Act Twenty-Nine: Magic and War

The two-thousand-strong Undead Army deployed at once across the shallow riverbank. The Spider Swordsmen, clad entirely in black, stood shoulder to shoulder in rows. Their armor bore spider emblems on the chest. In perfect unison, they stepped forward, gripping their broad black greatswords upside down with both hands. They leveled the blades, points touching the ground, one hand gripping the pommel at chest height while the other faced upward and braced the hilt from behind. Their bodies leaned forward at an angle to the blades. Two thousand one hundred skeletons held the same pose as row after row of greatswords descended in the cold rain, their edges flashing as one like the icy teeth of death.

A small cluster of Black Knights surrounded Sir Viscag. This Dark Noble lord, nicknamed the Silent One, wore Black Knight armor as well, but no helmet. A pale skull emerged from his breastplate, its few strands of hair like weeds in the wind. His face was covered in dried corpse blotches, and pale flames burned in his eyes. An icy aura of death radiated from his body. One hand rested on the hilt of a sharp sword adorned with a Black Rose. Just like his nickname suggested, he silently watched the west.

There lay rolling hills along the riverbank, the curtain of rain forming a thin mist that obscured the view. Behind the mist, a pitch-black forest stood like a wall. Then, all of a sudden, one sacred-white banner after another appeared within the forest. Beneath them marched a solid mass of human infantry, their silver-gray armor flashing like rippling water. Doubt flickered through Sir Viscag's eyes. He had never heard of this army, but their equipment was excellent. They were clearly no rabble.

A mile separated them, a distance at which both sides