Inivia snarled and headed to the door, punching it and taking out another side of it. She went back to her stag and squire, mimicking Allora under her breath. The bitch sounded almost desperate. Putting her helmet back on her head and grabbing her spear, she and her squire headed off to their camp.
Once in her tent, showing as much wear as anything else, she was met with a meagre meal of pigeon in watery gravy and bread that was molding. She sat back in her folding chair and sighed. She knew what she was. What she'd done. Including the part she'd had in bringing the undead about. She knew the truth of what people thought of her. If they lived through it and she did not, there would be cheering. Her family didn't care for her. Her daughters didn't care about her. No one cared for her. She ruled a lonely throne since her husband had died. Though he had came back as the monstrosity of a Lich. Knew even less of their daughters then she did. Even with the whore's last words to her, she knew not even she really cared. She'd be happy with her dead as much as the rest of them. With nothing to do but await her coming death, she lay on her cot and ignored the world while trying not to see the face of concern on the whore's face. It, disturbed her.
She was up before the horns, preparing her stag and her weapons. She let her squire sleep until dawn. The girl had seen a lot and Inivia didn't begrudge her some last comforts. She also politely ignored her choice of bedmate, preferring not to dwell on the fact it was one of her fellow squire girls. It was likely her last day on this world as much as it was Inivia's. The desperate would do whatever they could to comfort themselves. Inivia was not desperate. She was resigned to her fate. She didn't pray to her pantheon as she waited for the sun to rise. She didn't waste time crying or gnashing her teeth or trying to deny what was happening. She didn't feel much of anything.
No real anger or fury. She was numb to the world and not even the cold winds of the North could send a shiver down her. She was here to die. And send as many of the poor souls back to the after life before she went. As the sun cracked the horizon, she walked over to her squire and nudged her awake with her foot. The two girls gasped as she looked over the tundra. The two scrambled up, coloring as they put on clothes behind her back.
"My Lady..I..uh.." Inivia wished she'd bothered to learn her squires name. It was for the best though. Too many died under her watch, yet they still fought for the position. The other squire girl was shifting under her gaze.
"When the time comes, normally I would tell you two to fight. If we are overran, run."
"My Lady, I am to be a knight!" The young woman said, coming forward, her blue eyes glowing intensely. "A knight would not run!" Inivia gave a faint smile at her for her courage. She'd lasted years as her squire, a rare feat in itself.
"And I should perhaps knight you both. I will not."
"Why not?" Her squire pressed. She set a gauntleted hand on each of their shoulders.
"Someone needs to live. Find a sylvan gate. Hide within them and fight back that way. I'd rather not see you die today." The two looked stunned. She sighed, ears going down to her shoulders. "Go. Do what you feel you must. Be it last rites or to get a death spell. If you wish to join me and your master in battle, you have a half hour." She took her hands off their shoulders and brushed past them. There had been real feeling in what she said. They were still young and were not likely to have much time left to live it. She was quite young herself, nowhere near their age though. They may have fought beside her and stood their ground, yet they were still girls no older then her daughters. She could give them what she couldn't give her two eldest daughters, both to be out on the battlefield today. Neither of them had came to her and she hadn't sought them out. They'd be at the front of camp with the scouts.
Mounting her stag, she grabbed a lance and headed towards the front as the horns rang out. She sat easy in the saddle. The pickets and watchers had gave no cry for alarm as the Liches had retreated to their dead city and it's twisted mockery of life. They would come. She watched as the rearguard came up. The Amazons, on foot and riding saurian's and other beasts. They counted any woman who could fight and join their secretive cult and carry the black sword as their own. Though they revered some outsiders. They were a mixed lot, from valkyrie's to the nine to ten foot tall women with black skin, to the griffon knights and Celestial women were counted among them. Inivia had the unexpected, honor, possibly, of the Amazon's tipping their heads to her as she rode by.