Lieze struck her head against the stone pathway, filling her vision with pinpricks of tumbling darkness.

Lieze’s HP - 189 / 320

A wicked [Blood Spike] from one of her assailants tore into her flank, sending her flying off the Manticore’s back. The abundance of Gravewalkers surrounding the beast should have guaranteed her swift death, but no such fate came to pass. Rather, the thralls which once stood against her had now directed their collective hunger towards those who commanded them.

There was no avenue for escape. After all, why would a necromancer ever separate themselves from their thralls? Lieze was given a glimpse into the world perceived by those who did not consort with the dead - their expressions of horror, their defiant screams of agony as clumps of muscle were torn from their bodies, and the expressionless visage of the one who orchestrated their deaths.

When the slaughter had concluded, the Gravewalkers glutted their appetites on what remained of the Gravewalkers’ corpses. Lüngen stepped over a severed head to make his way to Lieze, who remained on the ground by way of dizziness and hesitation. Behind her, the Manticore settled down, confirming that the thralls surrounding it were no longer Lieze’s enemies.

Lüngen did not seem convinced that the woman in front of him was anything more than an illusion. She understood his confusion. By all worldly logic, she should have been dead. In many ways - especially if Drayya’s worrisome complaints were anything to go on - she already was.

Lüngen’s spectacled gaze searched for remnants of humanity in Lieze’s sooty sclera. Then, he held out a hand.

“It really is you.” He said, clenching his teeth to keep the pipe still, “I’m glad. This sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.”

She waved his hand away, knowing full-well her touch would only result in injury. Lüngen stood by while she rose to her feet, head still aching from the fall.

“Having a bad day?” She asked.

He nodded, “A very bad day.”

“I couldn’t tell you whether this has been a good day or a bad day.” She dusted her cloak free of dirt, “On one hand, we’ve taken the castle. On the other, Sokalar still lives.”

“He knows you’re here.” Lüngen replied, “-Or, rather, he knows that Drayya is here. I was sent to kill her and that freckled boy, and all of the misfits you’ve managed to scrounge together.”

Lieze didn’t smile - she didn’t smile, normally, but her lips did come dangerously close to curling upwards, “But you didn’t.”

“No.” The pipe wasn’t doing it for him, so he took it out and turned the thing upside-down to tap the tobacco out with his index finger, “That’s strange, isn’t it? At first I told Ignas that I would, and I honestly meant that, though your blood would not have been on my hands, in a manner of speaking.”

“The attack on the arcade.” Lieze recalled, “Sokalar would never have sent such a small force to eradicate his enemies. He believes in total annihilation with overwhelming force.”

“Yes, yes…” Lüngen ignored the implications that summary had on his strategic mind, “That failed, as you know, and surprisingly, Ignas did not kill me. When once more he asked me to snuff out the remnants of your cult, I agreed, and again, I was honestly plotting your shared demise.”

“-But you betrayed him.” Lieze said, “You betrayed Sokalar, and the Order.”

“Yes.” He didn’t seem too perturbed by the confession, “Yes, I suppose I have gone and done exactly that, haven’t I?”

“Come inside.” She offered, “Drayya will be happy to see you. She’s in a foul mood.”

He nodded, and the two of them went with the Manticore - and their newly-recruited thralls - towards the castle. Lüngen admired the scorched gardens and dilapidated architecture with a semblance of poignant delight. He knew that Lieze was responsible for it.

Drayya, who stood at the still-intact entrance, narrowed her eyes to see if they were playing tricks on her, but there was no mistaking Lüngen. He was too fat and too well-dressed to be confused with someone else.

She crossed her arms, “I’ve never known a necromancer to return from battle with a living ally in tow.”

“I haven’t asked him whether he is an ally or not - only heard that he has betrayed Sokalar.” Lieze replied, “If this is a plot to have us all in one convenient place, then I have been defeated.”

Drayya’s relationship with the doddering old archivist wasn’t dissimilar from Lieze’s. As a matter of fact, they were identical. Lüngen had stepped into the shoes which Sokalar had never intended to wear and which Bran was too dead to fit into - the shoes of something resembling a figure of paternity.

Neither of them would have admitted it under threat of torture or death, but Lieze and Drayya were better off for knowing that Lüngen was not destined to be their enemy.

Quest ‘Turncoat’ Completed! Reward - 3,500xp

Level Up! You are now level [37] HP + 5 MP + 50 MIND + 1

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“What a palaver this has all turned out to be.” Drayya said, “How much time do we have before Sokalar makes his move on the castle? Hours?”

“Oh - you didn’t call him 'Master Sokalar' for once.” Lieze noticed.

“Hours, yes.” Lüngen answered, “Perhaps less, and certainly not more. We are the final obstacle in his path, and the centuries leading up to this moment will have him practically foaming at the mouth at the opportunity to quell the last throes of resistance.”

“A Lich, uh…” Drayya paused, “...Liches are immortal, aren’t they?”

“Not perfectly - as much as Ignas would like to claim otherwise.” He answered, deciding once and for all that yes, he would be smoking his pipe that day, “His soul is nomadic, moving from vessel to vessel, but between bodies, he is indeed vulnerable. Yes - in that vile prison designed to shield his mortality from the Gods.”

“The phylactery.” Lieze chimed, “I’ve never seen it.”

“Nobody has, and that is by design.” Lüngen continued, “For if its existence cannot be proven, then who can deny for certain that Ignas is immortal? As far as he is concerned, the less who know, the better. But then there are the most learned of our Order - myself, and, I am proud to say, the two of you - who understand that such a thing is not truly possible.”

Lieze wasn’t so sure about that after everything she’d learned of the Gods and their fickle natures. But she wasn’t about to make a fuss when Lüngen’s point was so utterly on the mark - none of them had any idea of where to begin looking for the so-called phylactery.

“He must have it on his person.” Drayya led the two and their thralls back into the throne room, where Marché was organising relief for those who had been injured in the battle with Alistair, “Is it his staff? The crystal on his staff?”

“It may be.” Lüngen fumbled with his tin of tobacco while they walked, “-It could just as easily be a piece of jewellery, or a mundane dagger.”

“No…” Lieze muttered, “It’s not the crystal. That would be too obvious. Sokalar would want his enemies to target his staff. That would force them into a direct confrontation, where a loss would be almost guaranteed.”

“A very good point.” Lüngen wagged a flame-tipped finger over his pipe, “The phylactery could be you, Lieze.”

She paused to consider the possibility, then shook her head, “...Me?”

“Ignas only unravelled the secrets of Lichdom a few months after your birth.” He replied, “It’s possible he may have implanted within you an alchemical device to act as a phylactery whenever the occasion calls for it.”

Frankly, the theory was ridiculous. Lieze was half-convinced Lüngen meant it as a joke to calm her nerves. But as her mind explored the possibility, she couldn’t help but consider it with genuine interest.

“...Why didn’t father kill me when I turned out to be a failure?” She asked aloud, “No - I was worse than a failure. It took me months just to raise a handful of corpses. There was no reason for him to tolerate my existence.”

Drayya went to reply, but she clammed up just as quickly. After all, she had brought the matter up with Lieze on so many occasions that it became something of a daily ritual for her at one point.

“I don’t know why he keeps you around.”

“You’re an embarrassment.”

“Master Sokalar should have drowned you as a babe.”

“Everyone would be happier if you disappeared.”

“Gut yourself. Serve the Order as a corpse.”

“Die. That’s the only purpose you can serve. Just die.”

The reply left her, replaced with something human and terrifying.

“I was half-joking, Lieze.” Lüngen said, “I believe there are more rational conclusions to be made.”

“But that’s just the thing.” She replied, “My father’s ideals are not rooted in rationality. He hasn’t turned up his nose at a single opportunity to complicate, obfuscate, or blur. Why risk carrying a phylactery on one’s person or leaving it undefended when it could be somewhere no one in their right mind would ever think to look?”

It made too much sense. Too much to ignore, and a suggestion from her scale was all it took to lock the idea into her psyche.

New Quest Received! ‘The Secret of Lichdom’ - Acquire Ignas Sokalar’s phylactery Reward - 5,000xp

“Perhaps, then.” Lüngen caved, “But if so, however do you plan to get it out?”

“We live in a world of miraculous sorcery. No feat is truly impossible.” She replied, “Powerful restorative magic could anaesthetise me long enough for someone skilled enough with their hands to-”

“Don’t finish that sentence!” Drayya stepped forward to interrupt her tirade, “What are you trying to suggest!?”

“Drayya.” Lieze looked the girl up and down, “You’d be perfect.”

“Per- what?” She blinked, “Explain.”

“We necromancers may be a deplorable lot, but there’s scarcely anyone in the Order who can toy with flesh as well as you can. You’re practically an artist when it comes to torture.” Lieze replied, “You learned from Graeme, didn’t you? That kind of knowledge must require an extraordinary understanding of physiology.”

“This is pure lunacy.” Drayya almost smiled, “Tell her, Lüngen.”

“Lunacy, perhaps.” The man in question puffed his pipe, “But there is a method to this madness. And more to the point, Lieze speaks the truth. I recall you poring over my medical diaries for months on end.”

“But- that’s-” She stammered, then paused, “...What about the curatives we’d need? We’re necromancers - and while some of us might know a stain of transmutation, there isn’t a soul in this room with the slightest understanding of restoration spells!”

“Not in this room, no. But downstairs-” Lieze nodded her head, “Alistair.”

Lüngen paused mid-drag, covering his mouth as he fell into a coughing fit, “Alistair is alive!?”

“Yes. He’s also - oh, what was it?” Drayya placed a hand to her chin, “...Oh yes - our enemy. Could it be that the Blackbriar has replaced a part of your mind that has to do with memory?”

“It’s just a matter of persuasion.” Lieze assured, “And we pride ourselves on persuasion, do we not?”

Alistair was not only a priest, but one of Tonberg’s saints. Restoration spells were most often the burden of holy men to administer, and considering his position, Alistair’s knowledge of the school was most likely comprehensive.

“It’s decided, then.” Lieze decided for herself, “We have mere hours to spare, so get a move on.”