The Flesh Golem had perished in the blast. A river of blood poured from its melting corpse, exposing a titanic skeleton hidden beneath mounds of spasming musculature. Lieze passed the corpse on her way towards the light glimmering behind a curtain of smoke. As Roland had predicted, it appeared to be a Teleportation Circle - quite the impressive spell to be appearing out of thin air.
“Damn…” Drayya kicked a loose sprig of rubble away, “I was hoping we’d be able to raise whatever we found down here as a thrall… but we can’t exactly coax a giant heap of stone back to the world of the living, can we?”
“We were able to reinforce our losses with the monsters we encountered in the dungeon.” Marché replied, “-And we still have our reward for clearing the sanctum to claim, so it wasn’t a pointless diversion.”
The reward. Much like the Teleportation Circle, it had popped into existence without fanfare. Lieze approached the chest while waving her hand to dispel the choking fog, pleased to see that it wasn’t locked for once.
She threw open the lid to discover a trove of gold and gemstones, but found herself much more intrigued in whatever magical item the dungeon had deigned to grant her. Shoving a hand into the golden pool, her fingers caught hold of a delicate chain, and as she reeled her arm in, an amulet was pulled out alongside it.
Amulet of Masterful Comprehension Artefact (Rare) Description - The wearer of this amulet is granted fluency in every widely-spoken language. Knowledge of these languages is not imprinted in the wearer’s mind, and vanishes if the amulet is removed or broken in any way.
“Hm…” Her face straightened out, “I’m sure this will end up being more useful than I expect, but I’m a little disappointed that we didn’t find anything related to necromancy.”
It would aid her in the north, where Dwarves and Elves communicated in tongues all of their own. More to the point, the dungeon had provided an opportunity to further her personal growth without having to commit to any large-scale battles. The discovery of a consistent source of experience was a reward in its own way.
She dropped the amulet into her Bag of Holding. There was nothing more to be found in that dungeon.
“We’re leaving.” She declared, “There’s still much to do in the city.”
----------------------------------------
Upon their return, Lieze decided that a full-scale renovation of her army was in order. For too long had she relied on sheer numbers to ensure victory. As a result, the horde’s cohesion had suffered, with abundances of cannon fodder mixed in with critical players such as Rot Behemoths and Briarknights.
Furthermore, despite having taken up leadership of the Order’s remnants, she had yet to establish a chain of command within her ranks. Heading an army of thoughtless, dribbling corpses was no excuse for disarray.
And so, over the next day, Lieze observed and took note of her cultists’ capabilities in order to maximise their effectiveness when organised into a cohesive force. She had already developed an outline of the cult’s structure from weeks of experience, but the talents of those such as Roland and the Deathguards had yet to be revealed.
In the meantime, Lüngen and Marché were ordered to restructure the army with ruthless efficiency, casting aside middling Gravewalkers to make way for Flesh Elementals, Rot Behemoths, and Briarknights. With some help from Lieze, especially low-level thralls were culled to reinforce the Order’s supply of blood or conjoined with larger entities to maximise their strength.
The increased manpower made available to Lieze, as well as the abundance of time guaranteed by their victory over both the royalists and Sokalar, expanded the possibilities of [Necromantic Alchemy] to ludicrous proportions. It wasn’t long before a second oversized barrel had to be sourced from a Dwarven brewery to store the obscene amounts of blood being generated by the cult’s heinous defilement of the dead.
The castle’s illustrious dining room was renovated into a gathering hall for discussions and the like. As just about the only chamber in the fortress that wasn’t hopelessly demolished by the war, it provided a safe place to discuss future plans without the wind drowning out every topic.
The first of many meetings to come was scheduled for the second day following Lieze’s return from the dungeon. She had drafted a rough estimate of the cult’s future command structure and wished to quell any contentious decisions. Once her necromancers were assembled, they scoured the proposal with quiet acceptance, most of them too afraid to question or deride Lieze’s decisions.
The Order’s Chain of Command:
Lieze (Leader & Strategist)
Margoh Drayya (Commander)
Bardy Lüngen (Archivist & Loremaster)
Marché Hopper (Commander)
Stolen story; please report.
Roland Ken (Commander & Head of Catering)
…
..
.
Baccharum Silas (External Negotiator)
“Hm…” Marché pursed his lips, “It’s a tad barebones, don’t you think?”
“All that matters is that each and every one of you understands the authority of your seniors and juniors.” Lieze replied, “An order from higher in the chain of command is not to be contested without good reason.”
“Placing the two of us above Lüngen…” Drayya smirked, “You’ve certainly found some confidence, Lieze.”
“I’m not pleased by the implication that I should be responsible for the Order’s leadership.” Lüngen spoke up, “As long as I have somewhere dry and quiet to read a good book, I’m content to be led by just about anyone.”
“Head of catering?” Roland leaned over the table to get a good look at the sheet of parchment, “I’m not sure how to feel about that. You do know that my talents extend further than keeping all of us fed, don’t you?”
“That’s why it also says ‘Commander’ next to your name.” Lieze replied, “I won’t sugarcoat it - we must consider the problem of morale now that our operation has expanded to include you all. Frog soup and lizard jerky were all well and good when Sokalar was in power, but I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to assume that every one of you would prefer a healthier and less rubbery diet now that we no longer dwell in a wasteland.”
Marché’s finger pressed into the ink near the bottom of the page, “So we’re to have three Commanders? And those who don’t fit the bill are considered our subordinates?”
Lieze nodded, “You and Roland already lead groups of your own. The necromancers of Tonberg are loyal to you, and the remnants of the Order are loyal to Roland. I see no reason to destabilise that dynamic - provided you’re willing to donate an equal share of necromancers to Drayya.”
“Sokalar allowed us to act independently.” Roland piped up. He shrunk at Lieze’s fearsome gaze, but it was an opinion held in earnest.
“That’s what you’d like to believe, I’m sure.” She replied, “But the truth is that you were never free to act on your own initiative. Whatever Sokalar desired, you accomplished. Acting out of turn would have earned you a slow and agonising death.”
Roland had no response. His continuous worship of the Lich was going to become a problem if it trickled down to the rest of his subordinates. Lieze had to take her stance on the matter right then and there if she hoped to extinguish the flames of rebellion.
“As it goes, a chain is only as durable as its weakest link.” She continued, “Fear does not temper resilience. By granting you and your followers independence, Roland, I’m offering you the chance to be greater than you could have ever hoped to be under Sokalar.”
“...And if we fail in that regard?” He swallowed.
“You will not die.” She assured, “But prove yourself a consistent failure, and exile will be your reward - a life of isolation and despair in a dying world. I will tolerate failure, but not weakness. The two are not identical.”
Roland exhaled through his nose, “...I understand.”
“-If any of you have more complaints to share, then I would like to hear them now rather than later.” Lieze brushed her gaze across the others, “...None? Excellent. With that out of the way, we can discuss our next steps.”
She wandered over to a cabinet draped with a dusty, yellowed map. She could trace her finger along the height of the entire continent, from the black reaches of the shrouded north down to the verdant and chaotic Wildlands. Right in the middle, where a quartet of gaudy illustrations had been drawn, were the four Sovereign Cities.
She lifted the parchment and laid it over the luxurious dining table. For many of the necromancers present, it was the first time they had ever been exposed to the shape and scope of their own world - Sokalar did not consider geography a worthwhile topic for those he considered puppets of his own will.
“Hm…” Lüngen leaned down and placed both of his hairy palms onto the table, “This is an excellent chart. Much better than the amateurish sketches we lifted from passing travellers.”
“Just about everything is illustrated.” Lieze used her finger to trace the inky capillaries running across the continent, “These thick lines are major highways running between the Sovereign Cities and the Dwarven Mountains. Occasional breaks lead off towards smaller villages or enclaves in the countryside.”
“What about this?” Roland’s hand came to rest on the northern stretch of the map - a featureless peninsula marked in the centre by a crude sketch depicting a withered tree.
“Akzhem.” Lieze said, “Many explorers have attempted to map it, but none have ever been successful. The only thing we can be certain of is this line running around the peninsula’s coastline - a perimeter marking the beginning of the darkness.”
“Speaking of Akzhem, where has Baccharum gotten off to?” Drayya wondered, “Shouldn’t he be here, considering he’s now one of us?”
“I’ve sent him away.” Lieze answered, “To the north, where the Dwarves gather. He’ll act as a source of information for us, gathering intelligence on the state of things while we make preparations for the next war.”
“-And we won’t betray us?” Drayya crossed her arms.
“He might.” She said, “-But I wouldn’t count on that. He understands the futility of resistance. We can accomplish our goals with or without him. I’ll continue to squeeze information out of him for as long as he remains empathetic to our cause.”
“Empathetic… that’s certainly one way of putting it.” She cleared her throat, “So, then? What’s our plan for the near future?”
“Consolidation of resources and the reinforcement of our army.” Lieze summarised, “Saptra, Bascoroch, and Dolore are still brimming with stray thralls. We’ll round them up, harvest or make use of the weakest, and create an army that not even the combined might of the Dwarves or Elves could possibly hope to repel.”
Lüngen grumbled, “There is a limit to how many thralls we can command at once, Lieze.”
“Those who remain here will contribute to a reserve of manpower we can make use of in case of a tactical retreat.” She replied, “Our maximum size is a problem, yes. We’d need more necromancers to solve that problem. But we can cross that bridge once we reach it.”
“So, to summarise…” Marché began, “While Baccharum establishes an intelligence network in the north, we will gather thralls from Tonberg’s siblings and stuff our ranks with Flesh Elementals, Rot Behemoths, and Briarknights while culling the rest for blood”
“Almost.” Lieze said, “The weakest will not be culled. I have something else in store for them. Make sure to preserve every last thrall you encounter.”