Day broke, and soon after the Ruskians finished their morning prayers and assembled, their scouts noticed a remarkable sight. The hill that they had failed to take the other two times that they assaulted it now had a long slope leading up on all sides.

“This has to be a trick!”

This was the majority consensus, but they still had to move the forces of the evil empire. After the morning fog began to lift, the full reality of what they were going to assault hit them. Yes, the high hill was now far easier to climb, but the slope up to reach it and the plains that were before the slope were now covered in grass that was knee-height or higher. It was the perfect place to hide traps, and therefore a probe had to be sent to… remove… those traps.

Another mass infantry charge was sent, and unlike the previous times, no artillery was leveled against them. What luck; the forces of evil were out of ammunition for their heaviest weapons! Despite the lack of artillery, the forces of evil still cut down a fair number of serfs with their thundersticks, bows and crossbows, but the loss of a few tens of thousands of serfs was nothing to worry about. Those damn filthy people bred like rabbits, or, more accurately, like roaches.

“Well, comrade, it looks like there are no traps in the grass.”

“Yes, yes. I know.”

The richest people from the People’s Union of Rusk, the de facto nobility for all intents and purposes, watched as scores of their own people were cut down like grain before the harvester’s scythe. While they were called nobles by everyone else in every other nation, the Ruskian nations was, at least on paper, a nation where all were equal. Sure, some people had more control, more wealth, more power, more might, more everything, but all were equal and valued members of the nation. Everyone had power, everyone had a say in the running of the nation.

What this nation had become over the ages was something akin to a medieval pseudo-communist state or a larger, more human version of the society in the book ‘Animal Fark’. Everyone was equal, but some were more equal than others. Those who were ‘more equal than others’ ruled at the top, while everyone else was stuck underneath in blissful ignorance.

The de facto nobility watched the fight unfold and wondered how the overwhelming numerical advantage that they held was not winning the battle. As the last of the fog was cleared away by the blazing sun, the reason was made visible for all to see. The ones holding the line against the peasants were not the Teutonians, but instead a type of undead that had never been seen before.

These Skeleton Warriors (the catch-all term the Light Lands used for any undead skeleton with a melee weapon) had their bones dyed with ancient soil, their armor was far superior to that of a normal Skeleton Warrior and the weapons in the hands of these undead were potentially superior to those that the ‘more equal’ members of their society wielded. These undead were also tall, taller than any who stood against them and seemed to have much more physical power than that of a normal Skeleton Warrior.

These undead alone were holding the tide. Their discipline, superior equipment and superior strength kept them in place while above them on what appeared to be steps made of earth marksmen unleased their deadly projectiles directly into the serfs. The new and strange undead had formed a shield wall and had their halberds poking out between the gaps. Any who got too close were skewered, and when a part of the Ruskian infantry broke and ran, the improved Skeleton Warriors would open their lines. From this gap, undead beasts would rush forward and further destroy the routing survivors before retreating behind the undead infantry to wait for another group to rout.

“This is getting out of hand…” one of the elites muttered as he mounted his steed.

“Indeed. Then let us deal with the menace and show our people that we are still their saviors!”

“YES! CHARGE!”

The ‘noble’ cavalry began to charge across the grass-covered flatland that stretched out before the slope leading to the hill. As they picked up speed, none of them noticed the earth beneath their horses’ feet shift, which revealed the surprises that Kain had planted yesterday.

SNAP!

…

A bear trap slammed shut on the front leg of the lead cavalryman’s warhorse, sending the beast and rides tumbling to the ground. The sounds of more snapping traps shattering legs and horses crying out in pain as caltrops pierced their hooves was the cue for the artillery to open up once again. The guns that had been silent once more roared to life and the cursed catapults, ballistae and trebuchets began to launch special munitions into the fields that surrounded the serfs and the ‘nobility’. As the barrels and pots smashed against the ground, the black goo that had been used in the war against the Knightly Junta splattered across the landscape, followed shortly by flaming shot.

Almost immediately, the entire field caught fire and the flames spread like the wildfire that they had become. The undead now had to keep the serfs from rushing into the camp to escape the flames, and they did their job with the utmost efficiency and brutality. As the grassfire spread like lightning out from the battlefield and into the camp of the Ruskians, an observer from a birds-eye view could see that the smoke and flames were not coming close to the hill. Instead, Wind Magic blew the fire and noxious gasses away from the Darksol-aligned forces and into the camp of their enemies.

…

The first battle in the Eastern Theatre of The Second Anti-Darksol Holy War/The Second Great War ended in a decisive, if not total victory for the forces under the Abominable King. Sensing that the end was nigh, the remaining serfs broke down like puppets with their strings cut and slumped to the ground in defeat. Their leaders were burning in the field, surrounded by fires akin to those of Hell itself. Those that were supposed to lead them to an easy and complete victory had either fled or were writhing in flames.

There was no hope left, and all would be brought to ruin by the evil empire of Darksol. The Teutonians would have their way with their women and children, their men would be enslaved or butchered like animals so that their bones could rise as the undead. It was better to simply accept that the end of the world was at hand and give in rather than trying to fight it. Doomsday was here and-.

“Oh, quit moping you fools. You surrendered, so you will be treated as prisoners of war. Besides, no one on our side died, so no hard feelings.”

The empty words and promises given to them were obviously just that, empty. As they were led into the black pit that was in the center of the camp, they felt sure that they would soon be dead and their tortured souls trapped in the risen husk of their former selves. The darkness overtook them and-.

There was light! The hole they were led into expanded into what seemed to be a massive interior space. It was obviously a prison of some kind, what with it’s wide, tall walls patrolled by the undead and living alike and the vast empty and flat space that was beyond the walls which were patrolled by yet more undead and other manner of creatures. This was likely the place that they would die horribly as they were tortured and experimented on and-.

“Alright, everyone. Please lie down and relax. Your doctors will be with you shortly. We can’t have you making the other POWs sick, so just sit tight and we will heal you up. You will be out of quarantine before you know it!”

A cheery woman spoke lies. It was obvious that they would be exposed to all manner of vile concoctions, diseases and-.

After a few days of treatment they were out in the yard. They had to admit, things were quite counter to their expectations. But surely, the horrors would begin soon. Surely all the good food, entertainment, relatively easy living, education and all the other things were just designed to keep them from expecting the true terror that was to come.

Right? I mean, when had the Church ever lied to them? When was the Church ever wrong about anything? The world was flat, the stars were pinpricks that let one see into heaven and the sky was a glass dome that covered the world! Everyone had a place in society, and theirs was where they were, and their leaders were where they were because the Goddess ordained it so! Darksol was evil and the antithesis of everything good and moral, so why were they treating them like this?! There had to be a catch! It did not make any sense; it did not line up with their world view!

Their understanding of the world could not have been formed by deception and lies, right? The Luminas Church had not lied to them, right? There was no way for them to move upwards in society, right? It was just impossible, right?

Right…?

…

Kain looked over the reports from the POW camp. He was pleased to see what he was reading. As he sat back in his seat and relaxed, he muttered something barely audible under his breath.

“Slowly but surely, the chains are being broken and the minds once shackled by dogma and superstition are freed from their bonds. They may doubt the truth, but if you take a man out of his echo box for long enough and expose him to the truth in a suitable way over a long enough period of time, you may find that you end up changing more minds than you would normally be able to. A pity that in order to teach them anything we need them as a captive audience…”