When the ebony carriage rolled through the gates while the last sun was still high in the sky, no one thought to stop it or inquire as to the business of the vehicle’s sole occupant. Why should they? The undead forces that assailed the land were utterly inhuman, and they only ever struck in the dark of night. They didn’t ride into town in an elaborate carriage pulled by four pale horses.

Tenebroum had worked hard to make the masses of humanity believe that any light at all was enough to keep them safe, but the thin blue light of the first sun's dawn and the pale white of the fourth sun was only enough to keep the shadows, and other fragile, slender abominations at bay, and this creature had been custom-built to endure the light and all the scrutiny that came with it.

The carriage had been lacquered until its deep black surfaces were practically a mirror, and its gilded ornaments were almost enough to make it look like a cheerful affair. The aura of wealth that it gave off was second only to the aura of fear that radiated from it. Though it was not obviously evil in any way, everyone gave the coach and the team that pulled it wide berth, and neither man nor beast could bear to bar its path for long.

The animals that might have given the citizens of the city early warning were in short supply, though. The dogs had long been eaten or released into the wild to forage for themselves, and other horses and oxen were already in short supply. Because of the grinding war of attrition that was being waged to the northwest, they’d already been seized by the military.

Only those with the sight might have been able to glimpse what the thing truly was and see the plume of ashen darkness that it left in its wake. The only old woman who did glimpse that shocking sight died of a heart attack before she could warn anyone. No matter how polished and pretty evil was made, it was still evil, and nothing could hide that fact.

When it pulled up in front of the palace steps, most people were still largely unaware of the danger that they faced. They didn’t know that the horses had rusted skeletons beneath the immaculately bleached hides or that inside their mouths were the charred teeth of dire wolves and that the souls that occupied them longed to be let off the chain more than anything. They also didn’t know that both the bland-faced footman and the sole occupant had breathed their last breaths months before.

All anyone might say, beyond the feeling of disquiet that everyone felt, was that the whole thing had a strange odor, which was equal part alchemical preservatives and pleasantly scented substances designed to mask the decay.

The coachman descended stiffly from his perch atop the carriage. That wasn’t its fault. It was because the subdermal armor plating and the extra pair of arms folded under the rib cage to make it seem like nothing but a bear-human under its loose, rubbery skin made movement difficult.

If it was forced to shed that illusion of normalcy to defend its charge, it would take only moments for its extra limbs to unfold and for its retracted claws to extend. Only then would it become the nightmarish reaper it had been created to be. That wouldn’t happen until the Lich’s very kind offer was rejected, though, and its latest emissary had been spurned.

The Voice of Reason was by far the most beautiful construct the Lich’s minions had ever built, and as she exited the door, hiked her black skirts, and began to walk toward the front door, the only hints that she might be anything besides a beautiful woman was the strange perfume she left in her wake, and her weight.

The Voice weighed twice as much as a strong man due to the alloys that strengthened her construction and the large amount of porcelain that made up her body. That porcelain was harvested from the thick clay layer of what had once been the swamp, so she would belong to it more than perhaps any other servant it had ever crafted.

The glamors that made that perfect porcelain skin of her hands and face look like anything other than a beautiful woman flickered slightly in direct sunlight before stabilizing. Even if they had failed, though, she would still have been an inhuman beauty.

Tenebroum did not understand desire or attraction, but it had servants who did, and each of them swore she was as perfect as a wind-up doll could get. With a perfectly symmetrical figure, carefully polished sapphire eyes, and hair of literal spun gold, she was a storybook creature, and she was here with a simple message: surrender and swear fealty to the darkness encroaching on your lands or die screaming.

. . .

She wouldn’t put it in quite so many words, of course. She would never do anything so impolitic. She smiled slightly, blushed when appropriate, and curtsied whenever necessary as she spoke first with the doorman, then the chamberlain, and finally the guards. Conversation by conversation, she slowly worked her way into court, where the runes on the throne flashed a warning before she even got close to the ornaments that had been installed into the gilded wood so long ago that people almost forgotten their meaning when they flared to violent red life.

With the smallest gesture, King Borum's honor guard stepped between her and the throne and leveled their halberds at the slight woman, and his court wizard tried not to cower too much behind the imposing chair while he whispered into his King’s ear. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The Voice stopped just shy of the polearms and smiled. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, your Majesty,” she said, curtsying so deeply that the spike on the closest weapon was only inches from her eye.

She was not made for combat, but depending on how powerful the wizard was, she could probably have killed the King. That would have been unspeakably rude, though. Instead, she stood there full of poise in the face of steel and looked around the room. The grand hall of the King’s Court was an impressive thing, with standing room for hundreds.

On the walls above the heads of both the King and onlookers were venerable war trophies from all the Kingdom of Hallen’s victories of ages past. Torn banners and broken shields competed for places of honor with shattered lances, and even the preserved heads of monsters made their appearance here and there.

Those details only added to the atmosphere of the whispering nobles and the tense warriors just ahead of her.

“There’s no need for violence,” the Voice said, “I have come here merely to give you an offer from my Lord.”

“And who is your Lord?” King Borum asked with a voice that was almost completely free of any quavering.

“Why, you already know that, your Majesty,” she smiled, “I serve the darkness, and so can you, if you like.”

A hush fell over the room with those simple words, and several noblewomen lining the gallery fainted.

“All of you can,” she pledged in a cheery voice. “Let us end this constant bloodshed together and find a solution that all of us will benefit from.”

“And if I prefer to take your life instead?” The King demanded, raising his voice. “We’ve heard the cost that comes with your peace. What makes you think you want any part of it?”

“Because the vast army you raise is full of husbands and fathers?” she answered his question with a question. “Do all of them really need to die? Do all of you really need to die for nothing when there are so many other lives that—”

“Is that a threat?” King Borum tried to sound wrathful there. It might have worked if he hadn’t squeaked at the beginning.

“My Lord does not make threats,” she said sweetly. “He offers deals that benefit both parties. You know well that some of your neighbors have spared themselves bloody battles already.”

As she spoke, she produced a scroll seemingly from nowhere, almost getting stabbed for the effort as one of the guards almost attacked her because he thought she was drawing a weapon. “This lays out the specifics of the proposal,” the Voice of Reason said in a strained tone as she struggled to avoid the near act of war that had just happened. Any of the Lich’s other servants would have ripped the man’s head off by now, and part of her wanted to, but she resisted. “But the short answer is this: you have too many people and not enough food to survive this winter, so make a trade with us and spare yourself the cost of a bloody war on top of all the rest. We will take the beggars than clog your streets and the thieves that fill your prisons, and all we ask in return is that—”

“You ask us to sacrifice our subject for a coward's peace,” the King shouted. This time, there was real fire in his voice. “But, for the sake of amenity and as governed by the rules of hospitality, I will read your proposal and discuss it with my privy council before we make any official ruling on such a thing.”

She smiled ruefully at that while the courtier came forward to collect the parchment, and the guards in front of her lowered their weapons a touch. As long as there was talking, things were not likely to escalate, which was to the good as far as she was concerned.

Hedging his bets was as close as she’d expected him to come to saying yes anyway. To give into the demands at the very first contact would seem like cowardice, and it would not sit well with the nobles to seem afraid of what was coming, especially when you were terrified.

“As you say, your Majesty. My Lord has bid me to give you a fortnight to speak of such things. I shall return then for your answer.” She said, giving the throne another deep curtsy. “Thank you for granting me such a speedy audience. I look forward to a fruitful relationship in our future.”

Then she whirled and began to retreat from the room, and the only sound of her departure was the clicking of her heels against tiles as she left the room. No one standing there failed to notice that she didn’t get permission to leave, and no one tried to stop her either.

She already had one, though. If they accepted the darkness’s offer, then the last large human Kingdom in the region would be defanged, leaving its forces free to pursue other targets. If they rejected them, then they would spend the next winter squabbling amongst themselves while they slowly starved to death.

In time, all would belong to the darkness whether they wanted to or not, but for now, it would be helpful to continue to make inroads among the living. As far as she was concerned, that had many advantages.

“They… did not hurt you?” the coachman asked, slurring his words.

“No,” she said, noting the disappointment on its otherwise emotionless face.

That was the biggest shame of this trip, she decided. The Lich paired two servants together with mutually exclusive goals. Her protector could only ever become what he was meant to be if she failed in her mission, in the same way, that the toxic, infectious bomb that sat under the seat of her carriage would only ever detonate and unleash a new plague on this city when they were attacked.

As they began to ride toward the front gate in the growing darkness, she wondered if the nobles who watched her speak realized how close they’d come to meeting their own messy ends.

Would more of them drown in their own blood or their own phlegm? She wondered for a moment before deciding it didn’t matter. The loyal would live, and the disloyal would die and be put to better use.