“I was just thinking I need a gardener,” the Curse Lord said, crouching down and yanking a dead thistle from the gray dirt.

Leland cocked an eyebrow. “Do they have divine gardeners?”

The thistle crumbled in her hand, falling into dust. “No. Not unless you count the Lord of the Harvest.”

“I always figured she dealt with more widespread harvests than singular gardens.”

“Very true, and yet, a garden has a harvest just the same.”

The two stood and stared at each other for a long moment. Leland took his Lord in, shriveled, wrinkled skin and all. She stood tall and firm, like a permanent statue outside a mausoleum, despite being short and hunchbacked. She wore simple robes, the kind that were comfortable and warm, not the kind that are regal and important. Being a Lord, to her, was just a job, unlike what most other Lords thought.

The pride of being a supreme being, the ego of immortality, was lost on the old woman, yet a wry smile had long been burnt into her lips. She was who she was, and the title and power were nothing more than part of that. In fact, the only aspect of her that was remotely divine, in Leland’s opinion, were her eyes.

Gray catalysts for something repugnant, sparkled with the bouts of violet secrets that were holstered within her body. Leland knew of these secrets and now that he had the experience to understand them, he kept them close to his heart. Calamity, divine genocide, the deaths of most of the first Lords.

Born of curses, but bathed in blood.

“Ah,” the Lord of Curses said after their little staring contest. “I’m finally ‘hitting’ you, huh?”

“W-what?”

“I know that look,” she pointed at his face, “the realization that I am, rightfully, a monster. You have always known, since that first time I told you my past, but now it has sunk in.”

Leland averted his eyes, she continued anyways, now with her arms spread wide, “Take it all in, my child. What kind of monsters go bump in this world.”

Collecting himself, Leland forced himself to look, to lock eyes with her. “You’re wrong,” he whispered.

“Am I?”

“Yes.” He stood a little straighter. “I’ve talked with plenty of Lords at this point. Some were afraid of you, others were reviled by you. But most? Most spoke of you like a kindly old grandma. They respected you, despite knowing about the Calamity. So yes, I now understand just who you are, and I do not see a monster.”

“And just who do you see?” she held her hands behind her back and leaned slightly forward on her feet.

“A protector.”

She lowered her weight back onto her heels. “A… ‘protector.’” She shook her head. “I’ve been called worse.”

Now it was Leland’s turn to react coldly. “Uh, what?”

“Maybe I was, once upon a time. But now I’m just the executioner for my kind.” A rueful smile escaped the mask of wryness.

“I don’t—”

“It doesn't matter. Forget this avenue of conversation. Let’s move on.” With a gesture, a table and chairs appeared from the ground. They took a seat. “You’ve out-performed my expectations. Rarely do Legacies reach such power so quickly.”

“But not your Legacies, because I am the only one,” Leland said, glad at the change of subject.

“That is true. You are my only Legacy and I pat myself on the back every day because I knew I made the right decision.”

“Why lie then?”

“Hmm?”

“When we first met, during my first Dream Ceremony. When I accepted you as my Lord, you welcomed me to your coven and hundreds of eyes peered at me through the darkness. You implied I was now joining the ranks of those eyes, and one day I would be peering at new Legacies.”

“Ah,” the Lord of Curses said, not quite making eye contact. “What was I supposed to do? There's no way you would have accepted if you knew you were the only one.”

Leland pursed his lips then frowned. “You said no more lies.”

“And I haven’t lied, not really, since I said that.”

“Lie of omission still counts as a lie.”

“Not when the omission was never brought up again so that I could rectify it.”

He made a strange noise. “That’s not what I was getting at and you know it.”

The Lord of Curses sat up straight. “Oh? Do I hear a bit of tone in your voice? Do I have to remind you just who you are talking to?” Behind her, an army of souls clawed themselves from the dead dirt and petrified roots.

Without so much as a bat of the eye, Leland said, “Didn’t you make that exact same comment last time I was here? I’m getting déjà vu here. Heavy handed threats don’t really work, not when I know you.”

The army fell apart, fading back into the ground. The Lord of Curses sighed. “You know me, huh?”

“That’s right, you are a protector. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

She muttered, “Oh not this again.”

Now brimming, Leland said, “So I am your Champion. Do I get an allowance or something?”

“An allowance? You want gold?”

He scratched his head. “Er, well no. I was just saying that you sprung all this extra responsibility on me and I don’t get anything out of it.”

The wry fell away from a shade of guilt. “Do the other Lords give their Champions allowance? I do—” She stopped herself when Leland couldn’t contain his smile any longer. “Oh you are messing with me. Ha ha.”

“It was rather good, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Leland nodded and opened his grimoire, a new page was front and center.

Name: Leland Silver

Legacy: Curses

Archetype: To be determined

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Overall Rank: 3

As you are now rank 3, you have the right to decide your future.

Choose an Archetype you wish to specialize in (previous – Acolyte of the Curse Lord):

* Apprentice of the Curse Lord: Versatile – A generalist take to mastery. A boon to all primary spells with a focus on learned cantrips and rituals.

* Apprentice of the Curse Lord: Simplistic – A boon to the curses Fracture, Crow Massacre, Curse of Collapse, and Circle of Souls with a focus on empowering allto limit the opposition’s options.

* Apprentice of the Curse Lord: Pact – A substantial boon to the curse Harbinger’s Halo with a focus on multiple contracts, longevity, and authority.

* Fourth option expunged.

“’Authority?’” Leland asked.

“Oh, just a little flavor going forward. The rank of Apprentice changes more in a Legacy than the previous ranks. In the old days, anyone lower than Apprentice was often mistreated and ignored. They had yet to ‘prove’ themselves still.”

“And spending a bit more time working on spells or abilities meant they could be trusted? Seems a bit farfetched for me.”

The Curse Lord smiled. “You forget that you, and your friends, achieved Apprentice well before the average. If you were born a thousand years ago, you three would be hailed as genius prophets brought to the world to spread your Lord’s message… and then most likely been burnt at the stake for stepping on other high-ranked toes.”

“Ah.”

“Quaint.” She let the moment hand in the air, then asked, “So have you made a decision?”

Looking up from the tome, Leland asked, “The choice is already made, right? Contracts are—”

The Curse Lord cut in, “Don’t be hasty now. Think this over.”

And he did. For all of two seconds. “Option three. I don’t see any reason to deviate from the course now.”

She smiled. “Good decision. But before I cast you out of here, I think you have some topics for discussion.”

“Sybil.”

“Yes, Sybil. Your new wayward Queen.”

“So she is a queen now? I assume the line of succession for the Palemarrows is more or less a façade. The real queen is chosen by who the Boneforged Monarch chooses?”

“Correct, more or less. I am not privy to the whole pact made between the first Palemarrow Queen and the Monarch, but that has been how succession has worked for the last little while. I’d guess the details of the Monarch’s decision are more in depth than not. After all, she is still dead.”

Leland leaned back, taking his chair’s front two legs off the ground. “But she’s reviving. At least, that was what I understood.”

The Curse Lord fluttered her eyelashes. “She split her soul into shards, cast a web of influence, targeted a royal bloodline, bla, bla, bla. Drama queen if you ask me.”

“And now Sybil has to deal with it.”

“Yes, but she will see that the gift of the Boneforged Monarch is well worth the petty annoyance of Harbinger attacks.”

Leland’s eyebrows rose. “’Petty.’”

“Yes, ‘petty.’ That Undying Harbinger you fought, if he was able to take the princess and extract what made her a candidate for the Boneforged Monarch, would die. Plain and simple, the Boneforged Monarch’s shard would kill him. Most likely the shard would kill everything for hundreds of miles around, but I digress. The Undying Lord’s plan would not have worked. We have him locked away very tightly.”

Leland ignored the causal statement of destruction. “So if Sybil is now the queen, why hasn’t it been announced? Why are we still being hunted?”

Pondering for a moment, the Lord of Curses looked just off his shoulder, her eyes gazing beyond realty. She blinked, refocusing. “The shard hasn’t fully been accepted. She’s fine, well, as fine as being in a coma could be. As for you being hunted, you’re not. Not currently, at—”

“A coma!?”

She waved her hand, “She’s fine. Promise.”

“I don’t think I believe you.”

“Oh sweet, sweet Leland. How the adults in your life have failed you. So untrusting, even after every—”

With bite, he interrupted, “You lie to me rather constantly, so sorry for not being completely trusting.”

“Fine, fine. Don’t get all upset with me now. I know you care for her, but she’s fine. I swear. The coma is just part of the process. That is not the part of my statement that you should be focusing on.”

“What?”

With a sigh, the Lord of Curses summoned a kettle of hot tea and two cups. She sipped hers, placed it back down slowly, adjusted it slightly, then looked up, locking eyes with Leland. “You are not currently being hunted. Not by the Inquisitors, at least.”

Leland followed all of her movements. “Why?”

“Because they have all been recalled.”

He lurched in his chair. “Why?”

“Because the Palemarrows are under attack, Ivory Reach as a whole, in fact.”

“By whom?”

“That Undying Harbinger is leading the pact. Some others of a certain sightless variety.” She held up her hand, stopping Leland’s question. “No, the Golden Lamb boys are not a part of it. They are licking their wounds still.”

Leland stopped his leg from bouncing. He took a deep breath. “Why are they attacking?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The Harbinger is following his Lord’s will.”

“But you just said he’d die if he took Sybil again.”

“That was before she and the shard started to coexist. Now? Now he could actually take her. The plan to free the Undying Lord would still fail, that prison is rather sturdy, you see, but Sybil would die in the process this time. Actually, the Harbinger may just kill her out of spite when his master forsakes him. Nothing worse than a forsaken Harbinger.” She shivered.

“Is Sybil safe?”

“Yes. They only made it to the castle once, but were turned away by an opposition of the kingdom’s most powerful individuals.”

“What about the city?”

“For the most part, it’s fine. The assault has only been happening for a week and a half at this point. Many dead, not as many as there could have been though.”

“A week and a half! How have the—”

“Calm down,” the Curse Lord said before sipping her tea. He did, but he fidgeted. “The assault has not been going for citizens. Haven’t really been going for people in general, really. Key targets, sure, but the Sightless Cult has been pushing their talons into the populace.”

“They are making soldiers from the citizens?”

“Yes. That diabolical monster’s power corrupts. The promise of power, for those weak enough to fall for it, is a prosperous sin.” She locked eyes, sparkles of purple blowing like snowflakes in the wind. “Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Lodestar,” he admitted, his eyes now on the table.

“Yes. You must never submit, not to that thing.”

Leland shook his head. “What is it? Why can it talk the way it does?”

“I’ll leave that explanation to the Lord of Souls. It’s his disaster, after all.”

“W-when I first got Lodestar, my crow tattoo jumped around like it was excited. And now that I know I’m your Champion, I take it to mean you were excited when I got the parasite.”

“I was. Still am, in fact. Lodestar will serve you well if you don’t fall to it. It may very well be your most powerful ally in the future.”

“’Ally?’” Leland asked. “Not a tool?”

Again, she pondered. “I guess there is not too much worry in explaining this much to you. When parasitic items were first invented, they were originally intended to be second personalities to the host. A best friend, in a way, that would grow with you and never betray your trust. Sadly, the masters who could create such a being were few and far between. The failures became the basis of how you understand parasitic items today.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you just told me a closely guarded secret?”

The Curse Lord shrugged. “Because I did.” She smirked to herself.

“Uh huh. If you are being so forth giving with secrets, mind telling me how to help Floe out of the dungeon?”

“Just tell her to walk out.”

“Huh?”

“Er, actually don’t. Too long outside with the dungeon still connected to her would make her go mad. Dungeon breaks, remember?”

“I do… so I need to find a way to break the connection?”

“Not my area of expertise, I’m afraid. Lord of Monsters may know. Lord of Knowledge definitely knows, but he’s a tight-lipped mouse. Good luck getting any information from him without a worthy gift or offer.”

Leland thought for a moment. “What about the Lord of Dungeons?”

“Doesn’t exist, not currently. Last one died, oh, nine hundred years ago. We’re due for a new one, actually. Maybe I should make a list of candidates.”

“A list?”

“Well, yeah. Do you think we Lords don’t all vote on who can join our group? We don’t want the vile joining right off the bat. Now sure, sometimes the universe just decides a certain someone is powerful or unique enough for the position and does it without our input, but that’s rare.”

Leland blinked. “I don’t think I should know that.”

“It’s not a secret. In fact, you did something similar when you fought that Toy Maker Harbinger. You called for him to be a Witch, putting his name on the list. Then we Lords voted. An overwhelming majority, by the way.”

Pensively, Leland asked, “I can put names on a list? Just like that?”

“Not every list. But sure. That’s what the lists are there for.” The Curse Lord looked over her shoulder. “Time’s running out here. Daybreak.”

“Um. Okay. Thanks?”

“You're very welcome, Leland.”