Dreams of Conquest

“Go forth eternal legion, bring me the emperor’s head, in my name!”

Wilhelm swept his sweat stained pale hair from his brow, they finally breached the gate. A massive slab of divine gold said to have never opened for any invading army, was reduced to molten slag. The city of Ou, the capital of the Ougon Empire was said to be the jewel of all the known world. A city of gold, paradise on earth, the cradle of civilization and humanity.

A throne of lies.

The legions of dead marched into the city of gold. The white-gold defenders, unlucky remnants of the army sent to halt their advance, were crushed under the unnaturally disciplined boots of undead soldiers, marching in such a uniform step as to make even the pace of the most elite mortal soldiers seem disjointed. Despite wielding the unfeeling efficiency typical of undead, some contained a spring in their step. Perhaps he was just imagining things but those of the 1st Legion, his most elite and the men who have been with him since the beginning, seemed almost eager to enter the gates, a hint of pent-up bloodlust and elation guiding their blades upon Ougonian flesh. Like the surge of energy a runner experiences when the finish line is in sight.

Leading them at the front was Titania, his childhood friend and former raider turned bodyguard. Her red hair writhed like fire with each swing of her axe, mowing down white-gold soldiers like they were wheat. Wilhelm wondered if she would enjoy being an invader for once or be saddened by the losses it took to finally reach the end of their long crusade.

Wilhelm could feel it in his bones, the time to bring the heavens crashing down had come.

His black officer’s uniform, a double-breasted jacket with gold accents, tattered and stained with blood, fluttered in the breeze. This combined with his short, willowy stature and youthful face made him more like a haggard, young prince, not the Dark Lord of the Dead he was said to be. The only thing that marked him as the lord of an army was his crimson cape, bejeweled gold pauldrons and the battered, crooked remains of what used to be a crown on his head. That suited him just fine, Wilhelm never liked being the center of attention, and if it gave him an advantage in battle then all the more reason.

Besides, he had no need of armor.

Wilhelm urged his bones to move.

His body moved at his mental urging, though not through sinew and nerves, but through strings of necromantic energy, like a puppet controlling its own strings. He ran at a pace that no human legs could withstand, his bones snapping and mending themselves at lightning speed.

As he rushed forward in front of his army through the gates, white-gold soldiers being tossed from the walls in his passing, he quickly realized that the Ougonite forces were quick to reorganize. In the main city street leading up to the palace, large enough to fill 20 carriages side by side were several rows of reorganized defenders armed with crossbows and pikes with many more waiting in the city square beyond them. There was one row of shields on the ground, while the rows behind them had pikes pointed forwards past the shields, the rows behind those ones had their pikes facing skyward, ready to replace any fallen. They were arranged in V-formations that were facing inward with each point guarded by a single Imperial Paladin. This created a bottleneck for attackers and to allow their mages and archers, who were standing on the balconies and roofs of the surrounding buildings, more time to rain fire down on the attackers. It also ensured that the paladin was not overwhelmed by numbers and can use their considerable might to the fullest. A single Paladin is capable of routing entire armies. And there are five of them with backup standing before Wilhelm. Clearly the Ougonites were prepared to go down kicking and screaming.

Beyond the square were the steps to the palace. A golden structure atop a golden mountain adorned with the heraldry of the Ougon dynasty, a lion’s head with a mane of burning swords, resembling a sun.

Even with these considerable defenses, they are no match for the sheer numbers of undead at Wilhelm’s disposal. He could simply stand back and let his forces overwhelm the defenders.

And yet, he did not. He refused to let all these undead die and suffer for him, not while salvation is so close. He swore that he would do whatever he can to save as many of them as possible, and the key to doing so is in that palace.

So in spite of all military strategy screaming at him to do otherwise, Wilhelm advanced alone.

The crossbows fired their bolts from above and ahead, in response Wilhelm willed his blood veins to boil and burst from his arms, creating a shield that easily stopped the bolts. The paladin then formed a javelin of light and threw it at Wilhelm with force many times that of the crossbows. Knowing the shield will not be able to withstand the javelin, Wilhelm had the shield coagulate and meld with his arm bones to form a deep crimson blade, a jagged, crude excuse for a sword, but enough to deflect the javelin, impacting the ground behind him and exploding in a flash of light.

Wilhelm stepped forward, his muscles and bones aided by the time he spent charging them with necromancy, and jumped straight towards the paladin with a horizontal swing towards their chest. The Paladin waited for him to come, confident that his Godspeed technique and the maw of pikes would be enough to make his opponent regret jumping into the literal jaws of defeat.

I felt the pikes dig into my flesh as I flew forward. At the last moment, the paladin brought up his greatsword in an almost effortless upward yet absurdly fast thrust, skewering me on his blade, my momentum sliding my body down their blade until I was in range.

In the moment before impact, his bones increased in density and his muscles tightened and bulged as they increased their output, causing his blade to shatter the paladin’s breastplate and cleave on their flesh, bisecting the bewildered Paladin and the force of the swing caused the next formation of soldiers ahead to have their front lines knocked down.

Not wasting a second, Wilhelm used the momentum of his swing to continue his leap towards the second formation. The paladin of the second line got up faster than he fell and preemptively swung his sword in a burst of light, thinking the opponent would try to slay the commander while he’s vulnerable.

Instead, Wilhelm kicked the ground to change his direction towards the 2nd formation's flank to his right. Combined with his initial swing’s momentum and the lack of standing shieldbearers to blunt his charge, the entire flank was sent flying, those unfortunate enough to be caught near his blade were cut down and sent flying in bloody hunks of meat and metal. The others were either crushed against the building they thought would be a useful fortification or sent flying through the windows. The entire wall of the building was stained in blood flecked with white and gold remains. The force of so much weight colliding against it caused the building to collapse in on itself, causing the crossbowmen and priests atop it to fall to the ground. Metal clanged against the ground as armored bodies fell from the building.

To the paladin’s credit, he wasted no time correcting his grievous error. At light speed, he charged toward Wilhelm and swung his greatsword almost as soon as Wilhelm finished his swing. Imperial Paladins can move at lightspeed in short bursts. There was no way Wilhelm could dodge the swing. So he allowed it to strike him, bisecting him horizontally.

The Paladin smiled triumphantly as he slew the enemy commander and saved his empire.

Or so he believed.

Wilhelm smiled as the sinews of both halves of his torso reached out and reconnected with each other as quickly as they were severed.

“If only slaying the lord of the dead were that easy.”

Unbeknownst to the Paladin, when the soldiers in the right flank were slain, Wilhelm had the blood vessels in his legs pour out his blood into the remains of the fallen soldiers, allowing him to transfer necromantic energy into their remains.

Then in one smooth motion, I swung the blade of the 1st Paladin out of my chest and threw it at the other half of 2nd formation in such a way that it spun, cutting through an entire line of men, and impacting against the building behind them, destroying its support pillars. The building fell along with the men standing atop it, having fired only a handful of shots.

The corpses of the fallen pikemen stood up, grabbing their former commander’s limbs. The Paladin tried to cut them down but he had to redirect his blade to defense, lest Wilhelm’s blade find purchase in his chest. Unable to fend off both soldier and lord, the Paladin was impaled by his own men’s spears.

Wilhelm brought his arm up and let necromantic energy gather to revive the fallen paladin. The paladin of the 3rd formation realized this and moved to intercept. The remaining flank of the 2nd formation regained their bearings and were ordered to advance, the crossbow men and priests also raining fire upon Wilhelm. Just as Wilhelm planned.

It would take time to revive him as the stronger the soul and body, the more time it took to repair. As the 3rd Paladin cut down the undead pikemen at blinding speed to prevent his foe from defiling his comrade, The blood on the ground quickly coagulated into long spikes, forcing him to dodge. The men from the 2nd formation were halted as their front line was impaled, hung on spikes that reached several metres into the air. They were also being harried by their fallen comrades, slowly adding to the ranks of the undead. The paladin quickly made use of his light speed, dodging the blood spikes in order to reach Wilhelm in a flash. As he swung down his greatsword, he failed to notice that the corpses around him were bloated. Wilhelm snapped his fingers and the bloated corpses exploded into boiling blood and bone shards, causing the man to miss his swing. The explosions knocked him up into the air and impaled them upon blood tendrils that shot up into the sky towards him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wilhelm saw that the 4th and 3rd formations had merged together under the Paladin of the 4th and were charging towards him in a phalanx formation. They easily kept their formation orderly despite their frantic pace. It seemed that they realized that their defensive line was about to break and changed tactics, a sensible decision.

Wilhelm looked around, the remains of the 2nd formation were under the pressure of being attacked by their own comrades and blood. Wait, what about the 1st?

Wilhelm turned back expecting to see a wall of pikes approaching but instead found them being overwhelmed by his men, Titania leading the charge by doggedly laying into the pikemen. Without their paladin they were quickly disintegrating. Whatever remained of the 3rd, 4th, and 5th formations realized their position was untenable and began to fall back into the city square.

Between his army and Wilhelm himself, the 1st formation was destroyed in seconds. Titania ran towards her liege. “My lord, you are endangering yourself and wasting energy that should be used on the emperor, this is no time for heroics!”

Wilhelm looked at Titania and his men with chagrin. He supposed that it was naive to think he could end the battle by himself. But it was yet another sign of weakness. If he wanted to protect what remained of his kingdom, he would need more power. Wilhelm turned his gaze towards the golden palace atop the mountain.

“When I was crowned king, the kingdom had 501,917 people. When we started this crusade, we were only able to save 202,492 people. Now, at the end of this long journey, the people of the Ragna Kingdom now number only 9,262.” Wilhelm turned towards Titania, with angry tears in his eyes.

“I swore an oath to revive our kingdom! Every last man, woman, and child that was unjustly murdered by the Empire! I sullied that oath with my incompetence! I am the worst king our kingdom has had the displeasure of having! The least I can do to make up for my ineptitude is to save as many of our people as possible! So do not tell me to not carry out my sworn duty! That is akin to treason!” Wilhelm roared at Hubert, his throat hoarse from battle and raw emotion.

“Do what you will, but do not try to keep me from saving our people.” Wilhelm said as he leapt towards the city square. Titania shouted something but he could not hear.

Wilhelm was no longer a man, nor a king, but a storm of blood, flesh and bone, leaving behind broken white-gold bodies in his wake. Determined to ensure that no more of his people are robbed of their 2nd chance at life, he tore through the enemy ranks and added them to his own.

He would not just win. A pyrrhic victory would mean nothing.

Anything short of total, perfect victory is insufficient.

-

“You lose.”

Those were the last words he heard before he was struck down at impossible speed.

He was completely spent, his bones crushed, blood drained, muscles withered. He felt a gauntleted hand hold him up and put them in shackles, forcing him to watch as Titania was beheaded. Wilhelm tried to scream but no sound came from his throat, for it was slashed open. He could hear the holy emperor saying something but none of it registered.

The next thing he knew he was in an Oubilette, a small hole only accessible through a barred trapdoor in the ceiling, barely enough to fit him and his limbs. He was packed in like a box on an overfilled carriage. This small hole in the ground was now his world, only interrupted briefly by guards that rebroke his limbs to ensure that he cannot escape.

Perhaps Titania had been right, had he conserved his energy and let his men handle the soldiers, he might have been victorious. Perhaps it would not have mattered and the Emperor would have defeated them anyway.

The one thing Wilhelm could be certain of was that he failed, completely and utterly. This fact consumed his thoughts. He wished to die, yet darkness and pain was all that greeted him each day.

After an unknown period of time, he was dragged out into the blinding sunlight, hearing the jeers and boos of the Ougonites and other enemies he had made in his crusade.

As he was tied to the execution pyre, he could hear the emperor making some sort of speech. Perhaps it was better that his ears no longer worked as they did before. Hearing that smug bastard slander him and his kingdom would be unbearable. He could only stare at the ground despondently as the kindling was ignited.

He stared at the fire, begging for it to approach and consume him.

But it never touched him. It spread to everywhere but him.

He looked up and realized that fire had spread across the entire city. It was as if he was looking at a completely different place. Ougonites writhed in pain as their flesh turned to ash. Buildings of marble crumbled and turned to dust. Eventually all Wilhelm could see around him was fire all around him, but never reaching him. The smoke however persisted and he began to cough and suffocate.

As he began to lose consciousness, he could vaguely make out the shape of a woman amidst the fire and smoke.