The bear sailed through the ranks like a boulder running off a cliff, breaking formations left and right, bowling through the mass of soldiers with reckless abandon. It charged as if there was nothing in the world that could stop it, and its master was inclined to agree.

Sitting at the front of the bear with a sword in one hand, Sarah whooped and cheered, all while deftly fending off any who dared come close to the mounted duo — a pitiful few, all things considered, most having been thoroughly intimidated by the Death Knight’s fearsome dark armor and deadly swordsmanship.

Finally, the dreaded Dark Lord Julian sat on the bear’s rump, staff clutched in a deathly grip, holding on for dear life while trying to maintain enough focus to keep his spellwork active. Gritting his teeth in concentration, he could do nothing but hope the mass of soldiers around them would fall prey to the spell. The fur Julian’s hand gave under the force of his grip, and he found himself holding onto a chunk of it, some partially rotten flesh still attached. He clumsily tried to reattach it, patting it into place, and threw a surreptitious to his companion, hoping that she wouldn’t mind that he had damaged her mount.

Thus the scene was set, the mad dash of two undead atop a third versus a sea of men and women. Focused on their own battles, the vast majority of the army barely even noticed the intruders in their midst — those who didn’t fall under the gargantuan bear’s charge, at least.

A few who noticed the interlopers moved to defend their ranks, but none could come close to them — the armored knight moved with preternatural speed, seeming to be everywhere at once. But oddly enough, the knight showed mercy, never striking to kill but rather pushing them away — enough that they were soon left in the blitzing bear’s dust.

With no preamble, the soldiers on the frontlines began to fall, and panic quickly spread through the ranks — but they barely had time to abandon their course before they fell into the same deep slumber. Despite the army crumbling, the legion of the dead did not press the advantage, instead allowing the soldiers who had escaped the sleeping spell to retreat.

As quickly as it began, the battle was over, and soon, the only ones left standing in the middle of the field were a man, a girl, and a bear.

***

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. It was done, and the Boss had come to his senses, at least a bit. She thought he’d been behaving erratically ever since Ravenrock was invaded, but this had taken the cake so far. At first, he had looked like he wanted nothing more but to murder people, but then his chat with Leon must have tempered him — he’d seemed calm the next day, if withdrawn.

They’d been lucky for most of the invasion, never running into anything they couldn’t just bully into submission. It was only now starting to get real, this first battle that they won so easily. She pushed down a pang of guilt for those who fell in battle. They’d been misled, sure, but they’d have been all well and alive if Julian hadn’t insisted on his pointless war.

But the whole idea of the war felt wrong to Sarah — it was Julian lashing out in a temper tantrum, wanting nothing but to hurt others in return. And he’s supposed to be four times my age? Yeah, right, she mused.

The knight had gone along with it, unable to do much to stop him. At least, she’d managed to guide him away from slaughtering an entire army — she didn’t know much about psychology, but she was pretty sure that would be a point of no return.

All that was left was to get Shiro to stop looking at people as if they were nothing but bags of experience — the murderhobo look wasn’t good on him, and the fact that he had so easily jumped at the chance to kill people bothered her.

How did she of all people end up the only sane one after the invasion?

That was, however, a mystery for another time. For now, there was an execution to attend.

***

Count Charles Malloc let out a weary sigh of acceptance. He’d predicted as much, that Julian would have little problem putting down the army — and with the same trick he had used the first time!

But what could he have done? The dream had been clear — the gods rarely sent their divine providence, but this one had been clear as day, no matter how skeptical his advisers had been. Charles wasn’t a pious man by any means — he had been happy enough to work together with Julian, at first.

Then came the dreams. Insidious things, depicting cinders and smoke, whole cities aflame, and the dead walking the streets. Atop a throne of skulls, Julian in all his glory. He had ignored them at first, thinking them figments of his imagination — leftover trauma from the battle of Ardenburg. Julian had been nothing but reasonable, so it made no sense for the dreams to be anything but nightmares, right?

The days passed, and the nightmares chipped away at his confidence. In the end, Charles was forced to accept that his dreams were an omen. Perhaps sent by the gods, perhaps something else, but at that point, Charles didn’t care anymore. He knew there was but a single option remaining before him.

Even if it meant throwing away his life and that of thousands of others just for the chance to stop the monster before it would destroy all those he loved.

Charles shared a long look with his oldest friend. Viscount Ren Capris, whose family had held Windfire for generations, stood next to Charles on the hill overlooking the battlefield, his brow furrowed into a deep frown.

“What do we do?” Ren asked, voice full of uncertainty. He’d always been the follower to Charles’ leader, and with the fate of their lives on the line, it wasn’t about to change.

“If we run, he could put all those people to the sword,” Charles said.

“But would he?”

Charles did not reply for a few moments, lost in thought. “Charlie?” Ren prodded.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know,” he replied, anguished. “Was I wrong to trust the dreams?”

“He did leave on a conquest with an army of the walking dead,” Ren said. “Even if he looks merciful. It could be a ploy.”

“What need does he have for a ploy?”

Ren sighed, his eyes losing focus as he stared towards the battlefield. “Then we surrender?”

“Then we surrender,” Charles said, praying to the gods he was right.

***

Sarah watched as the two men approached the center of the battlefield. Her boss had dismounted in the meantime and kept throwing uneasy glances at the comatose soldiers, but otherwise they hadn’t budged from where they had stopped once the spell had taken hold.

Shiro had joined them shortly after, his hair caked with blood, and Sarah shot him a sharp look. He did have the decency to look chagrined as he sat down on a rock, but they would need to have words after this was done. Shiro’s leveling addiction, as she had coined it, was becoming problematic, and she didn’t want to lose him to it.

Memories of her alcoholic mother came unbidden, and she pushed them down from where they came. With the enemy delegation nearing, she didn’t have the time to deal with the repressed trauma.

Sarah took her time inspecting the two arrivals. She’d already seen them before, when they’d attacked Ardenburg, but she had only really interacted with Count Malloc. He’d struck her as reasonable and level-headed, even when pushed between a rock and a hard spot.

Now, though, he was a shadow of his former self. He’d grown thinner, his face acquiring a certain gauntness she had long associated with illness. The circles under his eyes spoke of many sleepless nights.

Sarah found she pitied the man. With her Boss as unstable as he’d recently been, she gave the Count little chance of survival.

The mousy man next to the Count wore his worry openly on his face, the skin stretched into deep lines. Every once in a while, he glanced at the other man as if looking for reassurance.

“Good. You’re here,” the Boss said as soon as the pair was comfortably close, and Sarah thought she heard his voice waver when he spoke next. “Let’s move on with the execution.”

***

Charles let himself be washed by Julian’s words, and soon he found himself at peace. If he was to die, then so be it. But he would speak his mind, first.

“What of the Resistance?” he asked, voice muted. “Will you kill them, too?”

Julian looked confused. “What do you mean? My quarrel isn’t with them. You’re the one who sent them against me.”

“Is that your plan, then? Kill the leaders so that the army disperses? Why not just kill everyone and be done with it?”

“Does it look like I take pleasure in killing indiscriminately?”

Charles found himself taken aback. “Yes?”

To the side, Sarah, the knight in black armor snorted. “It kinda does, Boss.”

Julian pointed a slender finger at Charles. “You’re the one who sent these soldiers to their death — to oppose me. Had they stayed out of the way, they would have been alive, now. This makes you the one to blame for all the deaths so far.”

Charles suppressed the urge to raise his eyebrows at the looming conqueror. The man was unstable, clearly, if he was so unable to take the blame for his own actions.

“I gathered these people to defend their families from you. You’ll find none among them who didn’t want to be here, body and soul,” Charles said, and he knew it in his heart to be true.

“Defend themselves from what?” Julian scoffed. “I’d understand if I had pillaged and burned my way here, but I’ve done nothing of the sort.”

“Perhaps. But I’ve been sent visions of the future, of what you will do if you’re not stopped,” the count said softly. “I could not let them come to pass.”

“All I’ve done has been to defend myself from whoever wishes ill of me and mine. This,” he said as he spread his arms wide, gesturing at the battlefield, “is merely me finally being proactive about it.”

“It doesn’t look like that from here,” Charles said softly, like one would when trying to soothe a skittish horse. “You’re trying to convince yourself — delude yourself, really — that you’re in the right here, but those aren’t the actions of someone who’s trying to protect people. If anything, you’re creating enemies and showing them exactly who to hurt to get to you.”

Julian stared at Charles for what felt like minutes, until finally his eyes widened, sparking with newfound clarity. “I said I was done playing their games,” he spoke quietly, closing his eyes as if in pain, “but I just played myself that much deeper, didn’t I?”

“Yep,” Sarah replied from the sidelines. “Welcome back among the sane, Boss.”

“Hip hip hooray,” the other Revenant said from behind the group, then quieted down under the knight’s glare

Julian grimaced as he opened his eyes. “Among the sane, huh? I guess I deserved that.”

“Yeah, you’ve been pretty volatile lately. Here’s hoping the newfound resolve sticks.”

“It does appear I let myself be played completely. I’m not sure by whom, or for what reason, but recent events seem to point to this.” He turned back to Charles, tilting his head. “You said you received dreams about the future?”

“I did,” he said uncertainly, and he wondered if he would get to see another sunrise after all.

Julian nodded as if that explained everything. “Then it must have been the gods right from the start. Perhaps aiming to start a large-scale conflict? I cannot say, not at this point.”

“Does that mean you’re letting us go?” Ren suddenly asked, startling Charles who had nearly forgotten about his companion.

“Does it? I guess it does,” Julian said. “We’ll be returning home for the time being.” He paused, seeming to concentrate for a moment. “Your soldiers should be waking up in the next hour. Make sure to tell them the war is over. Congratulations, you won.”

Surprised by the sudden reversal of fortune, Charles couldn’t help but exclaim. “So easily?”

Julian stared west into the horizon. “So easily,” he echoed. “But the hard part’s just about to begin.”