Once the northern district had been given a once-over by Lieze’s growing army of thralls, she was pleased to see a familiar screen obscuring her vision.
Quest ‘The Aristocrats’ Complete! Reward - 3,100xp
Level Up!
You are now level [30] HP + 20 MP + 35 MIND + 1
Milestone Reached!
[Greater Necromancy (lvl. 2)] has been replaced with [Supreme Necromancy (lvl. 1)] Description - Use 30MP to reanimate a creature of level 60 or below. The creature’s level as an undead thrall equals 2x its original level, rounded down. You can maintain a number of thralls equal to 5x your level, rounded down. Mercurial Enhancement - This spell can now be used on a living creature. In order for it to succeed, the creature’s HP must be equal to or less than half of its maximum value.
[Necromantic Alchemy (lvl. 5)] has been upgraded to [Necromantic Alchemy (lvl. 6)] Enhancements Learned - [Greater Intelligence] Unique Undead Learned - [Wraith]
Technique Learned! Type: [Ritual] Name: [Gain Forbidden Knowledge] Description - Spend 24 continuous hours and at least 1000 levels’ worth of [Undead] thralls to discover the most powerful techniques of the [Necromancy] school. Upon its completion, this ritual reduces the caster’s MP to 0. Additionally, any HP damage sustained by the caster during the ritual will force it to fail (lost thralls will not be refunded). Successfully completing this ritual will unlock another technique.
“I’m finally here…” Lieze curled her fingers, “The peak of necromantic potential… power wielded only by the Order’s most capable, and there’s still no sign of my growth slowing down…”
More than anything else, she was interested in the [Gain Forbidden Knowledge] technique. Gathering together thralls totalling 1,000 levels would require some work. She would have to raise the entire city - or, what was left of it - to avoid sacrificing her entire army.
“What about the Wraith…?” She willed the scale’s power with her words, scanning the resultant message with an intrigued expression.
Ability - Necromantic Alchemy (Bind Wraith) Description - Spend 12 hours, 80% of your total MP, and 1 Gravewalker as sacrifice to bind a single Wraith to your service. From the moment of its creation, a bound Wraith will reduce your maximum MP by 20%. If your MP drops below 20% of its maximum value, the Wraith will become unbound and will act independently of your commands until this ability is used again, at which point it will be bound again.
“20%... that’s quite the price to pay.” Lieze thought “To think that father is still so powerful in spite of his contract with our Wraith…”
She had a sudden desire to see the Lich, and to witness the gap in their strength - a gap she would one day close.
“...Until then, there’s work to be done.” She dismissed the slew of notification with a thought, returning her gaze to the breezy interior of the arcade.
There was no better place to act as their stronghold within the northern district. It was defensible from 4 chokepoints, large enough to store an abundance of thralls, and unlike the hideout beyond the city perimeter, was rather comfortable. Drayya had suggested it, and Lieze had decided. Ropes of sinew and discarded flesh continued to stain the intersection where Furainé’s men had made their fatal mistake of encountering Lieze’s army, but the sounds of battle and deafening explosions had transformed into a much-needed silence.
“The west is our next objective…” She muttered, “Furainé may be out of the picture, but Marché was only able to repel a few expeditionary groups into the battlefield… there must be a few hundred soldiers left who are loyal to Alistair, and likely his most dependable.”
Her prediction was simple - Alistair wouldn’t put up much resistance if the cult decided to march on the western district. He would consolidate his power in the south, where the castle walls would serve as the final bulwark to Lieze’s domination of Tonberg.
“We still have the Dwarven blastpowder… the Wraith… the Briarknights…” She took a mental note of the army’s ranks, “And… the Mercuria.”
Her hand came into view - the hand which was not her own. A whirling mass of black tendrils incubating a mysteriously powerful substance. Furainé was incensed by Lieze’s knowledge of the Mercuria, as if she had inadvertently intruded on some grand scheme. Her theory that Alistair cared little for Tonberg was seeming more concrete by the day.
“I’d better see to Marché’s duties. No doubt he’s awaiting orders.” She sighed, “If I recall rightly, he mentioned something about picking up some supplies from Baccharum’s contacts…”
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The eastern gate was in about as much of an uproar as it could have been. Cultists yelled from the battlements - a mixture of fear and expectant glee, as Lieze rose through the gatehouse to see what all the fuss was about. Marché ran over to her from the far end of the wall clutching a telescope in his grasp.
“Lieze!” He was excited. Giddy, “You must see this!”
“Calm yourself…” She wasn’t sure how to react, “What is it? An attack?”
“...Of sorts, I suppose.” He replied, “-But not the kind we should be worried about! Just- take this and peer towards the horizon, where the highway runs south!”
Lieze felt a weight being attached to her heart. A grand and foreboding sensation - one she wasn’t certain whether to welcome or reject. Before Marché could thrust the telescope into her hands, she already had an inclination of what to expect from its crystal lens. She poked the contraption through a gap in the battlements, surprised to find her hands trembling as a clear picture formed in the distance.
“That’s…” She perceived countless shadows on the horizon. A swelling horde of scabbed flesh and jawless maws, as well as a few silhouettes which seemed to be lingering in the air.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Marché paused, “The Order.”
“Hm. Yes…” She hesitated before answering, “Yes… it is.”
All of them. The Deathguards - peers from an aching period of her life with Hede Graeme at the helm. Lüngen, the saviour of her youthful innocence, had most likely occupied the void created by Drayya’s absence. And most important of all…
“Ignas Sokalar…” Marché sighed, though it couldn’t be said whether it was a product of terror or admiration, “I can hardly believe it. They really are returning.”
Lieze felt conflicted. She had always expected her father’s return, but with their reunion imminent, she found herself unprepared to welcome him. The scale’s power had introduced her to a world where victory was determined by strategy and power, rather than the sly cunning of one who hid in the shadows to compensate for her lack of talent.
Under Sokalar’s command, however, she would be nothing but a tool to realise his ambitions. She had conquered half of Tonberg on her own merit, but that accomplishment was about to be shadowed by the leadership of her father.
Perhaps it was selfish of her to demand it, but the Gods hadn’t provided her with enough power to make up for her cursed childhood. She had grown beyond simply wanting to please Sokalar. She had been mesmerised by her own potential, desiring nothing less than the entire world in the palm of her hand. She had no intention of revoking her hard-earned status.
“Lieze?” Marché paused, “What should we do?”
The young man had become dependent on her wisdom. The shock of Alma’s death was a crucial intersection to his development as a necromancer, and the previous night’s siege had proven that he was willing to step beyond petty attachments to strive for something greater.
“...If they’re approaching from the east, then chances are they already know it’s safe. They might have sent a scout or two ahead to observe the city from afar.” Lieze said, “...We should prepare to greet them.”
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It would normally have been quite the task to pull Drayya away from her new plaything, but 1 stray mention of the Order threw her into a frenzy. While she and Marché scrambled to gather up the cultists, Lieze remained at the gates to await the Order’s arrival. A single necromancer broke off from the faraway horde to inspect the walls for soldiers, proving her hypothesis that the Order was already aware of the situation.
“Is that…” Lieze blinked.
The scout was more rotund than she was expecting - a great, portly man who broke every expectation of a necromancer, from his innocently small face to the quality of his garments. On the approach, his expression turned from curiosity to disbelief to poignant elation.
“By the star of calamity…” If he was wearing glasses at that moment, he would have adjusted them, “Young Lieze? I believe it not.”
Her gaze moved to the translucent box above his head.
Bardy Lüngen Level 32 Necromancer HP: 250 / 250 MP: 1,117 / 1,117 BODY - 7 / MIND - 22 / SOUL - 3
“Lüngen…” She sighed, “It’s been some time.”
“Time? Hah- time, she says…” He placed a hand to his stubble-studded double chin, “A month? No, not even that… and yet I could swear a decade has passed with how much you’ve changed.”
“I wouldn’t say I look much different from the day of the siege…” She muttered.
“Ah, but only a fool perceives the exterior.” Lüngen wagged his finger, “The Briar is positively crackling within you, my dear. Were it not for that head of snow-white hair, I would have thought you were young Drayya at a glance.”
“She’s gathering up the others at the moment.”
“Others?” He repeated, “You must explain. Igna- er, Master Sokalar was expecting the eastern gate to be crawling with soldiers, and yet all I can see is his own daughter idling by the torn portcullis as if she owns the city.”
“The district is ours.” She declared, “As is the north. Alistair’s soldiers gather in the south to prepare for a final defence, so we’ve been-”
“A-Alistair?” Lüngen blinked, “The King’s right-hand man? What of young Ricta?”
“It’s… it’s very complicated, Lüngen.” For the first time since her awakening in the city, Lieze lowered her guard. Lüngen had been her tutor from the day she spoke her first words, and a far more patient one than her father. To her allies - Marché, Drayya, and the cultists - she was temperamental and demanding, but there was no need to maintain that attitude with Lüngen.
“Yes… but the fact that you live, Lieze - I imagine that is the most complicated part.” He paused, “Ignas did not expect Drayya to accomplish much when she was sent to, in his own words, ‘destroy Tonberg from within’, but it seems the two of you have accomplished exactly what was prescribed. He, too, was certain of your death that day.”
“I also… thought that was the end of me.” Lieze admitted, “But I couldn’t have been more incorrect.”
Lüngen’s eyes became like saucers as she revealed the tangled, Briar-touched hand from beneath her robe. His reaction was similar to Furainé’s, albeit with the intensity of her disgust replaced by Lüngen’s sheer awe.
“Unbelievable…” His stubble crackled under the weight of his fingertips, “To be touched by the flesh of a God… this is more than mere necromancy. Even I’m not sure where to… Ignas will want to see this.”
Lieze cringed at the prospect of meeting with her father, “...Must we really?”
“Hah. At least that part of you hasn’t changed.” Lüngen smirked, “Come. He will tell me off otherwise, and the journey here has been long enough without his scolding. Who knows - he may even be pleased to see you.”
“I doubt that.” She replied.
“Hm. It is difficult to imagine him pleased with anything, isn’t it?” He admitted, “Well, he’s always been forgiving with you when I’m about, so let’s not worry about it.”