With renewed purpose, Lieze was awake by the crack of dawn, eager to depart for Tonberg. Before she left, however, she felt it necessary to divulge her plans with Marché, who had been enjoying a much-needed break since the events of the Drake hunt.
“Attacking the farmsteads?” He looked towards the granite ceiling in thought, “That’s not a bad idea. Tonberg was already reliant on its sister cities to feed its population. If the last farms and mills are destroyed, its stockpiles would run dry in a matter of weeks.”
“Have you seen the-”
“The so-called ‘Briarknight’? Yes, I’ve had a look.” He interrupted, “It doesn’t look too intimidating to me. Isn’t it just a Gravewalker?”
“-A Gravewalker that can raise other Gravewalkers.” Lieze corrected, “Bring it with you to Saptra. It should make your job simpler.”
“Do we have enough space to hold more thralls?”
“No, but space can come later.” She replied, “I’d like for most of the weakest thralls to reinforce the Rot Behemoth.”
“As you wish.” Marché bowed his head, “Alma wanted to see you before you departed, by the way.”
The girl in question was organising the hideout’s thralls into its newly-constructed Crypt (which was really more like an empty, featureless chamber than a crypt). Upon spotting Lieze, she began recounting the fruits of her investigative labour with an excited smile
“Lieze.” She greeted, “I think I might have an idea of where to find a number of forbidden necromancy grimoires.”
“What do you mean when you say you might have an idea?” Lieze asked.
“Well… I’d like to think the evidence is rather overwhelming.” She continued, “The Church of the Golden Dragon only has three archival buildings around the city: The Library of Uke in the southern district, the Royal Scriptorium - also in the southern district - and the Grand Cathedral, in the city’s east.”
“The grimoires are somewhere in one of those three, you mean to say?” Lieze deduced.
“I wouldn’t say they’re located in the Grand Cathedral. The grimoires are sacrilegious texts, so if I had to guess, I would say they’re locked up somewhere in the Library of Uke. It’s where pre-reformation scriptures are stored.”
“It’s well-defended?”
“Uh… yes.” Alma averted her eyes, “Very.”
“Good work. We don’t have the strength to retrieve them at the moment, but this is important information.” She praised, “See if you can’t validate those claims in the meantime.”
“Of course. I’ll do my best.”
Alma’s innocent dedication to the cause left Lieze wondering if she was cut out for the business of necromancy. Not that she was going to deny such eager help, of course.
Once she had her business in order, Lieze departed for Tonberg. Her first stop - the Golden Flagon - was the most important one. The guild was still holding a reward for slaying the Drake, and she intended to claim every coin.
“S-Stürm… is dead!?”
The lively receptionist’s jaw dropped. Her sudden exclamation quickly caught the patrons’ attention, and soon, a small crowd had formed around Lieze as she recounted (with many shameless embellishments) the events of the previous day.
“Oh, it was horrible…” She clasped both hands to her chest, “It seemed like everything was going so well at first… then, gravely injured, the Drake opened its maw, and a sea of flames cascaded from one end of the clearing to another, catching the three of them in a fiery prison!”
“We can still go get ‘em!” One of the spectators cried, “The Church’ll fix ‘em up!”
“You’re gonna walk into the lair of a Drake just to pick up some damn corpses!?” Another replied, “Face it, you daft fool - they’re dead. It was bound to happen at some point.”
“No, no, no. The Drake is dead!” Lieze exclaimed, “I witnessed Stürm rising from the ashy grass, blade in hand, while the beast directed its attention towards me! He leaped up onto the spines of its back and lunged forward, striking a mortal blow at the neck! For a second, I could have sworn he’d decapitated it!”
“That Stürm… it’s just like him, weathering a Drake’s fire only to bounce back!” A warrior yelled, “I couldn’t ask for a better end myself!”
“Wait a moment…” The receptionist muttered, “So, Stürm, Noel, Louanbona… and the 4 other members of the group who accompanied them - they’re all dead?”
Lieze furrowed her brow. The woman was trying to pull a quick one on her - claiming that everyone bar Lieze was dead when she would have known perfectly well that Drayya survived, considering the girl was most likely resting upstairs as they spoke. The crux of her question was simple. She was suspicious.
“No.” Lieze answered, “My companion - the raven-haired girl, also survived.”
“I see…” Conscious of her scepticism, the receptionist changed her tune, “...I suppose that means the two of you are the only ones entitled to the reward.”
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“Oh no, absolutely not.” Lieze declined, “Our efforts, even combined, couldn’t measure up to Stürm and his allies. Taking that gold would be an insult to his memory.”
“Be that as it may, a reward was posted. According to guild laws, the successful completion of a request cannot go unpaid, and so the gold rightfully belongs to you.” The receptionist continued, “-Ah, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to pay that out in Wurms. The request came from the city itself, so the money will be transferred directly to your account at the bank.”
“...So you’re saying I don’t have a choice?”
“I’m afraid not.” The receptionist gave an awkward smile, “Well - you’ve been making quite a name for yourself recently, so I’d say you’re deserving of it.”
“I appreciate that, but…” Lieze paused, “...Yes. You’re right. I wouldn’t be honouring Stürm’s name if I tried to disconnect myself from the tragedy.”
“I should report this to the city as soon as possible…” She continued, “Without Stürm and his companions, we’ll be in trouble if another A-grade threat like the Drake appears.”
Showering Stürm’s legacy with reverence left a bad taste in Lieze’s mouth, but she was willing to say anything to alleviate suspicion.
It didn’t matter. The gold was hers, and the guild seemed more than happy to give it to her. Within minutes, the tavern was back to its homely atmosphere, with patrons downing ale in Stürm’s memory. A new sound had been added to the familiar chorus of the tavern - namely, a strenuous, hoarse coughing. A guild member balled his fist at the mouth while forcing a few phlegm-choked breaths out of his throat.
It was the result of Lieze’s Nightcrawlers, who had already set about spreading their foul plagues throughout the city. She would have to take great care not to fall ill herself. Nightcrawlers were servile, but the pathogens they carried infected indiscriminately.
It wasn’t safe to hang around, so Lieze excused herself from the premises. With the deadline for Helmach’s death drawing near, she was in no position to simply sit back and wait for the cult to grow strong enough. She needed to make some big moves, and quickly. A thought had struck her the night before - something that could spark an interesting series of events.
Many of Tonberg’s citizens and guards were killed during the siege, but where did their corpses go? Even during an epidemic of necromancy, the people wouldn’t suffer their loved ones being buried in shallow graves. As far as Lieze knew, cremation was only practised (and tolerated) by Dwarves, meaning that somewhere in the city, there was a pile of corpses in need of burying.
Finding it wouldn’t be difficult. Lieze just had to play the victim. Her search could begin right there, on the bustling main roads of Tonberg. The pleas flew from her throat as convincingly as she could possibly manage.
“Excuse me sir, you wouldn’t happen to have seen my brother, would you?”
“I’m searching for my little brother. He disappeared during the siege…”
“No! He can’t be dead! Why would you say something like that!?”
Commoners were all the same - desperate to be heroes. Desperate to solve everyone’s problems. In a matter of minutes, her campaigning had revealed a few key details from Tonberg’s citizenry. Namely, that the casualties of the siege were being painstakingly buried in a freshly-partitioned cemetery in the destroyed eastern district. Despite weeks having passed since the attack, labourers had barely put a dent in the amount of corpses that needed accommodating, forcing many to be piled into mass graves.
“I see… thank you so much.” As she finished one last conversation with a passer-by, Lieze placed a hand to her chin in thought, “Mass graves? Here, in the city? That’s just asking for a pandemic. But, if the royalists aren’t going the extra mile and cremating them while there are necromancers afoot…”
Eastward-bound, she departed from the main street, a plan already hatching in her head.
----------------------------------------
Lieze had developed a habit of casting glances behind her shoulders whenever she moved into the city’s quieter corners. There was no telling when an Acolyte was shadowing her. The new cemetery - a featureless, honourless patch of hastily-flattened land, was clearly a meagre attempt from Ricta to salvage some of his waning reputation following the siege. But the good king’s efforts had only blown up in his face. An acrid scent carried on the wind long before Lieze happened upon the cemetery - the unmistakable stench of rot.
Whatever promise had been made to grant the siege’s dead a peaceful rest hadn’t been fulfilled. Corpses stacked on high, stained with mud and rain, littered the amateurish graveyard. Headstones hastily-carved and skewed in the mud remained nameless and without valour. The sight was so pitiful that even Lieze, who was ecstatic to find an unexploited supply of corpses, found her hatred for Ricta bubbling to new heights.
The day-shift was over. Or, perhaps the guards had already given up on trying to bury so many corpses. It was a treasure trove of potential just waiting to be cracked open - an ethereal chaos slumbering beneath the dirt, eager for the chance to right the wrongs of those who had wronged it. For Lieze, the temptation was simply too great. She wandered up to a muddied corpse-pile with a barely-contained smirk on her face.
“One, two… six, seven… thirteen, fourteen…” She counted the despairing, motionless faces one-by-one, “...Twenty-seven. And that’s just one pile.”
There was nobody around. She would have to make a decision quickly.
“...Alright.” She resolved, “It’s time to cause the city some real trouble.”
Lifting her staff, Lieze felt her lifeblood being drained by the enchanted bristles upon its length. At the same time, she was haunted by those same creeping, thorn-infested visions as her body was used as a conduit for necromantic energies.
Lieze’s HP - 171 / 190
Lieze’s MP - 775 / 815
Secret Quest "Graverobber" Complete! Description - Raise a thrall from a cemetery Reward - 500xp
Like clockwork, a thrall was raised from the unwashed pile, clawing its way out of a puzzle of flesh and obediently rushing to Lieze’s side. But there was still more work to be done. Gripping her staff yet again, she allowed her blood to be taken a total of 8 more times, using its mana-reducing powers to summon an equal number of thralls.
Lieze’s HP - 19 / 190
Lieze’s MP - 445 / 815
Feeling exquisitely light-headed, Lieze forced herself to remember that the staff’s power was incapable of actually killing her - as much as it felt like it was going to. Taking a deep breath, she began her communion yet again, all the while haemorrhaging blood from the stinging perforations in her hands.
Lieze’s HP - 1 / 190
Lieze’s MP - 5 / 815
As her exhaustion neared its peak, Lieze was able to raise a total of 19 Gravewalkers. She darted her eyes from side to side, fully-aware that she was standing in a quiet corner of Fanrae’s largest city. If she wanted her thralls to live for any longer than a half-hour, she would need to find somewhere safe to store them.
“Alright…” Sneaking off while casting suspicious glances in every direction, Lieze ushered the small group of thralls along, “Let’s see if one of these old homes has a cellar we could make use of…”