Chapter two

The newly appointed Lord of the North looked down upon his army from the highest tower of his death-fort. The sight before him was a farrago of organized savagery: thieves, murderers, liars, deserters, and monsters no longer welcome in their own homes. To him, it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. His smile widened as his favorite general returned with a fresh battle-group of flesh golems numbering nearly ten thousand strong. The stitched abominations marched in eerie synchronization, their malformed limbs creaking with every step. The mere sight of them silenced the camp below. Hardened killers straightened their backs and lowered their eyes in fear as the grotesque legion passed. Lord Ramsey Boltain inhaled deeply, savoring the musty scent of blood, smoke, wet stone, and death. It reminded him of past conquests — burned castles, broken families, screaming enemies. Soon, he thought, all the western kingdoms would kneel before him. And for a time, everything had gone well. The sieges across the central west had succeeded one after another. Fortress walls had fallen. Rivers had run red. Entire noble houses had vanished beneath the boots of his armies. The capital itself now stood isolated, desperate, and starving. All Ramsey needed now was leverage. One final bargaining chip. One final humiliation for the king. That evening, the Lord of the North feasted in the great dining hall of his death-fort. The chamber glowed with torchlight that danced against black stone walls draped in flayed banners and trophies from conquered lands. Music echoed faintly from trembling musicians too afraid to miss a note. Ramsey devoured the feast before him like an insatiable beast. Roasted meats drenched in grease, sugared fruits imported from conquered ports, steaming trenchers of marrow and spice — all plundered from the consequences of war. Eventually, thirst overtook him. He lazily raised a hand. “Kreak, fetch me some wine.” “Yes… master,” croaked a broken nasal voice. From the shadows emerged a tall, frail man with pale skin and long gray hair hanging in tangled strands around his face. His lips were cracked. His teeth shattered. Several fingernails and toenails were missing entirely, while the remaining ones were split and blackened. Every movement looked painful. Yet despite his condition, the man moved with frantic obedience. He hurried forward carrying a jewel-encrusted chalice with shaking hands. Wine splashed over the rim as he poured. Ramsey noticed his lady had not touched her food. “My lady,” he said coldly, “why aren’t you feasting?” She looked upon the table with visible disgust. “After the things you’ve done… especially if it brought these ‘delightful delicacies’ to this table… I seem to have lost my appetite.” Ramsey’s expression darkened. “My lady, we have discussed this over and over again. Shut up and finish your meal before it gets cold.” “At least a cold meal is not as cold as your heart,” she replied quietly. Her eyes drifted toward the pale servant. “Especially with how you treat Kreak… or should I say—” Ramsey slammed his goblet onto the table. “Do not utter another word, or I’ll send you back to the dungeon.” “Prince Johan.” The pale servant froze instantly. The chalice slipped from his trembling hands and clattered across the floor. His body spasmed violently as forgotten memories crashed into his mind. Images. Names. Faces. A crown. Fire. Pain. Ramsey threw his head back in frustration. “Oh, come on! I just got him better! Now I have to retrain him all over again!” His lady stared at him with quiet contempt. “I suppose your power through fear is not as absolute as you believe.” “That’s it! Guards!” Armored men rushed into the hall. “Take my wife and Kreak back to the dungeon! I want them out of my sight!” “Yes, my lord!” The guards seized them. Johan barely resisted, his mind lost somewhere between terror and memory as he was dragged away. The great doors slammed shut. Silence returned to the hall. Then suddenly— The doors burst open again. A mud-covered messenger stumbled inside, panting heavily. “My lord!” Ramsey snarled. “What is the meaning of this? Shouldn’t you be at the front lines waging wars and conquering lands?” “Yes, my lord, but—” “But what!?” The messenger swallowed nervously. “You know… it’s…” Ramsey’s face twisted with fury. “If I hear one more word about this ‘army of the dead,’ I swear to the Seven I will set my hunting hounds upon you!” The messenger lowered his head. “It’s the army of the dead, my lord.” Ramsey groaned in disbelief and grabbed his temples. “Oh, for the love of— Mother, gahhhhhhh!” He hurled a silver plate across the hall. It shattered against a pillar. “What will it take to get this damned army off my back?” he muttered furiously. “Every scout vanishes. Every outpost goes silent. Every survivor returns babbling about frozen corpses and blue-eyed horrors…” Then he stopped. A slow smile spread across his face. “Wait…” The messenger looked up cautiously. “My lord?” Ramsey began to laugh. Softly at first. Then louder. Finally, he slammed both hands against the table and stood. “I’m a fool.” The hall fell silent. “Regather the generals and whatever remains of the army,” Ramsey ordered. “Recall every sellsword, every beast-handler, every flesh-smith.” The messenger hesitated. “And… your plan, my lord?” Ramsey’s grin widened into something terrible. “If the dead want the kingdom so badly…” He looked toward the dark northern horizon beyond the windows. “…then we shall feed them the capital first.”

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The memory returned to Ramsey as he stood staring out across the torchlit courtyard. It had happened not long after his father’s disappearance. His stepmother had approached him in tears while holding his infant half-brother wrapped in heavy blankets against the northern cold. “Ramsey,” she pleaded softly, exhaustion lining her face, “have you seen your father? Your brother wishes to see him.” The infant babbled innocently in her arms. For a brief moment, Ramsey had simply stared at the child. A legitimate heir. A trueborn son. Everything Ramsey could never be. Then he smiled. “Of course,” he had said warmly. “I know exactly where Father went.” Relief flooded her expression instantly. “Thank you,” she whispered. Ramsey personally led them through the dark corridors beneath the fortress. The deeper they descended, the colder the air became. The torches thinned. Stone walls narrowed. The queen hesitated. “Ramsey… why would your father be down here?” “He wished not to be disturbed,” Ramsey replied calmly. Eventually they reached a heavy iron gate. Behind it was darkness. The smell hit first. Rot. Wet fur. Starvation. Then came the low growling. The queen’s face turned pale. Ramsey opened the gate. At once, the starving hunting hounds lunged from the darkness like unleashed demons. The queen screamed and clutched the infant tightly as the beasts crashed into them. The corridor erupted into chaos. Snarling. Tearing flesh. The infant’s cries. The queen begging for mercy. Ramsey stood motionless as blood splattered across the stones. For the briefest moment, the echoes of their screams sent a shiver crawling down his spine. Not guilt. Not remorse. Only instinct. Something deep within him recognizing the horror of what he had become. Then the feeling passed. A moth fluttered near the torch beside him. Annoyed, Ramsey lazily shooed it away while the sounds behind him slowly became wet crunching and silence. At last, he smiled. No father. No stepmother. No little brother. No one left standing in his way. Only him. Only Ramsey Boltain.

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This would be the day. The atmosphere around the death-fort trembled with anticipation for the coming battle. From atop the highest tower, Lord Ramsey Boltain gazed proudly across his northern kingdom and the mighty fortress that had become the symbol of his terror. Below him stood endless ranks of soldiers: hardened raiders, mercenaries, murderers, and flesh-crafted abominations awaiting his command. Archers lined the battlements shoulder-to-shoulder while massive spring-loaded ballistae and towering trebuchets sat primed to unleash storms of iron and stone upon the battlefield below. The walls of the death-fort loomed like black mountains against the frozen horizon. Ancient and colossal, they had withstood generations of war — even the full might of the honorable Solus Kingdom in ages past. Tonight, Ramsey believed they would withstand one final enemy. Yet the thick fog blanketing the battlefield unsettled him. It rolled endlessly across the snow-covered plains like a living thing, swallowing shapes and sound alike. The irony was not lost on him. The “fog of war” itself had come to stand before his gates, obscuring the enemy beyond sight. Still, Ramsey’s confidence endured. The trap was perfect. No matter how unnatural this so-called dark lord might be, no matter how many undead horrors marched beneath his banner, today would end with his destruction. At last, movement stirred within the fog. A towering armored figure emerged from the mist and strode into view before the fortress. Behind him marched tens of thousands of skeletal soldiers in dreadful formation. Archers. Swordsmen. Armored revenants clad in rusted steel. Grotesque siege engines dragged by the dead themselves groaned across the frozen earth. The dark lord stopped before the gates of the death-fort. His voice thundered across the battlefield. “Ramsey!” Ramsey stepped forward atop the battlements. “Yes!?” “Surrender Prince Johan and the Lady of the Wolf Clan, and I will take my army and leave.” Ramsey barked out a laugh. “How about no!?” “Then you choose war?” “Yes!” The dark lord slowly drew his blade. “Then so be it.” The battlefield erupted. The army of the dead surged forward like a tidal wave of bones and rusted iron. Siege engines hurled flaming projectiles against the fortress walls while skeletal hordes crashed against the gates in shrieking frenzy. Ramsey’s forces answered with merciless brutality. Ballista bolts tore through entire columns of undead. Flaming stones from trebuchets shattered siege towers into splinters and bone fragments. Arrows darkened the sky while flesh golems descended upon the battlefield like rabid beasts unleashed from hell itself. The battle raged from dawn until dusk. Smoke and ash blackened the snow. The dead piled high against the walls. And to Ramsey’s growing satisfaction, victory seemed within reach. The dark lord’s once-massive army had dwindled to barely over a thousand remaining troops. The surviving skeletons regrouped in tight defensive formation around their master at the center of the battlefield. Ramsey narrowed his eyes. Something felt wrong. Far too wrong. Yet his confidence remained unshaken. The final stage of his ambush had yet to begin. Soon, the dark lord and his pathetic remnants would be torn apart completely. Then Ramsey noticed something peculiar. The towering armored figure slowly raised a closed gauntlet toward the fortress. A gesture of defiance. “Boltain!” The sheer force of the voice caused Ramsey to recoil slightly in surprise. “This is your final warning.” A cold sneer crept across Ramsey’s face. “Surrender… or suffer.” That was enough. Something inside the Lord of the North finally snapped. This dark lord — this pretender — dared stand against his rightful conquest? Dared speak demands after losing nearly his entire army? Ramsey Boltain had crushed kingdoms. He had broken noble houses. He had fed his own blood to starving hounds. And this armored corpse thought itself worthy to threaten him? Ramsey spat over the battlements in pure contempt. “‘Surrender or suffer’?” he snarled. “How about I choose to make you suffer!?” He thrust his arm skyward. “Summon the war beasts!” The battlefield rumbled violently. Beneath the snow-covered ground — beneath the corpses and shattered remains of the dead — the earth itself erupted. Massive geysers of snow, mud, and blood exploded upward as thousands of flesh golems burst from hidden tunnels beneath the battlefield. Monstrous masses of stitched muscle and malformed bone roared in unison as they surrounded the remaining undead forces from every side. Ramsey grinned savagely. It was perfect. Just like cornering prey with a pack of hunting hounds. The dark lord and his remaining soldiers stood trapped. Then something happened. The armored figure suddenly spread enormous mechanical wings from his back and launched skyward in the blink of an eye. The battlefield froze. Hovering high above the fog, the dark lord turned his burning crimson gaze toward the fortress. “You have chosen your doom.” Then lightning split th e heavens. A deafening flash illuminated the battlefield. And instantly— The fog vanished. Ramsey’s grin disappeared. Beyond the battlefield stood the true army. An endless legion stretching farther than the eye could see. North. East. South. West. Every horizon was filled. Towering giants of iron and bone. Winged horrors circling the clouds. Colossal siege engines larger than castle towers. Endless ranks of skeletal infantry standing in absolute silence. Monstrous creatures of impossible size clawed through the frozen earth while crimson lights flickered across countless armored faces within the dark. The first army had merely been bait. Ramsey stared in shock and awe. Then came the sound. BOOM. The outer gate exploded inward. A swarm of iron skeletal warriors surged through the breach with terrifying speed. Unlike the earlier undead, these creatures moved with horrifying coordination. Their metallic bodies resisted arrows and steel alike while strange weapons unleashed bursts of fire and thunder that tore through Ramsey’s defenders. Men screamed. Walls burned. Entire defensive lines collapsed within moments. And for the first time in many years— Ramsey Boltain felt genuine fear./////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////somewhere in the dungeons, lady wolf placed back and forth as she heard the commotion got worse. She looked to the bandaged wrapped broken sweet prince."Sweetie, get up. We have to leave."Prince Johan groaned and mumbled. Lidia lifted up the prince to help hold him up and took him out the fortress walls to get them to sneak away from the castle during the middle of the battle. The two have struggled as they almost made it to the gate. Until, trouble arrived."Where do you think you're going my lady?" Said a Olivia, the bed warming girl with a bow and arrow ready and aimed at lidia. Lidia fearing for her"What are you doing? Do you really plan to kill me without consequence of what Ramsey will do to you if he finds out?"

"No sweet heart. I don't plan to kill you. The lord only need you to bear him sons. Once were done with that. We can feed your carcass to his hounds."

Olivia cackled as she gloated and maneuver the two to go to the staircase back to the tower as she moved in front of the gate.The gate Abruptly exploded, resulting in Olivia gets consumed by the flames of the fiery explosion as her screams get drowned out by silence.Everything is in smokes.Emerging from the smoke in high speed is a armored horseless horse carriage that being barely held together by wood and nails, ropes and chains, and heavens know what elsehe swiveled and paralleled parked in front of the two lovebirds in distress. On top of the coach seat was Jack behind the control wheel and control panels as he opened the side door of the steel armored horseless horse carriage for the two. "Get in if you want to live!" Jack yelled.Lidia bridal carried the prince inside the carriage quickly. Jack took off in high speed with the two safely in his carriage.As the carriage speeded through the marshes after quickly exiting the death fort, lidia gazed upon the battle commenced outside - if it could be called that. This was no more than a one sided slaughter. The oceanwaves of swarming metal skeletons armed with strange but powerful weapons charging the fortifications, iron giants tearing the great walls as if it were castle made of sand, and strange floating metal castles with metal pillars pointing at the death fort releasing sparks of fire being far into the distance behind the army. Tentacles rising from the earth all twisting and waving around in the air surrounding the castle from all side. Screams of the soldiers filling the atmosphere of the air with hopelessness and despair from the absolute slaughter. The worst was yet to come for lidia to bear. The metallic smell of carnage hit her nose like a slamming high charge from a jousting lance. The sweet smell of the carnage is gradually bringing the worst out of lidia as her teeth are becoming more razor sharp and fang like. Lidia could bare hold herself together as she tightly hugged herself. Her muscles growing bigger, stronger, and more pronounced.Lidia could barely hold herself together amidst the carnage as she fight off the process of transformation, she didn't want Johan to see her like this.She crawled up to the coach seat and grabbed Jack's shoulder.Jack looked into Lidia’s golden eyes."What the fuck is going on!?" Lidia spat thru her rows of ground sharp teeth and fangs."I dont know I'm so sorry!" jack stammered."What the fuck is this?"An abrupt explosion happened near the speeding carriage, causing lidia to fall back in the interiors and hit her head on the hard parts of the carriages interior.Lidia could only fallen asleep into a blissful oblivion. No longer worrying about turning into a werewolf at the wrong place and the wrong time.//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////The mechanical armored behemoth looked down upon the fallen Lord of the North, its crimson optics dimly pulsing like a flame within a furnace with a stone cold will and resolve as if judgment that had already been written. “I don't always get to cut loose and have fun on occasions like these. Besides,” it said, voice echoing through the shattered battlefield, “I love to give you a little something special.” Ramsey’s breathing was heavy now, uneven. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t smiling. “And what will that be?” he forced out, though the words came thinner than he intended. The armored figure tilted its head slightly. “Despair.” A silence fell so complete it felt unnatural—like the world itself was holding its breath. Then Ramsey heard it. Not a charge. Not a roar. A step. Metallic. Unified. From the fogless horizon, figures began to emerge. One. Ten. Hundreds. Then thousands. All identical in their dreadful precision—iron Skeletons with eyes burning like embers from hells fires, their movements synchronized like a single mind spread across countless bodies. Their weapons did not glow, did not scream, did not announce themselves with spectacle. They simply advanced. Slowly. Relentlessly. Unstoppably. Ramsey’s eyes darted left. Then right. Behind him. Above him. Every direction had already been taken. The circle was complete. The behemoth watched from above, unmoving. “Let him understand,” it said softly. And then— They closed in. Not in a rush. Not in chaos. But in certainty. Ramsey Boltain took a step back, then another, his pride collapsing somewhere between each heartbeat as the realization settled in his chest like iron. There was no gap. No escape. No army he could summon fast enough. Only them. Closing. Closing. Closing. And for the first time since he had become Lord of the North— Ramsey Boltain screamed.

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The solus kingdom scouts traveled farther to the north. Despite the supposed massive war effort that was about to invade the solus kingdom, every outpost of the northern army had just ceased all activities. Aside from rumors of another key player in the battlefield capable of inter kingdom siege warfare that stopped Ramsey boltain, nothing was truly certain.One of the pair of scouting groups have looked around. "Hey, you ever wondered where are all the northern soldier's are since they got this world conquest war thing going on?""I've no clue. They don't pay us enough to think those kind of questions." Said the other scouts with hint of melancholy and despair.The scouts horses had halted immediately in their tracks.Both scouts got off their horses to look over the ledge, the walled up to it and gazed over the ledge of the cliff. The scouts went shock and awe at what they saw.What they gazed upon the sights of the northern lands - at least what's left of it, put a feared in them like never before.The northern kingdom has fallen.