The castle courtyard breathed with solemnity. Eight knights stood sentinel along the processional, their torch flames painting solemn shadows on weathered stone. At the center, Lady Eileen gripped the ceremonial greatsword as Gray knelt awkwardly, parchment trembling in skeletal hands.

  "Piety. Integrity. Mercy. Valor—" Gray's raspy voice faltered.

  Abe Roberts leaned in, his whisper sharp as a dagger's edge. "Continue."

  "Must these vows stay... unaltered?"

  "Centuries-old oaths aren't scribbled on tavern napkins for editing." The spymaster's eyebrow twitched dangerously.

  Eileen's gaze narrowed at the squirming initiate.

  Resigned, Gray resumed the litany with all the conviction of a condemned man: "Face mighty foes without fear, uphold sacred justice, protect the weak..." A pause. "But what if said foes wield dragonfire?"

  "Recite, don't philosophize!" Abe's patience snapped like over-tuned lute strings.

  Snickers rippled through the honor guard. Horus looked ready to vomit into the rose bushes. Such buffoonery defiles knighthood's sanctity, he fumed, oblivious to the cosmic irony—that this "man" struggling with mortality oaths was in fact a Lich who'd cheated death itself.

  Had he known, the veteran's famed composure might have crumbled faster than a necromancer's first resurrection attempt.

  The torchlight danced across Lady Eileen's ceremonial armor as Gray's rasping voice stumbled through the ancient vows. Eight knights flanked the courtyard like stone sentinels, their expressions oscillating between reverence and barely-contained mirth.

  "Your family name?" Abe Roberts prompted through gritted teeth.

  "None exists."

  Murmurs slithered through the assembly:

  "Even gutter-born whelps bear surnames..."

  "Perhaps his mother bedded a forest spirit?"

  Eileen's grip tightened on the investiture sword. What should have been a sacrament now reeked of farce.

  "Proceed," Abe sighed, massaging his temple.

  Gray's skeletal fingers crinkled the oath scroll as he intoned:

  "I swear to champion the weak..." (Though last week he'd mistaken a milkmaid for a succubus)

  "To aid those in need..." (Unless it conflicts with naptime)

  "To never harm women..." (Do banshees count?)

  "To honor Lady Eileen Beishire..."

  Here the lich paused, realizing the cosmic joke - an undead abomination pledging eternal loyalty to mortal laws. The final phrases emerged strangled:

  "...all who oppose her shall be my foes... obey her commands... defend her honor... until death claims me."

  A beat of silence. Then, from Horus' direction came a poorly muffled snort. The veteran knight's face resembled a man swallowing live eels.

  Next, it was Eileen's turn.

  "I, Eileen Bebra Beishire of White City, heir to the Beishire Duchy, Guardian of Insela, hereby grant Gray the title of Baron and the Silver Moon Knighthood. I accept Gray's allegiance. I swear that as long as Gray does not violate his vows, I shall protect him for life, respect him, safeguard his property as if it were my own, shelter his wife and children. Should he die before me, I shall ensure his title and property pass smoothly to his first heir. Should I die before him, my heirs shall inherit and continue these obligations!"

  This was the standard knight's oath.

  "The silver moon symbolizes fortune. We met under its light, and you are my fortunate knight."

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  With that, Eileen gently touched Gray's shoulders with the flat of her sword, completing the ceremony.

  "Yay..." The surrounding knights offered lackluster cheers.

  A lord encountering a powerful knight in desperate times should bring joy. Yet Eileen's oath carried a tinge of resignation. After all... Gray harbored too many secrets and uncertainties.

  Were she not cornered, Eileen would never have accepted such a knight.

  The cornered human lord Eileen resolved to fight back.

  The cornered lich Gray finally found seemingly decent refuge.

  Regardless, this marked a good beginning. At least for now. Didn't it?

  …………………

  Having finished his violent outburst, Count Caspar stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. He drained his wine goblet in one gulp, then smashed it against the stone floor, sending shards skittering across the flagstones.

  The steward behind him flinched backward.

  "Send a message to His Majesty the King."

  "To His Majesty? But my lord, didn't you just—"

  "I know what oath I swore! Don't remind me!" The Count turned with a venomous glare, teeth clenched. "To hell with oaths. Wars aren't won by lone warriors. Even with that freakish knight, House Beishire stands no chance. We'll all be dragged down by that girl's recklessness."

  Regaining composure, Caspar watched departing figures below. "I swore allegiance publicly. Open defiance would let her strip my title. However..." His fingers whitened on the balustrade. "I won't let House Caspar perish for a child's folly. Send word that 'unforeseen circumstances' prevent me from honoring previous commitments—but emphasize my continued loyalty. Assistance will come... when necessary."

  "Shall we mention the mysterious knight?"

  "Do you think the Crown would believe such tales?"

  "Unlikely, my lord."

  "Then silence prevails."

  "Understood." The steward bowed stiffly and withdrew.

  Unnoticed above them, a black cat stretched lazily on the balcony's sunshade, its golden eyes tracking the steward's retreating back.

  ………………….

  The chaotic day finally drew to a close.

  Having no possessions to retrieve, Gray was directly quartered in the castle barracks. When he pushed open his chamber door, a black cat was already grooming itself atop his straw-stuffed mattress.

  "Not bad," the feline drawled. "Almost passable as a lich now. Shame about the lack of proper villainy."

  Gray silently closed the door before erupting into undignified jumps: "I'm a knight! Official sworn knight! HA!"

  "Silver Moon Knight," the cat yawned. "Catchy title, if absurd for a deathless abomination."

  "You said no lord would accept me!" Gray hoisted the cat by its scruff.

  "Normally true."

  "But I succeeded!"

  "Against all reason, yes."

  "This proves anything's possible! Even liches can—"

  "Let's not get carried away."

  Gray tossed the cat aside and scrambled to the writing desk. From his armor's hidden compartments emerged two treasures: his oath transcript and The Knighthood Ascendant's Manual .

  "Now what?" The cat sprawled dramatically.

  "Study. The vows had clauses not covered here."

  "Shocking oversight. No wonder it's bargain-bin material."

  "But I've got time!" Gray's empty eye sockets glowed faintly. "No sleep needed. You cats nap all day anyway—perfect tutor!"

  "We prefer 'strategic energy conservation'..."

  "Same difference!"

  "'There's a huge difference!'" The black cat sighed in resignation, abandoning further argument. "So what's next?"

  "Horus said we depart for White City tomorrow. I'll go with them."

  "And then?"

  "Then obey Lady Eileen's orders. Just... follow commands. Much simpler than being a lich. Being a knight is easier work."

  "Oh really?" The cat's tail twitched. "Frankly, commanding undead legions from a fortress while collecting tolls from travelers might suit you better. Maybe kidnap a princess or two to keep heroes employed."

  "What did you say?" Gray turned sharply.

  "Nothing! Knighthood suits you perfectly. Truly!"

  Satisfied, Gray returned to his studies. "Tonight we start with basics. Explain surface world concepts like men and women, the Church, prayers, loved ones..."

  Watching the lich's earnest expression—like an overeager student—the cat muttered under its breath: "The Holy Spirit must be napping, allowing a lich to become knight. Though... do liches even fall under divine jurisdiction?"

  ……………..

  Atop the bell tower, two angels stood silently. Across the moat and city walls, their gaze fixed on Gray's lit chamber in the castle. They watched the lich alternate between studying, bouncing excitedly, and theatrically dangling the black cat near the window—prompting frantic feline struggles.

  ......

  "'Women' and 'older women' mean the same thing?"

  "Essentially!"

  "Then why two terms?"

  "'Older women' implies advanced age!"

  "Why not just say 'aged females'? Are you lying?"

  "How should I know? Put me down! I hate heights!"

  ......

  The male angel murmured, "What madness drives a lich to surface and play knight?"

  His female companion tilted her head. "Could he lack ulterior motives?"

  "A purposeless lich? Preposterous."

  "Yet none died today—not even serious injuries. Hardly typical undead behavior."

  "Precisely why he's dangerous." The male angel's voice hardened. "A nonviolent lich schemes deeper games."

  ………………

  Under a starlit sky, the castle gates creaked open. A mounted courier galloped out into the night.

  From her tower balcony, Eileen watched the rider's torch dwindle to a speck in the darkness.