Before any spelunking could be done, there was the matter of Lieze’s congested forces to deal with.
“We’ll take a detachment of powerful thralls into this passage and leave the rest of the cultists outside.” She said, “Once we return, we’ll find our way into the castle as a single group. Until then, they can search for an exit while we explore the cavern depths.”
“Isn’t it risky to be sending the cultists ahead?” Marché asked, “If they encounter royalists on their way up, we’ll have no way of knowing. If Alistair is enlightened to our presence here, it will make our lives much harder.”
“Try to think about it logically for a moment.” Lieze replied, “If this passage does lead into the castle, then the exit will be hidden. Alistair - assuming he’s aware of this place - can’t risk sacrificing manpower to reinforce it when my father is preparing to assault the castle.”
“Right, right…” Marché said, “I understand.”
“Do you really?” She paused, “Frankly, I’m growing tired of each and every one of my commands being contested like this. You must consider your words carefully before speaking. Am I making myself clear?”
Lieze had been tolerating her lieutenants’ constant accusations for too long. Her cult had grown to such an extent that enforcing her will upon any overconfident followers was becoming necessary to retain her position of leadership.
“I understand.” Marché said again, sterner that time.
“Good.” She nodded, “Now then…”
Lieze’s thrall capacity had ballooned to an eye-watering 280. While she couldn’t control every last thrall the cult had, it wouldn’t be long before such a feat would be more than realistic.
To deal with the task at hand, she decided that 150 thralls would be more than enough to ensure her safety. Split evenly between herself, Drayya, and Marché, the force consisted mostly of Gravewalkers spearheaded by Horrors. As always, Lieze retained the Helmach-Briarknight as a personal guard, further reinforcing her group with a single Rot Behemoth.
With their preparations complete, the trio split off from the rest of the cultists to explore the passageway next to the esoteric pillars. The detour sent them deeper into the earth, with more than a handful of Gravewalkers slipping on the damp rocks and barrelling into the darkness below.
“Those pillars were rather fascinating.” Marché’s voice bounced from the walls, “Did you feel anything strange when your scale resonated with them, Lieze?”
“No. But I could read the engravings just fine, despite your insistence that they were penned in some unrecognisable tongue.” She said, “They spoke of a terrible beast that slumbers deep in these caverns, and that those who are God-touched should steer clear of it.”
“You didn’t think to mention that before you dragged the two of us along with you?” Drayya asked.
“You would have accompanied me either way - whether you wanted to or not.” Lieze said, “I don’t fear the warning of some old tablet. A powerful beast simply means there’s something worth protecting, and I’d like to get my hands on whatever that is.”
As the group’s descent continued, the cavern walls transformed from blemished rock into something more sophisticated. Polished, angular surfaces connoted the presence of an enlightened mind. Some ancient sculptor’s hand had attempted to bring some semblance of beauty to the cave walls, carving busts and pillars out of the granite with frightening efficiency.
By the time they reached the cavern’s lowest point, there was no longer any ‘cave’ to speak of, but a chamber sculpted to measured perfection. A pair of heavy stone doors awaited Lieze and her comrades at the bottom, which her Rot Behemoth was more than eager to push open.
Lieze suppressed a jolt of primeval fear. The fearsome expression of some freakish creature greeted her as the Behemoth stepped aside. She would have reacted to its presence with more urgency if she hadn’t realised right away that it was merely a statue.
“My, my.” Marché seemed just as startled by the creature’s visage, “A Manticore?”
Man-ti-core. The syllables were familiar to Lieze, but the thought of putting a name to the statue disgusted her. Its aberrant man-face, leonine body, and feathered tail - in her own opinion - excluded it from any kind of categorisation.
“What is it?” She didn’t look his way, but the question was posed towards Marché.
“A Manticore? Many things - and not just literally.” He answered, taking point as the others followed him into the unfeeling stone chamber, “Some say they were mad creations of the Sages. Guardian beasts. Others know them as fairy tales. For some, they are even considered to be creatures of a divine nature.”
As his explanation waxed on, Lieze scanned the room. Her interest was caught by the sheer number of bookshelves lining the walls, as well as the somewhat esoteric tools laid out on wooden tables - dust-coated alembics, distillers and astrolabes. She recognised the implements as belonging to those who sought enlightenment through alchemy.
“What is it with this city and its hidden alchemy laboratories?” She wondered, “Marché?”
“There has always been a certain stigma to alchemy in Tonberg - especially under the Church’s rule.” He explained, “It’s possible that this was used as a place where royal alchemists could work unseen.”
“And the Manticore statue?”
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“Very nice, yes. But as you say, it’s only a depiction of the real thing.” He replied, “I hope.”
“You hope?”
“Yes, Lieze. He hopes.” Drayya interrupted, pushing past Gravewalkers to approach the base of the statue, “-And he has a very good reason to hope.”
Placing her palm on the creature’s frozen paw, Lieze was horrified to see strands of orange hair flowering as the Manticore’s stone skin melted away at Drayya’s touch. She had enough sense to pull her hand away before any more than a few inches of flesh had been revealed.
“This is some especially high-level transmutation.” Drayya said, “Like it or not, this Manticore is the real thing - albeit caged in a prison of stone. I imagine this petrification spell is poised to dissipate on some kind of trigger.”
“So this is the beast that the tablet warned of?” Lieze made eye contact with the statue, “Good work, Drayya. At least we won’t be caught off-guard now.”
“The Rot Behemoth could make short work of it.” Drayya replied, “It’s not ‘dead’ at the moment, but a good impact will turn it to dust and save us the trouble of killing it later.”
A dark, dangerous desire was bubbling in the cauldron of Lieze’s mind. While she couldn’t see the creature’s statistics while it was petrified, she could absolutely admire its size and terrible ferocity. It only took a single glance to understand that it was capable of untold destruction if let loose on a battlefield.
“No.” She said, “We’ll release it.”
“...Sorry, what?” Drayya placed a finger into her ear, “I must have misheard you.”
“We’re going to find this ‘trigger’ and unpetrify the Manticore.” Lieze said, “And once it’s dead, I’m going to raise it as a thrall.”
Silence followed her declaration. Was the shock of her statement too paralysing to consider answering, or were Drayya and Marché too afraid to question her authority? Either answer pleased Lieze greatly.
“No doubt there’s some sort of treasure in this room that needs protecting.” She continued, “Marché - scour the chamber for whatever you can find, but don’t touch anything important before bringing my attention to it. Drayya - prepare our forces to kill the Manticore as soon as it moves an inch.”
“I’ll happily get as far away from this as I possibly can.” Marché replied, “Good luck, Drayya.”
“Why am I the one being placed in harm’s way!?” She protested, “Lieze, this Manticore isn’t worth-”
“I’ll be the judge of whether the Manticore is ‘worth it’ or not.” Lieze said, “Do as I say.”
The fierceness in her glare served to convince Drayya that it was no suggestion. Lieze could see the frustration mounting in the girl’s expression as she realised once more that Lieze was no longer her equal, but her better.
All eyes remained keenly aware of the Manticore as efforts began to unveil its granite facade. Lieze at once occupied herself with the chamber’s enviable selection of grimoires and alchemy textbooks, intent on discovering the connection between alchemy and the Scions while Marché examined every nook and cranny on the hunt for secrets.
“Fulmination of Gold… The Stars and their Meanings… A Complete Guide to Dwarven Distillation, Volumes I - XXVII…” Lieze’s finger caressed the spines of a bookshelf, “Useless…”
Her finger hooked itself on a particularly thick tome - The Purity of Metallic Compounds. As she yanked on the spine, the book did not fall back completely, but instead came to a teetering halt inches away from toppling over. A telling click drew Lieze’s attention to another bookshelf, the side of which seemed to have been pushed ajar, revealing a hole in the wall.
“What do we have here?” She wondered, “A hidden door?”
Pulling the bookshelf aside turned out to be quite the feat, requiring more than just Lieze’s strength to accomplish. She and Marché were able to scrape the shelf along its metallic hinges with an embarrassing amount of exertion, allowing the light of nearby sconces to illuminate the hidden room within.
“This looks like… an alchemy laboratory.” Marché said.
“Isn’t this room already an alchemy laboratory?” Lieze asked.
Having said that, she couldn’t deny it. The room hidden behind the bookshelf was a microcosm of the main chamber, decorated with alchemy tools and bookshelves. A single desk gathered dust at the far end, upon which rested a grimoire opened to its middlemost pages.
As Lieze wandered in, she resisted the urge to sneeze as dust flooded her nostrils. Her attention was caught by a broken flask leaking a silver concoction onto a desk. When she reached out to touch the solution with her finger, Marché stepped forward to yank her wrist away.
“Don’t touch that!” He exclaimed.
She tore her arm from his grasp, “A warning would have sufficed!”
“That’s quicksilver.” He said, “It’s toxic, but alchemists love it for some reason.”
“Quicksilver…” She muttered.
There was something strange about the liquid. Her left hand curled inward at the sight of it. She experienced a similar sensation when interacting with the pillars. Filled with curiosity, she lowered her hand to the solution once more. Marché observed her movements carefully.
“You’re going to end up poisoning yourself, you know.” He warned.
“Be quiet.” She held out her other hand towards him, “Give me your dagger.”
He was confused by her request, but saw no reason to disobey.
Seconds later, a blade was in Lieze’s hand. She wasted no time sinking the tip into her corrupted flesh, drawing out fresh Mercuria from the wound and allowing it to drip onto the silvery liquid spreading across the desk.
Upon combination, the twin fluids bubbled and frothed, as if attempting to resist some sort of deadly reaction. A plume of acrid smoke forced Lieze to stand back and observe the experiment from a distance. From the lump of congealing mass emerged repulsive movements - the twitching of a helpless newborn fighting to coax air into its lungs.
“What the…” Marché’s voice was plagued with disgust, “What did you do?”
Lieze didn’t respond. She could only watch the vile metamorphosis unfolding before her eyes with thinly-veiled interest. Something was emerging from the marriage of the quicksilver and her Mercuria. Something alive but not correct. A disfigured facsimile of consciousness.
There was a great thud, and the alchemy-thing was ‘alive’ no more. Lieze’s curled fist splattered a mixture of quicksilver and blood across the table. Whatever she created had been killed, and she had no desire to see it resurrected once more, or to ponder the nature of its existence.
“Lieze…” Marché paused, “What was that?”
What indeed? Something primal and suffering. An alchemical birth of God-flesh in the fire of alchemy. She did not want to call it ‘alive’ in fear of lending it more humanity than it deserved, but it was obvious that she had stumbled upon a truly hideous truth of the universe.
She sighed, “...I don’t know.”