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Virgil glanced back at the camp as they began their march northward to battle; there was a tightness in his gut, but it wasn’t for the possibility of dying.

After nearly six weeks in this unforgiving world, trekking through the jungle and learning as much as he could about their new empress, the ri’bot, and what it would take to survive, he’d come to accept this new life and that he would probably die.

His heart went out to the loved ones of all these young boys and girls that had joined under his leadership; it was the personal conversations he’d had with those that cared for them that made him aware of the position he was in.

Despite these boys and girls having a headstrong desire to fight back against this world, they had loved ones that worried about them and wanted them to return home safely, and that was his task to fulfill.  Some of those sentiments even came from the undead in the Serving Court, such as Adoncia.

He had sixty-four knights, split between two branches: the Argent Order and the Argent Dusk Knights.  The latter was an elite squad that only accepted the current top ten candidates and served as a competitive incentive to push the others and provide guidance as instructors.

All of the Order served under King Edmon, and Virgil enjoyed the man’s company when he would come among them to see how things were progressing.  Of course, he was so busy setting up their living conditions and meetings with higher leadership that he wasn’t able to make time for them very often, which left Virgil basically solely in charge.

He had no issue in bringing Gloria, his childhood best friend, into the mix, making her a co-captain in leading their Order; she ran the girls, and he the boys.  It always made him smile whenever Gloria would bring them over to watch because productivity went through the roof, and the girls were observant enough to notice, spiking their own confidence.

Virgil had toyed with the idea of having the best of Gloria’s fourteen knights spar with some of his boys, but he was waiting for the ‘Holy Maiden’ to give the green light.  She’d been given the name after unlocking paladin-like abilities; that certainly had caused talk to spread.

He was unsure if they could change jobs or corps, such as a Witch becoming a Knight, but the Witch Queen seemed to be toying with the idea since he’d heard her talking to Edmon about it.  Virgil could see the benefit in it if they could multi-class, yet Tiffany gave off a very chilling vibe to attempt joining one of her covens.

Clearly, she wanted him to know because it was common knowledge at this point that the undead could somehow speak telepathically, and that was always a little creepy to see the silent conversations of undead just staring at each other or instantly changing course without any prompt.

He smiled at Gloria as she neared, hand on her sheathed longsword and a wooden shield strapped to her back; they had to make do with what the ri’bot had.  Both of them had changed dramatically in the past six weeks, but Gloria, more than most, drawing a lot of attention.

“Everything set for travel?”

She smirked, light-green eyes appraising him.  “Did you gain even more muscle?”

“Hey, muscle is one thing, but you’re practically wearing heels—”

“Ack!”

“Don’t trip!”  he laughed, hearing a few chuckles from the lines of boys behind them and girls beside them.  “Still having trouble adjusting, huh?”

Gloria’s smile became strained as she stabilized herself.  “I’m fine…  Can we talk?  Faith, take point,” she ordered her second-in-command, causing the twenty-three-year-old to jog forward.

Figuring it was important, Virgil motioned to Sal, ranked 7th in swordsmanship thus far in the Dusk Knights, not that that meant a lot in their early training; he liked to change up leadership between the ten.  “You got this?”

“Yes, sir!”  he chimed, hastening to join Faith to talk with the slightly older woman.

Stepping off to the side to watch them pass, Gloria and he observed their squads filing into the army lines on their march for war.  He didn’t miss the single Witch Coven of thirteen that had been assigned to this battle, moving to join Sal and Faith; they were led by Sal’s girlfriend, Alisa Espiritu.

The fifteen-year-old couple had matured a lot through their training hardships, and Alisa wasn’t like the two cruel Warlock Covens of men that had volunteered to experiment with their craft.  Alisa and her twelve Witch sisters were healers, primarily dealing in remedies and working with nature for their needs rather than blood or life, not that they couldn’t use the darker half.

Gloria giggled beside him as Alisa happily skipped up to her man and began a conversation with him; a few of the witches filed in to chat with Virgil’s soldiers.

“Things really have changed, haven’t they?”  she whispered.

Virgil turned his focus away from their soldiers as they fell into step several meters behind the tail-end of the Argent Order, scanning their formation.

A massive throng of over five hundred unintelligent undead ri’bot surrounded them in a circle, wielding weapons and shields; most of them were fully skinned, taking on a rather sinister look with their glowing eyes of varying color.  He’d come to suspect the various hues represented different classes.

The Warlocks, Knights, and Witches took the left side, Carlos and Butter the helm, Mika and her torlim squad the right, maids or butlers carrying supplies the flank, and Nebu’s guard the center.  Carlos’ explanation about what they’d be doing didn’t make a lot of sense, which was probably why Gloria wanted to talk.

Adjusting the pack of personal goods on his back, he nodded, shifting his gaze to eye his childhood friend.  “I’m happy for you that they have.”

She rolled her eyes and shot an elbow into his side, making him groan a chuckle.  “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” he said, doubling down.  “You’ve grown in a lot of ways and slimmed out a ton in others; I see that muscle building, too.  I know you used to have a hell of a time keeping your weight down but look at you now.  I swear that chocolate hair is thicker, too.”

“True,” she smiled, cheeks coloring a little as she brought around her ponytail to study its thickness.

“I’m not saying the empress’ powers aren’t real; obviously, I’m a believer…  I don’t trust Tiffany, though.  Edmon’s cool, and I have no clue about our butterfly leader, but… yeah.  Heh.  Someone’s bulked out on steroids, too,” she said, flipping her hair back and appraising him with an impressed stare that made him want to flex a little.  “What do you think about this?”

“Hmm…”

Virgil kept his voice down to not be overheard by the teens glancing back every once in a while and giggling at them walking together; their minds were in the gutter, and, to be fair, he’d found Gloria a lot more attractive recently, and not just in looks with how gritty and persistent she was after they were trapped on this world.

However, he hadn’t missed his best friend’s change in attitude in the past month and a half; she hadn’t fully trusted Elinor at first, and for good reason, but the more she’d observed the empress’ actions, the more of a believer she’d become.  If anything, she had more faith in the undead teen than him, and it showed in her physical appearance changing so much.

The Empress’ powers seemed to have no limits; for those that believed in her and saw her as their new ruler, she could grant them the ability to speak languages as if downloading them into their brain, yet that ability was only scraping the surface, as he and Gloria were experiencing.

Virgil had gained a physique that he’d always dreamed of having while playing video games.  Faith in The Empress was rewarded, and people noticed it, which might even further her power and growth.  It was incredible watching her calculated, strategic, and cold yet compassionate responses in the short time he’d known her.

Tiffany would have killed hundreds at this point; she showed little effort in concealing the fact she had no regard for their lives.  It had drawn a certain crowd to her.

Elinor kept the Witch Queen in check, though, and balanced everything to maneuver them into an unbelievably favorable position when they should be worse than slaves.  He couldn’t have dreamed of being in this position six weeks ago, putting his last string of faith in a sixteen-year-old undead foreigner.

Yet, here they were, marching off to war.  They were strong, given real power, and had an entire clan of aliens relying on their support to retake their land’s resources from invaders.  Virgil had long cast off the idea that Elinor was any typical teenager; there was something mystical and otherworldly about how she’d stepped into this role.

Ironically, it had been one of Tiffany’s speeches that bubbled up to the surface as he pondered his best friend’s inquiry.  There was a very fine line between doubts and questions; the Witch Queen encouraged questions since they dispelled uncertainty if asked with the sole intent of clarity.  Doubt, on the other hand, was a cancer that had to be cut out.

Gloria’s question wasn’t aimed at Elinor’s decision to march, but their part in it.  From everything Virgil had come to know about their empress, giving power over to someone else was the last thing she’d do, and after everything he’d heard about this Nebu ‘Warlord’ from the local Wixum, the picture he got was clear as day.

“You talked with some of the girls’ family before we left and got the same concerns as I did, I’m sure.”

She sighed and nodded, rubbing her stiff neck.  “All of them know this is their choice, and everyone here is at least fifteen or older, but spouses, parents, grandparents, siblings… this is taking a toll on them.  It’s war, and I feel that is one reason The Empress is doing this.  You don’t think we’ll have to battle, do you?  The Empress doesn’t need our weak force; we’re not useful yet, which means…”

“We’re here to see what real war is about,” Virgil said with a grave tone.  “I get the feeling we’re also here to witness just what kind of person The Empress is…  She will do whatever it takes to bring us out of the dirt.”

Gloria’s heart-shaped lips fell a tad, with her gaze darting to Nebu, a fair distance away and surrounded by six dozen of Wixum’s elite; all of them were loyal to him, and somehow he’d even gotten Butter to allow him to sit on a throne, carried by eight skeletons.

“I’m not opposed to that…  Nebu’s a creep and loser.  The lives many of the female ri’bot live in the Wixum is tragic with overpopulation; they’re treated like slaves, and they don’t even fully realize it…  I don’t know about this ‘curse’ that supposedly killed the former chief.  I think Nebu did something to her…  Everyone fears him when he’s a fat piece of lard.”

Virgil stroked his double-braided beard before checking the security of his bun; Gloria liked to do them in the mornings, and he was happy to allow her to fuss over him.  He did wonder if she liked to rub his neck and back to check how much muscle he’d gained throughout the night.

“No, you’re right…  Maybe he has an ability like Valdar?”

“Possibly…  I’m sure the High Monarch has considered it.  Should we ask for clarification?”

“If it doesn’t come by tonight,” he muttered, looking toward Carlos at their helm as they made their way around the massive lake.  Virgil could feel the tension between them growing over the last few weeks and decided to cast the net since they were alone.  “Care to, uh… chat later tonight?”

Gloria gave him a smirking, side-eyed look that made his stomach flutter a little; she knew what was on his mind.

“Hmm, maybe…  I’ll get back to you.  Why?”

Aww, you siren, he internally mused.  You’re going to make me suffer for an answer, huh?  Hehe.  That’s just like you.  If you’re going to play it like that…

Virgil flashed an innocent smile, far more confident in it after The Empress’ miraculous magical surgery.  “Well, heh, you’ve been giving me light massages in the morning when doing my hair, and I noticed you’ve been rubbing your shoulders…  I just wanted to return the favor,” he laughed, making her draw in her lips and scan his torso.

“Mmm.  I… have been a little stiff, and it might feel better to loosen up…  Haaa.  We have the kids to look after, though…”

“I mean, I’m sure Faith and Gemma could watch things for… an hour or two; they’ve proven to be responsible, and I have Diego and Eberardo that can fill in.  We also… kind of have an army around us that can see in the dark…”

Gloria slowly nodded, rubbing her chin while running her gaze down his muscular arm.  “Exactly, and while I am curious how gentle… or rough those rocks can be, I doubt Carlos or Mika would be too thrilled to find us… slacking off,” she hummed with intentional pauses.  “The Undead Serving Staff should also have excellent night vision, as well…”

“Which means our contribution means little to nothing for nighttime defen—ooh?”

The brunette tripped, stumbling on uneven ground, and stabilized herself by clinging onto his side; he swiftly moved to support her with a laugh at her flushing cheeks, not to mention the sounds the teen girls and boys were making.

“You—eesh…  That was an accident!”

“Oooh!”

“I knew it!”

“What did I tell you, Hailee!”

“My captain!”

Hissing, Gloria tried to pull away, but Virgil kept holding onto her arm, trying to show a concerned expression while maintaining a teasing whisper.  “See, I think I need to spend a little more time making sure you’re alright.  Maybe you’re sick?”

“Eh-hehe.  Ugh…  And what if you catch the bug and die, hmm?”  she challenged as he let her go, fidgeting with her tanktop; clothing was limited.

“Then I’d die having every man’s dream; what man can say no to an adorable clutz?”  he said with a grin that made her growl and look away.  

You totally lost that, he snickered to himself.  I can give you a crutch, though… or should I?

Leaning in, he whispered, “Besides, I’m curious if you still have that beauty mark, and it’s not like you can check.”

Her face turned a new color of scarlet.  “Y-You’ve never seen it in the first place,” she hissed, trying to hide her flushed face from the peeking teens, trying to get a better angle in their march to see them.  “How did y—the pool… when we were…”

“Seventeen,” he nodded with a thoughtful grin.  “You were challenging me to do the splits, and you rolled back…”

“Okay, shut up,” she grumbled, fidgeting with her arm and unable to look him in the face.  “Save that for later… when we don’t have a pack of thirsty teens staring at us.”

He leaned down to breathe into her hot ear, “Gladly,” before giving it a hidden, light peck that made her jump and hit him in the shoulder; it was too easy.

Steering away from the provocative conversation and teasing after having his fill, he tried to bring it back to a more casual talk.  Although, he did get a few more sucker punches to the gut when the teens lost interest, and she snarled something about women being less able to control certain bodily functions than men, especially without the conveniences of modern inventions.

He took that to mean he’d been quite successful on their first bout of ‘fun’ discussions to come, and he was up a point.  It seemed their friendship had taken a deeper turn, and he was here for it.

Virgil was amused and caught a bit off-guard as the day went on.  Gloria made a few more playful jabs at him, some words of which made him have to be careful where he faced.  Luckily, the brainless undead around them acted as the perfect cover.

As time went on, their hushed discussions turned toward the adorable pair that followed behind them.  Sal and Alisa’s cute, innocent teenage topics and interests warmed Virgil’s heart.  She shared with him all the fun medical rituals and potions she’d learned while he discussed his sword and shield training, among other daily activities.

Some of it made him look down on his childhood best friend and realize they both had a lot in common, including RPG games.  They had bonded more over the years since neither of them fit in that well in the community, and their confidence wasn’t the best as teens.  Through their twenties, they’d slowly grown to care less about what others thought, and now, in their early thirties, even less so.

They still had their insecurities about their looks, but The Empress’ powers had done wonders for that, but the true magic was possibly something so simple; it was the realization that his best friend was amazing in ways he hadn’t seen until now, and not just in the physical department.

He started to see her attention to detail in listening to the girls she had guardianship over, hearing them out, and spending time with each of them to handle their own insecurities.  She was a cheerleader that told them the hard truth and offered to be by their side in working past the issues, and she’d been that way all his life, standing beside him, pepping him up.

After the sun started to fall, it had really started to settle in his chest, and it wasn’t what he thought it would be like.

Is this what love is?  I’ve known Gloria for so long, but I’m seeing so much more now that I’m looking at her in this new light…  She’s strong, supportive, is humble enough to accept help, but also independent at the same time, and can handle stress.  She thinks of others, and wants to see them realize their best selves…  Maybe I am in love.

Twilight soon began to take them, and Virgil was surprised to see most of their band still going strong as Carlos talked with Nebu.  Shortly after, the word spread that they’d be making camp, and the maids and butlers moved to set up tents.  Naturally, they would do their own since they had to get used to doing things themselves as the living army; they wouldn’t have undead support all the time.

Among the dense foliage and small glades, they set their camp at twilight, opting not to set fires since the undead would be taking over the night watch.  It was then Mika jumped out of a tree, surprising them with the two silent torlim that flanked her.

All of the Knights, Witches, and Warlocks jumped at their sudden appearance.  The splotched and semi-discolored green toad merely made a gesture for them to follow her, including Alisa, representing the Witches, and Elonzo, leading the Warlocks.

Mika hopped onto one of her pets, guiding it without sound as she led them to an area a short distance away from the living.  Once alone, she spoke in a low whisper to them.

“High Monarch Butter has ordered the Knights and Witches to observe and remain on guard; you are only to defend yourselves.  The Warlocks will get their chance to show their craft in time; prepare your plagues.”

A dark smile lit the thirty-four-year-old Warlock’s lips.  “We will have it ready.  How long until we are at our destination?”

Mika’s long tongue slid out to press against her right two teeth, large eyes drifting to the left.  “At our current pace, it will be five days until we reach the scouting distance and another day to prepare.”

“Perfect.”

The Staff Sergeant motioned the two magic users to return to their camp, making them walk away and give them a backward, curious stare.  Virgil’s chest tightened at being singled out after being told to be nothing but an observer; this had to be for something else, and he was right.

Mika’s piercing eyes returned to them, the massive carnivorous creature she sat on looking at them like they were a nice snack.  “Carlos says to share a tent and get it over with.”

“Huh?”  Gloria’s fingers knotted at her front.  “You mean…”

The undead warrior didn’t mince words or change tones.  “Human sex hormones are fairly potent, and I’ve learned to recognize the scent.  Carlos says it’s not hard to spot the flirting in any case, and the human population is already near extinction, with only a mere three thousand or so left that are living.  Quit the distractions, and focus; have fun at night.  That is all.”

Her torlim launched away to start her patrol, leaving Virigl holding his breath.  Several awkward seconds later, and he let the pent-up air go in a short chuckle.

“Well, haha, that was…”

“Embarrassing,” Gloria finished, shifting a little but keeping his gaze.

“Were we really that obvious?”  he asked.  “And wait, you’re cool with sharing a tent?”

A cute, nervous twitch came from Gloria as she swallowed and glanced away.  “I mean… we were practically ordered to share a tent, and… we’re both captains, so… we should remain close?  Don’t you—”

Virgil could feel his blood rising with every word and, as her shifty eyes returned to him, he bent down, placed his right hand around her waist and his left on the back of her head before meeting her lips.  Gloria instantly tensed as if electricity spiked from their lips to her spine.

He tried to pull back, but her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him back down, mumbling, “Nu-uh…  I don’t think so!”

She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his torso to engage him again, and Virgil laughed, stumbling his way back to camp with her latched onto him.  She giggled with each fall he took, teasing him about how clumsy he was until he entered the small clearing, where Faith had already set up Gloria’s tent.

“I alread—oh… oh!”

Faith hesitantly jumped forward and opened the tent door as they laughed, allowing him to carry her inside to lay on top of the comforter she’d already unrolled for them.  She peeked inside, face brightening before zipping it back up.

“I-I’ll have everyone move a bit away, C-Captains!  Clear the area!”

Virgil pulled back, throwing off his shirt as Gloria did the same, not caring anymore as shuffling and enthralled voices came from outside; lower leadership was handling it.

All Virgil felt was the blood pumping in his ears at his beautiful best friend lying on the foam, who gave him an impish, inviting smile in the dying light of day, and he couldn’t resist.

Muscles flexing, he pushed in to kiss her again, tasting a flavor he couldn’t describe on her soft, partially chapped lips; the texture ignited his veins further with her flaming hands holding the nape of his neck and her clipped fingernails pressing into his back.  Gloria’s heavy pants, steamed breath, and intense green eyes ensnared him, and all other thoughts washed away in their tide.

 

* * *

 

Nebu’s nose creased as he walked around the camp, smelling the awful musk the humans put off, especially the two leaders of some of the living, inferior soldiers the alien had given him; it had been incessant over the last five days.

So far as he could tell, it was their mating season, yet only a few seemed to be engaged in it.  They were such a strange species, but they could be used for fodder when the time came.  He was sure these invaders of his territory would be more than just Clanless, and throw-away soldiers would come in handy for feeling them out.

He reflected on entering one of the warm enclosures the humans used for their people of high rank and decided against it.  He’d brought a few of his more regular mates with him, but he couldn’t stomach the human musk that permeated the air to feel anything else but revulsion.

One of his trusted generals came over with a hand over his nose.  “They’ll give away our position if this keeps up!”  he snarled.  “How long will it be until Mika comes back from scouting the site?  I hate being away from the lake…  I forgot how miserable and plain the branch village women are.”

“I understand the feeling, old friend,” he grunted, scratching his head.  “It is best to remain on the right side of the camp… upwind.  I look forward to Mika’s return, as well.  Why have they not expanded out from the mines?  We should have seen some form of attack against these border villages if it is the Lethix expanding.”

“Warlord!”

Nebu looked to the northeast as one of his scouts returned; dozens of his High Warriors surrounded them in an instant.

“What is it?”

“Mika!  S-She’s back, and… and she’s holding the head of…”

“Of what?”  He growled, but a sharp movement above brought the oddly alluring former Roxim Senior Warrior near him.  “I see you are…”

Nebu trailed off as the undead woman tossed the head of a male pink and red-skinned ri’bot at his feet; their patterns were mismatched, showing a mixed lineage with shades of brown.  Mika’s tone held a gritty edge that excited him a little.

“A Clanless scout…  It seems the Lethix aren’t leading this attack; the lieutenant would like to speak to you in his tent.”

Puffing up his chest, he was about to invite her to chat later when her torlim rudely carried her away to speak to some of the undead servants they’d brought to haul items.  He let it slide since she was playing a little coy; he’d heard the rumors that the Roxim were breeding outside their clan, and the women were supposed to have been trained in seductive ways by their mothers.

Nebu shivered a little as he let his imagination get the better of him; this apparent empress had a host of Roxim undead that were supposed to be brainless, and he had to wonder if they could procreate, or what that might even be like.

Holding his plump belly, showing his superiority, he waddled to the intimidating horned human’s tent.  When the undead opened the flap outside, Nebu bustled in, but what he saw on one of their ‘foldable tables’ made him stop dead in his tracks.

Carlos’ intense red eyes followed his gaze to the pure gold-colored ri’bot on the table.  This scout wasn’t from the Lethix; it was a Susime.  His blood chilled at the sight.

The Susime had taken in his great-grandfather and brought him up to be a spy before inserting him into the valley while the Fire Wars raged, and their family’s actions had not been passive.  It was the Susime Mystics that had crafted the curse that his family used on the Wixum Chief’s line, causing their early deaths.

In fact, the increase in their female population and decrease in their males had been due to his grandfather’s work on their behalf before his unfortunate death.  It had certainly come to his father’s benefit to have the pick of the litter and cultivate a network of loyalists through the use of his scraps.

Over a few generations, their fortunes only grew with the hidden northern clan’s careful guidance.  Jobs, small actions here or there, how to act to be placed in leadership positions, and so much more to get them in just the right areas of influence, being provided further instructions over decades to put pressure against the Delthax and Wixum.

A dispute with his father had the ever-so-tragic result of leaving him in an even better spot, garnering sympathy from Chief Vivine before her untimely demise put him right into the spot to take over their military.  And after a few more tragic deaths—pre-planned, of course, he was practically unchanged; that was until Empress Elinor showed up with her annoying leaders.

It seemed the Susime took notice, though, and were moving on to the next phase, which was fantastic for him!

Although, why wouldn’t they have sent someone to contact him?  Had Empress Elinor gotten to the messenger first?  Did she know he was a mole, used to destroy crops, curse their lake, poison key military figures, and provide gaps in the Delthax security net?  He couldn’t let his relationship with this obscure northern clan become public knowledge.

His saliva became sticky as Lieutenant Carlos offered him a welcoming, human smile, waving at a few of the heads Mika had no doubt procured from her scouting trip.  His annoying golden insect sat on the man’s crown, staring at him; the color was uncomfortably close to the Susime.

“Howdy, pleasant evening, Warlord?  If y’all join me… we have a lot to discuss,” he said with his unusual drawl as he chewed something in his mouth.  “We gotta strike tomorrow while the iron’s hot since we’ve discovered their position, and shootin’ while we caught them with their britches down is critical for success.  No?”

“W-When did they—”

Carlos gestured at the heads as Nebu lost his tongue.  “Huh?  You are our resident expert, Warlord.  How should we dispose of these heathen clanless that have tested your greatness?  Should we set up a meeting?”

Nebu’s jaw slackened at the promising invitation; Carlos had stupidly given him a way out.  Clearing his throat, Nebu rubbed his chin and walked forward to study a few of the heads.  His second-in-command had been totally focused on the various colors and patterns, no two the same.

“They are certainly Clanless…  I haven’t seen some of these patterns before—you have, Warlord?”

Nebu raised a hand and made a gesture that confirmed he did know them.  “Unfortunately, I do know one…”

Carlos worked around his jaw while showing what Nebu took as an impressed tone.  “Ya don’t say… and you know nothin’, Vice Chief?”

“No, I have not seen any like these color patterns.  Where have you seen them, Warlord?”

Trying to remain calm and not sweat, Nebu let a short pause ensue to draw more tension.

“My family has kept an extensive mental list of the obscure northern clans and their customs after the quen’talrat fall.  My ancestors traveled and discovered a few pockets of ri’bot hidden near the edges of their lands…  Hmm.”

Taking on an air of control, he rubbed his large belly.  “Their Mystics could pose great trouble to our advance, and… we have already killed one of their scouts.  I should speak to them, personally…  I will go tonight with my guard.  Remain here, defending the camp until I return with news, Lieutenant.”

“Well, I’ll be… you do know them, hmm?”  Carlos whispered, his facial expression not giving anything away, not that he knew much about the filthy human customs.  “Are you sure you don’t want our undead to shadow you… or Mika to join you?  She has quite enjoyed your superior presence.”

Rethinking his strategy, Nebu congratulated himself on a rather brilliant plan; he did need to throw the blame on someone, and perhaps that someone could also provide the Susime with the information they needed on Empress Elinor.

“Ahem, yes, well…  I, hah, can understand why,” he laughed, shaking his belly and trying to remain nonchalant.  “On second thought… maybe a small group of your undead with Mika—without her torlim, of course—haha, we can’t spook them!  They will not attack if I show the proper, ahem, customary sign my fathers passed down our line.”

“Of course,” he nodded without hesitation, a human gesture showing compliance that relieved and made Nebu’s blood boil with anticipation for what he might get from the mysterious undead Roxim woman.  “We will await your safe return.”

“Yes, yes; I will not be long!”

Nebu stormed out with his High Warriors, all of which knew nothing about his connection to this hidden clan; they all looked at him as if he were a glorified Supreme Chief with how the undead treated him.  If only they knew the true terror the Susime Mystics were.

He’d only spoken to the Susime through messages his grandfather had taught him, and they were a careful and powerful—but secretive—clan.  If this was the next phase, then it might be time to swap to the Susime’s side because he was promised personal Susime High Warriors and a ruling right that he would have first pick of all the valley women.

Finally, I will claim the right my forefathers dreamed of!

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