NOVEL NEXT Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 60 - Marked for death - Part Two
Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 60 - Marked for death - Part Two
With the afterimage of the black void still burned into my retinas, I hung back while Wisp and my champions disposed of the remaining Vampyrs. Except for Marco, of course.
Using Shady’s Synergy to Shadowstep out of the chamber and return to the surface, we fought our way clear to the wall and used Shadowstep again to return to the relative safety of the fortified pass.
Shady was in rough shape. The blow he had taken while accompanying Marco had broken one of his ribs and punctured a lung. He had also suffered a severe degree of bruising, but it was negligible when compared to his internal injuries.
With no other means of setting the bone, I decided to Summon Sebet again and instructed her to set the bone and do her best to reverse the internal injuries. The Sculpt Flesh Spell was incapable of restoring lost HP, but I was more concerned with stopping Shady’s internal bleeding. More than that, wandering bone fragments from the broken rib had the potential to create significant harm down the line. So I couldn’t leave Shady in that state.
Wisp returned to his position atop the wall and raised Ophelia’s slayer sword high, “A POWERFUL LIEUTENANT OF THE LICHE HAS FALLEN!!! REJOICE!!!” His dry rasping voice carried through the mountain pass with the strength of a winter storm.
A handful of seconds passed in stunned silence before staggered cheers rose from the Asrusian soldiers accompanied by howling from the Kobold Auxiliaries.
Because of his true nature, Marco was forced to hide his face beneath a cloth mask and a heavily cowled cape.
I felt somewhat guilty for using Marco as a Trojan horse, but the results we had achieved and my promise to reward him in exchange were enough to satiate my conscience.
I hollowed out a small room for Marco to stay in and then settled down to rest in my quarters.
The sudden evacuation of the Vampyr commander left me with several questions and concerns. Not least of which was why the Vampyr commander hadn’t been evacuated sooner. Without a ready blood supply, the Vampyrs had looked like they had been engaging in their unique form of cannibalism.
With their situation so dire, it didn’t make sense that the Liche would have just left them there like that.
Unless...
Unless the Liche hadn’t left them by choice. Perhaps the Liche had been unable to act sooner? Had the effects of the Empowered Ward somehow impaired the Liche’s ability to cast its Spells?
We didn’t know the full effects of what the Empowered prefix supplied for each Spell. So it was indeed possible that the Empowered Ward could impair or interfere with enemy Spells.
[ Integration Complete. New Species has been successfully integrated. ]
[ Species {Sempervivum}: Subspecies have been detected and successfully integrated. ]
I stared at the pair of alerts in confusion. After my brain had a chance to shift mental gears, the full gravity of the situation settled on my shoulders.
Leaving my quarters, I descended into the pass and approached the trunk of the thorn bush. Resting the palm of my bare hand against its bark, I was surprised to find that I couldn’t sense its presence.
Scanning both mountains for signs of movement, I was shocked to find that the sprawling masses of thorn bushes were completely still. However, I could feel a strong and mounting presence of mana coming from the cave I had repurposed into a feeding chamber for the living thorn bush.
Hiking up the mountain, the intensity of the mana only grew denser as I drew closer to the cave.
[ Species {Sempervivum}: Subspecies has been detected and successfully integrated. ]
[ Species {Sempervivum}: Subspecies has been detected and successfully integrated. ]
[ Species {Sempervivum}: Subspecies has been detected and successfully integrated. ]
[ Species {Sempervivum}: Subspecies has been detected and successfully integrated. ]
[ Species {Sempervivum}: Subspecies has been detected and successfully integrated. ]
[ Species {Sempervivum}: Subspecies has been detected and successfully integrated. ]
.....
A stream of identical alerts appeared before my eyes before I made it to the cave entrance. I could only assume that the thorn bush, Sempervivum, had begun consuming its collection of accumulated mana stones.
The prospect of being around so many mana stones gave me pause. To play things safe, I decided to wait outside of the cave until I could be certain they were all gone.
Shadowed by my champions, I had Randle investigate while I reviewed the Sempervivum’s Status.
“Cor Spina Seedling?” I recognised the first two words as Latin.
My medical training had only tangentially involved limited exposure to Latin, specifically what was embedded in medical terminology involved in diagnosis and procedures. It took me a few minutes to puzzle out a few different potential meanings.
The literal translation, as best I could determine, was Heart Thorn. However, Latin had a way of moving words around to fit certain ‘romantic’ meanings. This was why I felt far more confident in the interpretation being Thorn Heart, meaning a heart of thorns.
The crimson willow had a somewhat simpler translation, but it took me much longer to puzzle it out. Custos Salici. The literal translation being, Guardian Willow.
Sempervivum was both the name of the original Species and a Racial Ability shared by both of the plant monsters. I wasn’t super confident about my translation, but I interpreted it to mean something along the lines of ever living in the context of being a perennial. A plant that grows year-round.
My translation was largely based upon the description of the Ability itself which gave them Cold Resistance, Heat Resistance and Necrotic Resistance.
The second Racial Ability they both shared was Arboreal Transmission, an Ability that facilitated a form of passive long-distance communication with plant-based monsters and limited perception through plants in their immediate vicinity.
Their third and fourth Racial Abilities were where their respective Subspecies diverged from one another.
Thorn Aura allowed the Thorn Heart to passively inflict minor damage against a melee attacker whenever it received damage. At the cost of its mana, the Thorn Heart could amplify the damage and range to include enemies beyond melee range.
Briar Infestation was far more sinister. The Ability allowed the Thorn Heart to infest a host from the inside out with a satellite organism known as a Briarling. Converting the host to something akin to a living Zombie, the Briarlings were stated to be capable of moving host to host as needed but were otherwise short-lived without the nutrients a host body could provide. Bound entirely to the will of the Thorn Heart, the Briarlings would have no true will of their own.
Ironbark was a straightforward Ability. It hardened the main body of the Guardian Willow, making its trunk, roots, and branches resistant to physical forms of damage. The hardness could also be temporarily increased by spending mana.
Lastly, Blooming Vanguard allowed the Guardian Willow to share its Racial Abilities with plants within a moderate radius in a similar fashion to Synergies. The major exception was that the plants would use the Guardian Willow’s stats when determining the effectiveness of the Abilities. The secondary effect of Blooming Vanguard amplified the Synergies of plant-type monsters within a large range.
Neither the Thorn Heart nor the Guardian Willow had a name. However, they both possessed the Advanced Druid Class. Assuming they both had similar senses to the Dryads, they would probably qualify for the Arch Druid Master Tier Class with a little assistance.
“I am not quite certain how to explain what I have seen,” Randle admitted quietly, “It wears the same general shape as a man. However, it seems half-formed? Like something a child or particularly clumsy apprentice would shape out of clay,” he scratched his chin uncertainly and glanced back toward the passage to the cave, “It is definitely a monster. Of that, at least, I have no doubts...”
“What of the mana stones?” Faine asked warily.
“Gone, now,” Randle confirmed confidently, “It was devouring the last of them when I arrived.”
“And it didn’t seem agitated by your presence?” I asked, curious to witness the new monster for myself.
“I do not think so?” Randle replied with markedly less confidence, “Forgive me, but it was hard to tell what it felt if anything. With its body made of bundles of thorny vines and gnarled roots, it could have been overjoyed for all I would be able to judge.”
I nodded in understanding. I still struggled somewhat with telling the more subtle expressions of the Gnolls apart. Gods knew whether the former thorn bush would even attempt to use expressions to telegraph its emotions at all. Assuming, of course, that it even had emotions as we understood them in the first place.
With Randle’s assurance that all the mana stones had been consumed, or at least removed from the vicinity of the cave, with my other champions following behind, I followed Randle back through the passage to take a look for myself.
Lovecraftian.
Despite my attempts to categorise the Thorn Heart as anything else, my brain kept insisting that its initial observation was the only one that mattered.
Easily fifteen feet tall, the Thorn Heart was vaguely humanoid in overall shape. Its lower body was formed from gnarled roots, while its upper body, limbs and the writhing mass that equated to a head, were all formed from thorny vines.
Thick thorny vines hung from the lower section of its head in a vague likeness that lent the appearance of a barren topiary octopus. Once that image took root in my mind, it was impossible to think of its barely formed hands and feet as anything but additional tentacles. These thoughts were only reinforced by the Thorn Heart’s lack of joints and the constant undulation of its extremities.
Four ovoid spaces in the mass of the Thorn Heart’s ‘head’, three on the left and one on the right, glowed with dark crimson light. Despite the Thorn Heart’s passive stance, the ominous lighting lent the Thorn Heart a nightmarish and insidious aura.
The crimson light in the Thorn Heart’s ovoid sockets contracted and intensified as its head turned to look at me.
I resisted a minor surge of panic as the tentacles hanging from the Thorn Heart’s head animatedly writhed in what I chose to interpret as excitement. Despite its alien appearance, I knew the Thorn Heart meant me no harm.
The Thorn Heart hunched downward and slowly extended one of the larger vines from its right arm.
Stepping forward, I removed the gauntlet from my right hand and took hold of the vine, taking care to avoid the smaller thorns.
A familiar consciousness made contact with my own and was quite suddenly joined by another.
Images and emotional impressions passed between the two consciousnesses with dizzying speed.
What little I could recognise and interpret was an account of their recent activities. However, it was impossible to be certain. Beyond a handful of images depicting the cave around us and an arid orchard of olive trees, the remaining images were too abstract for my mind to interpret without references.
The images provided by the Guardian Willow had shown Sebet’s clones excitedly smiling at one another while standing in the Guardian Willow’s shade and offering it mana stones.
Offering HIM mana stones.
The correction came almost immediately but held no malice.
Communicating through impressions and images made it difficult to censor or otherwise separate my thoughts from the flow of communication. It was like being telepathic but unable to stop myself from broadcasting my thoughts.
If Sebet hadn’t sworn a comprehensive coverage of oaths and signed a Contract to ensure her behaviour, her assuming responsibility for the education of the pair of Sempervivum would have been thoroughly disconcerting.
I nodded in approval.
Releasing the Thorn Heart’s vine, I replaced my gauntlet and left the cave.
“Everything seems fine,” I commented for my champions’ benefit, “At least for the time being.” I would need to keep an eye on their development, but the pair of Sempervivum appeared to be favourably disposed toward me. At worst, I was confident that I could leverage that goodwill into positive behaviours toward my other subjects.
With the recent arrival of the second wave of reinforcements, living space had become comparatively scarce. To make up for the shortfall, I began shifting the southernmost wall further south. Using raw materials from the mountains on either side, I emulated my initial methods from when I created the northernmost wall.
With the prospect of facing reprisal from the Liche at any given moment, I made sure not to allow my mana to dip below half of its maximum value. However, despite my precautions, no reprisal appeared to be forthcoming.
The reported number of greater undead drawn by the Empowered Dirge of Undeath had tapered off almost entirely and the number of lesser undead had thinned considerably.
I could only assume that the Liche was most likely attempting to reverse or stall the damage dealt by Ophelia’s slayer enchantment and divine blade. Leaving the Liche too preoccupied to create the greater undead and siege abominations.
Explaining the waning numbers of the lesser undead were somewhat simpler. Their numbers had always been conditionally finite, to begin with. No longer free to infect the citizenry at will, the lesser undead had been fully committed to the meat grinder.
Provided we could maintain our position long enough, the lesser undead would be eliminated.
With the greater undead all but gone, Nila and Fesk had begun taking Cooper and Ushu out on scouting flights to the northwest, north, and northeast. While scouting the rolling plains to the north, Nila’s team spotted several Werrian cavalry formations flying the same banner and running down the lesser undead.
What Nila and her team found of particular interest was the absence of the imperial Werrian flag. The cavalry had presented the colours of the imperial house, but not the empire itself.
“If the Liche has seized control over the capital and its nobles, several noble families may have risen in rebellion,” Faine observed pensively while motioning to several points on an unfurled map of the Werrian empire. “Although, their rebellion will be short-lived.”
Jayne and Randle both nodded in agreement.
“Without a leader to unite them, they will all be defeated once the Confederates begin their planned annexation of the empire’s territory,” Jayne elaborated for my benefit.
“Ironic really,” Randle sighed, “That they would keep so many Slaves only to become Slaves for others...”
“You don’t think they deserve it?” I asked, somewhat surprised by Randle’s subdued tone. Given the animosity the Asrusian high command held for the Werrians, I had assumed that my champions would hold similar sentiments.
“Many of the nobles probably deserve it,” Jayne admitted diplomatically, “But I doubt the commoners have had much of a say in anything. Some of them owned Slaves, I have no doubt. However, I would be livid if I was condemned for the sins of my neighbour or even my brother. So why should I hold them to a different standard?”
Faine grunted in agreement, “If King Damien had been so ruthless in prosecuting the treason of our forebears, we three would not exist to serve you now.”
The three cousins grimaced slightly and gave me wary looks. Perhaps wondering if I would hold them in lower esteem after Faine’s confession of their family’s past sins.
“You’re right,” I admitted neutrally, “Punishing the innocent isn’t justice, it’s vengeance, at best.” I took a few moments to gather my thoughts. “So, what would you do in my place?”
The question itself was simple enough, but I could see that my champions appreciated the complexity of the issues involved.
Even if they did not hate the Werrian citizenry, they didn’t owe them anything either. Furthermore, endorsing any degree of support for the Werrians would put them at odds with the Asrusians’ high command and their more entrenched backers amongst the nobility.
Ultimately, none of them was able to come up with an answer.
I Summoned a projection of Sebet and Gric and presented them with the same question. They were both also my champions, and I was interested in hearing their perspectives.
“You should recruit them, of course!” Sebet stated confidently, shocking Randle, Faine and Jayne with her boldness. “Of all your servants, the Humans are by far the most numerous and productive! They also account for the majority of your military might!” She clenched her fist briefly before pointing toward the soldiers patrolling the mountain pass below, “However, they have allegiances to others besides yourself, and those leaders take their position for granted. It will be generations before another Faction possesses the influence to truly rival the Asrusians. While the Protectorate Faction provides a semblance of balance, it too needs a Faction to provide balance and pressure to guarantee its future generations uphold the tenets of their forebears.”
Randle, Faine and Jayne shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. Their immediate and extended family members were all members of the Kingdom of Asrus Faction.
“What about the Slave issue?” I asked curiously.
“Judge them for their sins?” Sebet suggested with a smirk, “Condemn those that deserve it and welcome those of relative innocence.”
“How would we be certain of who is guilty?” Randle demanded with a snort of frustration, “The majority of the Slaves have likely already been turned to ash at our very walls!”
“With immense care,” Sebet replied with a fierce grin, “We judge their minds.” Her grin slipped somewhat and her brow furrowed as her expression took on a more irritated look, “As much as I loathe to admit it, Gric would excel at processing such volumes...”
Gric stared at Sebet with a blank expression for a moment and then shrugged, “Assuming the subjects present minimal resistance, I do not foresee any difficulties,” he agreed flatly. “However, I would raise the question as to what Sebet intends for those who fail to meet the standards of my assessment.”
Sebet’s eyes narrowed at Gric and smiled slyly, “I would, of course, be willing to put them to good use in protecting and representing Sanctuary’s best interests.”
Gric snorted softly and rolled his eyes, “As if it was not your intention from the beginning.”
Sebet’s smile wavered for a moment and her eyes took on a dangerous intensity, “I possess more interests beyond tawdry scheming,” she hissed venomously before reestablishing a mask of civility, “Representing the best interests of the Great One is always my highest concern!”
Gric cocked his head curiously to one side, “Interesting,” he commented quietly but said nothing further.
Sebet’s eyes flared and she took a half step away from him.
“Enough,” I commanded, unwilling to allow the situation to deteriorate further. “Sebet has stated her case in favour of accepting refugees from the Werrian Empire. Gric, what do you think?”
Gric turned away from Sebet and took on a pensive expression. “Are we so certain that they will wish to leave? And even then, will they blindly leap into the arms of a former enemy to avoid another?” He shrugged noncommittally, “I do not know them, but I know that they would require dedicated space. Space we do not readily possess. Faction Leader Sebet’s assessment of balancing Faction dominance ignores the obvious reality that this would also give Humans yet another dominant Faction. Other Factions would not be pleased to learn of this.”
Jayne vigorously shook her head in disagreement, “It isn’t like that though. We may be of the same Species, but our differences set us apart more readily than the Gnolls and Goblins.”
Gric nodded slightly in acknowledgement, “It is as you say, but I am stating what I know will happen based upon my observations. No doubt, infighting between the Human Factions will dispel concerns from the smaller Factions if given sufficient time. However, that same infighting is cause for concern, not celebration or anticipation.”
“I think I will have to disagree with you there,” Faine interjected, “Our oaths leave traditional conflict amongst one another out of the question. As do his Majesty's laws. However, most of the remaining avenues for conflict are either benign or to Sanctuary’s net benefit.”
Gric narrowed his eyes slightly as he regarded Faine for a moment and then nodded in agreement, “Industrial and economic competition as proxies to determine status? Yes, I have witnessed as much between individuals. I had not considered it in regards to a wider scale...”
“There are the wargames and the future arena as well,” Randle added hastily, “I’ll bet Factions will use whoever ranks highly in the tournament as grounds for higher status.”
Gric nodded again, “Quite likely,” he admitted.
“But you’re still not convinced,” Sebet observed shrewdly.
“Indeed,” Gric agreed, “Integration is only an issue if these other Humans can be convinced to leave,” he stated matter of factly, “And I have not been convinced that many would leave without malign coercion.”
I had to admit that Gric had a point. Unless a Confederate army was encamped outside of their city, and the garrison was heavily outnumbered, I doubted more than a handful of people would risk accepting such a dubious offer from their former enemies. Gric’s observation regarding the limited space within my Demi-Plane was disturbingly valid as well.
“We should at least give them the chance,” Randle argued, doing his best to restrain his mounting frustration.
Gric shrugged, “Such initiatives are beyond the scope of my authority,” he stated bluntly, “I was asked to provide my assessment and I have provided it.”
“Perhaps the rebels could be reasoned with?” Sebet suggested coyly, “Approached by a third party unbound by known connections to the Asrusians?”
“You wish to send one of your spies,” Gric commented neutrally.
“Well, there is an idea!” Sebet agreed with a wolfish grin, her tone suggesting that it was Gric’s idea and not her own. “As it so happens, I have several servants who would fit such a diplomatic role.”
I was about to ask something else, but Gric held up one hand in warning and nodded toward a soldier that was hurriedly scaling the mountain and headed in our general direction. The soldier was still several minutes away, but given how far our voices could potentially carry on the wind, it was a prudent precaution to take.
“My Lords!” The soldier snapped a salute, “Vice Commander Dufresne has requested an audience in the fortress headquarters at your earliest convenience!” His gaze lingered on Gric and Sebet before snapping another salute and briskly making his way back down the mountain.
To his credit, Sebet and Gric both looked incredibly out of place. Sebet was wearing her human form as a disguise but lacked armour or protective clothing in any recognisable form, and Gric was not disguised at all. If Gric had not strongly resembled an Elf, and Sebet did not have a stranglehold over the Confederate spies and activities in our region, I would have had cause for concern.
“A Werrian Commander leading one of the cavalry divisions has made contact with one of your teams of airborne scouts,” Sebet explained quietly for everyone else's benefit.
“Vice Commander Dufresne desires to pass responsibility to our Tyrant,” Gric added neutrally, “He believes that you will pass the responsibility along on his behalf,” he added with detached amusement.
“Or make the related decision for him,” Sebet snickered
Gric nodded in agreement but made a point of masking his earlier amusement. “It is as you say,” he confirmed with absolute certainty.
Faine, Randle and Jayne stared at Gric warily as they shared uncomfortable glances.
Gric noticed their unease but didn’t seem to care. He most likely believed that if they didn’t have something to hide, they had nothing to worry about in the first place. Gric was rather different in that respect.
Sebet on the other hand. There were reasons why I had been so ruthless when establishing the terms of our Contract.
Sebet glanced in my direction with a smirk on her lips but an otherwise wounded expression on her face, proving my point.
While descending the mountain as a group, I decided that I would need to devise some sort of marker or seal that would identify my champions while they were on official business. Making the identifier a useful magic item with otherwise unique properties would be preferable as well.
“Perhaps a brooch?” Sebet suggested, making no attempts at hiding the fact that she had been observing my surface thoughts. “A brooch or clasp could be pinned to a cloak or even formal attire,” she continued helpfully, “They could be custom-made with elaborate engravings bearing your seal and maybe even hosting an Empowered Mending Spell?”
“Do you know what an Empowered Mending Spell does?” I asked, genuinely curious whether Sebet knew the answer.
“I am not completely certain,” Sebet admitted with a shrug, “But I am reasonably confident that it would extend the Mending Spell’s effects on the subject’s person.”
“Which would make our damaged armour regenerate?” Faine asked, showing keen interest alongside his two cousins who had not been quite so quick to ask the question for themselves.
“Provided the information I acquired is accurate,” Sebet hedged confidently, “Of course, they would need at least one mana stone each to provide a source of mana for the continued availability of the Spell.”
As much as I liked the idea of having self-repairing armour, the constant temptation presented by the mana stone would only increase the rate at which I would accrue mental fatigue. Of course, there would be nothing stopping me from just substituting the mana stone with something else while masquerading as one of my champions.
At the very least, I fully intended to follow through on the experiment and make such items available to my champions. They seemed far too taken with the idea for me to do otherwise without disappointing them. Regenerating equipment would also improve their combat potential without draining their mana.
Of course, it would probably require me to learn the Mending Spell, but I had several empty Spell positions available already. So it wouldn’t be that big a deal if I couldn’t just use the Tome to cast the Spell along with my blood.
Vice Commander Dufresne stiffly saluted as we entered the large chamber that served as the headquarters for the fortress of the mountain pass. “My Lords, we have been contacted by someone that claims to represent the separatist forces of Duke Semenov. A request has been made to discuss our presence in ‘their’ lands.” He stated the last portion with a barely repressed sneer of contempt. “How do my Lords wish to proceed?”
Faine, Jayne and Randle’s body language subtly made it clear that they expected me to make the decision.
“We will meet with them,” I decided, confident that in the event of a trap, we could simply teleport back to Marco again. “Did their representative designate a meeting place?” I pressed, somewhat dissatisfied by Vice Commander Dufresne’s attitude.
“There is a village a half a day’s ride to our north,” Vice Commander Dufresne pointed to a marker on the large map laid out on the table. “Our reports have confirmed that the original inhabitants, both living and undead, have long since moved on. A small division of Werrian elite cavalry was spotted making camp within its general proximity shortly before we were approached.”
Looking at the map, I guesstimated that the trip would take less than an hour if we were transported by Ushu.
“We will take our leave then,” I stated confidently, “Assuming there isn’t anything else?”
“No, my Lord,” Vice Commander Dufresne replied hurriedly.
I waited a moment.
I made a mental shrug and gave the Vice Commander a curt nod before seeing myself out.
Finding Ushu and Fesk was not particularly difficult. The trick was communicating the request for Ushu to return earlier than planned.
Fesk had a dedicated team member for communications, sending, receiving, and disseminating incoming communications to Fesk and the rest of his team. Unfortunately, the wind rushing past their faces made speech amongst one another incredibly unreliable and inconsistent, and signing required them to already have one another’s attention.
Fesk’s team had several crude methods for acquiring one another’s attention while in flight, but they were not entirely foolproof.
To skip all of the hassles, I opted for Summoning a projection of Fesk and expressing my request directly.
While waiting for Ushu to return, I conjured armour, weapons and clothing for Sebet and Gric before Summoning them again with a much larger amount of mana. With the five of us more or less conforming to a recognisable aesthetic standard, I explained the directions and plan of action to Fesk and we boarded the platform on Ushu’s back.
Fesk and his team of Thralls wore special leather and glass goggles over their helmets to shield their eyes from the wind. Lacking such protection for myself, at least in my human form, I found it difficult to get a good look at the surrounding area on our way to our destination. I could have conjured a pair of the goggles to avoid discomfort, but without a surplus in a designated area, there was no telling where the goggles would be taken from.
After a little over what I approximated to be half an hour, Ushu landed a short distance from the blackened remains of a burnt-out village. Large panels of fabric were tied off over the rooftops of some of the less damaged buildings, and piles of debris filled the larger gaps in the wooden palisades.
To my surprise, half a dozen riders sallied out of the village and headed in our direction at a cautious pace. Riding what looked like giant wolves with snow-white fur, the Werrian cavalry wore helmets that gave them a similar appearance to early cinema’s wolfmen.
I had originally intended to send Fesk away to watch events from a respectful distance to avoid antagonising the other party. However, given the initiative taken by the Werrians, I signed for Fesk to wait while I determined how best to proceed.
The lead member of the cavalry formation held a banner with a white wolf’s head and dark grey crossed spears set against a black background.
As the formation drew closer, it looked like they intended to continue their brisk approach until the last moment in an attempt to startle me and my gathered champions. However, a baleful glare and low rumbling growl from Ushu brought the snow-white wolves to a sudden halt. Given that Ushu was easily large enough to swallow one of the large wolves whole, it wasn’t difficult to understand why.
However, the wolves’ reaction caught me somewhat off guard. If they were Tamed monsters, then they should have obeyed the Commands of their riders. The fact that they hadn’t, was strange.
Taking a second look at the giant wolves confirmed my suspicions. There were obvious and expected differences brought about by scarring and weight. However, there were also less obvious but otherwise noticeable differences, such as minor differences in eye colour, ear length and overall musculature. Barding and their saddles did a good job of distracting the eye from their differences, but it wasn’t perfect.
After giving Ushu a solid thump and a few brisk rubs on the neck to help settle him down, I led my small group over to the Werrian cavalry.
“You are the Asrus envoys?” The lead Werrian carrying the banner asked with a strained show of confidence.
“We are,” I replied readily, feeling no immediate need to complicate matters with discussions relating to how the Kingdom of Asrus had publicly ceased to exist outside of my Demi-Plane.
The lead Werrian nodded and warily eyed Ushu, “You are willing to meet with our representative?” Whether it was because of his nerves or perhaps a shaky grasp of the Asrusian language, he seemed to struggle with forming his words.
“We are,” I repeated, making a conscious effort to use the Werrian language this time.
The lead Werrian’s eyes widened slightly but he didn’t appear particularly surprised by my use of their language. Considering it was a diplomatic mission, it was probably to be expected. What little surprise there was, probably resulted from my perceived fluency. “Please, follow me,” he gestured back toward the village, making no attempts at convincing me to leave my entourage or Ushu behind. Given their relatively weak bargaining position, this wasn’t particularly surprising either.
All the same, I decided to make a power play of my own as payback for the earlier attempt at intimidation.
#Return to the sky. Circle the village at a distance where they can still see you.# I signed to Fesk before allowing the Werrians to escort us into the village.
Ushu launching himself into the air startled the wolves anew, eliciting keening whines from the wolves in our immediate vicinity and muted barking and howls from within the village.
Entering the village, I suppressed my feelings of sorrow as I bore witness to the ravaged homes of the innocent people who had lost their lives to the unholy predations of the Liche.
It didn’t take long to arrive at our intended destination, but the deliberate placement of Werrian cavalrymen and their mounts scattered visibly along our path was painfully obvious in its intent. They were trying to present a position of strength despite the ravaged state of their country. Almost all of the cavalry’s armour bore battle damage of one kind or another, and their weapons looked worn and in need of repair.
If not for the high quality of the cavalry’s equipment and their high level of discipline, the condition of their equipment would have led me to suspect that they were bandits or perhaps even deserters.
A large half-stone building in the middle of the village was still standing and appeared to be our final destination. As we drew closer to the building, I noticed burnt arrow shafts sticking out of the collapsed remains of nearby buildings with increasing frequency.
The villagers had not gone down without a fight.
As we passed by yet another blackened ruin, my eyes were drawn to the abandoned toy of a small child. However, pinned as it was beneath a blackened beam of rough-hewn timber, it took me a moment to recognise the dark stains on the toy.
With an effort of will, I suppressed the rage that threatened to overwhelm my senses. The child the toy belonged to was almost certainly already dead. The best I could do for them now was seek vengeance against the one responsible.
Leaving our escorts behind, we entered the large building through the open doorway with torn metal hinges and found three large men and a particularly large white wolf waiting for us.
Two of the three men stood close to the far wall beside a set of broken stairs while the wolf lay by the hearth on the far right side of the room at the side of the third man.
The two men by the stairs had gone without their helmets and looked to be on the wrong side of sixty, sporting more white and grey in their hair than black. In stark contrast, the third man looked barely twenty despite obvious attempts at growing out a thick beard.
With just a glance, it was obvious that despite their superior experience, both older men deferred to their junior. Suggesting that he was likely someone of exceptional ability or connections.
The wolf growled menacingly but I just stared it down. I had killed bigger Beasts barehanded and refused to be intimidated.
“Interesting! Very interesting!” The young man barked in Werrian at his two older companions, “You see?! I told you!”
The two old soldiers simply grunted in response, neither one of them seeming particularly impressed.
“Bah!” The young man spat dismissively at the older men before turning his attention toward us and opening his hands wide, “Pleased to be meeting you! I am Captain of separatists Semenov!” He declared loudly in what I assumed had to be bad Asrusian. “I am being entrusted with negotiation with representatives of Asrus Kingdom!”
“I hold no official military title, but I am qualified to represent the Asrusian leadership in all negotiations,” I replied formally in Werrian, catching all three men off guard. “Captain, what exactly do you wish to negotiate?”
The young captain quickly overcame his surprise and rubbed his hands together eagerly, “Your army has a special artefact, yes? Something that calls to the dead?”
“Something to that effect,” I replied, deliberately avoiding a definitive answer, “What of it?”
“Well, we would like to know why you have brought it north,” the young captain stated plainly, “If you seek to take territory from the fallen Empire, perhaps we can be allies?”
Grateful for the new information, I reconsidered my approach. “I think discussing an alliance is perhaps a little premature,” I replied glibly, “We were enemies not too long ago, and I haven’t seen anything that would convince me to believe we would benefit nearly as much as you from such an alliance.”
The son of the Duke flinched but quickly rallied, “We were enemies,” he readily agreed, “But surely the undead are the enemy of us all? The devastation around us is a witness to this, yes?”
“I don’t doubt that,” I agreed coldly, “But we have destroyed millions of undead in a mere handful of days. That you were unable to accomplish even a umteenth of that number in a far greater amount of time does not speak favourably of your value as an ally.”
It took the Duke’s son considerably longer to rally. “We know the terrain! We have hunted and fought across this land all of our lives!-”
“And we don’t have to,” I interjected firmly, “We have chosen a serviceable location and eliminated the undead piecemeal as they are forced to fight on our terms.”
The Duke’s son clenched his teeth as his face twisted into a bitter expression, “We could pay you!” He hissed through his teeth, “Coins, magic items, mercenaries!”
The two older soldiers looked like they were barely able to restrain themselves. However, the fact that they still managed to do so spoke volumes of their character and the desperation of their people.
“Indulge me a moment,” I suggested placatingly, not without sympathy for his position and predicament, “What does the survival of your people mean to you?”
The young man stared back at me uncertainly. “It is...It’s everything...” He replied quietly, “My duty, my responsibility, is to protect them...”
I nodded to show that I agreed with his answer but waited on Gric and Sebet’s assessment to prove the veracity of his words. If true, the Duke’s son might provide the introductions and leverage required to save untold numbers of people before the Confederates arrived in force and started brutally occupying cities.
However, eliminating the Liche remained my highest priority. It ultimately didn’t matter how many people I saved. So long as the Liche continued to exist, ever greater levels of death, misery and suffering would follow in its wake.
***** Amalda (Liche) ~ Werrian Empire ~ Werrian Empire Capital *****
The royal apartments of the former Emperor were strewn with the bodies of young women and little girls. The corpses numbered in the hundreds and what little remained of their lifeblood trickled over the tiled floor and into the pool-sized bath in the centre of the room.
Amalda’s Spell was wringing every last drop from their wretched bodies, but it still wasn’t enough.
Clutching Liz tightly in her arms, Amalda cradled her neck and back like a newborn baby.
Very nearly entirely submerged in the literal pool of blood, Liz could only gasp in pain as thin cracks webbed across her skin and the edges crumpled to ash.
Amalda tried to ignore Liz’s missing left arm and the deep craters marring her small delicate frame.
For what felt like the thousandth time, Amalda gently lowered Liz beneath the surface, willing her to drink her fill of the blood and spark the return of her Vampyric Regeneration Ability. Hoping that despite all their previous failures, that the wound would miraculously heal and make her whole again. However, upon lifting Liz’s head back above the surface, Amalda only discovered fresh cracks creeping across her head, displacing what little remained of Liz’s once beautiful hair.
“M-Malds?...” Liz stuttered and looked up at Amalda with dull cloudy eyes.
“I’m here!” Amalda replied firmly and resisted the urge to tighten her grip. Any increase in pressure would slough away pounds of compromised flesh and reduce it to ash.
“Y-You r-rememb-ber r-right?” Liz stammered, her cracked and near skinless lips trying and failing to form a reassuring smile.
Amalda fought the urge to answer, knowing that if she did, that would mean admitting defeat. “Save your strength Liz, you just need more time for the blood and magic to do its thing, you’ll see!” Amalda insisted determinedly.
“M-Malds...” Tears of blood beaded in Liz’s eyes and ran down the cracks in her face, eroding her grey flesh further and exposing blackened bone. “I...I’m s-scared...”
Amalda felt Liz’s entire lower body fall away.
“Y-You r-rememb-ber r-right M-Malds?” Liz croaked desperately, “R-Right M-Malds?” Her right arm rose above the surface, reaching for Amalda’s face. However, before it could make it even halfway, Liz’s arm fell into several pieces, scattering sodden ash into the depths.
“I remember!” Amalda replied softly, lifting what remained of Liz into a gentle tender embrace, “Together-” Liz’s torso and skull sloughed between Amalda’s fingers, “-now...and forever...” She whispered hollowly while staring at the bloody ash still clinging to her hands.
Amalda stood motionless, waiting so she could seize Liz’s soul before it had time to decay. However, her worst fears were realised when the telltale green glow that always accompanied her Soul Harvest Ability failed to appear.
Amalda felt something shift inside of her mind.
As a Liche, Amalda felt no biologically induced emotions due to the particulars of her undead physiology. Contrary to what she had originally expected, it had only intensified her emotions. Without biological processes to shift her emotional state from one to another, Amalda was capable and was, in fact, prone to feeling certain emotions indefinitely. Furthermore, instead of tapering off over time, her emotions would only intensify if she decided to indulge them.
Hands trembling, Amalda slowly ascended the steps out of the pool, her dark regal dress trailing swathes of blood behind her.
For a moment, Amalda experienced a state of absolute calm and was entirely aware that she could exist in that state indefinitely if she so chose.
Amalda clenched her fists, feeling the bloody ashes oozing between her fingers.
“No...” Amalda whispered.
Having arrived at the balcony and afforded a prime vantage point of the city below, Amalda felt herself teetering on the edge of oblivion and welcomed it. Allowing the rage to flow through every fibre of her being, Amalda lifted her head toward the sky and screamed. A swirling vortex of harvested souls swarmed around her, hungrily drinking in Amalda’s mana before descending toward the homes of the living below.
They had found each other again once already, they could do it again! But first! She would have her vengeance!