Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights

Chapter 510: Andormedius Mortis

This man seated on the throne was supposed to be a lie, a story invented by ten men. He was never meant to be real.

They had created this great being in words. They gave him impossible strength, unbeatable nobility, impossible virtues, and fed those lies to millions until the fiction became legend.

So how was that same being now sitting before them? Anticipating it didn’t make seeing him any less shocking.

Zaun was far more intrigued than he was afraid. Perhaps it wasn’t fear quickening his heartbeat, but excitement at what this could mean. This overturned all they knew.

If the mana tree had indeed brought exactly what they made. Then—

"It is unfortunate, but I already foresee myself bringing war," the Unknown King said.

Zaun took a firm step forward. "Your Majesty." He bent his head.

"There is no need to bow, Alchemist."

Zaun squinted at that comment. ’He’s not pleased. So, he has seen them. I couldn’t have shown that to Godfrey. He had not overcome his guilt over the death of his generals. That boy. He has a good heart but lacks fine control over it.’

"You have seen what they’re going through," Zaun said.

"I have. Their hearts are far from me. They can’t hear me."

Zaun’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Beneath that terrible coldness, he had heard something painfully human.

"We are not afraid of war, Your Majesty. If it will lead to the resurrection of our Order, we shall lay down our lives with honour. But the plight of the Wielder of the Lance isn’t Apollyon’s doing. Do not rest your rage on her."

The Unknown King’s eyes went to Apollyon. "I would never. Lift up your head, general."

Apollyon lifted her head. Jaws clamped shut, eyes hard with hidden emotions she couldn’t name.

She didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, she rose back because of Godfrey, the golden-haired king. The Known One.

However, centuries before this, her faith had belonged to the Unknown King. She believed him so completely that she began to have visions. The King’s Beloved, they called her back then, but when the Sword of the King fell and their lies were exposed beneath the sun, she went mad.

Her madness—

"You maintained balance amongst the five kingdoms. I know of that. I know of your guilt. I know you."

Apollyon collapsed to her knees. Her teeth clenched until her jaw trembled. The others were astonished. This was the Champion; a master of duels, feared in battle and renowned for her wit. Yet a single sentence had brought her to her knees.

"Rise." At his word, Apollyon rose back up.

"Your Majesty, I plead that you do not go to the Afterlife. You will not return. That world is governed by laws beyond ancient gods."

"I know. But much has gone wrong in that realm. I might not be able to change it, but I won’t abandon a general. It doesn’t matter if he refuses to serve. His past service is enough," the Unknown King said.

"You may send your Lament, your Chief General." Zaun didn’t speak alone this time, but all ten of them spoke as one. "Let him serve. Once he rescues the other, he can return."

Dirge watched as Lament stood before them all, then fell on one knee. "I have been useless."

"You were mourning. Though it lasted a little too long," the Unknown King said. "Why should I send you to another mission, one possibly worse than the former?"

Lament exhaled. "Give me this grace. I will bring you the Wielder of the Lance." He paused, and the hall descended into silence. Could this fallen Chief still rise?

"I... will lament no more!" He said, desperate, bold. Perhaps both. But it echoed with the power of a man who had risen up from a curse that should have kept him down.

Lament stared right at the Unknown King. He saw the darkness of a man resting his elbows on his lap and leaning forward. Those golden eyes watched him.

"You will die. You will lose your men again and again. What makes you think you will survive this, general?" the Unknown King asked softly.

"Not all generals will bask in the light. Not all generals will bear that which they loathe. I do. And if I do not, I wish it on another. I am chief amongst other generals; it is my responsibility. I have been blinded by my grief. I seek the light no more. Let me serve as the rider of chaos that brings order, as the fear in the shadows. Let me be that which I have become."

Dirge folded her arms. The clawed edge of her gauntlets scraped her breastplate. ’The visitation of the Alchemists changed him. What did they do?’

"You grieved until you realized that, in your lament, you might lose the last thing you had. You have woken up, general," the Unknown King said, rising to his feet.

A sudden stir passed through the hall. Candle flames flickered as though disturbed by an unseen wind, yet the air remained still. Something was about to happen. A declaration that would change everything.

Lament’s verdict.

"Your weapon, general."

Hearing that, Lament stretched out his hand, and a heartbeat later, his halberd manifested. He held it, butt pressed to the floor, the tip pointing at the lofty ceiling.

"Your state became your name. A knight lost in the turmoil of his own heart. You were losing a battle for centuries, but now, against the odds, you have risen once more. Your honour has been reclaimed, your status as Chief General never more firm. Men and beasts shall no more know of Lament the fallen. No..."

The Unknown King walked around the small platform around his throne as he spoke. His hand slid through the contours and carvings on the throne.

"No..." He repeated. "I hereby strip you of skills learned in rebellion." The moment the king said that, Lament felt something being ripped from within him.

His fire-related skills. Powerful ones. Sun Annihilation, Inferno State. Ripped out of him. Those skills were great, but they suppressed what he truly was. Mentally and he knew this. That was why he learnt the skill in the first place... to be like the others, to shut out what he had become.

To have the warmth and brightness of life rather than the desolate chill and shrouding darkness of death.

"The days of lamenting have come to an end. It is time for a new man to rise. From this day, by my decree, you shall be known as Andormedius Mortis..."

"...Rise, my general. Descend into the Afterlife and echo the name Andormedius Mortis, knight of the Order. Let them know even death does not evade our eyes."

Lament. No.

Andormedius Mortis rose to his feet. Heralds above, Dirge had never felt his presence ripple with such might in all the centuries she had known him.

The words of the Unknown King. It rebuilt what was broken. He was truly the one said to come.

"Take the Rune of Light. Return it to The Blesser and bring him home."

Dax was confused. How was Lament, who was weaker than most of them, to make an impact in a world like the Afterlife? A world crawling with souls of ancient gods!

***

A portal tore open into a dark world. Golden light spun along its edge like a razor, continuously cutting through the fabric of space to keep the passage from collapsing.

Andormedius Mortis on horseback stepped into the Afterlife, Dirge by his side.

The portal closed behind them. Two generals stuck in possibly the worst place in existence.

He walked the horse to the edge of the plateau and scanned the vast, almost endless field that stretched to the distant horizon.

This was the right place. It was a plain of swords planted into the dark soil. Some stood straight, some slanted, most were buried deep into the ground.

In some areas, the head of an armoured being protruded from the ground. Elsewhere, only hands emerged. Most remained buried beneath the earth.

Dirge looked at him. "Can you do it?"

If she brought them back, they would become her wraiths and would be just slaves without memories. Only fighting instincts.

Andormedius Mortis stepped down from his mount and stood at the edge of the plateau, his cape rippling softly.

"There are hundreds of thousands of them here. Dormant souls," Dirge stood beside him.

"Sing to them," Andormedius said.

"What?"

"Sing. Usher the sisterhood of the sanctuaries."

Dirge leaped over a hundred feet into the air, across a great distance. She landed in a crouch, a ring of dust expanding from her, staff planted into the ground.

Her gaze hovered over the dormant souls that spread far beyond the boundaries of her sight. Once, these were knights, defenders of the Order.

A song came to her, flowing upwards from her heart to her lips. It poured out as a melodic hymn; her voice moved like soft waves, like a plea. It softened the heart.

Women made of white mist formed, singing with her. More than Dirge had ever seen before began to drift over. They descended toward her hymn like stars drawn toward the newborn sun.

They were like angels of light, dropping from the Exalted realm. A few dozen grew into hundreds.

Yet there was this oppressive stillness their voices couldn’t break. It held on to the fallen men, binding them to their slumber.

"Hear me." Andormedius’ voice exploded through the air. "I am Andormedius Mortis, the King’s general. I have come to bring order and restore that which has been lost. Rise, men. Rise, and let us usher in the light."

He lifted up the Rune of Light, channeling his mana into it. A blinding light burst forth. Andormedius almost heard the darkness scream. It felt like he held the sun in his hand.

"Answer my call!"

Armour clanked. The hand that stretched out of the soil folded into a fist. Knights rose by the hundreds, clawing their way from the soil. They gathered into companies, taking up weapons buried beside them. Ten-foot warriors in armour formed ranks that stretched farther than Dirge could see, filling the plain in every direction.

A glorious sight.

One man laughed softly. The sound spread like wildfire until hundreds became thousands, then tens of thousands. Soon, more than half a million men were laughing.

No sane human would have witnessed this without feeling the hairs rise on their skin.

Men that had just risen from slumber, realizing they’d been dead for a long time, yet they laughed.

Dirge slammed her staff against a soldier’s shield.

There was a loud shout that rumbled to the clouds. Captains of their individual companies hit their shields again as one. It was a bit chaotic at first, but they soon gained their rhythm.

Battle cries erupted from hundreds of thousands of throats, rumbling across the dead plain until even the soil seemed to tremble.

Andormedius Mortis heaved himself to his saddle, holding firm the reins. His gallant steed snickered in glee.

He lifted his halberd high, and three thousand cavaliers assembled behind him. The Rune of Light rose into the air and drifted toward the horizon.

Andormedius Mortis pointed after it. Boots slammed the ground as the enormous army began to march. To the rescue of their general, they came.

The Blesser will be avenged.