After a long and hasty journey to the city of Souigak, the two Warmarshals and their armies made it to the city limits.
"Don't worry so bad, Michael." George attempted to comfort Michael as the two dashed into the city, in a rare situation George had continuously tried to comfort Michael on their ride here. They had already left orders for their armies to camp outside the city, and take report of the wounded and missing in action.
"That's like telling a dog to fly!" Bellowed Michael, who was carrying his sister in a princess carry, closely behind George, as the dashed to the City.
George spoke again, "Seriously, there isn't a wound I can't cure."
Michael remained silent, as the two had blasted pass the city sentries, at the gates of Souigak.
The Two Sentries attempted to stop the two speeding intruders, but they had seen the crest of Deagoth on both warriors, as the blasted by... "Were those the... the... Were they both Warmarshals?" One sentry looked to his partner and questioned.
"I think so, we need to inform the Archbishop, something big must of happened."
"We're here! Now, where do we go!" Michael questioned as his voice boomed in the dimly lit streets.
Even though it was late at night in Souigak, it was still busy with undead coming and going. A testament to the population and prosperity of the most northern city.
"My family has a branch here in the city! We will take your sister there! I will have the tools needed to fix her!" George spoke confidently, as he took a left at the next intersection. It seemed he had been in this city before.
With a clear direction, Michael focused his attention on his sister. She hadn't spoken three words since they rode with all their might to arrive. She would spasm in his arms every few minutes increasing the Warmarshal's dread, during the entire duration of the escape.
George came to an abrupt stop just outside a large dark building. The defining feature of this large building besides the sole plot it took up within the City was the large symbol of the Darkfield family.
Busting through the doors Darkfield spoke to all the nurses and bone doctors in the area, "I am George Darkfield, Warmarshal and Heir of the Darkfield clan! I need an Emergency room prepared and staffed. I need two assistant Bone Doctors, and I need a Message runner."
As they darted in, George was followed by Michael. The staff, after hearing George's Orders, started moving as if they had been shot with stimulates! The entire building buzzed with talk, and action.
The Hospital's Head Bone Doctor quickly made his way downstairs to meet George Darkfield, and with the aid of the staff, a new room was prepared for them.
Michael laid his sister on the bone bed stretcher. He looked up to George, waiting for his next order.
"I'm not going to ask you to wait in the waiting room, but I will ask that you restrain yourself no matter what happens. Do you need a chair to sit?" George spoke again dryly, but his words made it easy to know he was doing his best to show care.
"I'll stand... And thank you, my friend." Michael spoke softly. His voice contained many emotions. Fear, anger, respect, thankfulness, and... Hope.
"I only ask, that you debrief the message runner I'm having them prepare. Deagoth needs to know what We know. The Dead Soul Mushroom is a threat to all of Undeadkind."
Michael nodded, as he put his bad to the wall, as he watched George and the Bone Doctor's preparing. Michael didn't know what all his sister's injury meant, but he knew that it was bad, if he could see guts. He only hoped her soul wouldn't leak from her body before they repaired her...
*******
"So, you must be General Mark." A large hulking geist greeted Mark, as he walked to the encampment. Mark had just arrived with the King of Jakahn's seal and decree.
"It is good to meet you finally, General Jacob," Mark said with a slight bow to show respect.
Shock crossed Jacobs' eyes, but disappeared before anyone could notice it, "It is an honor to have you, General Mark." Jacob for his impressive size stood with a hunched posture but was still five meters tall. He dwarfed Mark in height, but like all geist, Jacob was mostly skin and bones. He wore a Jakahn Military uniform, colored in beige and red trim.
While Mark was sizing up Jacob, Jacob was doing the same. Mark stood before the war council of Jakahn also wearing a Jakahn Uniform. Mark was a skeletal undead and had his signature silver monocle over his right hollowed eye.
"I'm glad you think so. Before We begin, I would like to address all the lead commanders." Mark commented as he should no arrogance.
"Hmmmm... Well, we were planning on something like that anyway. I will gather them up." General Jacob started passing orders.
While he and Mark chatted for a few minutes by Jacob's tent, one of his commanders came over to report.
Hearing the report, Jacob led Mark over to the largest tent in the compound.
Mark walked in under the gazes of all the major commanders of the three armies posted here. He showed no cowardice nor arrogance again. His back was ramrod straight, and this instantly gained a bit of respect from those that saw him. Many rumors surrounded this traitor of Deagoth. This aspect of being a traitor, while fitting the agenda of Jakahn, didn't mesh well with these die-hard patriots of Jakahn.
Mark stood on the platform, and overlooked, everyone. He spoke aloud, "I know... Some of you think I got to this position because of political favor. I know that you believe I am a traitor of Deagoth, and this leaves you with a bad taste. I, also, know that you feel my presence isn't needed."
Mark could see that some of the undead commanders slightly nodding their head, before stopping themselves. It was obvious they didn't mean to nod, but they did so subconsciously.
Mark nodded a few times.
"Let me tell you first... You are absolutely correct. Everything you believe is true." Mark landed his first headbanger.
Many of the commanders, including Jacob who was thinking on how to downplay the situation couldn't help but give another look at Mark... What was he saying?
"I did get here by political favor, so you're Right. I know the King and Princess of Jakahn, and through them, they have allowed me to come to the front lines with everyone."
Mark paused so this point sunk in, "I am in fact a traitor of Deagoth. I was a traitor from day one! If you look at it that way... Then I was never a part of Deagoth. I disdain Deagoth and their hypocritical ways... I won't go on about such feelings, as I'm sure you disdain them as well. They are not like the Jakahn. Jakahn is a warrior nation that respects the strong, as it should! Strong minds, and Strong bodies! This is what makes a nation great, and Jakahn has excess. I can tell this as I look over this crowd."
Many in the audience nodded at this statement and found that they stood slightly straighter. Pride could be seen forming on their already proud features.
"Lastly... I'm not really needed here. I believe without me here, you would still steamroll Deagoth! Do I think Jakahn will win this war! No...!"
Many undead didn't understand this statement... How do we steamroll, but not win??? Even Jacob frowned, as he wondered just what Mark was getting at...
Before any of the commanding undead could think of what this means, Mark provided the answer, "Because you can't win a slaughter!"
Unknowingly, the blood that slept in all the zombie undead was stirred up as they shouted! "HUUUUUU RAAAAAA!"
"You are the best of the best of the Jakahn's warriors, and We will engage in slaughter."
"HUUUUUU RAAAAAA!"
"I only ask that you listen to a few of my opinions... Opinions that will increase the slaughter!"
"HUUUUUU RAAAAAA!"
Mark pointed to Jacob, "And with the War God of Jakahn Jacob, who could stop us!"
"HUUUUUU RAAAAAA!"
"HUUUUUU RAAAAAA!"
"HUUUUUU RAAAAAA!"
"Jacob, come on up here, and let Us know the war plan!"
Jacob quickly made up to the stage, as Mark came down.
With the fervor and zeal felt by many of the undead, they couldn't tell you what the plan was... They only wanted to be pointed in the direction of the fight, so they could run the rivers black with blood.
After the pep rally, Jacob, mark and two other Generals were left within the large tent.
"What was quite the speech, General Mark." Jacob sincerely spoke.
"Thank you, General. I'm only here doing my job. It's really your credit. Your achievements have been heard from coast to coast. Who doesn't know that year, it was you that stopped an army of Dragon's Jaw with a troop of one thousand warriors, never losing one undead."
Jacob laughed pleased, "Well in Dragon's Jaw's defense, they were stupid to attack from the Dragon's Pass between the twin peaks. You know numbers mean nothing when they walk in single file."
Mark nodded.
"Let me introduce these two, these are-" Jacob was interrupted by Mark, "This is General Lee, and this is General Russell. It is a fine pleasure to meet two other outstanding warriors." Mark shook hands with both.
General Lee was a Skeletal Undead like Mark, but his face had two deep slashes over his face that gave the appearance of an "X."
General Russell was a Zombie undead, short and stout. He was burly with muscles, and harry over his arms. He had a huge upper body in comparison to his short waist and legs. He resembled a gorilla. His hair was wild, and the color of flames.
"The pleasure is all ours, General Mark." General Lee said while shaking Mark's hand.
"It's good ta meet cho." General Russell spoke with an odd accent, that Mark couldn't place.
After introductions, Jacob chimed in, "I've already told the plan, what input do you have?"
Mark thought for a moment, "The overall plan is good, but let's make a few fine point adjustments." The group walked over to a large map of Deagoth and Jakahn.
They poured over the map, and Mark listed a few key points that should be thought of... He also pointed out all the churches of Deagoth and a few key monuments.
After about two hours of planning, Mark bade them night, as he wished to rest before everyone got ready to roll north into battle.
Mark had his servants and warriors follow him this way. He had ten servants, one hundred warriors. This was seen as a small escort, and not worth mentioning. No one paid attention to this, as even the commanders would have personal warriors, though much larger than one hundred.
Mark entered his tent, and mat his wife again.
"How do you feel? Is there anything you need? No one has bothered you, have they?" Mark asked in quick succession.
"Okay, No, and No, in that order." Princess Janet snorted.
"That's good... Good... If you need anything, just let me know. If it is within my power, you know I will do it." Mark spoke, as he walked over to his chair, his servants had set up within the tent, he crossed over his wife's favor fur skin rug that laid in front of his desk.
"You know what I want," Janet spoke, as she returned to the book she was reading. She had no idea why Mark had so many books, but it was one of the few things she enjoyed doing now that she was captive.
"When... When I get the Skull of the Sun God. I will fix your problems. At that time... If you still want to leave. I won't stop you. I... I would do anything for you." Mark commented as a pang of sadness welled up inside him. Feeling the emotion.
He got up to walk over to a box of supplies, he packed and pulled out a small box. Opening it, he took out another vial. He waited for a few moments while looking into the mirror. He caught the Tear of the Skeleton he just produced into the vial. This vial was a new one he just started. He had many many vials now. He placed the vial back into the box, almost lovingly. He returned to his desk.
Princess Janet had seen him do this every time she brought something like this up. He would shed a tear. At first, she didn't believe in it, but she slowly started to wonder. It would be hard for someone to put up an act like his, for this long.
Finally, she couldn't help but finally ask, "Why do you shed tears when you talk to me."
"Haaaa~" uncharacteristically Mark sighed aloud. "How I wish I had lungs to experience the feeling of being able to sigh..." Mark shook his head, "Because I love you. I shed tears because I love you."
Mark started to gather his notes on his desk, and began to work, leaving Janet to her thoughts.
Her beautiful face looked complex, as she studied her jailer.