If it was a trap, Janardan had no way to know which type. Rather than search counter measure against each and every possibility, he publicized the event and invited anyone who wished to come assist.

Despite the hundreds of years, and the great war, the death lord title still commanded a lot of respect amongst the southerner, far more than the current king… whoever that may be. The fraud, for no matter how powerful and knowledgeable she supposedly was, she certainly was one, would be hard pressed to use mind tricks in front of such a crowd.

The idea of working with a fraudster befouling the good name of the Lord was difficult, to say the least, but assuming the threat was real… ‘Damn it, there no point in rehashing the same thought, I’ll know when I see her.’

Thankfully, he’d get his answers soon enough; the time of the rendezvous wasn’t far off.

Something changed. He looked around to see the others doing the same: he clearly wasn’t the only one with this feeling. The slight change in ambience soon transformed in a light pull coming from the south, growing ever stronger as time passed. His familiar stirred, he could feel them knocking on their seals to get out... metaphorically.

The dead cannot help but gather near strong necrotic power, it stabilizes and reinforce their existence. Even familiars, despite having now will of their own, are unable to totally escape this attraction.

A brouhaha erupted among the presents, growing louder and louder as the source of the aura approached. No mere human could hold such power, could she really be what she claimed to be? If she wasn’t, was in the hell, was she?

The delegation finally came into view, there were only five living persons but accompanying them was a large gathering of spirits. Unlike normal familiars, they had a ghostly presence to them.

“What is this?” “Do you see that?” “The dead are walking behind them!” And similar comments came from all around, but most notably, from normal people who could not see spirits.

Janardan was regretting his decision to have her come to him, it didn’t matter anymore if she wasn’t the real deal: such power deserved at least that much respect.

The woman riding in the back got down from her horse without waiting for her escort to offer help. Ignoring all protocol, she set her eye on the one with most power and countenance to ask. “Are you the one called Janardan.”

Cold sweat running on this back, the old mage answered with his usual voice. “Are you the death lord reincarnate?”

“I do not care much for title, the owner of this body was called Aria, you can call me by that name.”

“Previous owner?” Was she implying possession or worst?

“You have all rights to judge me for my actions, however I had no part in this waste of human life, nor did I ever ask to be brought back. Regrets won’t change the past, and what is coming is far more important. It deserves all our attention.”

“Aria then. I expected you to be more regal and commanding.” Answered the old mage snidely. He did not trust appearance, and as a result often tested his vis-à-vis’ patience to get a glimpse of their true personality.

“I prefer to leave those things for those who care.”

“I see.” This one was a tough nut to crack. “Miss Aria, may I ask you what you expect of us?“

“I sent this necromancer king a missive sharing my knowledge of the wights, but I fear it’s already too late for them to do anything. All I can do is to seek allies and share my knowledge with them in preparation of what’s to come.”

“You seem pretty convinced the necromancer king will fail.”

“From the moment they created this many undead, and scattered them it was already too late. Whether it’s from age, sickness or assassins, they will die and the failsafe will fail. One cannot put a stop to greed and stupidity, put a weapon into someone hand and they will use it.”

“Do you speak from experience?”

“I do, not even the lords didn’t start as tyrants. The earth lord was adored by his people before he was feared as the blight caster. Stories put all the blame on the fire lord, but him too in the end was a victim of his country’s ideal.”

The more he heard, the more he was convinced she was the real deal. Legend of the death lord portrayed them as too kind for their own good, helping others even at her own disadvantage: such as accepting refugees from other countries regardless of the countless spies and assassins hiding in their midst.

“We will cooperate with you, but we won’t follow your orders; if you really are who you say you are, you should know why.”

“I know of my failures better than anyone else, I won’t tell you what to do, but I’ll give you options and tools.”

Her escort stayed silent, they had brought her back to deal with the threat and unite the world, however just like the life lord before her, she wasn’t suited for the latter and never had been.