The Legend of Fatality

"I remember you said you can ride a horse!"

The Duchess of Hathaway smiled mockingly and walked back from the orchard. To the Duke, this sound is as charming as the music played by the high elves. Temptation and enthusiasm are mixed in her voice, and whenever he hears her, his heart will speed up. Even when she was most angry, his wife fascinated him.

Today, she was not angry at all.

"Someone insisted that I buy her a horse that runs fastest in Aquitaine," the Duke retorted. "If the rider's horse falls behind, he has no responsibility!"

Hathaway turned her horse's head, pouting her beautiful face in reproach. "It's rude to say that," she blamed him. "I blame your failure on your poor mount."

There was a naughty smile on the Duke's face. He suddenly accelerated and drove forward. Hathaway hadn't had time to speed up his mount, he already had the reins in his hands.

"That's cheating," she blamed him.

"This is strategy," he blinked at her. "Braveness and brute force cannot win the war. You must induce the enemy to make mistakes."

Hathaway raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, so I am an enemy now?"

The Duke smiled and pressed her hand to his lips. "This lady forbids me to say!" He shouted. "The most dangerous enemy I can think of is the one who holds my heart in her tender hands."

He still smiled, put his legs around the horse's neck, and slid off the saddle. He stretched out his hand to help his wife free from the complex device specially invented for the riding of noble ladies tied to her own horseback.

"We should go back," she warned him. Despite being warned, when he put her down on the ground, she did not resist. "I am the Duke," he smiled at her too. "Before I go back, they dare not start the banquet."

"What about the Duchess?" Hathaway asked.

He licked his lips and pouted his lips, posing as if to consider the problem. "If you are alone, they may not wait," he said at last. "After all, what can the Duchess do besides eating and drinking?"

Hathaway rolled his eyes at him. "Think about it, I might be Queen of Burtania, not the Duchess of Aquitaine!"

She immediately regretted having said those rash words. She made a joke, but still saw the flash of pain in her husband's eyes. She hurriedly held his hand in hers and held it tightly to let him know that she was not malicious.

The Duke stared at her, his eyes full of pain and guilt. "You could have been a queen," he said. "Charlie has always loved you. When he returned from his mission, for a few days, I gave up all hope, and I was sure that he would win your love. When he returned with the gift of that lady , I am sure I have lost you. "

Hathaway put him in his arms. "My dearest and favorite knight," she whispered. "He can never touch my heart like you. Even if he is a king, I will choose my noble duke."

He freed her from his tight grip, feeling relieved by the love for herself in her voice. The moment of doubt and pain passed, and a playful light flashed in his eyes. "You know, he is two years younger than me. He will catch much better than this tired old warhorse."

Hathaway smiled at him and nodded in agreement. "Charlie is always that lively. You can hardly believe that the clumsy, tired ogres he and I married are half-brothers."

The Duke embraced her waist without warning, pulled her down on the grass, and held her in her arms. "Tired ogres?" He objected. "You will regret these words!"

Hathaway giggled in pretence. "Don't be here! If someone is watching what to do!"

The Duke leaned over her and stared at her eyes. "This is the king's orchard. No one should be inside. So if anyone snoops around, I will poke out their eyes."

"If there should be no one in the orchard, does that mean we are wrong too?" Hathaway objected, blocking her husband's kiss.

"Oh, we will be fine." The Duke assured her seriously. "My little brother has always been a little afraid of me."

————

Thick dark clouds obscured the lead-gray sky, like a murderer's cloak covering the sun. The woods were quiet, undisturbed by the singing of birds and the running of deer. No creature in the forest dared to run around. There was nothing but the fallen ghouls lined up in front of the huge army and the bats hovering above the decaying zombies.

There is only one creature who bravely faces the army of the Duke of Blood Eagle and rides on the "zombie" horseback with his vampire master. The heart of the necromancer Jeffrey Huntington's living horse had stopped beating, and it was scared to explode by the ever-increasing legion under the banner of the Duke of Blood Eagle. Jeffrey shrugged pragmatically and accepted the horse's betrayal, using one of his spells to force the horse's body to serve him more faithfully than before. He only hopes that this guy can still maintain some flexibility in life. Because when his **** touched the animal's lean back, he began to feel pain.

The necromancer rubbed his wounds, glared at the terrifying zombies and skeletons stumbling in the forest, and frowned. Undeads do not feel tired, they do not need to rest, nor do they need to prepare food and supplies like ordinary soldiers. The Duke of Blood Eagle can lead his legions to the end of the world, and there will never be an uncomfortable sound from them. It was really inspiring until someone noticed that the worms were crawling in the zombie's flesh, or the pieces of rusty harness peeling off the gray bones of the death knight.

The forest in front began to become sparse, the trees became sick, and bare branches were scratched in the dark sky, and their trunks peeled off from the destruction of fungi and beetles. The original lush land has now turned into a lifeless dark gray land, just like the trees growing from it, it has already withered ~ www.wuxiaspot.com ~ It is said that the founder of Burtania For centuries, a dragon was killed by a hero that has long been forgotten, and the land was poisoned by the highly toxic blood flowing out of it.

Unsuitable for planting crops or grazing, pragmatic ancient Mawangs used the area to bury their dead. Through the dead trees, Jeffrey can also see the deserted hills, the bones of the people of the tribes in ancient Burtania have been sleeping there for many years. There are also dozens of sealed mounds, each of which commemorates an ancient king.

The members of the Druids of that era performed terrible ceremonies, the most terrifying of which was the sacred ritual held for the tomb of their king. The brave soldiers will be slaughtered and buried next to their king, so that the monarch can have a suitable bodyguard to accompany him into the dark world. The king's favorite concubine, even cooks and craftsmen, were locked in the mound of earth and followed the master's soul into the place of death. Even a member of the cruel Druid Order will stay to take care of the dead monarch and seal the mound from inside at the end of the funeral.

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