Wared cautiously approached the pedestal, donning a pair of black leather gloves to protect against potential toxins or magical remnants on the ancient tome. Summoning his courage, he reached out and lifted the hefty book.
Nothing happened.
To examine his prize, Wared dispelled his magical sight and conjured a pale, ghostly flame to illuminate the text. As he read the title on the cover, his eyebrows shot up, and a look of profound disappointment crossed his face. The title stirred a memory of a conversation he'd had with his sister, Isabella, back at Drachensberg Castle.
That day, they had been in the castle's library—Wared buried in a history book, trying to grasp the fundamentals of this world, while Isabella perused a tome on alchemy. Wared had been particularly engrossed in a chapter about the Sigmar Empire, the largest human empire in the Old World and a sworn enemy of Sylvanian. He was fascinated by how this empire had managed to subjugate not only Sylvanian but also other human nations, northern barbarians, and countless orcs and monsters. Surely, he thought, such an empire must possess extraordinary strength.
Yet, the more he read, the more Wared realized how archaic and backward the empire's political system was. It was a feudal state in the truest sense.
The Sigmar Empire was more of a confederation than a unified nation. Ten Elector Counts elected one of their own as Emperor, but the Emperor's authority over the Counts was largely nominal, limited to wartime command. In peacetime, the Emperor couldn't levy taxes or conscript soldiers from the Counts. Within the Counts' territories, power was similarly fragmented—free cities, religious orders, and minor nobles all operated with considerable autonomy. The hierarchy continued downward, from lesser nobles to knights, each layer marked by division and disunity.
Moreover, the empire faced enemies not only from without but also from within. Bandits roamed the wilderness, and provinces were plagued by tribes corrupted by Chaos. The vast forests of the northwest teemed with tribes of savage goblins. Despite this constant state of turmoil, the empire had somehow endured. Wared found it astonishing—how could such a fractured, beleaguered nation survive for so long?
But what stuck with Wared most was his eighth critique of the empire's feudal system.
"Don't you think it's absurd, Sister?" he had asked Isabella.
"What's absurd?"
"The knights—they spend their entire lives honing their skills, waiting for their lord's call to arms. But when they finally march to war, they're often cut down before they can achieve anything. Doesn't that seem wasteful?"
Isabella had looked at him with confusion. "Why would it? That's how it's always been."
The memory made Wared sigh. Loyalty, duty, honor—he understood these values, but the petty, senseless wars fought over salt fields, dilapidated forts, or even a careless word struck him as meaningless. Compared to the interstellar wars of his past, fought for the survival of entire species, these feudal skirmishes felt trivial, almost childish.
So, when he reached the deepest part of the tomb and discovered that all his efforts had yielded nothing more than a book titled The Imperial Code of Knighthood, Year 791, his frustration was palpable.
"This thing is worthless!" Wared shouted, hurling the book to the ground. He had half a mind to burn it, but then reconsidered. Even a piece of trash could have value as an antique. While the neighboring Sigmar Empire, with its feudal system and financial woes, might have no use for it, the merchant republics of Tilea or the cultured nobility of Araby might pay handsomely for such a relic.
The thought calmed him. With a softer gaze, he picked up the book and began to read. Almost immediately, he sensed something unusual. The text wasn't written in any language he recognized—not Old Reikspiel, Elvish, Dwarvish, Necrarch, nor any magical script. Instead, it conveyed abstract, metaphysical concepts—rules, order, and standards—directly through pure, unfiltered magical energy. The book itself, though tangible, was an abstraction—a vessel for "rules."
"This… this is a conceptual armament," Wared murmured, barely able to close the book as his already depleted magical reserves were drained completely. His pale face drenched in sweat, he couldn't help but smile. A tool that embodies pure laws—such a thing was priceless. With it, he could "enlist" knights, elevating even unworthy corpses to the ranks of his undead army. The irony wasn't lost on him: the very knighthood he had ridiculed might now become the backbone of his forces.
Yet, his elation was tempered by a realization. "This isn't the original," he muttered. "It's a copy—weaker, requiring more magical energy to use. But it's still invaluable. And if this is a copy, then the original must be in the main burial chamber. Sooner or later, it'll be mine."
From despair to triumph in mere moments, Wared's spirits soared. Moreover, the book had given him a clue about the tomb's occupant. Though only six years old in body, Wared's extensive knowledge allowed him to recognize the name—Alarcon, the greatest, most cunning, and most successful emperor of an ancient era. His empire had built the vast network of tombs in Sylvanian, and his knight's code had been adopted as the "absolute truth" by all human nations.
Over the centuries, as empires rose and fell, the concept of knighthood endured, even among non-human civilizations. When the world's collective consciousness affirmed the idea of "knighthood," this once-decrepit book had transcended its physical form to become a vessel of universal law.
"So lucky, so lucky, so lucky…" Wared repeated like a mantra, clutching the book as if it were his lifeline. With this artifact, a sufficient supply of magical energy, and raw materials, he could raise an army of black knights—far superior to those created by ordinary necromancers. While others relied on the remains of fallen knights, Wared could elevate any corpse to knighthood, strengthening his undead forces beyond measure.
The journey had barely begun, but Wared knew he had struck gold.