Now—the giant brought its fist down and the enchanted stones of the castle shook.

“Today House Ladel ends!”

The [Necromancer]’s amplified, magical voice was triumphant. His army numbered over twenty thousand. Three more armies held the roads from Ovela and Menorome.

There were no reinforcements. Duchess Grishen stood on the battlements, watching the giant swing again. The castle shook.

“So we die. Bring me my horse. I’ve chosen the spot to do it. And I will bring down that damned

[Necromancer] or his giant, at least.”

The [Duchess] stared down at the [Necromancer]. He stood safely out of arrow and spell range, shielded by Draug and Crypt Lords as he ordered his giant forwards. Beside him stood a little girl, swaying. The

[Duchess] vowed to set her free.

“Princess. Your father demands you flee. He orders us to drag you to safety.”

Ser Dalimont rode next to Seraphel. The [Princess] was shaking. She could see the giant ahead of her.

Trying to bring down the castle and break the gates or wall so the undead could slay the defenders. The Duchess had evacuated her people, letting the [Necromancer] focus his ire on her.

But the people of Ladel marched on the army of the dead. Next to their neighbors, the people of Afiele.

Violetta walked with Idelt, a spear in her hands. The [Cellist]’s face was pale. Idelt had a terrible cut across his belly and arm for which there was no potion to heal.

They could have all run. But the Duchess had not. And they had all seen Sasi. Their [Lord] had refused to run.

He had to lay her to rest. Culin walked at the head of the army. They were outnumbered.

But the [Necromancer] had to die.

It was a compulsion greater than their lives. Lord Lantal Afiele was dead. Lady Risel Afiele had perished.

Lady Sasi—too many. Afiele’s folk would rather die than let the monster live.

He saw them coming. The [Necromancer] turned his head incredulously.

“The [Princess] of Calanfer? Afiele’s people and Ladel’s. Fools. Have they lost their senses?”

It would be a slaughter. The Draug turned, and the Crypt Lords stirred. Dozens of them. These were not elite warriors but villagers. Farmers. Yet they marched.

Princess Seraphel du Marquin saw the [Necromancer]. She looked at Ser Dalimont as he walked next to her.

“If my father has ordered you to take me away, Ser Dalimont, why are you not abducting me? You will have to drag me away. I will not run away. This…is as fitting a destiny I could ask for. I can think of no greater honor than to be here.”

The Thronebearer looked past Seraphel. Towards the [Lord] of Afiele.

“His Majesty’s will is absolute, Your Highness. I am sworn to obey the Throne of Calanfer, as are we all.”