“Exactly who did you just make me revive?” I asked angrily after finally getting free of my hidden location under the stage. The moment Svend and I were out of public view, I turned on him with fury. The torches in the room turned green with my outburst.

“You know I am not at full strength right now! It is taking every last drop of my concentration to keep those two under my control. Do you know what happens when an undead breaks free of my control? We are lucky they did not get an opportunity to attack the crowd.”

“Calm yourself, Wren. I would not have let that happen while I was standing there. The people needed a show to inspire them. There were no better choices than those two. Both of them were heroes to the people. Just having their presence on the front lines will be enough to spur the men forward.”

“Meanwhile I will be stuck with a headache for the next week while I struggle to keep them under control. How am I even supposed to sleep?” I growled at Svend.

An annoying smile never left Svend’s face as he disregarded my concerns. “We can just lock the two of them in the dungeon until you finish regaining your strength. Even if you lose control temporarily, it will not matter if they are secured and out of sight.”

I sighed and nodded. “We will have to with at least one of them. I should be able to keep control of one of them so long as we take precautions when I sleep.”

“If you can only choose one, it should be Sigmund the Sword Saint.”

“Did you know these two well?” I asked curiously.

“How can I not?” Svend replied with a sigh as he plopped down in his oversized chair at the end of the table. The wood creaked in protest but somehow managed to hold his weight. “Both men were born here in Kala these past few decades. First was Ragnar the Conqueror. He is a legend to the people but he is also a divisive one. He believed that the best way to prepare for the so-called Great Demise was to create an empire that unified the continent, just as yours had been when you ruled. I let him do what he wanted because he was popular and had a lot of powerful backing. I figured the kid would get himself killed in the first battle, then I could just clean up the mess. Instead, war forged him into a powerful conqueror. He even managed to reach the domain level and completely dominated the battlefield. However, his new power made him overconfident and sloppy. A domain may make us seem invincible but everything has its limits. Against an army numbering in the tens of thousands, how can a single man possibly compare? Ragnar learned this lesson the hard way and was shot down by a stray arrow as his army was routed.”

I joined Svend and sat down at the table. A big map of the continent was nailed there, covered in wood tokens that signified the location of armies, Demonkin, and other information of use to the man. I noticed that as Svend talked, he moved the wood tokens around, showing a single army that was slowly surrounded by forces moving in from all directions and multiple countries.

“It is an all-too-common story in the divisions,” I said as Svend flipped the token off the map.

“Indeed, it is. I was not too broken up by Ragnar’s death though. I never cared much for the man myself. He reminded me too much of the Seventh Division I left behind. Sigmund, however, was another matter entirely. The boy was nothing short of a prodigy. Raised by an old soldier of little note, without any innate talent or skill in training the Divine Body, Sigmund should have been just another forgotten face among the people. Yet, he became absolutely infatuated with the sword at a very early age. He cared for nothing else in his entire life except the steel in his hand. At the age of fourteen, he was already able to create a domain and use it effectively in a fight.”

“You gave two domain-level bodies? No wonder I can barely control them,” I grumbled, “You know my undead cannot use the domains they had when they were alive, right?”

“I am aware but Sigmund’s worth was not in his domain, but his skill with a blade. After learning there was such a prodigy in my land, I offered to teach him myself. I thought he could become my replacement once I eventually left this land. Do you know what he said?” I shook my head as Svend chuckled. “He said he wanted to see my swordsmanship first. When I did, he berated it as too rigid and uninspired. Then he refused outright to be my student. Imagine it, me turned down and chastised by a scrawny fourteen-year-old kid. Back in the Seventh Division, I was one of the elders that led the entire nation. People would have literally killed for the opportunity to be my student for even a single day, yet there I was being lectured by a little brat. Shortly after that, the boy disappeared. I later learned that he started traveling the continent, looking for strong opponents. He challenged countless renowned swordsmen and killed countless Demonkin. He became a legend, not just to the people of Kala but to humanity as a whole. After more than ten years, he returned here and challenged me. He lost, of course, only King Sebastion and you are my equals in this realm, but while he lacked the raw power needed to break my defense, Sigmund’s skill was on a completely different level. I would say it was even on par with the Blade Calamity’s. If he had a few more decades to focus on strengthening his domain he could have truly become a force that was recognized by the divisions.”

“That is quite the claim to make. Kora is considered the third-best swordman among all the Divisions. Millions of people can only wish to compare to her skill.” I replied in disbelief.

“And yet Sigmund did. I have fought both. I may not be a great swordsman myself but I know how to gauge an enemy. Unfortunately, like many geniuses, Sigmund burned too brightly and his life was snuffed out far too early. He suffered from a rare muscular disease. There was no known cure and yet even as his body was literally withering away, he never stopped trying to improve. In fact, his disease only spurred him to greater heights of perfecting his swordsmanship. He found strength in weakness. It was unlike anything I had ever seen in my six hundred years of life. I believe that if he had only had more time, he could have created his own system. A few hundred years and he might have even been able to lead a Fourteenth Division.” Svend’s words fell to a whisper as he closed his eyes. “Fate will always beat down the nail that sticks out.”

I shook my head. “Perhaps, but you would be surprised how often we can hit back at our so-called fate. You said it yourself, Sigmund should have been another forgettable face, but instead, he became a legend. Fate may have ended his life early but his legend still lives on.”

“I guess you are right,” Svend replied with a small smile, “I wonder if his sword skill still remains after you brought him back to life as an undead. That Demonkin earlier was too weak to tell for sure.”

“It should,” I replied with a uncertain shrug, “So long as the brain is not too damaged, my undead always retain memories from their life. However, they often have trouble with creative skills like art or music even if they were once renowned in that field. I am not sure why.”

“Maybe creativity is the truest expression of life,” Svend said with a chuckle.

“That is a debate for religions, not me.”

Svend’s chuckle died down and faded away. “Honestly, I do not like your talent. I considered Sigmund the future of the people. Seeing him as little more than a puppet for you to control is… difficult.”

“Most people feel that way,” I said with a sigh., “It is the main reason I was so hated as an empress, and even among the Divisions, many find my talent distasteful or even sacrilegious. Undead will always have a dubious reputation, even when used to protect others. Nobody likes seeing their loved ones turned into emotionless puppets. I do not blame them. I understand how they feel but I cannot stop. The war will not allow it.”

“The war, huh? Do you think the war will ever end?”

I shook my head and leaned back in my chair. “No. We slew the Archdemon. That was supposed to end the war. Instead, the Demons are fighting even harder now than ever. Even a backwater place like this is not safe from their wrath. So, I will continue to fight in the only way I know how.”

“And so, the undead continue to march,” Svend said as he stroked his beard, “How many of the nations do you think will attack us because of our little announcement? Do you think any will agree to an alliance?”

“I do not know. The Free Cities at the very least are our allies. I made sure of that. General Arthur also created something of a coalition to fight Demons and the blood mist. Some of them might agree to put grudges aside until after the greater threat is dealt with at the very least. My biggest concern is what the Novus Kingdom will do.”

“King Sebastion…" Svend said with a sigh, "You taught that boy too well. I fought him once you know, shortly after Ragnar’s little stunt almost forty years ago now.”

I could not resist a smirk as I imagined Svend trying to fight Sebastion. “How did that go?”

“Exactly as you imagine,” Svend said with a frustrated grunt, “I got pinballed around without being able to fight back at all. If not for the fact that defense has always been my strong suit, I would probably not have survived.”

I laughed for a moment at the thought of the giant Svend getting thrown around by a man half his size and I even felt a bit of pride that someone I taught did it. However, the pride quickly turned sour as a feeling of dread settled in the pit of my stomach.

“How long do you think it will be before he gets here?” I whispered.

Svend began to rearrange the tokens on the map as he too fell silent for a moment before finally giving an answer. “The one advantage about being in a backwater place like this is that information moves much slower. The only way to send information over long distances instantly is either through the Fourth Division’s church or a rather rare innate talent. However, there are no churches in my territory and I am fairly certain no one with that talent is acting here or I would have noticed signs of it before now. From the information I have gathered, the fastest Novus spy in my territory should only have a movement innate talent of some kind. My guess is it will take them about a week to reach the capital with news of your rebirth. King Sebastion, using his Domain, can make the return trip in about three days. That gives us ten days to prepare, maybe less.”

I could not help pulling my knees to my chest as I curled up in the chair. I closed my eyes and buried my face into my legs as I felt my chest tighten.

“Ten days. I will meet you again in ten days, Sebastion.”