“Lord Eoforwic, Lord Ecgbert’s waiting in the main hall,” a Vyssian footman greeted as Eoforwic and his riders got off their horses.

Without saying anything, Eoforwic and his men immediately went inside Castle Norwind’s keep, then towards the main hall. Despite his advanced age, Eoforwic still kept a healthy body which let him outpace his younger retainers.

“Ecgbert! Where are you?! You said this was urgent!” Eoforwic screamed as he burst into the main hall.

“Bloody Purgatory, Eoforwic. Must you scream this early in the day?” Ecgbert complained loudly as he ate on a table with a few other noblemen.

“It’s afternoon, Ecgbert. What’s the meaning of this? You told me this is an emergency. This looks like a celebration, not an emergency!” Eoforwic shouted as he pointed at the vast amount of food being brought to the long table. Just as the old veteran pointed out, noblemen were cheering and feasting happily until it was, of course, interrupted by the sudden arrival of Eoforwic.

“Well, it is a celebration.” Ecgbert pointed at the person sitting across him, Exarchi, before continuing, “I don’t know how they did it, but the Varangians managed to take Castle Marcoir.”

“What? Is this true?” Eoforwic asked in shock.

“Yes, yes. Nothing too hard for us Varangians,” Exarchi boasted. Though drones couldn’t eat, the Vyssians still offered Exarchi a cup of ale as a formality. They were well aware that the drones ‘didn’t eat with outsiders’, but they still wanted to show respect to the conquerors of Castle Marcoir.

“As agreed, the Varangians will keep Castle Marcoir as a buffer between our new territories and the Rhanks,” Ecgbert said.

“Are you Varangians fine with holding out against the Rhanks?” Eoforwic asked.

“Yes. Not a problem. Maybe it would be nice if they attack us,” Exarchi said to which the whole hall burst into laughter.

“That’s the northmen for you! First they take that damned castle, next they want the entire Rhankish army coming at them!” a Vyssian nobleman exclaimed.

“I’m glad we’re on the same side!” another joked out loud.

“There you have it. Besides, I doubt the Rhanks would directly attack Castle Marcoir. Both the Vyssians and the Rhanks know it is a formidable place to take, and not only that, the Varangians are even looking forward to fortifying it further,” Ecgbert explained.

“Fortify it even further? Will it even be feasible? I don’t think the Varangians have enough manpower to build anything before the Rhankish army retaliates,” Eoforwic pointed out.

“Not a worry. We have already begun constructing our fortification long before we had even taken the castle,” Exarchi said.

“What? When?”

“When we were assaulting the castle.”

There weren’t any lies or exaggeration in Exarchi’s words. The wall that was constructed by the drones around Marcoir was already being strengthened and built upon. Even the inner castle was being heavily modified to suit the needs of Custodian’s drones. Granaries, residences, and other non-essential buildings were scrapped for manufacturing shops, stand-by posts, and defenses.

“I don’t know about you fellas, but these northmen are crazy!” a nobleman exclaimed, and the whole hall erupted in cheers.

“How about you, Wick? How goes the sieges?” Ecgbert asked after downing a cup of ale.

Eoforwic sighed then took a seat next to his old friend. A maid poured him a cup which he quickly finished in seconds. “It’s tough, but we’re assaulting Enfoir right now. It won’t be long until that castle falls.”

“That’s good to hear. What about Castle Kilothar?”

Eoforwic shook his head and answered, “Until we get more men, we’re down to starving them out since assaulting it is currently out of the question.”

“The Varangians will be busy fortifying Marcoir so we can’t get their help for now. Not only that, they have to prepare for their payment,” Ecgbert.

“Payment?” Eoforwic asked, then suddenly remembered . “Ah, right. So you’re here to discuss about the embassy?”

“Yes, yes. We will begin soon. Is that fine?” Exarchi asked.

“There isn’t any problem since the land we’ll be giving to you is part of our family’s territory, but should you not discuss this with your leader?” Ecgbert asked.

“Leader?”

“Is Sir Weaver not your leader?”

“No. Weaver and I are all subordinates of a much, much greater being than all of us,” Exarchi answered.

Ecgbert nodded then said, “I see. It seems that I am mistaken. Then let’s discuss the details…”

Within Central Rhankia, at a major walled city, an unassuming man sat on a bench inside the courtyard of the largest Humanosian cathedral in Rhankia, the Cathedral of Saint Sallus. In order to stave off his boredom, the man watched as his superior paced back and forth nervously.

“I swear, Lorferd, the eyes of the priests popped up when we gave them the husks! It’s true! We’re all dead!” the nervous man moaned.

“Yes, yes. You’ve said that already, Count Marcoir,” Lorferd replied.

A few hours ago, Count Marcoir and his retainers arrived at the Cathedral of Sallus to hand over the drones’ bodies which they recovered earlier. After some brief discussions, the priests took the bodies and went into the inner cathedral, leaving the Rhankish nobles outside to wait for a reply.

Lorferd’s only source of entertainment was watching his lord pace back and forth for the past hour or so, while the rest of Marcoir’s men silently stood guard over their lord or prayed at the cathedral courtyard.

“Some water, Count Marcoir?” a little girl, obviously a cathedral worker, offered a jug of water to the count but she was simply ignored, causing her to be flustered.

“Come here, little girl. The lord’s busy fretting over the fate of the world,” Lorferd called out.

“Eh? Is this true, lord?” the little girl asked as she gave Lorferd a cup of water.

“Who knows. Only the priests would know.” Lorferd shrugged before taking a sip from the cup. “Speaking of them…”

A group of hooded men wearing red robes walked into the courtyard then started approaching Count Marcoir.

“I’ll be taking my leave, lord.” The little girl, upon seeing the priests, made a hasty retreat out of the courtyard.

“Lord, heads up. It’s the Archpriest of Saint Sallus,” Lorferd called out.

“WHERE?!” Marcoir shouted as he snapped out of his trance. He had an expectant look when his eyes locked onto the Archpriest and his followers.

“Greetings, Count Marcoir. I am Archpriest Agrianos. Praise be Humanos,” the Archpriest introduced himself.

“No need for introductions. I know you quite well. Well, most people in the region do. Wait, that doesn’t matter. Tell me, are the bodies of… demonic nature?” Marcoir asked.

Agrianos smiled before answering, “You can rest well, faithful servant of Humanos. We have bathed the body in holy water, and there was no reaction.”

“Oh, thank Humanos!” Marcoir cried as he threw his arms upward in joy.

“Thank Humanos indeed. Is there any problem if we keep the bodies? While not demonic in nature, they might be related to the arcane arts,” Agrianos said.

“So it was magic all along! What sort of magic?” Marcoir asked.

“We’re not sure. It could be an ancient technique used to animate suits of armor. Or perhaps it’s a new technique. We’ll have to run this to one of the Faith’s magisterium,” Argianos replied.

“That’s fine. Keep it. Take it as a donation to the Faith. We’ll be taking our leave now, Archpriest.”

“Of course. Have faith in Humanos.”

“Always. Let’s move, Lorferd!”

Before Marcoir could even leave the cathedral grounds, a horseman announced his arrival loudly. “I have a message for Count Marcoir! I heard he’s here!”

“I’m Count Marcoir. Who sent you?” Marcoir asked the horseman.

“Lord, a few day ago, Castle Marcoir was attacked by the Vyssian northern mercenaries. I was sent by Steward Elldrick, and he hoped that you would return with haste,” the horseman replied.

“What? That’s absurd! My last report stated that the Vyssian allies were holed up in Castle Norwind. To move an entire army in a few days under my nose is simply unthinkable!” Lorferd exclaimed upon hearing the news.

“It’s fine, Lorferd. We’ll just get some serjents on the way back and we’ll beat those savages back. After all, they aren’t demons!” Marcoir happily declared.

“I suppose we could. It will take a long time to set up a proper assault given the numbers-”

“I have an urgent message for Count Marcoir from Lord Elldrick of Yahiscord!” another horseman arrived, but this time, the messenger had a panicked look.

“Are you here to tell me that my castle was attacked? I didn’t expect Elldrick to be paranoid enough to send me two messengers,” Marcoir sighed as he approached the newly arrived messenger.

“Count Marcoir! I had to get here through the courier posts because this is urgent! Castle Marcoir has fallen to the Vyssians!”

“WHAT?! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Marcoir shouted.

“Three days ago, Count Marcoir was assaulted by a great number of Vyssian mercenaries which knocked out most of the castle’s defenses. Lord Elldrick managed to slip away with what remained of the defenders a day ago, and ordered me to report this to you!” the second messenger explained.

“Lorferd, gather the men quickly! We must take back my castle!” Marcoir ordered angrily before leaving the cathedral grounds.

While the Rhankish knights scrambled out of the cathedral grounds, Archpriest Agrianos went back into the inner cathedral, uninterested in secular matters.

“Forgive me for my ignorance, Archpriest, but why did you lie to the noblemen?” a priest asked Agrianos.

“Let’s be honest here, Talbio, we don’t know what are demons. Contrary to what most people believe, Kojans aren’t really demons. They’re simply another race living out in the eastern fringes of the continent, and we decided to paint them as demons,” Agrianos said.

“Really?” one of the priests asked.

“What does the scriptures say about the demons?” Agrianos asked the priests.

“That their flesh was naught but bark, with sap for blood, and a desire to eat humanity?” a priest answered.

“That’s what the new scriptures say. The originals, on the other hand, simply described the demons as ‘lacking flesh, blood, and emotion’. None of the originals ever mentioned or described the Kojans,” Agrianos nonchalantly explained causing the priests to murmur amongst each other. “Over the time, people mistook the words of our ancestors and thought that the Kojans were demons. Make no mistake, Kojans are still enemies of humanity, but they are not demons.”

“Then do the bodies belong to demons?” Talbio asked.

“That’s the problem, Talbio. I don’t know. The scriptures explained that demonic entities would wither and burn when bathed in holy water, like the undead. On the other hand…”

Agrianos and his group finally arrived at a ritual hall. There were other high ranking priests observing the glowing pool of water in the middle of the hall, and inside the pool were the bodies of the drones.

There weren’t any need for candles as the light given out from the glowing pool was enough to brighten the entire hall. Tiny droplets were starting to float up from the pool, but they wouldn’t float too far, though it still caused some unease among the priests.

Of course, Agrianos didn’t actually dip the bodies in holy water at first. He first poured small cups of holy water onto the bodies, but when the water started reacting to the drones’ bodies, he had the drones submerged to see the full effect of the reaction.

The pool of holy water, almost indiscernible from a normal pool of water, began to glow brightly once the drones’ bodies were submerged in it.

“This has never happened before. I don’t understand what’s going on,” Talbio said.

“Nor I,” Agrianos added before dipping his hand into the water. “It doesn’t look like it’s affecting the holy water. At least, not yet. Where did Marcoir say he got these bodies from?”

“From the north, Archpriest,” Talbio answered.

“Send some spies there. We need to observe these beings, and we need to know what these things are,” Agrianos ordered.

“As you command, Archpriest.”

Sighing to himself, Agrianos muttered, “First the undead, now this? Humanos, what is going on?”