Chapter 2 - The City

“I had my doubts...  Even back then, that bastard looked very suspicious the first time I saw him. What about now Arthur, you spoke highly of that turncoat earlier. Oh, I do hope you’re not in cahoots lest my sword cut your head.”

Maria heard Norman’s angered words the moment she awakened. She could barely bend upward her upper body, with her body aching all over and a piercing feeling struck her head the moment she moved. She moaned softly in pain, evoking concerned gasps from the people around her. Norman was the first to approach her, holding her carefully whilst she heard shouts asking for a priest from the others.

Once the pain has passed on. She was finally able to look clearly at the people around her, especially Norman- covered with bandages. “What happened,” she asked, watching as Norman’s face turned grim. He tried to speak yet no sound came out of his mouth.

“I command you to tell me, Norman. I’m sure we are not in the barracks, I have seen its interiors once when I came to inspect.” She stared inquiringly at Norman, having recovered the dignity a queen should have. “What do you mean by your words earlier, who betrayed us?”

He went mute for a moment, before mustering the courage to confess. “Falstad. The bastard betrayed us, your highness.” Norman was thoroughly ashamed in front of the queen, they succeeded in reaching the barracks’ gate and met Falstad who was standing at its walls. The royal guards’ commander did not let them through the barracks, showing not an ounce of respect for him, even to the queen- merely laughing when he saw her unconscious state. Norman clenched his fist and anger filled him as he recalled the encounter last night, a humiliation for him and the men whose hopes were broken by an unexpected betrayal. Falstad’s wicked words echoed in his mind: The beautiful princess shall bear my seed, and our children will rule this kingdom!

“And Maria, where is she?” Mary’s voice turned frantic the moment she saw him look down- whether because of guilt or anger. She repeated, “Where is she!?” Her yell pulled Norman from his stupor.

“I deeply apologize your highness,” He said. “The princess is held captive by the betrayer, her status unknown.” He stopped himself from saying, Though I will bring her back safely no matter what the cost. There was little hope, the queen has overexerted herself, moreover, using too much magic may bring severe repercussions to the caster.

“Arcanus be merciful.” Maria inhaled sharply. Quite the similarities, Norman thought. Yet the queen was far different from her daughter. She was mature and composed, knowing what to do and say at crucial moments. “Are there any news regarding the men sent to gather survivors? We need numbers if we are to save my daughter.” Scanning her surrounding, it proved disappointing when she counted those who remained alive. Fourteen were left standing out of the original thirty-two soldiers, excluding the twelve ordered by her.

“Though I do want to save the princess as soon as we gather enough soldiers, however, the walls are too heavily defended, your highness. And we have neither the time nor the equipment to lay siege. As for the men- I have sent three soldiers to intercept and inform them to gather here.”

“You may have forgotten that I have magic, Norman.”

“But your health—”

“For my daughter, does a little pain matter? I cannot let her suffer for even a second in the hands of that vile fiend.” Maria turned her gaze outside the window beside her bed- the city continued to burn and wails from everywhere have yet to subside. To her, Maria is the only spark of light in this dark, grim world— that innocent smile brought hope in times of sadness whenever Magnus had mistreated her. She must be saved, “By all means,” she muttered with sheer resolve.

Norman then briefed her over what information they scavenged right after they took refuge in this house; Scouts reported that most undead around vicinities untouched by them were walking towards the direction of the castle, unresponsive even to their provocations in an attempt to garner a response. That necromancer must have been gathering his army. He should be planning to conquer other provinces and is about to depart. Mary thought. It was a problem they need to solve, yet have no means to do so- they could barely survive by themselves in this damned city.

Meanwhile, at the periphery of the commoners’ district marched more than two hundred men- bearing banners of multiple households, however, the Goldsworn banner was raised higher than all. Corporal Mark—The highest-ranked among the men ordered by the queen—walked at the forefront, flanked by the captains of every household. There were bloodstains on their armors, their bodies were covered with steel, having no intention to remove their visors even for a mouthful breath of air. The disease could be transferred once blood seep through any human orifices, which was proven under multiple casualties during a battle against the marching undead last night. “We’re near.” Barely rested, Mark spoke with a rough voice, he raised his right hand and the men stopped marching, ordering them to rest. Those who were less tired formed a circular defensive position, whereas most sat on the ground while the captains dispersed amongst their men. Behind this army followed the servants and civilians along with supply carts, guarded by fifty men. 

“To which direction, private?” Mark pointed at a crossroad, to his left stood a soldier. Right after saluting, the private answered. “West, corporal.”

“Very well. Tell them we’ll rest for ten more minutes before resuming the march.” The private nodded then walked away to convey Mark’s words.

Mark sighed. He was informed of Falstad’s betrayal, prompting him to march last night amidst the undead tide. They were, however, forced to retreat and make camp far from the main road due to their numerical disadvantage as the undead were more than a thousand. Vigilant all throughout the night, they hardly have any sleep, yet he was sure that the queen would order them to siege the barracks right away. Even if my fellow soldiers and I die in battle, we must save the princess. Maria was deeply loved by the poor, and Mark was a peasant lucky enough to be promoted corporal in his thirties. He turned his head and gazed at the captains, he was not sure about each noble soldier’s loyalty but the captains have sworn an oath of service to the queen.

Thirty minutes later. At the end of the road, they arrived in an enclosed settlement with undead lingering around the streets. A line of spearmen with towering shields came forward to clear the area, another line of soldiers, this time wielding broadswords- followed behind to ensure successful removal of undead presence. Not long after, Queen Maria appeared with Arthur and Norman along with an entourage of guards, having a delighted expression at the sight of an army. “We bring you men from various households, your highness.” Mark stepped forward and bowed to his utmost while the soldiers yelled passionately to the queen; the king had died and Maria is still in the hands of Falstad, so she, Mary, has the highest authority currently.

“The crown is eternally grateful for your loyalty.” Mary stepped forward, her tone was mixed with gratitude and relief. “Many have fallen overnight, the undead might have spread all over our lands- bringing pain and suffering to our people. Yet our kingdom will rise from its ashes! And you, heroes, will have your names engraved as the men who have helped rebuild it. For Forleorne!” Her speech raised their morale, cheers rang aloud while all kneeled in an oath to their new lord. She was queen consort no more, a queen regnant she is now.

“For her highness, Queen Mary!”

“For Forleorne!”

“For Holus!” 

“The men are ready for battle, your highness. Falstad’s head will roll and the princess shall return unharmed!” Mark roared. The burning vigor brought by the queen’s speech brought fanaticism in them, shouts for retribution came along with it. They were ready for war, and once again they blew the horn of battle, resonating far to the roads outside the city. Contrary to the crowded settlement, Goldsworn barracks lacked any sign of humans, with undead scattered around its courtyard. In the city’s main gate, a large army marched outwards, along with some of the city’s inhabitants; most were shackled in groups, they were riddled with wounds, while the women who have pleasing features were beaten and pale. Treated like poultry, the enslaved citizens were devoid of emotion, having lost any hope after the culling last night. Cannons were transported by horse-drawn carriages at the rear, guarded by a large number of cavalry. There was little to no undead in these parts of the city, however, the unaffected citizens were integrated into the captives. Houses were searched by enforcers while the army marched, looting and raping. The sound of a horn from afar made a tall, sturdy man snicker. He rode an armored horse, dragging a beautiful young woman tied on one of its legs.