Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Walking away from this terrible conversation, Isilt had not expected for a regular soldier to nearly see right through him, thankfully the undead had answered his own question, because the trainee was definitely on the verge of saying something stupid, said rank and file casually moved away, how this guy had even snuck up so close without being noticed was unknown. Read latest stories on My Virtual Library Empire

'He doesn't even carry any weapon…' shaking his head, Isilt went through what he had just learned in his mind, even if not much considering that it could not be linked to a larger amount of information, he, and even the whole of the territory, knew very little about the vanguard or the empire that stood behind it.

The warlords had met with Loimos, the leader of the vanguard, but he himself worked for a king, who had never showed up at all, it was like having to meet with the head of a scout party to negotiate, and even then, they had only seen the general once, after this, command had been passed down to his two lieutenants, so they knew very little about the actual mastermind.

All that they knew for certain was rather superficial, such as the fact that Loimos was clearly more than just an undead assigned to lead the vanguard, beasts of Loimos, Loimoisian knight, the right and left hand of Loimos… His name was plastered in too many places for the vanguard to be anything less than his own striking force, Isilt had also learned from this soldier that a beast as impressive as the pale hound was not amongst those closest to their general, whatever that meant was up to interpretation, but this implied that the hound was not amongst the strongest beasts.

The best Isilt could do in information gathering was just repertoring the amount and sort of undeads watching over the farmlands, when the day began to become night, the young trainee returned home, amongst family, although it was certainly nice to be close to his loved ones, the ambiance was naturally heavy, at every hours of day, at every hours of night, the undeads marched, silent when they could be seen, loud when they could not.

"Is it me… Or has night been falling quicker and quicker recently?" wondered the father.

"Must be winter coming early…" the mother replied.

"But mom, it's still summer" one of the many children innocently mentioned.

Dinner ended in silence, Isilt keeping an eye out outside, not only were days definitely getting shorter for no obvious reason, but all nights were as dark as that of a new moon during winter as well, trying to convince himself that it was a coincidence and had nothing to do with the undead was meaningless, it was clearly their doing, even if no one could prove it.

'And those shines…'

'...Red… Green… Silver… Blue…' every night, distant shines that could only be noticed if one raised their head became clearer and clearer, something was going on, and Isilt felt like they had to act very soon.

Although training to be a knight was naturally made up of mostly muscular strengthening and combat practice, it also involved learning how to write, as a knight needed to be capable of sending messages, and writing a message is what Isilt began doing late at night, carefully hidden away in a small closet, he slowly wrote one letter after another, perhaps that apprehension was not warranted but the trainee felt like he shouldn't let the undead hear him.

Putting down on paper the precise numbers, of soldiers, of knights, of beasts, their specificities, everything he had been capable of learning, so he did not have much to write but it was important, every piece of information had value.

As he precised the very weapons wielded by the undeads, Isilt tensed up, nape going cold, completely frozen in his spot, the faint echoes of a familiar whistling reaching both ears, slowly breathing out, realising that he had unconsciously held his breath before even understanding that it was whistling.

His initial encounter with the headless had been brief, he had met with other headless, dressed in black after this, but most definitely, the way they whistled, the sound of the damned voices surrounding them was different to that of the one in white.

Isilt did not move at all, blowing the candle he had brought with him, as the light could be seeping through gaps, listening intently to every and most minute of sounds, settling the paper down, then the quill, he slowly stood up, the articulations of his knees cracking, little by little as he did so.

Carefully, he grabbed the handle, the closet door not yet pushed open, instead, Isilt brought his head closer, trying to listen more closely, and also due to the fact that he knew very well that this door would squeak louder than a pig being murdered with a blunt axe.

Nothing, only silence.

A lull so deep, that it made Isilt believe that only darkness existed behind that door, standing there for minutes on end, he only heard his own breathing, until thunder fell, making the trainee jump up and smash his head on the low ceiling.

'Ah, shit!' rubbing the struck area, Isilt looked up, the thunder in question was actually someone walking down the stairs, not even heavily, they were clearly lightweight, so probably one of his younger siblings.

Opening the door and stepping out, he intercepted the nighttime wanderer.

"Pitit, this is not a time to be up at…" the young girl dressed in an oversized nightgown, carrying a small candle, signed for him to keep his voice down.

"Of course it is! We are both up, that is proof enough!" she whispered, moving over to the back of the house, right up to the door leading to the backyard.

"What are you doing anyways?" having to acknowledge the fact that he had no authority over her, the status of older brother and knight-in-training not sufficient to achieve such an herculean task, Isilt just resorted to asking what she was up to.

"Huh… Grigri is here…" she said after a lengthy pause, shooing her brother away.

"Grigri? What sort of name- A nickname? Ooh, you have a sweetheart? At your age? Before me?" he was not shooed away, instead walking up to her.

"Which farm is he from? I hope he isn't older than you, dad would break his teeth-"

"-But on another note, do not open anything! Didn't you hear it? The headless is around!" he warned her, only met with a look that could only mean : 'Yes, and?'

"The undeads are not allowed to do anything, everyone knows this and besides…" without a care, she opened the door.

Isilt did not say anything at first.

"Don't tell me this is Grigri"

"This is Grigri"@@novelbin@@

Isilt did not have the words.