Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Staring up at the bright blue sky, it was a day like the ones before to Isilt, he did his best to not appear worried as he awaited what was next, Grigri had to have delivered the goods by now, the young trainee did not even know what to expect in response, or even if he should await any, so instead, he took time to enjoy daylight, for it was growing scarcer and scarcer, he was not aware of the eternal night of pure dark that had befallen Viridis, but he could definitely see something similar coming.
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One had to be a fool to not link the vile undeads to the abnormal shortening of day, the lengthening of night, and the utter darkness that permeated the latter, if the sun was being subdued by their horrid presence, then the moon had already surrendered.

Lowering his gaze to pay attention to the ogres working the fields, currently, it was the time of the great harvest, and after that, the winter wheat would be planted, which was naught but a variety that could grow in the winter, but instead of stopping on the monsters, he stopped upon the distant reinforced wall, although not quite close, it certainly was not nearly as far as Isilt would have liked, the stronghold of death loomed over the farms, the base of it was hidden from sight by a slight rise of ground.

'What is this?' leaning forward on the handle of a hoe, he thought he saw some sort of bright point moving in a straight line toward the ground for a moment.

"Isilt?"

Jumping in place reflexively, the knight-in-training felt a sense of deja-vu, thankfully, it was not a malevolent undead that accosted him this time, but a pretty woman, it seemed as though Isilt really lacked in spatial awareness, anyone could just sneak up on him, even just a simple soldier.

"Wait, what are you doing here?" he asked, naturally confused as she was not supposed to establish contact at all, and moreover, Grigri should have already sent the horn to her.

"The abandoned farm" without elaborating, the soldier gave him a nod and just walked away, Isilt looked around confusedly.

'The old barn?' there was only one abandoned structure all over the farmlands, the surrounding fields had been struck during the great firestorm, scorching the soils, and although ash should make for a great fertiliser, the flames had reached too deep, leaving the area impossible to cultivate for at least a few more years to come.

'Just the location? Am I supposed to go right now?' Isilt felt pretty confident that this was about something of importance, now wasn't the right time to try and get in the good graces of a future knight.

Looking around some more, he first finished what needed to be done in the fields before getting going, feeling nervous, not knowing what to expect, he would surely be given new orders, otherwise they wouldn't have taken the risk to call him, in fact, it seemed a bit odd to do that at all as he had precised in the report that he was at the top of the suspect list for the undeads.

But orders came from way above, a mere trainee like himself could not possibly grasp the magnitude of King Alisart Cleavster's plan, so he walked through the beaten paths, reaching the abandoned farm, which was magnificently resisted the firestorm unlike the fields around it, scorched black but standing proudly still.

Isilt would not try kicking at it, but to not have collapsed after all this time, the barn most certainly still held on to some of its durability, after being deserted, it had mostly become a place where children went to play against the advices of their parents, or where budding couples went to discover one another in private, in fact, it was so popular for this second usage that hay mysteriously found its way inside to accommodate for their amateur sport activities.

Having taken the path to becoming a knight, Isilt had never visited this place for other reasons that playing hide and seek with his siblings, finding a wife could wait for when he was made into an actual warrior, not only would it bring prestige to his family, allow him to begin the breeding of ogres to supplement their income as well, it would also allow for him to easily get married.

He had told his parents that he wished to marry the last daughter of an ageing farmer couple just next to them, as they had only ever gotten a single child and rather late in their lives, which would allow Isilt's familial farm to greatly expand as a result, but truthfully, he had always wanted to get married to a knightess.

'This place awoke more memories than I had expected…' he had gotten lost in his thoughts and aspirations as he stepped upon the blackened path and got closer to the old farm, the door was stuck half-opened, or half-closed depending on how you viewed it.

'If memory serves well, this used to be the biggest herd of corneaus in all of the farmlands' stepping inside, the stacks of hay were there, the beams inside were not burnt like the outside, from within, the barn seemed almost in perfect condition.

People often said that the raging fire that had washed over the area had been due to the pyromancers of Irlke Combuscrus weaving it into existence and sending right at the south, but considering that the flames had failed to consume the only building it had gone over, it was hard to believe that the northerners were responsible, they who could melt a knight alongside his armour.

'Now, where is…?' walking around a central pile of hay which blocked the view toward the end of this barn, Isilt caught sight of a figure, arms crossed, index finger tapping against the biceps, or at least, where such a muscle should be.

"Ah! At last, you are a bit late Isilt, you are probably the only one who thought to not drop everything and just rush over here immediately, smarter- No actually, you look pretty smart and you think before acting, my bad, I have no ground to insult you on" laughing at his own remarks, the trainee's gaze fell upon a particular pile of hay off to the right, behind the figure, standing in a corner, hidden from the entrance by other stacks.

There, a few undercover agents were stacked up, both information gatherers and receptioners, sighing in relief as he saw their chest rising.

"You are… Frenand right?" the living did his best to not sound afraid, the undead clearly picking up on it anyways.

"Indeed! You are facing Frenand, undead who has been given the title of champion by General Loimos! You are the last one I need to beat down" striking the inside of his palm with one fist, black iron clanking against itself.

"Am I?" he eyed the exit, spotting no other undeads anywhere.

"Heheh… Do you think we missed some because you don't see them in this pile?"

"Well, don't you worry about us, fourteen of you, seven deliverers of intel and seven receivers, eight are right here, one is in front of me, two are under Alisiana's care and the other three, well, let's just say I have no need to knock them out" Frenand took a few steps forward, Isilt did the same in reverse.

'What does that even mean?'