The Legend of Fatality

When the Duke of Blood Eagle stared at his infantry team and struggled to advance, considering their slow speed, he frowned. In a very far place, where the road disappeared into the forest, he could see the supply vehicles line up from the front to the end. His head was raised backwards, a scornful expression on his face, and a roar of dissatisfaction. King Charles, the usurper of the throne, is wreaking havoc on his territory, but he is trapped here, carrying a heavy burden on his army.

"We must speed up, Count Thomas," Duke Blood Eagle said hoarsely.

The knight standing beside him muttered anxiously in a low voice, before he said the lady's name, he stabilized himself. Recently, the Duke of Blood Eagle has been intolerant of this act of praying to the lady, and has added a blasphemy to his long list of crimes. Earl Thomas has begun to regret his oath to this monster, the word of honor that linked him to the fate of this vampire. If possible, he would take back his loyalty without hesitation. But for an Aquitaine knight, this is impossible. No noble will break his promise-once given, the noble will not eat.

"We can no longer force these people to speed up," said Count Thomas. "They are so tired that they are about to fall. When we reach the king, they will not be fighting anymore."

The Duke of Blood Eagle was indifferent to his general's protest. "If the peasant dregs can't do what I need them to do, then they will be of no value to me."

"Your Majesty, you are asking too much of them," Count Thomas objected. "These people are very loyal. They will not betray you. They dare not do this."

The monster grabbed Count Thomas' chin and forced him to turn his head. He forced his general to watch a line of silent skeletons and zombies marching in line on the road. "This is the army that won't betray me. They have no physical weakness. No matter what I want them to do, they will do it."

Count Thomas ’s face became like a carved image, and all the colors disappeared. "But they are just dead. Evil ..."

The Duke of Blood Eagle turned around, his cloak churning in the wind. "Farmers are dragging our hind legs." He said. "I won't allow it."

The terrified general hurried to chase his lord. "Do you mean—?"

"Must deal with them," the Duke of Blood Eagle said to him. "I will take care of them in the future, but first restore them to a state more capable of defending my country!" He noticed the expression of incredulous surprise on the pale face of Count Thomas.

"Do what I said." The vampire growled and said to his general. "You don't want me to start to doubt the loyalty of my noble servants."

————

Darker than the night, covering the banks of the Morso River. A group of eerie creatures came out from under the canopy of the forest. The dead in the ancient tombs, the deceased knights of Burtania who died in armor, and the rotten remains of the slaughtered farmers. Above the head, roaring blood bats hovering in the air, their tough wings flapping the stench of the zombies across the river. Groups of sneaky ghouls crawled through the shadows, their greedy eyes staring at the corpses scattered on the battlefield.

Set against the bare bones, the rusty armor and the rotten flesh and blood in his ugly army, the blood red Duke's crimson armor shines like a beacon in the abyss of hell. The Skull Warhorse of the Duke of Blood Eagle traveled unimpeded in the army of zombies. These undead creatures separated in front of their masters, just like wheat in front of the sickle. The Duke of Blood Eagle walked through his team majesticly with a noble attitude of the king, and advanced forward until he stood on the edge of the battlefield.

As he studied the damage caused by Sir Richard's forces to his cavalry, the monster's eyes flashed with anger. His tactical mind can infer the strategies used by the combatants from the wreckage of the war, thereby appreciating the deployment of the death knight in the battle. The dark knight who belongs to him will bear many responsibilities.

The Duke of Blood Eagle turned his attention to the river itself and the bridge across the river. When he saw the dilapidated bridge, its destruction was not caused by time or natural disaster, but by man's deliberate destruction, he nodded seriously. On the other side of the Morso River, he could see Sir Richard and his knights, and the engineers and archers were watching him intently. Even under the cover of the corpse of his zombie and the stench of the hordes of bats, the monster could still smell the fear of dripping from the Burtanians.

To test the level of fear that enveloped his enemies, the Duke of Blood Eagle urged his war horse Palomo to jog. The war horse gracefully jumped into the battlefield with its disgusting form of death. It strode across the battlefield bravely, allowing the onlookers to aim at it and the monster riding on its saddle. But no arrow flew across the river, and no one dared to shoot an arrow at this monster who had emerged from stories and legends to attack their land.

Duke Blood Eagle pouted and sneered. After these people bravely opposed his cavalry, he had intended to admire their bravery, but now he found their courage to be a contemptuous performance. So he pulled out his sword mockingly and challenged the knights who watched him across the river. After getting no response from ~ www.NovelMTL.com ~ a terrible laughter cut through the darkness, the monster turned his horse's head and rode back to the army waiting for him.

"They have demolished the bridge." The monster told the undead in his army that they had enough reason and willpower to let them treat him as a general and commander. "They want to stop me and stop me from riding against King Charles." The Duke of Blood Eagle revealed his gleaming fangs, an angry expression of extreme hatred that was not human. "They are delaying time so that the usurper can escape back to his safe castle."

The Duke of Blood Eagle looked at his army, his anger turned into a cruel smile. "But these fools have forgotten our strength and their weaknesses." He raised his hand and pointed at several death lords. "Bring your troops. Cross the river. Kill anything stupid enough to be there when you reach the other side."

In the faint echo of their long-dead life, these dead lords paid tribute to the Duke of Blood Eagle in a discordant manner mixing the etiquette of the knights of Burtania and the primitive barbarian horse kings of ancient times. But the monster did not notice them. The Duke of Blood Eagle has turned his attention to other issues. He glared at the ghouls crawling on the edge of his army.

"Count Thomas," the Duke of Blood Eagle whispered into the shadow of Sir Dane-Gattler-Whitman. Fortunately, the Dark Knight has become accustomed to the chaotic thoughts of his master. He easily accepted the role of Earl Thomas, just as he accepted the role of Baron Huguenot de Naval.

"These farmers will slow us down." The Duke of Blood Eagle said to his slave. "Be sure to deal with them. I will take care of them in the future, but first restore them to a state that is more capable of defending my country!"