The thrall who was once Helmach trailed his greatsword across the road. The rasping of metal against stone could have made one’s ears bleed, but the thrall’s presence was necessary. Lieze wasn’t about to let her domination of Tonberg be an excuse to let her guard down.

They went across the husked remains of the eastern district towards Baccharum’s hideout. There were no thugs in sight, but plenty of stray Gravewalkers to be found. Lieze entertained the idea that the Elf may have fled the city - she certainly would have, given the circumstances - but she wouldn’t believe so without confirming it with her own eyes.

Drayya flung open the cellar door once they arrived. Again, there were no hoodlums present to stop them. The lanterns were dimmed when Lieze slid down the ladder. Half-packed satchels, scraps of clothing, and an unfinished game of cards on a nearby table revealed the quickness with which Baccharum’s associates evacuated the city.

The doorway leading down to his office was ajar. Lieze stood aside to avoid being flattened by the Briarknight as it leaped down into the cellar, followed swiftly by Drayya. The door opened with a creak when Lieze yanked on the knob. She descended into the darkness without another word, keen to get the affair over and done with.

Baccharum was there, though as always, she could not see him. When she reached the bottom of the stairwell without suffering a fall, the scritch of a quill against parchment was the only sound that greeted her.

“You’re still here?” Lieze helped herself to the chair in front of the desk, “It doesn’t seem to me like there’s any more gold to be made in Tonberg.”

The quill nib was placed down. Alongside Baccharum’s fingers, it made a sort of clicking noise.

“Well… it was never really about gold to begin with.” He answered, “I must admit that for all my deviancy and trouble, my love for Tonberg was genuine. Yes - I much preferred it to Akzhem. Especially the freedom with which businessmen like myself were allowed to conduct business.”

“Are you planning on joining me?” Lieze cut straight to the chase, “-It’s either that, or you want to kill me. I can’t think of any other reason why you would remain here instead of evacuating.”

Baccharum curled his elongated fingers together, “Yes, I suppose the ‘right’ thing would be to kill you. But if I was at all interested in doing the ‘right’ thing, there wouldn’t be a bounty on my head.”

Whether a result of his Elvish heritage or otherwise, Baccharum was a truly incomprehensible man. He did not seem the least bit bothered by the fact that his city was overrun with shambling corpses, and neither had his attitude changed for the benevolent when faced with the woman responsible for it all.

“How much do you know about Akzhem?” Lieze asked.

“More than you do.” He answered, “-Or, at least, I certainly hope so. Otherwise I would be rather embarrassed to call myself an Elf.”

“And the Dwarven Mountains?”

“Mm. Yes. I’ve been there, too. But not for long.” He leaned forward, “You desire my knowledge, don’t you? My services. And you needn’t trouble yourself with a spiel on how you plan to leverage my own life on the matter. I already understand your terms.”

“How useful can you be without any men to command?”

Lieze asked that, but the answer had already been revealed to her long ago. Baccharum’s level was an eye-watering [42], placing him in a league of his own. She wanted to gauge his response to see if the Elf would try to lie about his true strength.

“Clerical skills notwithstanding, I have - on occasion - been contracted to remove more than my fair share of players from Akzhem’s cutthroat parliament.” Baccharum sat back in his chair, “You are a formidable commander, Lieze, but the undead are not known for their subtlety. Tonberg is one thing, but the Dwarves have broken more sieges than they care to remember. A straightforward attack is not what you’re looking for - I will tell you that for free.”

Lieze crossed her arms, “And what would you expect in return?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He replied, “The world is fated to end by your hand, so any reward I could possibly demand from you would be fleeting. Indeed, more than likely, you’ll just end up murdering me once all is said and done.”

“You want to live?” Lieze shrugged, “Life is fleeting, Baccharum. No amount of wealth and influence can change that. If you wish to remain in this world after all life has been eradicated, then who am I to stop you? Age will claim you one way or another.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“How impolite of you to say.” She could hear the Elf’s lips parting as he smiled, “Life, yes. I want to live. But I also want the lives of some others. Enough for a demesne of my very own.”

“No.” She shook her head, “I will not spare anyone else.”

“Oh dear… bargaining with an omnicidal cultist isn’t the walk in the park I hoped it would be.” He tapped a finger against the desk, “Make them all men, then. Or woman - either is fine. You’ll be content with that, won’t you? No reproduction. Inevitable extinction.”

“Has this poor fool lost his mind?” Drayya’s voice crept up from behind Lieze, “He wishes to be the lord of a doomed estate? Having witnessed the glory of death in all of its immaculate forms, he clings to life knowing full-well we are all destined to pass?”

“...Drayya is correct.” Lieze said, “Baccharum, you have a terrible habit of sitting on the fence.”

“Is it so wrong for a man to wish for a quiet life after all he’s seen?” The Elf asked, “The world is ending. If I can carve a quiet corner into the chaos, then why shouldn’t I? I have no love for the Dwarves or the Elves.”

“If you detest life, then why not crusade against it?” She asked “You claim to have loved Tonberg. If so, why did you not defend it? The sanctity of death expands beyond the sphere of the Order. There are those who believe that perishing for a greater cause is an honour in and of itself.”

“Perhaps it is because I am weak.” Baccharum said, “Yes. Is that what you wanted to hear? I am weak. And the weak cannot stand for anything. One may be good or evil, or something in-between, but to be ‘weak’ is to be so stiffened with regret that quietude is the only escape.”

Fury lurked in the calmness of his voice. He was not admitting a quality of his own, but a loving representation of the Baccharum he wished to be. He was afflicted with self-loathing. It was the dream of him and so many others to seek sympathy without regret, accelerating towards a repulsive ideal of inward homelessness.

But Baccharum was not weak. He was very strong, in fact. Strong of wit and character. Lieze would not allow his capabilities to slip through his fingers.

“If reclusiveness of the spirit is what you desire, then don’t speak up to question the orders you’ve been given.” She said, “Free of emotions, expectation, and morals, carry out my demands without resistance and allow your conscience to retreat to the paradise of your mind.”

Baccharum chuckled. It was cold and dry. He wasn’t the least bit amused.

“When I first found myself ‘alive’ at a tender age, I was told something that could be interpreted in much the same way.” He replied, “Yes - live without morals and worry. Just kill and take. For years, that was my only initiative. In many ways, I was no different to the corpses that you call servants.”

He could have gone on, but chose not to. It was the first manifestation of a new self developing within the Elf’s twisted soul. A return to form, both ideologically and culturally. His joints snapped with activity as he rose from his chair. Lieze could not see the barest outline of his silhouette, but it was clear from the position of his voice that he was a terribly tall creature.

“Tell me at the very least that my redemption awaits in the afterlife.” He requested, “What you believe - freedom from suffering - is an impossibility. But if you claim otherwise, even as a lie, then I will not oppose you.”

Lieze also stood.

“It is no lie.” She said, “And it is not an impossibility, as you so crudely put it. Perhaps it was for Sokalar, but I will not lower myself to accepting the limits of mortality as he did.”

“Nothing you say can convince me of that.” Baccharum replied, “Prove it through your actions, just as you proved your right to Tonberg’s throne. And if such a promised day does arrive, I will happily submit myself to the Order’s beliefs. Until then, you will have to make do with a rather reluctant ally.”

“I’m not certain any of my allies have been more than reluctant.” Lieze said.

Drayya was invisible in that darkness, but decided to frown anyway, “That’s hurtful, you know?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’m rather keen on the idea of getting some fresh air for once.” Baccharum interrupted, leaning down to grab something from the desk, “And before you ask - no, there is nothing worth pilfering from this place that hasn’t already been taken.”

“The sun’s only just come up.” Drayya said, “Isn’t that bad for an Elf?”

“This blindfold will protect me from the worst of it.” He answered, “-That’s not to say it isn’t extremely painful, but like most nomads, I’ve come to accept the futility of escaping the light.”

There came a strange humming from his hand. Lieze could just about spot a featureless black sphere levitating above a pedestal in the Elf’s grasp before the darkness deepened once more, capturing the tiny office in an impenetrable wave of shadows.

“I’ve always been meaning to ask, but what is that?” Lieze wondered.

“It was lifted from the establishment of a patron.” Baccharum explained, “He was involved in a terrible accident, you see, and the contents of his curiosity shop were in dire need of liquidation- er, liberation. It’s quite an irreplaceable tool for someone like myself.”

As they rose out of the subterranean office, the darkness did not leave them behind. A great sphere of it was wreathed around Baccharum’s body like an enormous egg. The effect was somewhat obstructive, but for as long as it allowed him to walk in the light, Lieze wouldn’t object to its usage.

“How do you even know where you’re going like that?” Drayya asked once they were clear of the cellar and out on the road, “Magic?”

“You would be surprised how keen one’s senses become in the absence of sight.” He said, “With that said, please do warn me if I’m about to walk headfirst into a wall. It’s happened before.”

Lieze wasn’t listening to either of them. Her gaze was focused on the castle, which stuck out in the distance between the heft of two crumbling homes. A mob of undead were being corralled into the palace gardens by levitating figures.

“The Deathguards…” She muttered, “I suppose they must be taking us up on our offer.”