Under the cold light of day a single horse drawn carriage rocked back forth along a rough mountain path. It clattered and clicked on the winding dirt path toward its final destination; a lone castle beneath perpetually grey skies. Only the sea of green from the pines which the road was hidden within reminded travelers that they had not left the land of the living. It was a vital reminder, because this place nestled on the western fringes of the Empire since time immemorial has shared a boarder with the Shadelands.

 

Those lands are steeped in perpetual darkness. A place where the eerie glow of a full moon is the only source of light whether it was day or night. In ancient times a wall had been built to guard against those that doweled within because the only thing that wandered out from that cursed realm (or returned) are the undead. What once lived there or what cursed those lands was knowledge that had long been lost, but the Duchy of Yaleria was populated with hearty and somber people, just like the land they inhabited. Thick impenetrable forests and little sunlight meant that these people had only the tubers and fresh water fish to sustain themselves. Although the land had been cursed, it was also blessed with rich veins of silver deep beneath the pine covered hills.

 

Within the carriage were two people who sat opposite of each other: a young man with a bald head, sunken brown eyes and adorned with luxurious fabrics befitting of a noble and the other garbed in black robes that made their owner's identity a mystery. Polite conversation had ended long ago and the two had sat and been rocked relentlessly back and forth for many hours without so much as a word. The eerie grey light from the sky, the murders of crows and the silence had put the one man on edge. Occasionally he rubbed off droplets of sweat that had started to pool on his forehead even though the spring air was chilly and sun robbed.

 

The man was a count of Yaleria, but reigned over lands in the far east of the Duchy. He seldom traveled so far west, toward where the Duke had made his home. A castle precariously close to Brightwall, the boarder between Yaleria and the Shadelands. Duke Malco was a serious and honorable man, so the rumors went. For generations the Malco family had been tasked with guarding Brightwall. There is no shortage of legends about armies of the undead laying siege to it and Malcos putting their own life on the line to ensure that wall remained standing. It would stand or his family line would end. No Malco would suffer the shame of living with such failure and the Empire might soon follow if the undead spread and swelled their ranks with the living that lay beyond that wall which had bottled them up for over a millennium.

 

The carriage clattered at last beyond the outer walls and through the main gate of Brightcastle. Guards standing watch at the gate seemed to have been expecting the arrival of the official looking carriage and let it pass without incident. The count thought it was odd, but the cloaked man and their driver paid it no mind and remained silent. When the carriage followed the cobbled path toward the main entrance to the castle, the count stole a glance at the cloaked figure and received a nod in return. His throat was parched, but he stepped out into the cold air where another pair of guards met him. They were thickly armored head to toe, their faces masked with helmet visors and they motioned for the count to follow them as they lead him into the castle. He stole one more glance at the carriage that was now motionless and awaiting his return before entering the castle.

 

Sound itself seemed just as still and lifeless as the air, only the sound of leather boots from the count's own feet seemed to carry any sound. It was an eerie feeling, especially with the two metal laden guards escorting him were barely making any noise at all. The lifeless air was contrasted with the rich and vibrant reds, purples and other dyes and paints that decorated the interior of the castle. They put the count's heart at ease and admiration at the value of them all alone caused the man to salivate. It showed how the rich silver mines of Yaleria had poured into this castle for hundreds of years.

 

At last the count was shown to the last pair of sealed oaken doors. The two guards took their posts at each side and when they did the doors swing open as though by themselves. Beyond it the grey light of day shone in through what was without a doubt the Duke's chambers. A luxurious open room with a balcony that hung far off the castle and above a cliff. Below was an endless expanse of forest, beyond that the impassible mountains and the one gap between them where even from so far away the Brightwall was visible. The uncanny black twilight was visible to the west like the red glow of dawn anywhere else. Simply bearing witness to it sent shivers up the count's spine.

 

     "Count Aaron. Please, come in." Said a gentle yet manly voice which drifted in from the chamber.

 

He recognized the voice immediately, it belonged to Duke Malco. The count was not mistaken, seated perfectly still within the room was a man with thick, long and savage looking black hair that looked more like mane, a handsome clean shaven face and piercing hazel eyes. Those eyes were locked squarely on a chessboard in front of him. He hadn't even looked up from it to acknowledge the count. Even if the count was insulted he would not have the courage to say a thing, the Duke broad muscular shoulders draped in wolf pelts betrayed the martial prowess of the Duke who braved perhaps one of the most dangerous places on the continent out of a stern sense of duty. Count Aaron decided to enter and take the seat as though he was commanded, not asked politely to.

 

     "Count Aaron, I will get straight to the point. There is a disaster coming."

 

The count wasn't expecting any good news, but hearing straight from the Duke like that had the sweat on his brow double.

 

     "My liege? What would lead you to think that?" Aaron stuttered. "You don't mean-!"

 

     "Not the Brightwall." The duke said flatly. "Something worse. I'm afraid the Empire will soon have to endure its most trying times in a thousand years."

 

     The count actually let out a sigh of relief, "My liege. I must be so bold to say I expected more of you. Surely you understand the talk from the doomsayers is just rumor mongering."

 

     "Regretfully that is not the case, Count Aaron." The duke replied, his eyes still on the chessboard. "The north is all but lost. The pagan faction of the Vilmheim court has seized all but full control and Domdracveria has a monster on the throne. It wont be long until the other lands of pagan majority in the north fall in line behind those two."

 

    The count calmly refuted with a pompous air about him, "A few backwaters are nothing compared to that of the Empire, surely you must-"

 

     "You would ignore that the Emperor is infirm?"

 

The count's eyes shot widen open and he went rigid in his chair as though a lightning bolt had shot through him.

 

     "Oh?" Duke Malco quipped, raising and eyebrow and finally looking up from the chessboard. "So you didn't know? I would have figured you of all people would have caught wind of it."

 

     "T-the Emperor is not a young man anymore, my liege. It is regrettable, b-but not surprising."

 

     "Ninety years old with seven sons." Duke Malco spoke direly. "None of them the clear heir. The eldest with a kind heart, but a womanizer and a fool. The youngest a backstabbing snake and all manner of noble and sordid men between them. When he finally passes, there will be a bloodbath-"

 

     "Surely just-" Count Aaron tried to interject.

 

     "Civil war." Duke Malco stressed.

 

A silence fell down on top of the two men. Malco lowered his eyes back on the chessboard and did not raise them again as the Count shifted in his seat uncomfortably, pulling at his tunic's collar and wiping sweat off his brow with his other hand. In the distance a murder of crows which had taken residence in a tree were cawing relentlessly and along with it the relative silence carried with it a sense of dread.

 

     "So." Count Aaron said then paused, carefully planning his words. "What precisely is the reason you have summoned me, my liege?"

 

     "I have concerns about our neighbors to the east. Your realm lies closest, so I thought it only prudent to ask you personally if you are sure about our own collective safety." The Duke stated plainly. "I have become less concerned about the Brightwall as of late and more concerned with our other neighbors. I believe peace and wealth has rotted the heads of many rulers within the Empire. The threat of monster incursions and the spread of demon realms has almost vanished in the last few decades and I believe that has emboldened the power jockeying and greed among many of them. Yaleria is a small but rich Duchy, but with it comes the responsibility of maintaining and spilling blood upon the Brightwall."

 

     "I would not think so lowly of our brothers in arms, my liege-"

 

     "I would, Count Aaron. When the Emperor finally perishes the whole Empire will teeter on the brink of civil war. When the authority of the crown erodes and finally crumbles..."

 

The Duke slumped in his chair, his eyes still fixed on the chessboard. Count Aaron looked nervously to his left and right. Maybe the Duke had forgotten he was talking to someone?

 

     "You shouldn't worry yourself so much, good Duke. A few blows here and there while the princes jockey for the Emperor's throne and a couple skirmishes behind their backs while they fight will ultimately be of no consequence."

 

     "Of no consequence to the nobles of the Empire. What of the people? The peasants and the serfs? The fields you fight in are their farms. The storerooms you supply your armies from, their livelihoods. The comfort your soldiers seek, their daughters. If the Empire breaks down into civil war, the ones who will benefit will be the monsters. Their demon realms will swell with refugees and into their embrace the people will flee. The nobles care not. They are seldom targets, Not anymore. They seem to forget how enticing the monsters are when one has nothing."

 

     "W-well, my liege, surely..." Count Aaron stuttered.

 

     "That's enough, Count Aaron. I've bothered you enough already with my grievances. There is only one thing more that you need to know before returning home: On the west shore of Jelm Lake I plan to muster as a show of force to King Franx. His patrols have strayed too close to the border one to many times. I have asked the other counts to levy their forces. If the power of the crown does crumble soon, I fear Franx would not hesitate to cross over aggressively."

 

     "Y-yes, my liege! I will muster my men immediately when I return!" Count Aaron rose to his feet and slammed his fist against his chest in salute as she shouted.

 

Duke Malco didn't say anything. His eyes were still fixed on the chessboard before him. Aaron remained standing for almost half a minute before he finally got the impression that he had been dismissed. At the very least the Duke did not become angry when the count slowly inched his way out of the room. It would have been a rather comical scene if there was anyone else there to watch it. As he approached the doors exiting the room, they once again opened on their own and showed the count out. When the door gently shut behind him, the guards silently escorted back out the castle. The eerily quirt castle where he hardly encountered another soul. He wanted to walk faster, but his escort kept the same lumbering pace until they escorted him beyond the final doors leading back outside. The carriage was still waiting there and he wasted no time quickly getting inside.

 

Count Aaron was sweating even more fervently than before, and his handkerchief was soaked through and through by now. While the count shifted uncomfortably in his seat he knocked on the wall of the carriage to signal the driver to leave, but the carriage went nowhere no mater how many times he knocked. Seated across from him, the black cloaked figure which hadn't budged all this time slowly and methodically moved to knock on the wall of the carriage and it took off at a slow leisurely trot out of the castle. The count craned his neck toward the windows every so often to watch the castle dissolve and finally vanish into the distance behind the wall of pines.

 

     "I trust your visit was... Insightful." The black cloaked figure said at last when the castle was finally out of sight minutes after departing.

 

     "I manged to leave with my head on my shoulders. That is enough." The count barked.

 

     "I told you. Duke Malco isn't the kind of man who does anything without concrete evidence. I understand and sympathize."

 

     "The Duke confided in me that he is gathering up his forces on the west coast of Jelm Lake. If I am to be given any chance to strike the time would be now."

 

The black cloaked figure sighed heavily, much to the irritation of the already nervous and irritable count.

 

     "Count Aaron. I am neither a politician nor a warrior, but even I understand that is a trap."

 

     "What?" Count Aaron growled.

 

     "Why would the Duke invite you and you alone to make such a sensitive declaration? Given your anecdotal evidence, logic dictates that the most likely conclusion based on the assumption that the Duke has been paranoid as of late; Malco has told a different story to the other counts and lords. Surely, committing your troops to an ambush is what Malco suspects and has planned for. You'd betray your intentions and next time you would not retain your head's current status as being attached to your neck. I suggest you do nothing and let the suspicions the Duke has for you subsi-"

 

Count Aaron didn't seem to appreciate being made light of and being lectured by the cloaked man. He leaped from his seat and aggressively seized the man by the collar and pushed him up against the back wall of the carriage. The other man didn't resist and didn't even protest.

 

     "Don't treat me as a fool. I am sponsoring you. I am the one in-"

 

     "Please unhand me, sir." The man said, stressed the last bit ironically.

 

     Count Aaron was taken aback, "What did you say to me?"

 

     "For your own safety."

 

The count grit his teeth in anger, but before he could let go or shake the man even more violently an explosion of wood and splinters erupted behind him. A hand had punched through the carriage walls. The horse whinnied and reared and the carriage came to a stop as a small but powerful hand wrapped itself around the count's neck and pulled him backwards into his seat. A head had also came crashing in from the outside, cloaked in black but now with the hood down. A girl with stitches on her face and mismatched eyes glared at the count.

 

     "The hell you doing?" She growled with fierce eyes."

 

The count couldn't respond, the cold hand with its stitches and patches of different colored skin was clasped tightly around the count's throat and he labored in vain to breathe.

 

     "Patches." The cloaked man calmly chided. "He cannot speak if you continue to strangle him. You can release him. I think he understands now."

 

The cold hand released immediately and the girl retreated from the hole in the carriage. A quip and energetic, 'Alrighty'o!' sung out as she did, a complete about face to the tone and demeanor she had just shown. It didn't sound like the kind of girl who suddenly displayed a savage and impressive show of brute strength. Count Aaron slumped down in his seat as he rubbed and soothed his aching throat, coughing and hacking wildly the entire time.

 

     "You..." Count Aaron said judgmentally between coughing.

 

The man leaned forward and his face appeared from behind the shadow of his cowl as Count Aaron looked back up at him.

 

     "That's Professor Vee, dear count..." Vee raised a finger, then another as he spoke. "Do no harm, fund my research and do not interfere. All of that in return for delivering Yaleria to you. Have you forgotten the contract you signed already?"

 

Vee adjusted his clothes back into proper order while Count Aaron continued to cough and try to put his throat back into proper working order.

 

     "I understand your high birth and position may make it difficult for one such as yourself to work with someone of low birth such as myself, but if we cannot come to some mutual professional respect... I will ultimately be forced to take some precautionary measures. Now. If you will forgive me, I am also on edge, it has been almost two weeks since I last finished my last project. I am eager to begin immediately. There is so much to learn from the Shadelands, My heart palpitates at the very thought of all the potential data to be gathered."

 

A wry and twisted smile spread across Vee's face as he spoke. Count Aaron's face went pale at the sight of it.

 

     "All I need is someone more cooperative than the good Duke to let me do was I please."

 

***

 

Back in the stone walls of Brightcastle Duke Malco sat unmoving ever since Count Aaron had left. His eyes were stilled locked onto the chessboard. At last he picked up the sole remaining black knight and moved leftward near, but out of range of white's queen, his other pieces a scant few moves away from putting white's king in check. As soon as he leaned back in his chair, a white pale hand with slender fingers and long fingernails daintily picked up a white bishop and placed it just a few squares diagonally.

 

     "Checkmate in two turns." A soft feminine voice cooed.

 

Malco leaned forward, his hands on the arms of his chair and studied the board. His shoulders slumped and he reached out with one finger to topple his own king and let it fall sideways. He then leaned back into his chair and looked up. Seated opposite of him, in the other chair where Count Aaron had just been, was a woman. Dressed in a thin and light black dress with revealed thighs, high black stockings, ethereal and ghostly looking silky scarf and adorned with priceless jewelery. A low cut top to the dressed barely held in place a licentious and large pair of pale white breasts. Her bare slender shoulders quivered as the woman chuckled playfully, sensually crossing one leg over the other and resting her hands with arms clothed in long black gloves on top of her knee.

 

A beguiling and warm smile spread across her face, also white as snow, her face beautiful as though it were divine and otherworldly. A jeweled tiara rested atop her platinum blond hair which cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, but beyond those bangs were a pair of eyes that struck anyone who looked upon them with equal parts enchantment and terror. Irises a bright crimson red and her pupils an eerie white. Malco's face didn't seem to register either. He stared at the woman stoically, as though his face was frozen that way.

 

     "Two of five." She said, teasing Malco. "We can begin the final game whenever you wish. Take as much time as you need for each move."

 

Malco didn't say anything.

 

     The woman pouted. "Aw. Please don't be that way. Try to have some fun."

 

     "I haven't the time for this..." Malco complained.

 

     "My my. But you do. You will. If you lose just once more that is." She said while smiling warmly.

 

She got up from her chair and slowly walked, one heel in front of the toe at a time around and behind the Duke's chair.

 

     "The Empire is in trouble. I made an oath. I have to protect the Emperor's..." Malco trailed off speaking to no one in particular.

 

     "Don't think of the Emperor, or his Empire. Just think about you... And me." The woman said seductively as she slowly traced his cold, white and pale fingers along the duke's body and up to his face. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want you, so let's play the last game. I promise no one in Yaleria will ever come to harm ever again. Not from anyone."

 

The woman slowly turned his face toward her and then brought her own face closer and closer, but Malco quickly pulled away and stood up and walked toward the balcony to look over the Brightwall far in the distance. He placed his hands on the railing and held his weight up as he let built up stress in his shoulders out into the stonework.

 

     "I love when you play hard to get too." The pale woman said, suddenly appearing, seated on the railing beside him.

 

She had either followed him without making so much as a noise or she just as suddenly appeared like she seemed to have done before.

 

     "Victory to the first to win three games?" Malco said, looking for confirmation.

 

     "Absolutely. I do so adore that old game. I was so pleased to learned you felt the same way." The woman said with glee. "That was the terms. To whomever wins three games first, the loser must comply to a wish the winning party makes."

 

     "To stay behind the Brightwall, forever..." Malco said gravely.

 

     "Be mine." The woman said looking longingly at the Duke.

 

     "With a monster? Pha!" The duke spat. "My family has kept your kind behind the wall for thousands of years. Do you think I would dishonor my family by doing something so disgraceful?"

 

     "My my. Think of it as a political marriage to settle old grievances." The woman said smiling.

 

     "I, nor Yaleria or the Empire are your playthings!"

 

     "I would never dream of it. You love your land and your subjects dearly, therefore, so do I. There can be peace between the Shadelands and Yaleria for all eternity."

 

     "Then put the whole of the Empire at your feet? Do not play me for a fool!"

 

     "I could not care less about the Empire. I only care about you."

 

     "I care for the Empire!" Malco yelled. "And while you play your games with me and try to snare me in your web it lies on the brink of chaos. Do you think me dull that I would not suspect its weakness and your arrival and tempting me as mere coincidence?"

 

     "Word seldom comes into the Shadelands. The wall makes it difficult." The woman joked.

 

     "The whole Empire right now could be likened to a dry tinderbox. One errant fool could be enough to light the whole of it ablaze!"

 

     "I think the good sir doth protest too much." The pale woman said wistfully. "Forget about all that for now. Reset the board when you are prepared. I plan to make it the final game. Until then, bye bye." The woman sang while waving.

 

When Malco looked over, he found nothing but empty air. The woman had vanished once again.

 

     "One errant fool, huh?" He repeated.

 

He hoped for once what she said was true. That he was just paranoid.