The two Forgotten stationed outside his suite of rooms stood at attention and opened the door as he approached.

  Inside, he saw Vivian lounging on the couch, reading a book whose title read ‘Mark of Idiocy in Children’.

  Alaster did not spare his weird sister-self-twin a glance as he hung up his coat and sat down in one of the chairs across from the couch, preparing to create even more Forgotten.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting Evelyn?”

  “Meh, the Duke boy’s tutor lessons ended early so Evelyn sent me away to spend some alone time with her man.” Vivian responded in her sultry voice.

  Alaster felt his eye twitch, “Excuse me?”

  Vivian rolled her eyes and kept reading, “Oh calm down, I have a few of my birds watching over them. Nothing nefarious is going on. They are just chatting about their party members. Interesting stuff I will left you peek on later, but right now, boring.”

  “Anything I should know?”

  “Just that Evelyn is no doubt a threat to those Demigod Bastards. They will certainly come for her.”

  Involuntarily growling, Alaster got to work creating yet another Forgotten.

  At this point, Alaster had long since stopped counting. While the Undead Hordes scattered around the continent were gradually increasing his own power, Alaster’s true strength was not himself, but the Minions he could create. He had to ensure they did not lag behind.

  As it was, his Death Knights were reporting that the Forgotten in their Legions, the oldest Forgotten, were beginning to show signs of genuine personalities. Having heard the reports from all of the Death Knights individually, Alaster was quite amused to find that the Legions were starting to emulate the personalities of their Death Knights.

  He had expected exactly that to happen, but he was glad to see it. Afterall, the Forgotten were quite sheltered so far. The only people they were really exposed to were their own Legion Masters, and while they were all subtly different, it was obvious they would be similar.

  It would only make them more effective, if slightly slower to react.

  Alaster had just finished the creation of one Forgotten when he heard one of his Death Knights speak in his mind.

  “Sir, a lone Human has approached us under a white flag. He says he wishes to speak with our leader.”

  Letting the Weave dissipate, Alaster rubbed his eyebrow, where a headache was starting to form.

  “Apologizes, but which one are you and where are you stationed?”

  Alaster felt the Death Knight grin, “I’m John sir, and I’m in Zalar. The man claims to be here on order of their King. Should I claim to be the leader?”

  “No, but you will be my mouthpiece.”

  * * * * *

  Counselor Rylock sat on the bloodied stone, grimacing at the massacre around him. A massacre that was yet ongoing.

  All around him, thousands of the Undead fought against hundreds of Monsters. Ordinarily, such a scene would have terrified anyone and would have spelled certain doom and death. Yet a clear ring around him was kept clear of any Monster. He saw Goblins get speared through like kebabs. He saw Trolls trampling through the hordes screaming as their hairy backs burned.

  He saw Drakes falling out of the sky, their wings pierced. He saw Wyrms collapse under the weight of countless bone. He saw Ents burn and shatter. He saw Kobolds be crushed into paste.

  He saw all of this around him, yet none approached him. Inside the ring around him, was peace and calm, if he ignored the countless corpses and a lake of blood from the battle of the last many days.

  As Counselor to the King of Zalar, when the King requested to meet the cause of the Undead, it was Rylock’s duty to make it so and serve as his majesty’s voice. Or, at least bring the Transmitter.

  When he had first approached the Undead as they battled the endless hordes of Monsters, he was certain he was going to his death, by the hands of the Dead, or by the Monsters. Yet he walked forward, resolute in his service to his King.

  Yet as he had come closer, the Undead had begun to focus towards him, keeping the Monsters away and allowing him to keep going forward, until eventually, he was deep in the chaos. Well outside of the range of assistance the Zalarian Soldiers or their Golems could provide.

  A lone Skeleton has disengaged itself from the combat to motion the Counselor towards the rock before rejoining the fray and immediately being turned to dust by the large club of an Ogre.

  And so, Counselor Rylock had remained on the rock, surrounded by death, for nearly an hour. He clung desperately to the white flag he had, the only source of safety, at least in his mind. He might have been an old man in his eighties, long past his prime even as a High Adept, but he had never wished to die a violent death.

  Instead, he had hoped to die peacefully in bed beside his wife, preferably with his children and grandchildren beside him. And the longer he spent here, the less likely that scenario was to happen.

  Sometimes he clenched his eyes tight, not wishing to see the coming blow that would end his life, and other times he kept them wide open, desperately searching around for it.

  It was during the searching that he noticed a lone Skeleton, exactly alike the first, leave the brawl and approach him, waving at him to follow it.

  Hesitantly, Counselor Rylock obeyed, realizing that he did not have much of a choice at that point. His life was already in the hands of the Undead and their mysterious Master.

  He stood up, feeling his once pristine robes stick to the rock for a moment before following, glued there by the blood that had dried around it.

  The Undead guide stepped on the corpses that littered the ground without care, but the Counselor found himself carefully navigating through the sea of blood and corpses, as if afraid that by stepping on a corpse, it would somehow return to live and consume him.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  As Rylock and the guide left the ring of ‘safety’, it collapsed, instead forming a tunnel that allowed Rylock to travel past without much harassment.

  A Bassilisk, an adolescent one, attempted to spit acid at him, but four Undead jumped in front of him with their shields raised. They disintegrated, but the Counselor remained untouched.

  Rylock decided to speed up considerably.

  Soon, a small hut created out of recently felled tree trunks and crudely debranched, came into view. The single doorway was covered with the freshly removed skin of a Dire Bear. It still dripped blood.

  The Skeletal Guide motioned towards the door and rejoined the fray.

  This one survived long enough to impale a Goblin Warrior on its sword before its head was turned into fragments by the spiny tail of a Wyrm.

  Taking a shaky breath in an attempt to steel his nerves, an attempt that failed to produce results, Counselor Rylock stepped forward, using the butt of the flagpole to push aside the bloody fur. The inside of the hut was short, stale, and muddy from the recently shoved aside corpses and their blood.

  Rylock had thought himself accustomed to the scent of death that permeated the area, but the stale air suffocated him and he retched.

  “Apologies. I forgot that living things are more sensitive to scent.”

  The deep voice startled the Counselor, who only now noticed the two figures with him in the dark room.

  “A light as well.” The second figure spoke without movement.

  A moment later, a fresh breeze began to circulate the air outside as a Mage Light floated in the air, revealing two men clad in black armor. But they were different. One of them wore refined, if dull from use, armor. While the other wore armor that matched the same design, but seemed as if it was hastily created from bone.

  Counselor Rylock gulped, knowing that if either of the figures before him decided, on a whim, they could kill him without much effort.

  The crudely armored one took a single step forward, “You requested a meeting with the one behind the Horde. I apologize, but circumstances require that I be away, and it would take took long to arrive. I am speaking to you through one of my Minions. The one beside me instead serves as my arm, leading the Horde while I am away.

  What is it that you wished to discuss?”

  Rylock shuddered, contemplating just how much Mana would be needed to process that feat while still maintaining the Horde of Undead outside, but he remained true to his mission.

  “Similar to you,” Rylock stammered, “My lord is also unable to come here, and has instead sent me to deliver the device through which he will speak.”

  Rylock pushed the flag down into mud, standing it up, while he reached into his bag.

  The other man stepped forward, but the crudely armored one waved him down.

  Rylock retrieve a thick disk of metal, clearing manufactured using both smiths and enchanters. He carefully set it down on the mud and pushed the button on top. Three flaps on top opened, allowing light to shine past, creating an image.

  An image of a man dressed in elegant clothing and wearing a golden crown. His light brown hair had waves and his beard was neatly trimmed short. The entire image had a distinct, yet not overpowering, blueish hue.

  The man looked up from the book he was reading, the image too crude to allow those in the hut to see the words, and stood up.

  “Ah, here we are.” The man spoke, “I am King Heradon of the Zalarian Kingdom. Am I speaking to the Master of the Horde that has taken it upon itself to invade our borders and begin slaughtering our Monsters?”

  “Though a similar method as you own, yes. I too am away at the moment.”

  The king chuckled, his voice coming through with a bit of static, “So we both thought the same! Excellent. Would you do me the honors of knowing your name?”

  Ordinarily, a King requesting someone’s name was a privilege to the person. Yet the King worded it as if it was him that would be privileged. As a trained diplomat, Counselor Rylock noticed the wording, but was smart enough to not hint at it in anyway.

  “Unfortunately, that is impossible. I do not wish to reveal myself to those that might hear of my name.”

  King Heradon shrugged, “Well, just about everyone would want to hear it. Is it safe to assume that you are in charge of all the Hordes currently reducing the Monster Population throughout the Continent?”

  “It is.”

  “Then I imagine that the Demigods have taken notice, and with your power, I doubt it is a surprise to you to know that there are Demigods?”

  “It is not.”

  “And would it be safe to say that they are the ones you do not wish to reveal yourself to?”

  “You are smarter than most.”

  The King laughed heartily, “I would hope so! Else I would have long been dethroned! I am not a King who hides himself behind tens of thousands of soldiers while he rules from his throne, nor am I a King that conceals himself inside his castle to the extent that his own Lords question his continued life.

  I pride myself on ruling my people from the front, as best as I am able to at least.”

  “What is it that you wished to discuss with me?”

  The King took a moment to think to himself, wondering just how he should word his next few sentences.

  “What do you know of Zalar?”

  “I admit, it is not much. Not much is publicly known about your Kingdom, and I have not had the necessity to learn more.”

  “Good, that is the intention. Would you like to hear the story about how Humanity came to be on this world?”

  The crudely armored Undead did not seem surprised, “No. While I am interested to hear the Zalarians’ perspective, I already know the tale and am pressed for time.”

  “Then I shall breeze through the important bits, shall we? So you know that Humanity did not originate on this planet, and instead arrive here through the use of a ship made of metal. But instead of arriving safely, something went wrong, and it crashed.”

  “Yes.”

  “Zalar is the crash site. Well, to be more specific, the Zalarian Capital of Ivrand is the crash site. While most Humans left the crash site to explore and build, my ancestors instead chose to stay and study the remains of the vessel they had long since forgotten how to pilot.”

  “This is news to me.”

  “And that is the whole idea.

  Our technology is more advanced than the other Nations because we have had access to more advanced technology. If the other Nations learned of our source, we would find ourselves in constant war over it.

  But of course, we do not have the entire ship. While it was entering the world, it began to break apart. So there are bits and pieces throughout the world, surviving the ages due to its advanced creation and preservation. At least most of it, I hope.

  You see, my family, the Zalarian Royal Family, considers itself as historians, first and foremost. We record as much of current history as we can, while also seeking to uncover as much of our past history.

  This has allowed us many technological benefits, such as the device I am using to speak to you right now. It was created using technology we discovered through our research. According to our findings, our ancestors were able to create a device similar to this, capable of achieving the same effect, without any Magic whatsoever.

  We, on the other hand, have had to resort to using Magic, but we do know it is possible without!”

  Counselor Rylock coughed pointedly.

  “Right of course. I apologize. I got off course. It’s a subject I am deeply passionate about. Getting back to the topic at hand. While the Demigods know we hold items of great value related to our rebirth on this world, they do not know the true significance. The Gods do. The beings that protect our world from the Demons.

  Through our continued research of the debris, we discovered a device that we can use to speak to the Gods themselves. This was found centuries ago, and we still have no idea how it works, but it does.”

  “You have a direct way to speak with the Gods?”

  “Yes! Kind of. We don’t know how to power it. In fact, we know practically nothing about it, other than it has no magical uses, only technical. When the Gods wish to speak to us, the device powers on, allowing us to speak back and forth, but once the Gods are done, they end the call and the device turns off again.”

  “That’s annoying.”

  “You have no idea. Them just calling when they want is annoying yes, but not knowing how it works? Even more so.

  Regardless, I am here, through this hologram, to tell you that Ebris, God of the Dead, himself, used the device just last week to tell us two things.”

  “Those being?”

  “Firstly, that the Demons are pushing their Angelic Armies back and could soon be directly attacking this world.”

  “That’s first? So he told you to get ready?”

  “In part. He wishes us to prepare as Zalar has the best possible chance of providing a true defense and to inform the other Nations. However the most pressing matter actually pertains to you.”

  “Me? You don’t even know my name.”

  “And Lord Ebris did not say it. All he said, was that the key to our survival against the Demons lies in the Undead Hordes and to assist their Master in whatever he requires.”

  “Excuse me?”

  King Heradon threw his arms out wide with a goofy smile on his face, “Congratulations Sir mysterious stranger I know nothing about! You now have the entire Kingdom of Zalar at your beck and call. Every person I love and cherish, who I swore to protect when I became King, now at your command.”

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