"I shall know no fear. Fear denies faith. My faith is my shield."
-The God-Emperor's Chosen
"Go, Twilight!" Morenth urged, glancing over his shoulder to also ensure Lieutenant Pythoes was keeping a firm reign on his guardsmen.
Twilight hesitated for a moment before turning away and galloped off toward the refugees readying the wagons at a now panicked pace.
With the lavender mare gone, Morenth steered his thoughts to the disturbing sounds of marching in the distance as he made his way through the ranks of Hollodrum's defenders, shoving his way through those too slow to remove themselves from his path. There were only two things that could enforce order over the animalistic lesser undead; ascended undead, and practitioners of the dark arts. Either of these would likely spell doom for the remaining survivors.
"Lieutenant!" the Paladin shouted when he spotted the young officer pacing along the front rank.
Upon recognizing who was calling him, Pythoes let out a visible sigh of relief, waving Morenth over to speak with him.
"Sir Morenth, I'm glad you saw fit to return to us," the lieutenant quipped, grinning in a weak attempt at levity.
"Lieutenant, I'm afraid our situation is a tad dire for jokes," Morenth growled, looking across the future battlefield to the barrier of debris the knight had instructed Pythoes to construct. Everything flammable and not nailed down to the floor had been removed from the surrounding structures and piled across the length of the main street. On either his, or the lieutenant's orders, lookouts using the roadblock as cover would set it alight, further slowing the advancing undead. "Judging by the fact they took the eastern wall before any alarm could be raised, we can be sure they come in great numbers without counting the... Victims they've added to their ranks."
At the mention of Hollodrum's losses the young officers grin vanished, his face adopting a stony expression as he stared into the deep shadows blanketing the street.
"We have to make them pay, sir Morenth," Pythoes whispered harshly. His eyes flashed with a hatred the Paladin knew all too well. "My family is still..."
The young officer choked on his words, gritting his teeth in seething anger.
"We have to make them pay..." he repeated in a low, resolute rumble.
Morenth didn't answer, he didn't need to. Just under the surface of Pythoes' barely contained rage was a sliver of doubt. A crack in the fiery armor he wrapped around himself. The Paladin glanced at the guardsmen behind them to see the same doubt reflected in their faces, growing stronger with every collective footfall of the approaching hoard.
The apprehension of Hollodrum's last defenders became chilling dread as a thunderous clap echoed off the very stone of the town's foundations, continuing in time with the undead army's cadence. Crude swords and axes hammering against shields mixed with the shrieks of ravenous ghouls assailed the Paladin's ears with a cacophony of madness.
Morenth watched as the darkness undulated like a massive, writhing creature from the very depths of Tartarus. It's body made of ghouls and skeleton warriors many thousands strong.
"Lieutenant, you should see to your men," the Paladin advised, clasping his hand on the young officers shoulder. Pythoes didn't respond to Morenth's voice, instead he stared blankly into the abyss opening up before them, his face a frozen sculpture of horror. "Lieutenant....Pythoes!"
The young officer turned to Morenth with a jolt, looking at the Paladin with unseeing eyes.
"Pythoes, your men need you!" Morenth nearly shouted.
The lieutenant flinched at the volume of the Paladins voice, finally focusing his gaze on Morenth instead of through him. He could see the war being waged in the young officers mind, but they didn't have time for it.
The Paladin knew what he had to do. He'd seen his former Knight Commander perform the duty of leadership before in what seemed a lifetime ago. He didn't relish the idea, but with so few options he steeled himself for the responsibility.
"Guardsmen of Hollodrum!" he cried, turning to the defenders. Their fear was almost palpable as they looked to Morenth for guidance. "Steel yourselves! The creatures you see before you have come to take from you all you hold dear!"
"The undead never tire, they never relent, and they do not know mercy!" the Paladin shouted, causing many of the guardsmen to cringe in dismay, but he pressed on regardless. "They have only one purpose, and there is nothing they will not do to accomplish this, no matter how vile or loathsome it might be! These abominations mean to destroy everything proud and noble, everything we hold dear, and have fought so long to achieve this!"
At first, the defenders had cowered despite Morenth's words, but now a few underwent subtle changes as the truth of his speech set in. The undead wouldn't stop until all their families were slain.
"If you falter here they will come for your loved ones- friends and family trying desperately to escape! If you do not stand your ground then all is lost!" the Paladin recited, remembering Lord Commander Schwiess' rally cry word for word. He tried to picture the image of that bear of a man standing proud, ready to do battle by his side again. The thought brought fresh pain wrought from old wounds, but it also lit a raging inferno in Morenth's heart.
The effect of his words on the guardsmen were no longer subtle. Many wore masks of anger while others donned expressions of stony determination.
"Take the courage of the men standing next to you, and hold it close! Take the fear of your loved ones, and let it fuel your rage!"
It was time for the climax. Morenth drew Dawnbringer from its sheath with a powerful flourish, holding it aloft for all to see. Its normal glow had been replaced by brilliant radiance, burning at the presence of so many of its hated enemy.
"My name is Morenth, Paladin of Yuelith! Know that when you charge into the open maw of Tartarus, Yuelith charges with you!" Morenth cried as nearly two-hundred swords were drawn as one. The battle cry of Hollodrum's sons rendered the din of the undead hoard mute as they shouted in defiance of the coming darkness.
Twilight's breath caught as the guards around her shouted unintelligibly, taking up the battle cry of their comrades on the front lines. For a brief moment her thoughts went back to the storybooks of her foalhood, fables of the pre-classical era where courageous knight ponies stood against unimaginable odds for the sake of the powerless. It was striking how similar the scene before her was to the illustrations in those stories of a bygone age of strife and heroism.
"Bahahahaha!" Riegar guffawed at her side, placing his large hands on his hips as he eyed Morenth from behind the ranks. "Who'da guessed it? A Paladin appears at the last moment ta lead the charge against the undead filth. Like somthin' outta a fairy tale by me reckonin'!"
Several of the guards shared a laugh with the smith as well, voicing their relief over the sudden revelation.
"What's a Paladin? Is it some kind of title or something?" Twilight asked, not understanding why it should matter what Morenth called himself.
Riegar choked on his laughter and stared at the lavender mare like she'd been living under a rock. The way his look suggested that what she'd asked was common knowledge irked her. It must have shown on her face as the smith held out his hands disarmingly.
"Now don't get yer tizzies in a twist little missy, ye just surprised me is all," Riegar apologized in an attempt to placate her.
"What in Celestia's name are tizzies and how in Tartarus would I twist them?!" Twilight nearly yelled, exasperated by the smith's confusing manner of speech.
"Not quite sure meself, and ay never met a man that did. Sure'n it be a question fer the ages," Riegar stated with a faux inquisitive stroke of his grey beard before noticing the lavender mare's thinning patience. "Whoa, whoa missy, calm yerself! Truly, yer glare could slay a dragon if ye had a mind fer it. Ye know what a knight is?"
"Yes, there's a similar concept in Equestrian history. They were warriors of noble status, sworn to defend the crown in times of war," Twilight confirmed, recalling her studies into the rule of Princess Platinum during the Pre-Classical era.
"Well, then this'll be a short lesson. The Knights of Yuelith pledge their allegiance not ta any nation, but ta the hierarchy of the church of Yuelith like their name suggests. They hold a title of minor nobility just under that of Castilians, and are given leave to travel across Soulis in war bands of fellow knights in pursuit of the undead," the smith lectured, taking a breath before continuing. "Paladins are a different sort though. It's a title that's afforded only ta those who have the full trust of the White Council, the ruling body of the Order, and fer reasons of their own, there are only couple dozen or so of 'em at any one time."
Riegar kept his eyes glued to the distant figure of Morenth as he spoke, following the Paladin's actions closely with an appraising look. "Their the order's warrior elite, answerable only ta the White Council and the High King Braxus himself."
Twilight was about to continue her questioning when Morenth's voice broke through the ambient noise of the defenders.
"Light the barricade!" in response the barrier of debris the guardsmen had piled in the street sparked to life, silhouetting two scouts as they ran back to the line.
Light from the growing fires illuminated the approaching undead, revealing the hoard in horrific detail. Among the ghouls were walking bipedal skeletons wearing crude armor and holding ruined weapons with cruelly jagged blades.
Twilight shuddered in a mix of disgust and fear. She didn't understand how the corpses could move without muscle structures.
"Little missy, stay behind us. Ye just focus on keepin' the villagers safe and we'll do the rest," Riegar instructed as he moved past her to take his position among the guards. "And now would be a good time as any ta unwrap yer present, ye might be needin' it all too soon."
The lavender mare glanced to where the smith's pack lay in the back of a nearby wagon.
Reluctantly, she trotted to the edge of the wagon and wrapped the pack in a telekinetic field, lowering it down beside her. She untied the knot with minimal effort, revealing its contents.
The armor was not what she expected, thinking it would look close to something the royal guards would wear, instead she found folds of dark cloth affixed to an elegantly shaped, silvery metal plate. The plate itself was attached to a vest made of a dark burgundy material she didn't recognize. She was running a hoof over the silvery strap buckles on the vest's front when she noticed a touching detail acting as a clasp for a cloth hood. An offset, over laid six point star made of the same bright metal as the chest plate adorned the dark cloth.
Despite her reluctance, Twilight felt gratitude welling up inside her as she donned the vest with an ease only unicorns possessed. It fit perfectly, and she barely noticed the added weight at all. Riegar had been as good as his word when he'd promised she'd be pleased with his work.
As her magic looped the straps of supple material through the silver buckles, she ran a hoof over the delicate clasp skillfully crafted into the shape of her cutie mark.
Twilight took a deep, steadying breath, and turned to the scene of impending battle as her horn came to life with arcane light, prepared for whatever the darkness brought to bear.