The Deathguards were gone. They preferred the possibility of Sokalar’s wrath to death at Lieze’s hands. She found herself proud of the fact in some strange way. The corpses of the Order’s Gravewalkers littered the arcade, their encircling bodies acting as dams to encase ankle-height pools of blood.
“Damn it all! We could have killed them!” Drayya wasn’t the least bit happy about allowing the Deathguards to retreat, “Now they’ll report back to Master Sokalar, and he’ll find out that you’re alive! Do you know how many thralls he’s going to send once that happens?”
“Calm yourself.” Lieze closed her eyes. Drayya’s complaining was giving her a headache, “Sokalar won’t pause his attack on the southern district to deal with us. Alistair is too great a threat. Once the battle begins, we’ll have the opportunity we need to sow more chaos.”
“And just when I thought I was going to get some sleep tonight…”
The innocuous comment reminded Lieze of an important fact. She wouldn’t recover any of her Heavenly Favours until sunrise, meaning the capabilities of her army would be severely limited. She couldn’t afford to wait until morning - Sokalar would most likely have broken through the castle’s defences by then, and she needed Alistair alive to answer her questions.
“I don’t want to get involved in a three-way conflict, but…” Lieze paused, “We don’t have much of a choice. The most we can hope for is that both Alistair and Sokalar will be weakened enough from the battle that we can move in to destroy them both.”
“Optimistic. Very optimistic.” Drayya followed her into the desecrated arcade, “We don’t have the numbers. We’ll never have the number so long as the Order is sucking up the city’s corpses.”
“What would you suggest, then?” Lieze asked.
“Well… who says we have to beat anyone?” She replied, “It would be useful if Master Sokalar was killed, yes, but what’s stopping us from entering the castle in all the chaos, killing Alistair, then making our escape?”
“Quite a few things, I imagine.”
Marché’s voice cut through Drayya’s proposition like a knife through butter. He waded through the puddles of blood with thralls in tow, studs of crimson staining his freckled face.
“Sneaking through Sokalar’s ranks, entering the castle, sneaking through Alistair’s ranks, then killing the man himself?” He summed up, “A fine strategy, if the intention is to get ourselves killed.”
“I suppose you have a better plan in mind, then?” Drayya folded her arms.
“What’s the name of that fellow who Lieze likes?” He asked, “Lüngen? He seems a more reasonable fellow than most. Why not petition him for aid?”
“That would even the odds ever-so-slightly…” Lieze replied, “-Assuming we can convince him to betray Sokalar.”
New Quest Received! ‘Turncoat’ - Convince Bardy Lüngen to betray Ignas Sokalar Reward - 3,500xp
“Remember that we have Baccharum on our side.” Marché said, “He still deals in gold.”
“Does he really?” Lieze blinked, “Where’s he going to spend it? All the bankers are dead, or worse.”
“Probably thinks he’s still going to escape to the north when all of this blows over.” Marché shrugged, “I’d call him mad for thinking an Elf can consort with Dwarves, but… you know how he is.”
“All of this hinges on our choices in the next couple of hours.” Lieze said, “Convincing Lüngen will require us to be in the thick of it. He’ll decide in the moment whether or not he’s willing to betray Sokalar. And if we’re going to see Baccharum, we’ll have to do it now.”
“Shall we split up?” He suggested.
“No. We have time to spare.” She shook her head, “Make ready to move. We’re departing for the eastern district.”
The east was empty thanks to Sokalar’s mobilisation, which lent the perfect opportunity to bargain with Baccharum one last time. Lieze was forced to acknowledge that the war for Tonberg was approaching its final chapter, and too many players remained in the game for her to arrive at a conclusive prediction as to who the victor would be.
“Between Alistair and Sokalar… do we really stand a chance against either?” Her thoughts brought up a worrying possibility, “No… there’s always a way. I won’t let odds decide my destiny.”
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The unrecognisable ruins of the street that was certainly named Cleric *Something* at one point or another were devoid of activity. Not one of Baccharum’s thugs wandered his supposed territory - a given, considering Sokalar’s heavy-handed management of the district since his arrival.
Lieze ordered the rest of her cult to stay behind while she entered the cellar. It was the first time she wasn’t greeted by scarred faces on the way in. Even the door to Baccharum’s shrouded cellar was unguarded. From the depths, she could hear a pair of voices conversing.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“He’s speaking to someone… an informant?” Lieze wondered, “There’s no hiding myself in the dark against an Elf… I suppose there’s no choice but to head down.”
Her footsteps against the wooden staircase shocked the two below into an expectant silence. When the steps finally ended, Lieze couldn’t see anything in front of her, which only served to accentuate her unwelcome visit.
“Oh dear. I knew it was a mistake to leave the cellar unlocked.” Baccharum’s deep, slithering voice broke the silence, “It’s been a while, Lieze. Seems you and your lot aren’t the only necromancers in the city these days, hm?”
“There’s someone else down here, isn’t there?” She cut right to the chase, “Who is it?”
“Oh… nobody important.” She could tell by the tone of his voice that Baccharum was smiling, “Having the two of you here is useful, actually. We were just discussing the future of this fair city - or, to be more precise, its distinct lack of a future.”
It was necessary for Lieze to ask that question of hers to avoid drawing suspicion. In truth, she could simply gaze over the stranger’s head to see their name - and what a name it was.
Alexander Wyrmblood Ricta Level 10 Duellist HP - 187 / 187 MP - 161 / 161 BODY - 4 MIND - 3 SOUL - 3
“He’s still alive?” Lieze was genuinely impressed, “So Alistair didn’t have the heart to kill him…”
“Something on your mind, Lieze?” Baccharum asked.
“No. Not at all.” She shook her head, “My father is going to be attacking the royal castle in a matter of hours, and I need every last ounce of support you can muster in ensuring he isn’t successful in taking the city.”
“What!?”
The hooded fellow broke his silence, launching towards Lieze and placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. She drew her dagger in retaliation, but froze her hand when it became obvious that the gesture was more out of desperation than annoyance.
“You’re opposing the Lich!?” He exclaimed, “Is there something wrong with your head!?”
“Get your hands off me if you don’t want a blade through your ribs.” Lieze threatened, “I know who you are. To be honest, I’m impressed that you survived for this long, considering most of the civilians have been killed.”
“Oh dear… please, the two of you - no bloodshed in my office.” Baccharum knocked his finger against the orb on his desk before conjuring a tiny flame to light a candle, bringing some semblance of light to the room.
Ricta’s face was as princely as the day he had been deposed. There could be no mistaking the young lord’s visage even from a distance. A hot flash of rage ignited in his eyes as Lieze was illuminated by the candlelight.
“If it wasn’t for you, this would never have happened!” He yelled, “Now the city is a husk! My dream of a peaceful realm is over, and Alistair corrupts the remainder of his traitorous retinue with heretical droughts!”
“All true. All of it and more.” Lieze was forced to agree, “I would have preferred for you to remain on the throne, if I must be honest. Alistair has proven a particularly difficult nut to crack. As always, ambition can drive us to make irrational decisions.”
“That worm… to think he bided his time across the reigns of so many kings just to take the throne for himself…” Ricta averted his gaze, “Your stirring of the pot that day acted as the catalyst he had been searching for all those years. Had you not arrived, I wonder just how much longer he would have been willing to wait? Considering his age - not long at all, I’d wager.”
“You didn’t notice a single symptom of an impending betrayal?” Lieze asked, “From the moment of his insurrection, the castle guards obeyed Alistair’s every command. It seems to me like he was the true master of the castle all along.”
Lieze shook herself free of the former prince’s grasp. If he wanted to kill her, he would have done so in the dark. There was reasoning behind his restrained fury.
“...Yes. It was the culmination of many failings.” He admitted, “No longer could the Church’s thirst for control be sated with donations and judicial influence. They desired power, and my poor reign was the perfect excuse for them to seize that power.”
“You’re being quite honest.” Lieze replied, “I suppose a king can only recognise what he has lost when it is already too late to reclaim it.”
“-And now there is nothing. No city. No dream.” Ricta said, “The Lich has returned. There will be no resisting his attack this time. But here I find you, supposedly plotting against him. Have you truly gone mad?”
“My reasons are my own.” She said.
“Yes, well… they must be grand reasons indeed to oppose the Order.” Ricta paused, “I sought this Elf out to arrange safe passage to the north. I thought to take my plight to the Dwarves - perhaps prepare them for the coming storm… but now that you’re here-”
“No.” Lieze shook her head, “I will not be entertaining a proposition from you, of all people.”
“You wish to depose Alistair, don’t you?” He asked, “I wouldn’t mind that myself.”
“You seem to have forgotten something important.” She replied, “I strive for the death of this world. Aiding me will not grant you immunity from that fate.”
“Alistair has warped the jewel of my homeland into a twisted simulacrum of its former self.” Ricta frowned, “Perhaps there is some truth to your way - life is often studded with suffering, and we are often the willing architects of that suffering.”
“Don’t try to understand the ideals of a necromancer.” Lieze shook her head, “Use whatever excuse you like. Whether your mind has been clouded with vengeance or ruined entirely is of no interest to me. If you have information that could lead to the death of Alistair, I will gladly take it off your hands - willingly or otherwise.”
“Perhaps I have lost my mind.” Ricta paused, “Yes… I’ve been deprived of everything, so why not my sanity as well? Perhaps I, too, desire the end of this world.”
He was desperate to feel anything. The upbringing of a noble had instilled within him an unbreakable will. He had likely never known despair in all of his life. Such a volatile and informative young man was precisely the sort of wildcard Lieze could put to good use.
“Tell yourself whatever you like.” She said, “If you have something to say, then say it.”
“You don’t stand a chance against both the Order and Alistair.” Ricta deduced, “But if you could eliminate one side without any casualties, you could put up a fight against the other.”
“I know all of this. Get to the point.”
“Hm.” He frowned, “...There is a secret entrance that leads into the castle. It is connected to the dungeon, and accessed from a waterway here in the eastern district. You could walk straight into the throne room without running into a single guard.”