Mark looked long into the distance from his hilltop perch, as he listened to the drawstring of the Ballista snap continuously. General Jacob walked next to him and stood silently for a time until he finally opened his mouth to speak.
"It seems the War God of Deagoth has graced us with her presence, here at the border," Jacob said wearily.
"War Goddess."
"Hmmm?"
"I always wondered why Warmarshal Verruca was called the War God, and not War Goddess." Mark thought out loud.
"...I... I have no idea." Jacob shook his head, he had never thought about something like that. He was known as a War God, but he was weary of Warmarshal Verruca. This would be the first time in over a thousand years she had come back to their border, and this was before she made her name in the Conflicts with Borda.
"Either way, she is strong, and her troops, the Legion of Warbreakers, are terrifying if left unchecked," Mark noted.
"The bits of intel We have shown that three Warmarshals have already departed from Zitergall. One going west, and two going east."
"Hammer and Anvil? Impressive... Do you know which army was Warmarshal Verruca's?" Mark asked blandly.
"If scouts are to be believed... None of them. There are four Warmarshals here."
Finally, Mark broke his sight with the front lines, as he looked to Jacob. It was slightly out of his expectation that they had received four out of the seven Warmarshals, as he knew good and well that the north side of Deagoth should be knee-deep in the Dead Tide.
"Really interesting," Mark spoke, after a pause.
"I have some suggestions, but this is why I have sought you out. What do you advise, General Mark?" Jacob asked, in expectation. The moment he heard the laughing in the Light was already more than he was willing to endure but lingered on due to Mark's insistence of winning.
"Warmarshal Verruca built her reputation on frontal assaults, I assume this to be her place. Attack from two sides, while she plows through the front." Mark spoke, without letting Jacob interrupt.
"We will simply pull back."
"Huh?"
"Or do you want to face the might of the strongest Warmarshal executing her strongest formation?" Mark asked as he turned his sight back to the frontlines blandly.
"What about the siege weapons?"
"Destroy them, as we retreat into our fortifications," Mark said.
Slowly understanding dawned on Jacob, and he followed the plan in his mind, [So we built the traps and fortifications for this moment... General Mark is really far-sighted...] Jacob thought, as he wondered if he prepared this for Warmarshal Verruca in mind or as back up, and this just fell into place.
"Some losses will happen, but this is war... When have undead not perished in war?" Mark laughed, while Jacob nodded.
"When We pull back, we need to find an opportunity to separate Warmarshal Verruca from her troops, stave off her fellow Warmarshals, and... send the good Warmarshal on a one-way trip to the next world." Mark stopped laughing and grimly issued his plans.
"You want to assassinate Warmarshal Verruca?" Jacob looked shocked. In undead wars, it was mostly the troops that fault and perished. The commanders seldom died.
"I have some of my plans as well. My honor guard are... Ready for some action. You focus on separating the Warmarshal, and if you can... Destroy her."
Jacob furrowed his brows, "While I find destroying Warmarshal Verruca a difficult task, the thoughts of being Titled the Death of Gods... I can't help but feel giddy. We will speak again, General Mark. I must go prepare." Jacob spoke, as his voice was left to linger in the air. He had already left, by the time the words sounded.
Mark laughed a few times, "Verruca, Verruca, Verruca... How will The Holy Witch King feel when you leave him? Did you think I didn't know you were his woman? Haha, so cleaver! A false consort to cover for you! Who would believe that The Holy Witch King would take an Unholy cultivator from the Grimnight Clan as his wife... Laughable! I can't wait to see your facade crumble when you leave your closed doors and see the still corpse of her beloved Julia..." Mark began to laugh heavily, as he turned to walk back to his tent.
*******
Mark walked into his tent, "Wife have you been well, since this morning?"
"..." Mark was met by silence, as he looked at his wife sitting in her chair by a Glowstone lamp reading another book. Her favorite rug on the floor vacant of her.
"Haaaa~ Princess Janet have you been well, since this morning?" Mark asked again, but with his wife's name.
Janet put her book down for a moment, "Yes. No one has bothered me." She eyed Mark with less suspicion, but reservation could be seen on her face.
Mark shook his head, "I really don't know why you don't believe me." He walked over to his desk to sit down.
"Who would believe you were their husband?" Janet said with a snort.
Mark stopped looking for a report on his desk, as he looked up at Janet. Shock could be seen in his posture, but not on his skeletal face.
"What's wrong with me as a husband?" Mark asked hesitantly.
"...I don't believe I fell for a conniving lying manipulative arrogant bastard." Janet spat, while she picked up her book to start reading again.
Mark's jaw hung for a few moments, as he took in his wife's slander. He stood up from his chair and crossed the tent to stand next to Janet.
Janet at first was unconcerned until he stood and began to walk to her. She still didn't know how strong Mark was... She had probed a few times, but still...
"What... What do you want?" Janet raised her book as if a shield that could protect her.
Mark knelt to one knee next to Janet, as he looked at her at eye level.
"Janet, will you listen to me?" Mark asked softly.
Janet lowered her book to look at the undead in front of her.
"I am exactly what you said I am. I am conniving, but you can also call me a master of schemes. I do lie... so that I can manipulate, but I have never lied to you and will never lie to you. I am arrogant, but you can also call me confident... Also... My parents were happily married before I was conceived." Mark spoke all at once.
Janet was slightly dazed, [He just wanted to make clear what he was to me?]
"If you have never lied to me, then tell me why I'm not at home in my nation?" Janet asked. This question bothered her the most.
Mark didn't say anything for a long time.
"Speak!" Janet gritted her teeth
"I... Are you sure you really want to know?" Mark asked, with a pleading tone that indicated he didn't want to say.
"Yes!"
"Janet... That year when I finally made you mine, when your father, the King of Dragon's Jaw, allowed me to become your husband. I wed you in your palace courtyard... Only you, me, and our servants were present, your father didn't even bother seeing us. You might have been able to endure the treatment of your family, but I couldn't... I took you with me. Your... Family... Never stopped me, and have never once asked about you. We stayed in Deagoth for more than two thousand years. It's not like they didn't know where we were... But they never tried to find out."
"What are you saying?" Janet couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"I'm saying your royal family dislikes you. It borderlines on hate. They treated you worse than your servants. I'm not strong enough to get justice for you... But when I do get strong enough. No one and I mean no one will ever... EVER... Be able to ridicule you." Mark said sternly, at the end of his sentence.
"So... So, you took me from my royal home, because my family was terrible to me? Why were they terrible to me?" Janet asked, as she tossed her book, and wheeled her chair to face Mark, who was still on knee.
"If you really want to know... Your birth was... Complicated. Your mother, the Queen of Dragon's Jaw, perished during the birthing ritual. Your father and your siblings resented you. They shouldn't' feel like it's your fault, but they blame you anyway. The reason you are bound to a wheel chair is also a cause of your complicated birth." Mark said softly.
"So... So, my mother is gone?"
"Since you were born."
"And my father... my father, and siblings, with an 'S' hate me."
"Yes."
"And I have been like this since I was born." Janet indicated to her lower body.
"...Yes..."
"Why did I lose my memory?"
"Because... I... I tried to heal your soul, and I... I..."
Janet reached out with her hand and laid it on Mark's hand, that was on his knee, as he knelt, "Say it."
Mark slightly touched, by the tenderness his wife had shown him. So, long... It felt like a life time since he had felt his wife's touch.
Feeling choked in his soul, he spoke, "I failed. I performed a ritual to heal your soul, and I failed. I almost lost you, but I brought you back. I brought you back to unlife. I broke the taboo of unlife. Once dead can be raised, once undead should be destroyed. I will have to pay the price... But I couldn't lose you. You mean... You mean too much to me. Such a simple reason, I failed." Mark put his head down into his wife's lap, as she put her hands on the back of his head, holding him.
"If what you say is true, you didn't fail me. This is a lot to take in, and I'm still not sure I can completely trust you, but... I forgive you." Janet soothed.
At this moment, a muffled bang was heard in the room. It sounded out and startled Janet as she lifted her hands to look at the source. It was Mark!
Frigid air coursed through the tent and filled into Mark. Mark stood up from his kneeling position, as he did so a pair of icicles formed on upon his skeletal brow, and extended upward. He appeared to have grown two thick ice horns, that resembled a demon's on his brow above his eyes, a pair of horns and a monocle over his eye.
Janet gasped looked at Mark! Wasn't these displays of Cultivation, a byproduct of power???
Mark noticed her reaction and crossed the room to his mirror. He gazed at his massive ice born horns. He ran his fingers over his left horn.
Pleased he looked to his wife, "It seems The Holy Witch King isn't the only one who can Cultivate to become an Emperor." Mark began to manically laugh, as Janet's face slackened in shock! She hissed the words, "Emperor Rank!"