly falling behind. It was easy to tell that it was his first time riding a horse as he swayed back and forth in his saddle, desperately pulling the reigns from one side to the other in an attempt and steer his mount in the desired direction.

“Lemmy?” Diana looked back at her struggling minion, “You are slowing us down.”

“I am terribly sorry, Master.” The demon labored to nudge his mount onward with great difficulty. “This walking meat larder is hard to steer.”

“It is quite alright, Lemmy,” Diana said. “I understand.”

The Devil gave the disobedient beast a stern look. “Follow,” she commanded the horse.

In response to her command, Lemmy’s horse calmed down and fell in behind Diana’s mount, matching its pace.

“Let go of the reigns,” Diana advised Lemmy. “Just let it carry you on our first journey. You can learn how to ride horses some other time.”

“I will, Master,” Lemmy promised. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience…” He slumped in his saddle, relieved that he no longer had to fight the stubborn beast.

“Have you considered our previous conversation?” Diana asked as she once more turned her attention to Victorian.

“I have thought about it,” Victoriana admitted. “But I would be lying if I told you that I had made sense of it all.

I have given many oaths to the Temple, Lady Albrecht–,” he said.

“Please, call me Diana,” the Devil said.

Victorian nodded.

“But it would seem that my faith in the gods did nothing to protect me. I paid my dues to the Temple; I worshiped at the altars of the Seven, but they stood silent even as my family was betrayed and cut down like animals.

I was asked to believe without questioning the grand design, and now I have all but betrayed my faith.

Have I failed their test?” he asked. “Have I made a mistake?”

Maybe I should have died? Victorian pondered. He once more considered the parting words of Lord Boniface. Maybe I was meant to die that night?

“Blind faith is dangerous,” Diana said. “And so is dwelling in the past.

If I were you, I would focus on the future. You should just accept that you have survived to fight another day and make the best of it. ”

“I have sold my soul for vengeance,” Victorian said. “How is that not a failure? How am I not less of a man for doing it?”

“Well, it’s not that simple,” Diana said.

“I have promised you my soul,” Victorian said. “I have pledged my eternal spirit to–” he gestured dismissively at the undead army following them, “–to whatever this is.”

“Those are simple arcane constructs,” Diana explained. “Surely, you have been taught their nature in fine detail. After all, the Order of Paladins exists for the sole purpose of eradicating these… abominations.”

“Then you would consider them abominable as well?” Victorian asked.

“They are just things, Victorian,” the Devil stressed. “They are tools and nothing more. Toy soldiers without remorse – mere shadows of their former selves.

The undead serve a useful purpose, but I do agree that their existence is unnatural. Still, they do exist; therefore I am willing to use them.”

“It is not right,” Victorian said. “The dead should rest.”

“They don’t feel anything,” Diana explained. “They are not people, Victorian. Don’t waste your time mourning them.

Death is permanent. Every living thing is going to expire some day and when they do, Caldun accepts their offerings regardless of their faith or creed. He always collects the death tax he is owed.”

Victorian scoffed. “The God of Death… Who is to say what happens after we die? Hmm? Why is your version of the afterlife any more accurate than the Temple’s teachings?”

“Because I have seen the God of Death, Victorian. I have stood in his shadow. He spoke to me and I looked him in the eye.”

“Can you prove any of that?” Victorian asked. “Can you show me that your god truly exists?”

Diana laughed. “You would not survive the encounter,” she said.

“What makes you think that?” Victorian asked.

“I barely did,” Diana said. “Had I still been human when we met the God of Death, we would not be having this conversation now.

You see, in order to stand in his presence, one cannot be alive. At least not in the common sense, not like you are right now.”

The Devil raised her left arm and presented it before Victorian. “I received this parting gift from Caldun,” she said. “How’s that for proof of his power?”

At the Devil’s whim her left hand began to change shape and color. It soon grew to resemble a coal gray armored gauntlet with wicked sharp claws. The transformation carried on until the whole arm up to her neck resembled a rough stone mass. It retained the form of an arm, but whatever the limb was now made up of was far from flesh.

Diana clutched her talons to the sound of scraping stone. “This is what I will use to tear out your heart,” she said and smirked, “Should you betray me.”

Victorian winced in response to her casual thereat. “And what if I don’t care if I live or not,” he asked.

Diana sighed in disappointment. “That is something that I have always found frustrating,” she said. “Who do you people always make it so hard for me to help you? Why is everybody so damn stubborn all the time?”

“Maybe it is all we really have?” Victorian suggested. “The world so large and we – so small. When everything is taken from me, maybe all I have left is this one last act of defiance? Maybe revenge will satisfy me.”

“Oh, you can have your stubbornness all right,” Diana said. “You can keep it all to yourself. I just need your name.”

“My name?” Victorian asked.

“Tell me, Victorian, do you have any ambition left? Is there anything that you might consider worth pursuing aside from vengeance?”

Victorian considered his answer for a moment.

“I deserve nothing more,” he answered.

Diana groaned in disappointment. “Can you be any more miserable?” she asked. “What are you, a masochist? Don’t you enjoy anything?”

“Well I am sorry,” Victorian said, “But I have seen the world for what it is. And I am not going to pretend that I can live on believing that all is right and just – as the gods intend. Not with that knowledge in mind.”

“But you could change things,” Diana suggested. “You’re not dead yet. Might as well do something worthwhile with your life, am I right?”

“Like what?” Victorian asked. “What is it exactly that I could do to make things better?”

“Well you could start off by being a little less depressing to talk to,” Diana suggested mockingly. “That would help us all to survive this journey.

What about you, Lemmy? Would you enjoy Victorian’s company more if he wasn’t all gloom and doom all the time?”

Victorian shook his head in disagreement. “I lost my whole family not three days ago! What do you want from me?”

Diana shrugged. “Maybe I just want to help you,” she suggested. “Maybe I just want to give some purpose to your existence. Maybe I just want to make you king.”

Victorian’s expression twisted in apparent confusion. “What?”

“I’m just pointing out that you have the title and education needed to rule this place. With my support you could lay claim to the kingdom of Leidemar.

Do you think that you might be able to improve things around here if you had that power?”

“I don’t follow,” Victorian said.

“You see, it’s not just your poor little county that stands on the brink of ruin, Victorian. The whole kingdom is on its last legs – that is why I chose this place. I am looking forward to exploit its inevitable fall for everything it has.

Victorian shook his head. “Kingdoms. Kings. Men. When all of Leidemar will burn the fires will spare no one. I don’t much care for the fate of the kingdom, My Lady, but I know what the fall of one looks like. And I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.”

“Do you now?” Diana asked. She gave Lemmy a quick glance to make sure that he was listening in on their conversation.

“Aye,” Victorian nodded. “It looks like an entire village, children and all, strung up on a tree for the crows to feast upon. It smells like the sickness in the city streets when there are not enough people left alive to bury the dead; to treat the dying. To end their misery…

It feels like,” he swallowed his bitterness, “… the end of the world.”

Diana let his words sink in for a moment before speaking, “So is that what you fear the most – to see such a fate fall upon your people?”

Victorian looked up at her revealing his maddened gaze. “To witness such a thing twice, My Lady… I am no coward, but I could not bear to live through it a second time. I would rather take my own life, if you would permit it. For it is better to be already dead than to witness the weak and the young be made to pay the high price for the arrogance of the old.

You might think me resentful of myself, but I assure you, there far worse people out there. And unlike me, most of them are venerated as heroes. Great leaders of men – straight into their graves.”

They continued on in silence for a while. For a moment Lemmy looked like he was about to say something, but apparently decided against it.

“Paladins are not supposed to return home once they are initiated into the Templar order,” Diana said. “Tell me, Victorian, why were you at your father’s side when the traitors came for him?”

Victorian raised his voice in reply, “I came back home in search of peace! And all that I found was a land in pieces!

I have done things! Things that made me doubt everything. And kept telling myself that it was all a part of some divine plan; some grand design that I was simply too ignorant to understand!”

Victorian paused as he struggled with his words. “I am not– I am not a good person! I don’t deserve a second chance…”

Diana nodded. “Well said. But I don’t think that you have a choice on the matter.”

“I am sorry,” Victorian said and averted his gaze in shame. “I want to be left alone now. If you would please excuse me...”

Diana nodded and drove her horse into a light gallop to put some distance between herself and Victorian. Lemmy’s horse followed close behind her.

The scenery around them gradually shifted from the dark and gloomy swamps to a tall grass covered plain. Sparse clusters of old, withered trees dotted the surrounding area. This sight of untamed wilderness was a common one for the marshy western territories of the kingdom. The human population throughout the region was almost entirely settled in farming villages and towns next to the few existing roads that granted safe passage through the swampy terrain. It wasn’t particularly well suited for farming, but it was land – a land that people could work in relative peace.

Victorian observed Diana riding ahead of him with a burning gaze. There was great anger stirring within him. But he was not angry at her. He was angry with himself.

I should not have survived.