Chapter 3.13 – General Shinto 

For some of us, the journey was just beginning, but not for me. I’d travelled across the world already and now I was heading back, though this time, there would be no chirkir to take us. We’d be riding back to Xarinos. This leg of the journey would take longer. On the way here, I could travel around the clock, needing not stop for food or sleep. My companions didn’t share that strength. With the clock ticking, the extra time on our trip did not bode well for our success. 

                                                                                           Excerpt from the Journal of the Emissary

Sixth Day of Striving 1142

High King Terrence and his squire Zen, stood in a training circle. Several curious soldiers were around, wanting to see the High King teaching combat. Many of the men watching were guards that had been trained by Maynor or Jericho. None had ever seen the king running weapons training.

Zen was thin and small by soldier standards, but he’d also been touched by Sheba and that meant he was not only worthy of respect, but demanded it. The gods touched those they believed would help spread their message. Being one of the touched was an honor most nobility could never attain.

Terrence was still glowing, would never stop glowing. He was not only High King but also Sheba’s voice. His hair was still long and brown. His square-jawed face was steadfast, a warrior’s face. His beard was so immaculately trimmed that many suspected that the goddess kept it that way for him. Even here on the road, it was perfectly maintained.

“Zen, what’s the best weapon?”

Zen thought for a second, spared a glance to those watching. Terrence wondered if it made him nervous. He didn’t say anything. If that was Zen’s biggest issue, he needed to get over it. In war, most of what you do will be publicly scrutinized. There’s no avoiding it. He needed to get used to it now.

“I’m very good with a one handed-double bladed shortsword, your majesty.”

“I see…but that’s not what I asked you.”

Zen didn’t reply right away. His green eyes hardened, not in reaction to the king but the puzzle he’d posed. “There is no best weapon, is there?”

“That’s right, Zen. The best weapon is the right one for the job. You say you’re good with a short sword, but on the open battlefield, reach can mean everything. If you can’t close with your opponent, and he can hit you from further away, what good will that sword do you? If your opponents are archers on a rise and you can’t get near them, what good is a sword? If you’re fighting skeletons or certain types of giant insects, swords do less damage than a crushing weapon like a hammer or a mace. You don’t need to be good at one weapon to be a great warrior, you need to be good at all of them.”

Zen looked thoughtful. “So I should start fighting with a mace sometimes?”

“No. Not yet. But it’s something to keep in mind. We don’t yet know the shape of this war. We don’t know exactly what forces the Undead King might bring to bear. If skeletons are prevalent, you’ll want a mace, a full hammer is probably too heavy for you at this point. You’re still young and haven’t had training. I’d get some mace practice in, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be perfecting what you’re comfortable with either. It’s about balance. We tend to want to use the weapon we’re best in. That’s natural. We’ve made it ours. But I’ve spend hours practicing with bows, with hammers, with spears. And they’re all very different.”

Zen nodded. “I never thought about that.”

“You weren’t supposed to. I wouldn’t even bring it up now, if we weren’t going into a war you haven’t been prepared for. You know what you know and for your level of experience, you’re particularly good, but it’s what you don’t know that will get you killed. Sometimes it’s what you don’t expect at all.”

As if those words were a prophecy, a horse rode up to the combat circle, at a gallop. On the horse sat a man who was a soldier through and through, though Terrence didn’t recognize him. He stood tall in the saddle, back straight as a board, head held high. His hair was cut so short, you almost couldn’t tell it was brown. He was clean shaven, and had the bluest eyes Terrence had ever seen. His nose was too big for his face, and the set of his jaw told Terrence this was a man used to being in command. He wore worn leather armor, not the heavier metal he’d later wear when it was time to engage the enemy. His cloak was likewise worn. This was a man who spent his life in the field and had the credentials to prove that he’d learned his lessons from those long days and nights.

“High King Terrence? General Shinto reporting for duty.”

Terrence’s eyes widened in surprise. “General Shinto…an unexpected honor. I didn’t know you were coming. I’ll get the quartermaster to see about assigning a place for your men…”

“I came alone, your highness. I wanted to make sure I was here for the early planning sessions. Nothing is going to attack us before Gloomhearth and that’s quite a long ways from now. I thought the earlier I got into the planning stage, the better off it would be for everyone.”

The way he said it set Terrence on edge. Everyone that studied the war knew that General Shinto was the allies most successful general. He won every battle he’d taken on. All of them. While Terrence had been injured and had to retreat, Shinto had cut a line through the enemy and eventually had driven them back.

“I appreciate any advice you can offer. I’m no general.”

Shinto nodded agreement. “I know. I was surprised when the gods made you high king.”

There were murmurs from several of the guards present.

“You’re not alone in that, General.”

“Please, call me Shin, your highness.”

“As you wish. You can call me Terrence. We’re fighting the same war, formality isn’t going to win it.”

Shinto nodded approval.

“Zen, go get Cech and meet me back at the command tent.”

Zen ran off, and Terrence instructed one of the men to take the general’s horse. Shinto looked momentarily reluctant to part with it, then dismounted and walked over to Terrence, who extended his hand. Shinto took it.

To the others watching, though Terrence didn’t know it, this was a meeting of giants. The two had never met during the war. Shinto had been more active in the north and East of Death’s Doorstep. Terrence had stayed to the south, and further west. Shinto had faced far bigger battles than Terrence had, and had still come out on top every time. This was a man who deserved respect. A man who might not have the courtly grace Terrence was used to. That was fine by him. He needed a general, not a courtier.

On the way back to the tent, Terrence asked about his trip. Shin answered quickly before turning his attention to troop numbers and disposition. The general was all business, and Terrence respected that. He was used to court politics and small talk. General Shinto couldn’t care less about any of that. He wanted to know the situation, as if he were a commanding officer requesting a status report from a subordinate. Terrence provided it without complaint.

Terrence knew he was out of his depth as a commander and had told the gods as much. In truth, General Shinto’s presence would take a lot of pressure off him.

As they made their way to the command tent, there was another witness neither had counted on. Far away, deep in the heart of Xarinos, lying back in a black leather recliner in Orientation Villlage, the Undead King watched through Terrence’s eyes and heard through his ears. He was most eager to attend the upcoming meeting.

*

When Suzanna arrived home, Eric was where he always was–sitting at the computer, watching a stream. She thought he’d be watching Game of Thrones, or maybe Star Trek both of which he’d really taken to, but instead, he was watching something different. She looked over his shoulder.

“Is that the WWE?”

“Yeah, it’s interesting.”

“You know it’s not real right?”

Eric looked up at her. “Is Game of Thrones real?”

“No, of course not.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“Well no, because it’s obvious it’s not real.”

“It wasn’t obvious to me.”

Suzanna blinked. Of course it wasn’t obvious to him. That sort of magic wasn’t fantasy to someone like Eric. It was a real possibility. For all he knew he could have been watching a story from another world.

“So you know that wrestling is staged?”

“It’s pretty obvious if you watch the combat. A lot of these moves don’t hurt. The arm bars are applied backwards. It’s pretty clear both the good guy and the bad guy are cooperating to create the illusion of fighting. It’s pretty effective sometimes and some of the wrestlers are better at it than others.”

“So why are you watching it?”

“Are you kidding? The stories are great.”

Suzanna laughed. Eric always surprised her. Of course he was into the stories. Wrestling was a morality play with good guys and bad guys often fitting in neat little boxes. There was some overlap, but the idea of the bad guys finally getting beaten by the good guys would appeal to someone like Eric, who was still young enough to see a lot of things in black and white.

“One of my instructors wants to meet you.”

Eric paused the stream.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Professor Marko wants to chat with you about the current world situation outside Xarinos.”

“Why?” 

“He’s interested. He’s a scholar or was when he was alive.”

“That’s interesting. When does he want to meet?”

“You can come to class with me tomorrow.”

“sure. Can I finish the match now, it’s almost over.”

Suzanna laughed again. “sure. I’ll start dinner.”

Eric nodded absently. and she smiled fondly. She really liked Eric, though strangely enough, she missed Danny. She didn’t have to care for Danny with Eric in his body. While it was often work, it gave her something to focus on all day. She had her lessons now, but they were optional. Danny demanded her attention. It felt at the same time as if a weight had been lifted from her, and a void had opened up inside of her.

Did she really need to take care of someone so badly that without it her life felt pointless? That seemed like it should bother her–but it didn’t. She’d seen what selfishness looked like in her life. She remembered what she’d done to her own mother with her lack of understanding and support. She couldn’t make it up to her mother, it was too late for that, but she could show her, wherever she was, that she had learned her lesson. And maybe, just maybe, somehow, somewhere, her mother would be able to see what she had become. She didn’t expect to be forgiven. She only wanted her mother to know that her efforts had not been wasted. That would be enough.

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a package of chicken thigh fillets. She placed it on the counter and took a moment to marvel at the contrast. Something so ordinary. Something she’d seen a million times before, on Earth, in her own kitchen. But this particular package of chicken wasn’t on Earth, it was in Orientation Village, in Thysandrika where the reborn, those that had returned to life, spent time to orient themselves to an existence on Earth. That something so normal could exist here was in itself extraordinary, and she hadn’t been here long enough to take that for granted.

She was about to open the package, when the phone rang. There were no cell phones on this side of the divide, only landlines. The sound startled her. It was the first phone call they’d received since arriving. She hurried to the phone and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Suzanna, a pleasure. I hope you’re adjusting to your new situation.”

She knew the voice immediately. Nylus, who Eric had called the Undead King, had rung her up, like anyone else might. Surreal.

“Yes, we’re fine. What can we do for you?”

“I called to see if you’d like to join me for dinner. I’m in Orientation Village, and I was hoping you and Prince Eric might drop by.”

Eric had, somehow, torn himself away from wrestling. He was standing in the doorway watching her. She placed her hand over the mouthpiece.

“It’s Nylus,” she whispered. “He wants us to come to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“He’s here, in the village.”

“Can I speak with him?”

Suzanna hit the speaker button and spoke. “Eric would like to talk to you.”

“Put him on.”

“We’re on speaker. Eric, if you talk, Nylus will be able to hear you.”

Eric looked surprised but didn’t hesitate.

“You exiled Suzanna to Thysandrika, and now you want to dine with us?”

“Yes, your highness, that’s correct. Suzanna was a threat to my operation on Earth, as she knew too much and you shouldn’t have been on that world at all. But we didn’t really get a chance to talk. Perhaps it’s time for me to lay all the cards on the table, and see if we can’t work out at least some of our differences.”

Eric frowned. “Suzanna and I are hardly in a position to negotiate. You have all the power here.”

Nylus chuckled. “You’re assuming you have nothing I want. Are you certain that’s the case?”

“No. But I can’t imagine what we could offer you.”

“Then come to dinner and find out. We can have whatever you like?”

“Hamburgers?”

Nylus laughed. “sure.”

Suzanna put the package of chicken back in the refrigerator, because she knew Eric would say yes. When considering all the weaknesses a magical prince from a fantasy world might have, a yearning for hamburgers would not have been high on her list.

* 

Cech saw Zen approach at a run and stopped to wait for him. Probably nothing, but not reason to make him run further.

“Hey Cech, High King Terrence wants us at the command tent.”

“Do you know why?”

“Have you ever heard of General Shinto?”

Cech looked thoughtful. “He’s some famous General from the Undead War. Not sure what he did or why he’s famous though.”

“The High King seems to be very up on him.”

Cech shrugged. “Okay. We should go.”

He started walking, but not too fast. Slow enough to give Zen a chance to catch his breath.

“So what was he like?” asked Cech.

“General Shinto? I’m not sure I should say.”

Cech raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“I don’t think he was very nice to High King Terrence.”

“Really? That’s stupid.”

“It’s at least rude.”

“No, it’s stupid,” insisted Cech. “King Terrence was selected, not by one god, but all of the major gods. The gods of order. Giving him a hard time seems like you’re spitting on the gods.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“You know, men are just men. Gods, they’re not. They’re higher than us. Our whole society is based on what the gods say and do. People with classes are worth more to society than people without. They’re less replaceable. More survivable, in most cases anyway. We live in a two class society. There’s those with a class and those without. Having a class means something. You’re just starting out. You don’t really understand it yet, but you will.”

“So you look down on people without classes?”

“Hell no. But it doesn’t change the fact that they’re less than we are. They have lower potential. It doesn’t mean you should look down on them. It means they need your help and protection when shit goes down, because in the end, we’re all they have. No matter how much they pray, the gods won’t be coming to help them.”

Zen looked thoughtful but didn’t speak again. When they reached the command tent, Cech entered first and Zen followed behind. The King and a stranger that could only be General Shinto stood bent over a map.

Terrence looked up as he entered.

“Cech, good. Meet General Shinto, the most successful commander during the Undead War.”

“Hey,” said Cech.

The general looked him over. “This is how you train your men to treat a general, Terrence?”

Cech bristled at the familiarity but didn’t say anything. Terrence did.

“Actually, I’ve never trained my men to meet a general. Palace guards aren’t soldiers, and Cech, even for a palace guard is not particularly disciplined. But he is skilled.”

Shinto nodded, understanding. “We make exceptions for the exceptional. We all do it.”

Cech shook his head. “I’m not that exceptional. I’m big, I’m strong, and yeah, I’m good with a sword, but I’m not the best we have.”

“Honesty is good,” said Shinto, “modesty, on the other hand, I have no time for. How good are you really?”

Cech shrugged. “I have trouble taking on more than three men at a time.”

Shinto threw back his head and guffawed. “I understand why you give him leeway. Though I have to ask, are there people who could take on more than that?”

“Gallen could, probably. He’s a lot stronger then he looks, and he’s very fast. Skilled too. I wouldn’t want to take him on, even as one of three.”

“I can’t wait to meet this Gallen.”

“Not on this trip,” said Terrence. “He’s Queen Treya’s personal guard.”

Shinto scowled. “I thought you’d bring the best men you have.”

“Shin, both of our sons were kidnapped a short time ago, and I was leaving. The Queen is the only heir left in the capital. If someone were going to assassinate her, this would be the time.”

Shinto looked like he was going to reply, but nodded curtly instead. Cech could see he didn’t agree, but Shinto probably realized that he didn’t know enough about the situation at the palace to make an informed judgement. Still, questioning the High King about protecting his wife seemed inappropriate to Cech.

Shin didn’t push the argument he’d already given up on, and switched tactics instead. “So, how do you plan to handle the assault.”

Terrence, who had been looking at the map, stood straighter. He didn’t need a visual aid to know where he was going and Cech was certain General Shinto didn’t either. These were two war veterans fighting on the same front they’d already had burned into their brains.

“We head to the garrison in Final Hope and launch the attack from there. Easy supplies. Extra men. Everything we need right there. It’s the perfect launching point.”

Shin was already shaking his head. Cech was really beginning to dislike him.

“It’s a mistake, Terrence. You’re right about supplies and men. You’re wrong about it being a good place to launch an assault from. There’s one thing you never want to do in war, and that’s tell the enemy where you are. Going to the garrison is the obvious move and you can bet the Undead King will be prepared for it. If he’ll be splitting his forces, and it’s unimaginable to believe that he won’t, he’ll put the bulk of them right there, on the border, near the World’s Garrison. And that’s exactly what we want him to do, as long as he hit him from somewhere else.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Don’t land the army in Final Hope. Use the ruined docks in Death’s Doorstep. There’s enough left of the infrastructure to land troops there. Then, instead of marching straight east, march north first, then turn east, north of Death’s Doorstep, though the wild lands. There would be virtually no reason for the Undead King to protect that border. There’s nothing there. Death’s Doorstep already wasn’t a threat, but who lives there? A few trappers? A band of hunters? The Undead King has no reason to have troops there. That’s exactly where we want to be.”

Cech thought about it. He had to admit, grudgingly, that Shinto was making sense. He was beginning to see how the general had one so many battles. Which didn’t change his opinion of the man’s approach. High King Terrence deserved a level of respect this man wasn’t giving him.

Terrence nodded, never once glancing at the map. “We’ll do it your way. When you say it like that, it’s clear that you’re better at this game than I’ll ever be.”

Shinto nodded as if Terrence had just affirmed the a universal truth he’d known all along. Cech really wanted to punch him. He wondered what level Shinto was.

“I’ll be able to make more detailed plans when I know the final disposition of our forces. You’re heading toward Karmenon, I presume.”

“Yes, their troops should be waiting at the southern border by the time we get there. Then we head east through Andara. They’ll get men to use en route, probably not all at once, but a steady flow of soldiers. I know a lot of people don’t respect Andara, but…”

“I’m not a lot of people, Terrence. I’ve had Andaran soldiers in my ranks. I wish I had more of them. Andarans are a commanders wet dream. They stay on task, stay on target, they’re always where their supposed to be. I don’t have to do a lot of wrangling when most of my force is Andaran. I’ll take whatever they have, and gladly.”

Terrence nodded approval. A lot of the civilized kingdoms looked down on Andara, but apparently Shinto was not one of them. That’s what mark in his favor.

“Anyway,” continued Terrence, from there we move into Melar, take what we can get from King Leonid, including transport to Death’s Doorstep, and we start our final march.”

“Sounds good. The only thing missing now is a beer.”

Terrence laughed. “I haven’t been the best host, have I? I’ll see to it.”

But Zen was already in motion. Cech nodded approvingly. Good kid that Zen. Proactive. We needed more soldiers like that.

Conversation turned to strategies of the first war, but Cech tuned them out. He wasn’t listening to the conversation, he was watching the reactions of the two commanders as they sparred. That’s what it was, he realized, verbal sparring.

Shinto was direct, incisive, predictably strong. Terrence didn’t meet his attacks with force, he met them with strategic retreat that positioned the general precisely where Terrence wanted him. This was Terrence’s strongest talent. He managed to get people on board. It didn’t matter to him if Shinto thought he was better. It matters what Shinto could do to help them win a war. Terrence had an ego, all king’s did. He just knew when it was a hindrance and when it was a boon.

Terrence never ceased to impress Cech. As for Shinto, he’d have to watch, wait and learn. Perhaps, Shinto would fall into line, and Cech wouldn’t have to thump him. He didn’t think it likely at this point, but Terrence had taught him, anything was possible.

*

Bones came by to escort them to the Undead King’s house. It was unusual as they didn’t usually require an escort anywhere in Orientation Village. Suzanna had grown used to Bones and come to like him, even if he was just a skeleton. Instead of leaving him standing outside, as she did in the beginning, she invited him in while they got ready.

Bones had been a friendly, steady guide for them, almost a concierge. Whatever they needed, if he couldn’t provide it himself, he could direct them to who could acquire it for them. This extended to both things from Thysandrika and things from Earth. Suzanna had certain amenties she missed from Earth that would be available here in Orientation Village. That wouldn’t last when they left. For Suzanna this was a good place to stop and dip her toes in the waters of a new world. A magical world. A world that she never really believed could exist…and then she looked at Bones, a walking, talking skeleton. It not only existed, but had always existed. She’s simply been unaware of it.

The one thing she missed in Xarinos that no one could give her, was her connection to Sylinar, her goddess. She had only been tethered to Sylinar for a short time, but already she missed the goddess’s presence in her life. It was missing tooth that demanded your attention because a part of you was absent. Sometimes she thought she might ask to be escorted past the border of Xarinos, just to renew that connection if only briefly. The only reason she didn’t is because there were human border patrols that would have represented a danger should they encounter one.

Bones lead them to a house on the edge of town that looked exactly like every other house. A small, self contained allotment on a street of nearly identical houses with small front and back yards, brightly painted and kitsch as hell. A designer neighborhood designed by someone who watched too much television. It felt staged, not real.

That the man who lived in this house, at least at the moment, was the Undead King, the scourge of Death’s Doorstep, the single most feared being in all Thysandrika was not lost on her, but she didn’t have those feelings. She hadn’t grown up here. She’d been on Earth and had only recently learned of him. And though he had exiled her to Thysandrika, she was still with Danny, even if Danny had been possessed completely by Eric for the time being, and she was learning things she’s never have known. What had looked like a punishment, had turned out to be a gift. And this was the Undead King’s domain. He had done something she could understand. He had protected his secret at her expense. But he didn’t leave her to flounder on her own. He was also providing for her. So she was willing to hear him out with an open mind. She wasn’t sure that Eric felt the same way.

Eric’s father, King Terrence, had fought in the Undead War and took a javelin to his side that almost killed him. That alone was enough to write Eric’s relationship with the Undead King. Anything else was just noise. Eric loved his father, almost worshipped him, from what Suzanna could gather. The Undead King was his father’s enemy. Yet even Eric has been open enough to express some doubt, telling her how he’d been told that Death’s Doorstep might have started the war by attacking the Plains of Xarinos first. It could be true. But Eric wasn’t going to internalize that truth based on the word of one of the reborn.

Bones didn’t accompany them to the door, he just stopped at the edge of the property and gestured them forward. Eric thanked him, bowed slight, formal even for Eric, and then walked up the path, fearless as ever. Suzanna followed behind, looking for anything that might mark the Undead King’s house as different, but there was nothing. It shouldn’t really be surprising. After all, he’d lived in a Brown Stone in Park Slope for years, and no one suspected he was a 1142 year old being from another world. The Undead King had no trouble blending in.

Eric rang the bell, and waited. The door opened up to the Undead King, still handsome, still wearing glasses she was sure he didn’t need, wearing an chef’s coat and holding a spatula. Come on in, I put the burgers on.

Both entered, and the Undead King left them to follow him to the kitchen where he was busy frying hamburgers on a skillet. “I have chips in the air fryer. Fries, sorry. I like calling them chips.”

“Why? You live in Parke Slope.”

“I do. But I watch a lot of British shows and I’m a big fan of He Who Fights with Monsters.”

“I don’t know what that is,” said Suzanna.

“It’s a lit rpg book,” said Eric. “Written by an Australian author.”

“How do you know that?”

Eric smiled. “I was researching the way fantasy worlds and Earth might interact on the computer and found myself on a page explaining lit rpg. Roleplaying game literature. Books or sometimes anime where people from earth end up on fantasy worlds built around a game system. Pretty much like Thysandrika with it’s levels and classes. Earth doesn’t have those. That’s just weird.”

Suzanna laughed and shook her head. “Okay, that’s pretty funny.”

“Suzanna, help yourself to something to drink, the fridge is stocked. Eric, it’s good to finally have time to talk in a less adversarial setting.”

“You still have all the power here,” said Eric.

“But I’m not your enemy, or at least, I hope that’s the case. Tell me, what have I ever done to you?”

“Besides stabbing my father?”

“You mean the man who led an army to try to kill my people after we’d defended ourselves by attacking Death’s Doorstep? Not that it mattered. Your father wouldn’t have been hurt at all if it were up to me. I’m not directly controlling every reborn on the battle field. We were fighting a skirmish, your father was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My soldiers would have given him a healing potion had they found him.”

“Why?”

“The Undead King smiled, while flipping burgers. “As much as I’d like to share that information, that will have to remain my secret.”

Eric frowned. “You have a reputation for never lying.”

“I don’t lie as a rule. Those that know me, learn to trust me. Which doesn’t mean I can’t mislead.”

“That’s very honest of you.”

“I have no reason to lie to you, Eric. And I’m not your enemy. If the humans would have left us alone, we’d never have attacked anyone. But you feared us. Abhorred us. Judged us unfairly, and Death’s Doorstep took it further than the rest of the human race. We had every right to defend our borders. Any of your kings would have done the same.”

Suzanna watched Eric nod, reluctantly she thought.

“Hey, if you want your buns toasted, you should put them up. They’re by the toaster.”

The Undead King gestured and Suzanna walked to the toaster. She looked down at it.

“What the…how does this thing work?”

The Undead King laughed, not unkindly, Suzanna thought. “It’s a very good toaster. A Breville smart toaster. There are two sets of controls, one for each side, so two slices can be darker than the others. I love this toaster. If you want, I can have one delivered to you. This is the Australian version. Makes perfect crumpets.”

“I’ve never had a crumpet before.”

The Undead King shook his head sadly. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

Then he ducked back to the grill, flipped the hamburgers and moved them to a waiting plate. Eric hadn’t said anything, though he wandered over the to toaster to investigate. Suzanna moved aside to let him see it.

“It has a frozen setting, and a fruit bread setting?” asked Eric.

“Yep,” said the Undead King, clearly enjoying himself.

“What’s fruit bread?”

“It’s like raisin toast. I’ll make sure you get some. I keep forgetting how little you know.”

Eric nodded. “You were on Earth for a long time. That portal…did you create it?”

“I didn’t. It formed naturally. Something to do with the membrane between worlds and the friction caused by the flow of magic. In fact, I wasn’t even the one who discovered it. That was a man named Sidney Markowitz. Brave man, that. Walked through the portal, unarmed into the Plains of Xarinos were he was on the receiving end of a terrible mistake.”

“Oh?” asked Eric.

“The reborn scouting party who discovered him assumed that to get this far into Xarinos undiscovered, he had to be high level. They’d meant to detain him, but used too much force for an unleveled human to endure. He died rather quickly I’m afraid.”

“What happened?” asked Suzanna.

“He died. We buried him and brought him back.”

“Without his permission,” said Eric, archly.

“Yes. Without his permission. I suppose if he didn’t like it, we could have just killed him again, but there were other considerations. They didn’t find him at the portal and had no idea how he got there. He was a security risk, and we needed answers. What would you father have done, your highness?”

Eric didn’t answer. Suzanna could see he was thinking. When he spoke, it wasn’t with his usual confidence. “I don’t know. But if he truly might have been a threat, I could see why you’d want to interrogate him. You understand humans don’t have the same options.”

“I do. We should eat before it gets cold.”

Without waiting for an answer, the Undead King started moving everything into the dining room. The table had already been set with plates and glasses. The Undead King, busy serving, didn’t restart the conversation, and Eric watched him carefully. Finally, he spoke.

“You’re not what I expected.”

“Why? Because I’m not a monster?”

“I don’t know if you’re a monster or not. But you come off as being reasonable.” 

“I am reasonable. But I also have a temper. So does King Terrence. Surely you’ve noticed it.”

Eric nodded. “I have. He’s often under a lot of pressure.”

“And do you think he’s the only one that’s under pressure, your highness? Should your father get a pass, while I suffer your judgement for my temper?”

Eric didn’t answer, and Suzanna could tell the Undead King had scored a point, though she didn’t know what the game was, and didn’t even want to guess at the stakes.

“Why did you ask us here?” she asked.

“For dinner and conversation. We have a lot to talk about.”

.