“Shit…” A voice cursed, “...Shit!”
He fell to the ground, “What are we going to do!? Master Sokalar will kill us!”
“Get up!” Another replied, bending down to shake his comrade by the arm, “We did the right thing! If we remained in the city square, we would have been killed! Master Sokalar will understand that!”
Without the Lich’s presence, the Order was scattered and disorganised. The surviving Deathguards - of which there were 15 in total - had spent their lives in complete deference to Sokalar. Without him, they couldn’t bear to make a single decision.
“We’ll wait here. It’s safe.” The standing one said, “We can still win this battle. All we have to do is entrust our fates to Master Sokalar. He won’t abandon us.”
“Oi!” From the west, another Deathguard shouted, “Someone’s coming!”
A glimmer of hope. Every cultist responded to the call with righteous enthusiasm, expecting to see their beloved master emerging unscathed from the city’s chaos. One by one, their expressions morphed from expectant to wary as the figure - or, rather, figures - approaching from the northwest couldn’t have been more unlike the Lich.
A cultist blinked, “I-It’s Lieze! Lieze and Drayya!”
“Don’t just stand there!” Another gripped his shoulder, “Get into formation!”
‘The’ formation - which was to say, a formation of Sokalar’s design, for not even their tactics were their own. Each of them had it memorised to the letter: Briarknights, Gravewalkers, Rot Behemoths, Flesh Elementals, and Fleshbags in that order.
Only they had no Briarknights. Or Flesh Elementals. Or Rot Behemoths. Indeed, their available manpower in regards to the amount of necromancers present revealed just how many thralls had been killed during the siege.
“...Are they alone?” A Deathguard wondered, “What are they planning?”
“Look!” Another pointed - useless as the gesture was at that distance, “That staff! Isn’t that…”
He trailed off, afraid of finishing the sentence. It couldn’t have been. Suggesting so would have branded him as a dissenter.
But the design. The twisted shaft, the crystal. It was. But he dared not say so.
Without a leader, there came no order to charge. They remained at a standstill, awaiting a command that would never arrive. All the while, Lieze and Drayya marched on unafraid, coming to a stop just shy of the cultist who had so bravely taken up the vanguard.
“Roland Ken…” Lieze said, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
A young man with dusty-blonde hair, gaunt features, and a lazy eye. His skin was fair, but matted with dollops of dried blood. The shoulder of his robe was ripped. Lieze observed his right eye returning to attention as his nose wrinkled up.
“Traitor…” He frowned, “What are you doing with Master Sokalar’s staff?
“Don’t waste my time with this.” She replied, “He’s dead. Obviously.”
“You’re lying!” Roland screamed, stepping forward to place the two mere inches apart, “I don’t believe you! Master Sokalar is immortal!”
“What did I just say?” She pinched her forehead , “Cry, grieve, suffer - do whatever it is you need to do, but spare me from your emotional outbursts. I came to discuss the matter of your allegiance, and whether you plan on submitting to me - as you rightfully should - or following Sokalar into the afterlife.”
She received her answer in the form of an open palm across her cheek. The blow stung with fury, but it was clear from Roland’s quietude and complicated expression afterwards that he couldn’t have regretted the slap any sooner. Despite his overwhelming advantage in numbers, he found himself backing away when Lieze took a step towards him.
“Do you see?” She asked, “You already fear my retribution, just as you would Sokalar’s. My father would have killed you on the spot for such a transgression, but I know better than to waste a potential ally.”
Why was Roland afraid? Lieze and Drayya were alone. Surely the Order’s most talented necromancers wouldn’t have trouble taking the lives of two defenceless women? To be certain, he cast a glance over his shoulder, only to see his peers struggling to meet the man’s gaze.
“The Order is aimless without a leader.” Drayya spoke up, “Sokalar’s cult of fear was excellent for maintaining his supreme authority, but he has systematically obliterated any hope that a successor would one day appear to challenge him. To put it frankly, the whole lot of you are a bunch of incompetent fools without someone to lead you by the hand.”
“That’s not true!” Roland shook his head, “We can live up to Master Sokalar’s legacy!”
“Then attack me!” Lieze demanded, “Destroy me! Instead of buckling your legs and shying away, take the responsibility of a necromancer into your own hands!”
Silence.
“...I didn’t think so.” Lieze sighed, “You are weak. Sokalar made you this way to control you. But under my command, I will grant you true independence, and the Order will soar to heights never before seen.”
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She exaggerated nothing. Lieze was free from the yoke of Sokalar’s authority, and in achieving that freedom, she had come to realise just how pitiful his ideals were. With his death, her goals would come to eclipse his own tenfold. There would come a time when her father’s death would be nothing more than a stepping stone at the back of her mind.
Roland exhaled, “...Master Sokalar is dead?”
“Well and truly.” She answered, “His phylactery has been destroyed. Harbour no hope - or fear - that he will ever return. As always, it is the strongest who will lead the Order to greatness, and the time has finally come for Sokalar’s reign to end.”
There was nothing more to be said, and nothing that could be said to contest her claim, for Lieze had only repeated the ideals that Roland and his comrades had practised from the day of their recruitment into the Order’s fold.
“...We don’t have time to be convincing every last one of you.” Drayya said, “If you’re incapable of standing on your own two feet, then don’t bother coming to the castle. Return to the Deadlands and live the rest of your lives in misery. That’s all.”
She turned to follow Lieze on her way into the southern gate, leaving the Deathguards to consider their options. The fact that they had been offered a choice at all was overwhelming - Sokalar would have never lowered himself to granting any of them a semblance of autonomy.
For the first time, Lieze wandered into Tonberg without fear of being jumped by an assailant. The city was devoid of adversaries, stocked front-to-back with thralls, and completely under her control.
Secret Quest “Sovereign” Complete! Description - Occupy Tonberg in its entirety Reward - 11,000xp
Level Up! You are now level [42] HP + 5 MP + 50 MIND + 1
“How many of them do you suppose will turn over to our side?” Drayya asked.
“All of them, if their behaviour was any indication.” Lieze answered, “They have no purpose without Sokalar. My ambitions will continue regardless of whether they cooperate or not, so the choice is an obvious one to make.”
“Hm.” She paused, “...What do we do now?”
It was a fantastic question. There was still the north to contend with - the Dwarves and the Elves. Lieze had every intention of spreading her influence across the continent, but she had learned the folly of seeking the world’s annihilation when she understood so little about the afterlife and its peculiarities.
“You said something about wanting a break, didn’t you?” She asked, “I doubt we’ll be inciting another war for a few months yet. Perhaps even a year. We shouldn’t use a single victory as an excuse to overextend.”
“You won’t hear me complaining about that.” Drayya stretched her arms as they walked the empty streets, “I remember running back to this road on more than a handful of occasions. When we ran into Helmach that night, for instance.”
The tavern. The Golden Flagon. Though she would never admit it, Lieze had some fond memories of the place. From her meeting with Noma to the fiasco with the Drake, it had been the staging ground for many of her fledgling plots. The building was still in good nick, but the raucous jeering from within was nothing more than a distant memory.
Lieze had killed them all. The guild receptionist. The Dwarven doctor. Where the corpses had ended up, or when in particular they had perished, she couldn’t say for certain, but their blood was absolutely on her hands.
“I can’t believe it.” Drayya admired the sight of the crumbled castle in the distance, “It’s really ours. The whole bloody lot. And nobody is trying to take it away from us.”
Of course. For Drayya, a victory over the Sovereign Cities was retribution for the atrocities suffered by her father. She was positively beaming with delight at honouring the late Bran Drayya’s memory.
“Let’s make our way back to the castle.” Lieze said, “If any of the Deathguards have decided to join us, they’ll be headed in that direction.”
----------------------------------------
Lüngen busied himself with applying a poultice to the burn wounds of an unlucky cultist. The morning light filtered through the clouds of dust kicking up from the throne room’s rubble. The grisly remains of Alistair’s corpse were still sticking to the floor.
When Lieze returned, Lüngen welcomed her not with a smile, but a frown. He knew the implications of her return and had been preparing for the news all morning.
“...It’s done, then?” Was all he asked.
Lieze nodded, “It is.”
“Gods…” He sighed, “I never thought I’d see the day.”
The two of them - Lüngen and Sokalar - had been allies for the longest time. They never agreed on a single thing, constantly berated one-another’s opinions, and altogether found themselves at odds on a moral foundation. But with all that said, Lüngen couldn’t help but mourn the passing of his former friend - if they were indeed friends at all.
“We’ve said all that needs to be said to his Deathguards.” Lieze continued, “They can join or leave. It doesn’t bother me either way. We’ll make do with or without them.”
“I’m pleased to see that you aren’t quite as partial to capital punishment as Ignas was.” Lüngen yanked a cloth out from his waist and dabbed his face free of sweat, “As for our own forces - Marché and I have done everything in our power to save as many cultists as possible. Three are dead, but the rest will live.”
“Those who are injured should be moved to a safer place.” Lieze raised her head, “These walls are liable to collapse if we stick around. It’s regrettable, but the castle is no longer the defensible position it once was.”
“And what will you do, Lieze?” Lüngen seemed genuinely interested in hearing her answer, “Our enemies are scattered. We are free to walk the streets with as much freedom as its former citizens. Frankly, I’m not certain how you’ll cope without something to gut close at hand.”
“That’s very funny.” Lieze did not smile, “No - I'll cope just fine. Now that the threat of imminent death is no longer looming over our heads, I’d like to spend some time perusing Tonberg’s secrets, of which I’m sure there are many.”
“Well-” Drayya interrupted their conversation, “We do still have one errant factor to consider.”
Lieze combed her mind. It didn’t take long for her to identify what Drayya was talking about.
“Baccharum…” She muttered, “Is he still here?”
“Perhaps not, but I won’t be able to rest until I know for sure.” Drayya folded her arms, “Why don’t we pay a visit to his hideout?”