In the minds of many, the Border Princes are often seen as a chaotic, lawless region—a "no-man's land" where no one is in control. The Tomb Kings once conquered this area, only to abandon it. Emperor Sigismund of the Empire also conquered it, but after centuries of Orc invasions and logistical difficulties, the Empire too withdrew.
The last time the Border Princes were conquered was during the Great Crusade of the Red Flame, when a group of Bretonnian knights and their retinues set out to join the crusade in the Arabyan Desert. However, by the time they reached the Border Princes, the war had already ended. Sultan Jaffar of Araby was dead, and most of the knights returned home in disappointment. Some, however, chose to stay and establish settlements.
Thus, the general impression of the Border Princes is that it is a dangerous and chaotic place.
In reality, while the Border Princes may not be as safe as modern Bretonnia, they are far more secure than the Empire. After the reconquest of Karak Eight Peaks and the establishment of the Three Defenses of the Badlands, attacks on the Border Princes have significantly decreased. Moreover, the population of the Border Princes is sparse, with most settlements located in hidden and easily defensible areas. Along the thousand-kilometer stretch of plains, there are almost no dark forests or cover, making it unlikely for travelers to be ambushed. Additionally, the Border Princes are heavily armed, making the region far safer than the Empire, with its dense black forests, or the Dwarf holds surrounded by mountains.
However, the vast distances between settlements also allow many armies to pass through unnoticed.
Thus, when the High Elf delegation, accompanied by the Dwarfs, left Barak Varr and entered the Border Princes, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
"We're safe."
The High Elves and Dwarfs "politely" asked the residents of Bravoska to leave and set up camp in the town.
Meanwhile, dozens of undead legions were gathering in a hidden location dozens of kilometers away from Bravoska.
"The target has been confirmed," Mannfred von Carstein, the last Vampire Count, was closely monitoring the situation of the Little Everqueen and her delegation through blood divination. He stared intently into the blood-filled bowl: "We can move at any time."
Arkhan the Black, the Liche King and most loyal servant of Nagash, the Lord of the Undead, watched Mannfred with flickering green flames in his eyes. Arkhan had always distrusted Mannfred, but he now believed that allying with the Vampire Count was not a bad idea. Mannfred's strategic and tactical genius was something Arkhan could only admire, thinking that given time, Mannfred might truly have a chance to unify the Empire.
Admittedly, the situation had been very unfavorable for the undead, but Mannfred had skillfully resolved all difficulties through a series of diplomatic and military maneuvers. Now, the undead only had to face the High Elf delegation and the Dwarf army.
"The enemy may be few, but they are all battle-hardened elites. The fight between the Elves and Dwarfs should not be underestimated," Arkhan said to Mannfred. "Do you plan to attack head-on?"
"Head-on? Of course, we'll attack head-on!" Mannfred almost laughed. He fiddled with his blood bowl, sensing that something was interfering with his divination.
The Old Ones' portal in the north had been destroyed for thousands of years, but since Mannfred's birth, he had never felt such dread. From the distorted Warp rift, legions upon legions of Chaos forces were emerging. The sky twisted into a kaleidoscope of colors, and the joyful yet terrifying whispers of the Chaos Gods echoed across the heavens. Dozens of Greater Daemons and Daemon Princes led their armies, kneeling before a single figure.
Mannfred's gaze shifted rapidly.
Ten kilometers passed, and still, the endless, densely packed chaotic army stretched as far as the eye could see.
Fifty kilometers passed, and the ocean-like horde of Chaos forces showed no sign of ending.
One hundred, two hundred kilometers passed, and the countless Chaos armies still seemed infinite.
Until that figure appeared, towering above all, cloaked in a brown mantle and wearing the Crown of Domination. The three eyes on his forehead blazed with hellfire as he surveyed his army. No one could discern his thoughts, concealed beneath his helmet, but the increasingly violent flames of the Kingslayer might have offered a clue.
Mannfred wanted to see more, but the figure seemed to sense someone watching him. He immediately looked up, his gaze piercing through the distance to lock onto Mannfred. The Vampire Count panicked and smashed the blood bowl without hesitation. As the bowl shattered, the blood within turned into bubbling magma, and a cold, world-weary voice echoed in Mannfred's mind: "All your resistance is futile. Wait, for when I march south, all things shall end. Mortals should rejoice, for I will personally end this disgusting cycle."
"Ugh!" It felt like a hammer had struck Mannfred's gray, bald head. The Vampire Count couldn't help but spit out a mouthful of black blood, cursing under his breath.
"What happened?" Arkhan asked.
"The Everchosen is gathering his army," Mannfred said disdainfully, looking at the shattered blood bowl. "The numbers are unprecedented. When the Anointed One, Asavar Kul, marched south, he had around 300,000 to 500,000 troops. But what I saw just now far exceeds that."
"Our primary goal now is to resurrect the Lord of the Undead," Arkhan hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. "This is not our concern."
"Does it not matter if the world is destroyed?" Mannfred said meaningfully.
"The Lord's resurrection will solve all problems. Once he is revived, he can raise all the dead in the world. Even if this Everchosen has a million or two million troops, what does it matter?" Arkhan was dismissive, emphasizing, "All our attention must now be focused on the Little Everqueen. Are you ready?"
Mannfred's expression shifted imperceptibly. The last Vampire Count thought that perhaps Arkhan, and even Nagash, had underestimated the power of the Chaos tide of destruction, for none of them had faced the invasion of the Everchosen.
But he had no need to warn them. Let their arrogance destroy them!
The Chaos invasion was an opportunity for him—a tremendous opportunity!
When the Everchosen and his Chaos armies severely weakened the forces of the living, leaving both sides exhausted, Mannfred von Carstein would rise from Sylvania and be crowned the Eternal Emperor of the Undead in Altdorf!
"I have already commanded Count Noctilus to hold back Ryan Macaroth and his army in Albion. Why don't you take this opportunity to attack La Maisontaal Abbey and seize the artifact?" Mannfred probed.
"If the Knight King dares to lead his army on an expedition to Albion, it means he must have made arrangements. His military talent is beyond question. If I rashly lead my army there now, I would likely fall into an ambush," Arkhan shook his head. "There's no need to test me, and don't question my decisions."
"..." Mannfred, recalling the troubles he had faced before, remained silent.
When Bravoska was suddenly attacked by a large group of Orcs in the middle of the night, the High Elf delegation and the Dwarfs were not overly concerned. It was all too common to encounter small groups of Orcs, bandits, or Beastmen raids in the Border Princes.
Given the High Elves' elite forces and the Dwarfs' numbers, a large group of Orcs posed no significant threat.
The Dwarfs held their ground with firearms and crossbows, while the Elves took cover behind the town's walls, raining arrows down on the Orc horde. The High Mage chanted incantations, summoning fireballs and beams of light that exploded amidst the Orc ranks, sending Goblins and Orcs flying.
The skirmish lasted two hours, during which the Orcs breached the walls and entered the town. However, they were quickly cut down by the Dwarfs' Eternal Guard and the High Elves' Sisters of Avelorn.
After two hours, the Orcs finally broke and fled, leaving the Dwarfs and High Elves to celebrate their victory. The Elves, however, complained that the Dwarfs had chosen a poor route, leading to the attack.
The Little Everqueen Alarielle immediately realized that they could not stay. She approached the Dwarf envoy Dorgrim, demanding that they break camp and march to the next stronghold overnight. Before Dorgrim could respond, a second wave of attackers arrived!
This time, it was a large group of Beastmen! The Beastmen of the Jagged Horn tribe, deceived by Mannfred's Chaos magic into believing it was a divine command from the Chaos Gods, launched an entire warband at the High Elf delegation.
Minotaurs led the charge, their powerful horns and shoulders smashing through the flimsy walls and wooden gates. They crashed into the High Elves' orderly formations, knocking Dwarf shieldbearers to the ground and roaring for more blood.
The delegation, having just repelled the Orcs, had to muster their strength once more to fend off the Beastmen. The beastly horde invaded the town, burning buildings in their path. Gors and Ungors followed, while Harpies swooped down from above. Razorgor chariots and Plaguehounds appeared.
The High Elf delegation was now in a desperate fight. Even Alarielle had to step forward and cast spells. The Little Everqueen softly chanted a regeneration spell that enveloped the entire battlefield, allowing the High Elves to feel their stamina return and their wounds heal. She then cast Earthblood, summoning thick vines to replace the broken walls and seal the breaches. The enemies who had entered the town were now isolated and soon cut down.
The Dragon Prince Torondil fought bravely, his lance piercing a Minotaur's chest. The undying flames of Caledor's dragons engulfed the Beastmen, reducing them to ash.
The Everqueen's handmaiden, Yseult, led the Sisters of Avelorn in volleys of glowing arrows, mowing down Harpies and Razorgors in droves.
The High Mage Alarielle raised her hand: "Arcane Unmaking!"
A blinding beam of light shot into the gaps of the Beastlord's armor, felling the vile creature. Its body began to crack and disintegrate under the powerful spell.
After another two hours of intense fighting, the High Elf delegation and the Dwarf army were exhausted. Finally, the Beastmen were driven back, leaving behind a field of corpses as they fled.
Without warning or hesitation, Mannfred and Arkhan's main forces appeared within sight of the High Elf delegation, bringing them a surprise they could not resist.
Dozens of undead legions, thousands of skeleton warriors, rows of Grave Guard interspersed with packs of Dire Wolves, at least six units of Fell Bats flapping their wings in the sky, twenty Corpse Carts followed by three regiments of Crypt Ghouls and Crypt Horrors, and on the flanks, large groups of Black Knights. Mannfred himself rode forth on his Zombie Dragon.
On the other side, Arkhan led the Tomb Kings' forces onto the battlefield. Two regiments of Necropolis Knights, six regiments of Skeleton Spearmen and Archers, three regiments of Tomb Guard, and six Ushabti constructs lined up, three of which wielded massive bows.
Krell, the Chaos Champion of the Undead, a being who had brought countless suffering and death to the Old World, was once again summoned to the mortal realm by Arkhan. The terrifying figure breathed green flames, his crimson Baroque armor now gleaming, his jagged axe ready to drink the blood of mortals once more.
This time, there was no Ryan to stand against Krell. The Undead Chaos Champion charged forward alone, his axe sweeping a row of High Elf spearmen into the air. Shields were shattered by the axe's jagged edge, and blood and flesh flew everywhere as the Elves screamed in agony. A Dragon Prince attempted to challenge Krell, only to be crushed into a pulp along with his steed by a single swing of the axe.
Two fireballs, a searing gaze, and an Amber Spear struck Krell's body, but the Chaos Champion shrugged them off and swung his axe again, reducing three more High Elf spearmen to shreds.
"Whoosh..." A rain of arrows fell on Krell's body but failed to harm him. He followed Arkhan's command and pressed forward.
On the other side, the Dwarfs' defenses faced their most severe test. Mannfred's undead forces pressed forward relentlessly, with each Dwarf facing ten times their number. Yet the resilient Dwarfs held their ground. When their bullets and bolts ran out, they drew their axes and hammers, shielding their comrades with their shields, vowing to hold the line.
However, everything changed with Mannfred and Arkhan's spells. The two undead sorcerers cast their magic simultaneously, and the shadow of undeath began to spread across the battlefield.
The dead Orcs and Beastmen rose again!
The countless corpses on the battlefield instantly became enemies, especially those inside the town that had not been cleared. They attacked the Elves and Dwarfs from behind! The Dwarfs, caught off guard, began to collapse, while the High Elf archers were completely overwhelmed and slaughtered.
The resurrection did not stop. Next, the dead Dwarfs and Elves were also raised by necromantic magic, joining the assault on the High Elf delegation!
Hours of bitter fighting, with the enemy growing in number while their own forces dwindled, left the delegation exhausted. Lack of sleep from the night attack, hunger, fatigue, and low morale plagued them. The Dwarfs were nearly wiped out, with only one in ten remaining. The High Elves' once-solid shield wall had been completely shattered. When Krell led a group of Tomb Guard to smash through the buildings at the town's center, the Little Everqueen was surrounded by the last Dragon Prince, Sisters of Avelorn, two court mages, and the Dwarfs' Eternal Guard.
She was still desperately chanting spells, trying to turn the tide.
Mannfred immediately spotted the Little Everqueen. The last Vampire Count laughed heartily, pulling on the reins as his Zombie Dragon swooped down from the sky.
"Found~You~!"
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