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Row upon rows of corpses were laid upon the ground, each of them rotting as the Black Knight kneeled before one of them. Each of these corpses were those gathered by the Peasants as they all traveled across the hilly countryside of Bastonne. In a sense these were a gross occurrence from simply acting upon a war footing.
Right now Lucian knelt upon a fellow Knight Errant. He had a sickening smell upon his side as the infection that claimed him threatened to take the rest of the corpse. The coffin that the man was resting within had gained part of the infection, the disease introducing rot to the wood boards.
“May Morr protect this soul, as the Lady did in the last life.” Lucian said as he felt some tinge within his heart.
With the murder of the Morrtian Priests within Bastonne, there was no others who were blessed by Morr to service these corpses. So it was Lucian, the Black Knight of Morr, to pray for the passing of each and every one of these souls onto the next life.
Lucian focused upon the Nobleman first for there was pressure from each of their comrades to save their souls. Indeed all were equal in his eyes but the living did not see it like that. Let it be the Counts, Barons, or Errants, each of them were wanting to make sure the souls of their friends and sons passed on swiftly and cleanly.
At least this was the last one. After this Lucian could start on the Peasantry, who unlike the Nobles shall likely be buried in this very valley for none will take them home to burial. There might have been a chance if the Priests of Morr were here with all their equipment and wagons but that was not the case. The Peasants who were under Lucian were already placed hard at work making the burial pit for the dead, it would be up to Lucian to make sure he placed enough effort and power within his words to make sure no necromancer could use this impromptu Garden to their advantage.
Before he could even hear the plate armor he could feel the man approaching. His essence was vibrant upon the winds, Lucian only realizing the feeling within it as he practiced more and more of his rituals. It had even threatened to somewhat destabilize the rite he was performing, but it was completed as the sound came.
Lucian turned to see a warrior in steel with a helm that belong to an age past. Lucian recognized the warriors in an instant as Sir Galandril, and within a single motion the Black Knight bowed to his better.
