Interlude: Henri

Interlude: Henri

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Wordcount: 2500

Commissioned by Shaderic

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All Undead fear death.

And, in the deepest depths of their still hearts, it is a primal fear enhanced to the point of madness. At the end of their lives, instead of letting go of life as nature dictates, they feel such strong emotion, power, and fear that they abscond with their humanity, identity, and connections to other in favor of everlasting life. Immortality is only achieved through the invocation of intense obsession, of the surrender of self, and immense, debilitating fear of death.

The Empire ensures Undead do not prevail in their lands by ensuring those under their rule do not fear death, but welcome it. Their Church speaks to the masses of death as the entrance to paradise, so long as they follow the tenants of their crown’s supported religion. All their soldiery believes in the depths of their hearts that they are committed to a holy crusade, upon which every sin can be forgiven, as they pursue the will of their lords, who claim their power comes from divine inspiration. 

To create their personal army of mindless fanatics, the Crown sought to kill the fear of death inherent in every man, woman, and child, so no Ghosts, Phantoms, and other Undead would rise read to wreak vengeance for their short, violent lives. 

Therefore, it is bewildering notion that an Undead creature of immense power and might would arise from the Empire’s frontier.

Any and all with wit, power, and talent are trained in the art of denying the fear of death. It is welcomed by the greatest of loyal knights and mages as their ultimate repose, the moment they fall in battle, is the moment they finally close their eyes and rest after a long day of toil. Even the most meagre of champions, such as the little thing my Lord pitied enough to try and heal, would not be trained if upon their death they could become a disillusioned, powerful wraith, around which the dissatisfied would rally, and rebel against the Crown. 

Where did this creature of immense power, strength, and ability come from, then?

The wretched creature which threatens all my work, the place in which I am once again more than just a monster, is being encroached upon by an Undead that the Empire would not allow to exist. Lesser Undead could come to be, as they care not for their people, and drive so many to wallow in despair, despite their efforts to control all… but such creatures would not threaten the Empire let alone the Lord I now served.

Ylstu is a land of Dragons, Wyverns, Harpies, Kitsune, Driders, and more. It is a land where all may find fortune, purpose, and people to fulfill themselves to the point where upon one’s death… one will pass on bereft of rage and regret. No one is without a home, nor a person who can understand them, and no one is treated like lesser beings. Food is plentiful, as is work, and all who live within it have nothing to fear, besides those who would threaten to take it all. A nascent Lich, or even a newborn Vampire, and even a Phantom would be incapable of overcoming this land, the people who would be utterly fanatic in its defense, let alone its well-armed, professional, and expertly-chosen defenders. 

Yet, what the old warrior described is a force of nature that could shatter kingdom after kingdom.

An Undead creature born from an immensely powerful individual, who found a reason to be reborn greater than fear of death, and who is nigh unstoppable. 

Though I have many other duties to tend to, I enjoy the benefit of not requiring sleep.

So, I will search for this creature.

I will find them in my texts and store of knowledge.

And, then, I will find a way to kill it, so I do not lose yet another home.

…

Fortunately, I found Sayuri already within my study, as soon as I returned for the evening. 

Though the town was working through the night in order to continuously evacuate all its residence, the efficiency of my Lord’s orders and demands made it so the din of an entire town uprooting was already fading. Most were either already trekking to where my students were building shelters with the Golems, or heading towards the first Dwarven Hold in centuries to remain within Ylstu.

Many merchants were fearless and taking all their stores to the Hold, as were many who tended to livestock and grain. Those who ventured into the Hold will not lack for food, even though most of the stored foodstuffs were being prepared and shipped alongside the growing caravan of those who could not contribute to the upcoming days. It was the opposite of the final days of my home, as all the people of my house fled or rioted, and left me, my retainers, and most loyal to die after decrying us as heretics. 

But all of that did not matter.

“Greetings, venerable warrior, thank you for coming.” I greeted the old, weary soul with a small bow, which she returned after a moment of surprise. My knowledge of faraway cultures lent itself to me many times with the Kitsune and the Kunoichi, so the Onimusha is no different. “I apologize for interrupting your rest, especially after a difficult mission.”

“The days ahead will provide me with all the rest I need, so it is better that my mind be scoured of anything of import now.” Raising her head, she stepped aside to allow me to take the fear seat in my study. My room of books, a table for study, and a bed was frowned upon by my Lord, calling it a “den of overwork,” and nearly had it separated into two room. Only Tanis’s quick words swayed him from forcing me to have two rooms instead of one. A grand problem for any servant to have. “Please, ask me all the questions you wish.”

“I am afraid I’ll have to ask you for more than that. I wish for permission to delve into your mind, to be in your footsteps as you walked and watched the battle.” I reached my table and found the tool I’d prepared in passing, so that I could wallow through the memories of my former family and friends. Their rationality and logic were lost, leaving them seemingly only bodies with passing resemblance to those I cared for… until I went into their minds, to speak with them, and see that they are well. I never thought I would have to use my sole method to reach my remaining companions upon another, so it was not a gentle tool. “I created this as a bridge between souls, but where one dominates and the other cannot challenge it. If you agree, I will use this upon you, and until I leave and remove it… you shall be a prisoner to your own body.”

I expected a moment’s hesitation, even from the most venerable of warriors.

“I give you permission. Please, through my past, find what I cannot.”

Instead I received none at all.

Once again, the man who threatened all I had left with death for my compliance, gained the absolute trust of another.

“Very well. Lay yourself upon the bed, and calm your mind as much as you are able.” Sayuri complied, placing her blade within arm’s length of the bed, before laying herself upon it. She controlled her right arm very well for an Onimusha. Most had arms of bone and fiendish flame, which upon use raised their bloodlust in battle, and lust outside of it. Never did I think I could meet one who could suppress it completely and appear as mere, pale-blue Undead to the passing gaze of the unlearned. “Good. Now, continue relaxing—

“Why are you joining me in bed?” The question came swiftly and quickly from stern, honorable features a hand’s breadth away from my own face. Once again, Sayuri’s eyebrow was raised, as she looked upon my face, the hand which held the talisman, and the other… which was acting according towards instinct and reaching to hold her in embrace. “I care not for womanly passions, Lich.”

“And, neither do I. I’ve lain with you to reduce the distance between myself and the charm as much as possible, so that I will not lose myself within the depths of your soul.” I explained all I could clearly and concisely, but the Onimusha’s slender eyebrow remained raised, and one of her hands moved mine moving for an embrace the opposite direction of her loincloth-covered nethers. It… it did completely appear as though I was forcing myself on her. “My apologies. I did not mean to cause distress.”

“…Then, carry on with your proposal as we currently are.” Sayuri shook her head, before offering not another word, and closing her eyes to calm her mind. Soon, steady breaths left her, and her defenses in both mind and body lowered so that I could apply the talisman upon her head and the matching one upon my own. 

Not a moment passed, before I felt myself adrift in the soul of another, and soon enough… in a faraway battlefield through all the senses of the Onimusha.

…

As with those who led martial lives amongst my Zombies, the Onimusha’s senses were sharper than my own, but also narrower and focused to the extent that I entered a hazy world studded by objects, placed, and people Sayuri deemed important to commit to memory. Such is the warrior’s mind that the ground, sky, and breeze do not matter, only the violence that they must survive, or the foe that they must face.

Therefore, I looked upon the foe that was approaching Ylstu in all its horror and glory, alongside its mockeries of companies, as it slaughtered Empire paladins, knights, and men-at-arms. 

The enemy was clad from head to toe in armor composed of magic and shadow. Black as night, spewing azure flame from its joints and seems, it was threatening, fearsome armor born of malevolent intent, instead of the invisible, simple protections used by distinguished users of magic. Sayuri’s eyes searched for weaknesses in the heavy, riding plate, but found none, as was the case with all the lesser creatures that followed the heart of the slaughter rendering professional soldiery into naught by macerated piles of flesh and bone.

In one hand, it gripped a jagged, beastly weapon that served as both sword and lance. When the creature rode at galloping speed, the tip pierced all, and rendered armor worthless. However, Empire Steel held against it when used as a sword, but what scratches and scores it made upon armor came alight bright, surging flame that only the knights and paladins were able endure. Men-at-arms, born of household dedicated to supporting Empire heavy infantry, screamed and were slaughtered as their will broke upon being set alight. 

Even if armor can stand against it once its rider was mired by broken pikes, bodies, and earthworks, those who stand against it must be able to endure the harshest of magics, or be able to withstand immense pain. 

Unless I could create a countermeasure against it. 

Was it soulfire? Or was it hellfire? Perhaps, it was something kin to that used by Will o’ Wisps… no… wait. 

It is an illusion.

Sayuri’s nose was used to the battlefield, but my mind was not, so I did my utmost to repress the scent of blood, viscera, and excrement that churned into the mud and bile upon the battlefield floor. However, with a single breath, I discerned the lack of a scent I would know all my life: that of burning flesh. Not only that, but upon looking at the ravaged corpses, I found none with burnt skin, let alone muscle and bone, and none emanated smoke. 

An illusion can be defended against with a simple charm with informed, capable warriors. Mental preparation, the preparation of the correct form of disbelief, will render that magic worthless.

Leaving only the creature’s martial might, skill, and subordinates that echoed her fighting ability as a problem… but a warrior I am not.

I am a Lich.

The battlefield upon which I fight is that of magic and Undeath. Given my lack of focus in spells that bury bodies in through egregious use of the elements, and my Lord’s dislike for enslaved familiars, my role in the upcoming battle shall simply be support, research, and development. Bringing the foe down with martial might is not my domain, so I shall entrust it those with the relevant, necessary skills to do so, after I have given them all I am capable of making. Ur, Lissette, the Demon A’Bel, and the Hero will simply have to rise to challenge thereafter.

Thus, with that in mind, forced the memory to stop, for everything to go still, so that I could examine everything in greater detail. Immedietly, the recollection threatened to escape my grasp, and my “self” and that of Sayuri began to break apart for one another. She was noticing me more strongly, and instinctively fighting against my intrusion with no way of withholding herself, so I had mere moments to spare.

Mere moments to find the final, essential clue to the truth of the creature before me. 

I called upon senses Sayuri barely knew she had, delving into hazy sensations that she would simply repress to keep her focus, and did my utmost to give them clarity. Refining the sensation through my own experiences, as well as the various theories that I collected over my lifetime, I distilled all I could to discern the faraway truth, as I was being driven out by Sayuri, even as felt her attempt to resist her soul’s own desire to protect itself.

And, so I worked and struggled, until I was ousted back into my own body, fatigue dripping slowly and surely through my entire frame.

Sayuri’s words of concern were hazy and faraway echoes, as though she were submerged in water.

I’d underestimated the struggle and cost in power the entire action would take… but it’s success was without question. Now, I knew that Ylstu faced a creature which we merely impeded, but monster that sought to destroy us. It’s hatred, it’s rage, and fury had echoed Sayuri’s senses, seeped into my own soul, and until only a monster not seen in centuries came to the forefront of my mind.

A Dullahan, a spirit of vengeance, has come forth to render vengeance upon those that wronged it, bringing with it a cadre of cadavers filled with its hate and despair, so that it may drag down the one who wronged it into the depths of hell. 

And, of course, who else could drive a noble soul from the Empire to the point of madness, something not done in centuries, other than Hikigaya Hachiman?