The General Knight looked at his ribs again and flicked the third one down with his bony finger.
It made a high “pingy” noise.
“Oh how I wish I could tune these things, it could make a fine musical instrument”
he thought out loud to himself .
“Oh, who am I kidding – I am so bored”
The General Knight was sitting on his trusty steed Watebuscuit watching his charges practice their battle formations. Which they did each and everyday over and over and over again.
The Men under his command were just like him, a Risen Hero, an army of soldiers and leaders reanimated by the University of the Gears to help in the leadership of the White King’s army.
They were a very controversial bunch to start with and would have been sent back to the mausoleums and Necropolis that held them if it hadn’t been for the Queen and the King coming to an accord and making a strict set of protocols.
No reanimated member of the Risen Army could have memories other than that of the battlefield. No personal recollections of their lives prior to military service, of loved ones or their histories, not even their own deaths. These skeletons with armour and fighting styles from several centuries only lived for battle, and that was all they did.
Over and over again ad infinitum.
The General wished he’d had that privilege.
He was different, he remembered everything.
He remembered falling off his horse in the middle of a battle and before he could right himself, looking up at a massive barbarian holding a somewhat bigger axe, next thing he knew he was standing in front of the Queen and her Bishop in ceremonial armour and with see through hands.
He was a skeleton.
The Bishop did something that took away the shock and utter disbelief and briefed him on what his new role would be.
But then they started asking questions.
“Did he remember the King and where he came from?”
and stuff about his past.
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