“No, no way! We’re not going!” Camille protested for the fifth time as she paced in the chapel’s kitchen. “Fighting necromancers or whatever? With their spells and magic?”

“Don’t forget about the skeletons and zombies,” Kaisei added sourly.

“Right, and we’re supposed to do it next to an Inquisitor who wants to hunt us down and murder us, in the place where he might get the clues he needs to figure out what we are?” Camille threw her arms up in frustration. “What world would that ever be a good idea in!?”

“A world,” Mikhail huffed, “where you and I both are supposed to obey orders from superiors, especially when said superior is the Butcher of Vahein! Do you really think I’m happy about this? But I’d rather gamble on Maedras not figuring it out than on you being able to outrun him.”

“Or maybe,” Camille jabbed a finger at the priest, “that’s just because if we ran, you would definitely be in trouble, not us, even if running would be the better bet!”

“Camille, if he was that scared for his life, he wouldn’t have hidden us in the first place,” Sam pointed out. “Besides, even if he’d changed his mind, I think we kind of would have an obligation to take a risk for him too. It wouldn’t be right otherwise.”

“So you want to go and fight the crazy black wizards and their undead monstrosities, is that it?” Camille snapped, turning to him. “Heck, maybe it’ll let you become even more of a local celebrity than you are, I bet you wouldn’t mind that, right?”

“Camille…” Sam said, taken aback. “That’s… not very fair, don’t you think?”

“Because sending us to fight for our lives against insane maniacs alongside more insane maniacs is fair, is it?”

“Life isn’t fair,” Mikhail said pitilessly. “You’d best get used to it, and decide what you want to do. You can try to run, and I will assist you however I can, but the weather is getting colder by the day, and the Vale’s exits are all well-watched. You would have to be both fast and stealthy to slip through unnoticed, and then survive being hunted down by an implacable icon of divine punishment in the Northern Winter. The alternative is fighting the necromancers. Choose.”

Camille stopped pacing, and looked at the others. Kaisei averted his eyes, and Tasha’s face was blank as a statue’s. She turned to Sam, finally. “So you’re in favor of going along with it, and fight?”

“Yes,” he answered simply.

“So be it, then,” she sighed, and collapsed on the bench. “I don’t agree with it, but I’ll go along with it.”

“You could always have tried running away on your own,” Sam noted.

Camille’s glare could have withered trees and cracked stone. “Sam,” she said slowly, “don’t ever insult me by implying something like that again. I think this is a bad idea, but I am not going to throw you all under the bus to save my own skin.”

“S-Sorry,” Sam fumbled, squirming under Camille’s scowl.

“What about the rest of you?” Mikhail asked, looking at Tasha and Kaisei. “Will you stay, or will you go?”

“Running is not always the safest,” Tasha said. “I will stay.”

All eyes turned to Kaisei, who fidgeted under the attention. “Do we really have to?” he tried.

“Afraid so, man,” Sam said.

Kaisei struggled for a while, but finally stood up. “I can— I can be brave, too. I’m not useless anymore. I’ve got magic and— And I don’t want to run and be alone. I’ll do it.”

“Well said,” Mikhail nodded in approbation. “Now all that is left to decide is how to prepare. Myrrin and I will teach you what we can about undead and necromancy, and how to counter both. Maedras wants to launch his assault in a week, so that does not give us much time. You will all require more training.” He rose, picking up his sword as he did. “Let us not delay.”

The next few days passed in a blur of work and training. There was little time to rest, and even less to relax. They went to sleep every day well after dusk, and woke up every morning before dawn. Past the first day, Kaisei didn’t even return in the evening; staying instead to sleep at Myrrin’s manor, but finally, the day of the assault came.

Sam stood outside the chapel, watching his breath fog in front of him, and fidgeting at his heavy quilted white gambeson and chainmail. Steed was strapped to his side, its scabbard large and bulky, and he had to pay attention and angle the pommel carefully to prevent the tip from catching on the ground.

In the distance, he watched as the cart approached the chapel from the main road, and turned to Tasha and Camille. Camille only wore a gambeson, similar to Sam’s and also white, though the studs that covered it hinted at the metal plates hidden inside the lining. She fingered her rapier’s elegant handguard, occasionally drawing it an inch from its scabbard, only to let it rest inside again.

Tasha was the least armored and most armed of them. She only wore short padded armor, dyed a dark shade of mottled gray, and several daggers were strapped to her chest, including the knife she’d carried from Earth, though its plastic handle was now wrapped in leather to hide its garish orange color. She also had a shortsword in a scabbard at her side, and she sat perfectly still with arms crossed, her fogging breath the only hint that she was not a particularly lifelike statue.

The cart crested the hillside as it approached the Chapel, and the driver hailed them.

“Ho there! You lot look ready for war, don’t you?” Myrrin called out with a wave.

“So do you!” Sam replied, looking over Myrrin’s own armor, which was mostly dark leather save for a metal plate over his chest. “Hey there Kaisei!”

“Hey!” Kaisei shouted back, and leapt from the back of the cart as he rushed over to them, struggling with the large staff he carried. “Wow,” he said, as he closed the distance, panting a bit, “you three look badass! I just look like I’m going into battle with a bathrobe and a walking stick!”

“Oh come on, now,” Sam said with a smile as he clasped hands with Kaisei, “you also have a sword on your belt, and I don’t think most people could shoot fireballs from their canes!”

“Oh yeah, I haven’t shown you my new fireball! This one actually works! And also I can…”

“Give them a rest, already!” Myrrin groused as the cart finished approaching the Chapel. “I swear, you really do make me wish I’d learned Silence back at the Academy.” He stopped the cart, and heaved himself off, fetching another staff from the back. “Where’s Mikhail?”

“He’s inside, talking with Inquisitor Maedras in the kitchen,” Camille said neutrally. “I think they’re going over battle plans. You’re the first of the assault team to have gotten here.”

“Ah, yes, the Inquisitor.” Myrrin sowled as he scratched at his mustache. “Blast that fanatic for getting me involved in this shit. Who else are we waiting on?”

“We don’t know everyone who’s participating,” Camille said, “but the local soldiers should be joining in as well, led by Commander Sttroviart and,” she scowled despite her attempt at distant neutrality, “Captains Mustall and Vigdam.”

“Oh, great, that rapeful little tyrant,” Myrrin groaned. “This just keeps getting better. Well, I guess I’ll go and pay my respects to the good Inquisitor. Sooner I’m done with this crap, sooner I can get back to your… er, to real work.”

“So what do we know?” Kaisei asked as the portly warmage headed into the Chapel. “You’ve got details, right?”

“Apparently,” Sam began, “there’s something like four or five necromancers, who’ve raised a horde of a hundred or so zombies and skeletons, with a few wights and wraiths in the lot. Most of the zombies and skeletons don’t have weapons, though.”

“Damn,” Kaisei said, paling, “that’s a lot of undead. But, why do they need so many if they can’t even give them weapons?”

“Well, that’s the weird thing,” Camille said. “Apparently they gave them tools instead. They’ve been digging into the side of the hill.”

“Digging?” Kaisei asked. “Wait, like, tunneling into it or something?”

“Exactly like that,” Sam said. “Most of the undead are working around the clock to excavate… Something. Presumably.”

“Do you think,” Kaisei lowered his voice, “this might have something to do with how we got here?”

“Maybe,” Sam nodded, “but I don’t think we’re going to get a chance to investigate much, with Maedras along for the ride.”

“Damn,” Kaisei cursed. “Nothing’s ever easy, is it?”

“More are approaching. The soldiers,” Tasha said.

Their eyes turned back to the path and to the small group on horseback rapidly approaching. There were three of them, cantering up to the base of the hill, then slowing to a trot as they ascended it. As they approached the Chapel, they dismounted. Sam recognized Vigdam, but not the two accompanying him. One was a man of average height with carefully trimmed black mustaches, and an older, regal man with short-cropped graying black hair, plate armor, and a blue cape trailing behind him.

“Hail,” the older man said as he approached. “I am Commander Sttroviart, and these are Mustall and Vigdam. Though I believe you already know each other.”

“Yes, we’ve had the pleasure,” Camille said politely. “Temple Guard trainees Camille, Samson, Natasha and Kaisei, at your service in the Light.”

Vigdam made a point to scoff when she introduced them as Temple Guard, which Camille did not even dignify with her attention.

“And I at yours, of course,” Strovviart inclined his head at her. “I am aware that there have been… differences, between our two groups, but I hope that these can be put aside for the sake of the Vale’s safety.”

“We have no intention of doing anything but completing the mission,” Camille said, “and certainly none of starting any sort of trouble.”

“Good,” Strovviart nodded. “I will go and meet with the Inquisitor now. The rest of the day's troops will be arriving on foot shortly. A pleasure meeting you, Trainees.” He gave them a stiff nod and headed into the Chapel, cape fluttering behind him.

“So, ‘Trainees’,” Vigdam began with a nasty smile, as soon as the Commander had rounded the corner. “I guess we’ll be seeing what your actual mettle is today, eh? I’ll bet you must have been pretty upset when Mikhail couldn’t keep you out of this one. What foul luck that an actual Inquisitor would show up, right?”

“Vig, must you always try to pick fights?” the tanned Captain Mustall said. He had a pleasantly musical cadence to his voice. “We have better things to be doing today, and the Commander was rather clear.”

“Picking a fight?” Vigdam said with mock surprise, “But we’re all friends, here! This is just friendly conversation. Nothing but deep friendliness between me and that scrappy bunch!”

“Thank you, Captain,” Camille said with an aloof smile. “We’re glad to see that at least here, you can be the bigger man.”

“Why you little—!” Vigdam took a step forward, but stopped himself, and glared at them. “We’ll be seeing each other on the battlefield,” he said, all pretense of friendliness gone from his voice, and he spun around to head into the Chapel. Before crossing the door, he paused, and looked at them over his shoulder. “Watch your backs, now. It’d be a shame if it was a skeleton that got to you first.”