Graeme was a man of many disciplines. He was a necromancer, naturally, but in contrast to his vile appearance, he was very much an appreciator of the arts besides that. The great epic of Dwarven mythology, the shamanistic vision-quests of the Elves - in knowledge, he was second only to the Order’s resident archivist.
Of course, not all knowledge was particularly graceful. His understanding of torture, for example, had laid the groundwork for Drayya’s masterful appreciation of the art as a young girl. One of his most sacred and pleasurable duties was quelling dissidence in the Order, whether treason or plain defamation towards its glorious leader.
“You have lived long enough to be acquainted with pain, Margoh.” With one bulging eye, Graeme admired the sheen of a well-kept scalpel, “Indeed, you would always pester me with questions whenever I was lucky enough to come into possession of a subject. I tutored you on the severing of nerves and the exquisite methods by which pain could be amplified to the nth degree.”
The girl didn’t answer. She could barely see a thing in the old sitting room. A pleasure, considering the repulsiveness of Graeme’s form.
“Do you think yourself invulnerable to pain?” He asked, “Let it be known that I am an expert on the subject of introducing agony. I have driven men to madness with my methods, coaxed others into suicide from sheer desire for release. Skin, muscles, organs - in this wonderful world of ours, sorcery ensures that absolutely no procedure is off-limits.”
“Are you trying to waste my time?”
Graeme’s hand tightened around the scalpel. To hear one so young speak with such confidence inspired within him a hatred that threatened to boil his blood. Drayya was forever a stubborn fool - such was the curse of her blood.
“Hurry up and begin your indulgent rituals.” She continued, “I have more pressing matters to consider. Sokalar only indulges your wickedness in order to-”
“Master Sokalar!” Graeme yelled, “This is the first time - the very first time you have ever addressed him without his proper title! Have the luxuries of this life-cursed city eroded away the discipline we have spent so many years branding onto your brain!?”
“Pathetic…” Drayya muttered, “All I’ve seen is what we’re capable of without having to drag our heels fulfilling the needs of one man. Suddenly, I’ve been granted all the independence I’ve ever wanted, free to scheme and plot against the holds of man without a worm-infested skeleton barking orders into my ear.”
She flinched as the scalpel landed between her fingers, sinking into the soft fabric of the armchair. Graeme was battling with a sudden need to end her life as quickly as possible.
“...This is about Lieze, isn’t it?” The girl’s name felt like poison in his mouth, “That girl is a tumour on Master Sokalar’s legacy. She’s nothing but a failed experiment, and yet you’ve placed so much faith in her that you aren’t willing to reveal the nature of her newfound strength?”
“She’s strong now.” Drayya admitted, “Maybe not as strong as me, but damn close, and she’s only going to get stronger as the days pass. In a year… no, not even that - more like in a few months, she’ll be on the same level as her father. Mark my words.”
“A babe born from an artificial womb, mothered by a corpse, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a Lich?” Graeme scoffed, “You delude yourself. Such is the skill of our master that he was able to identify this treachery within your soul by only a few passing comments. He is the man who will lead the Order to greatness.”
With surgical care, Graeme pressed the scalpel upon the back of Drayya’s hand and traced the valleys of her bones, veering dangerously close to piercing the skin.
“Perhaps I’ll begin by excising this liar’s flesh and grafting you with the rotting skin of a Gravewalker.” He threatened, “I would love to see your bravado melting away as infection takes hold and invades your bloodstream. Or perhaps I should feed you a meal of festering organ tissue and watch as you cough your own stomach up?”
“Whatever you’re going to do, make it quick.” Drayya turned her head, “-And if you want me to vomit, all you need to do is stay in the light for a few more minutes.”
“You’re right - I prefer the former.” Graeme flourished the scalpel, “Now, for the first incision-”
Light flooded in from the room’s entrance as the front door was kicked in. Graeme nearly tripped over himself in fright as two individuals wandered in from the hallway and interrupted his work.
“Wha- Lieze!?” His eyes darted to the side, “And you…”
“My - I’m surprised you remember my face.” Marché shrugged his shoulders, “Let it be known that I certainly won’t be forgetting yours anytime soon. I imagine it’ll be in my nightmares decades from now.”
“Barging in like that… don’t you two have any discretion?” Drayya complained, “How did you even find this place?”
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“It was a simple matter of asking about.” Lieze replied, “It’s rather helpful having so many friendly faces around, especially when none of them have any love for Graeme. They were more than happy to point us towards this house.”
“-And what exactly did the two of you hope to accomplish by turning up?” Graeme asked, “If you’d like to observe my artistry, then I’m flattered. But somehow I can’t imagine that being the case.”
“Oh, no.” Lieze shook her head, “I came to stop you. I’m in need of Drayya, you see, so I can’t allow any harm to come to her for the time being.”
“Isn’t that a shame?” He smirked, “I’m carrying out this punishment on Master Sokalar’s orders, so unless you wish to suffer the same fate, I suggest you leave this instant. Let nobody say I am an unreasonable man.”
“Mm… no.” Lieze said, “I’m not doing that.”
“You’re not-” The response sent Graeme reeling. Never in his life had a subordinate rejected his orders with so much nonchalance, “I see… yes. I see how it is.”
He hobbled over to the lit fireplace, retrieving from its flames a red-hot poker.
“This city… its foul touch of life has corrupted your morals with shameless confidence.” He muttered, “I’m sure this is only one symptom of a greater problem, but there does exist a cure.”
Marché reached for his dagger as Graeme thrusted the poker into Lieze’s face. She could feel the heat radiating from the latticed end on her nose, but she did not back away.
“If you still have an ounce of respect for our ways, then you would not hesitate to brand yourself as proof.” Graeme said, “If you can accomplish this single task, then all will be forgiven, and we can carry on as if nothing ever happened. I respect your new strength, Lieze - really, I do. But you must know your place if you wish to survive another day in the presence of our master.”
One second of pure silence passed.
“...I suppose you’re right.” Lieze replied, “The Order is about knowing one’s place… yes, that’s not a bad way of summarising it. The weak are taken advantage of, so that the strong may be free. In order to preserve the wickedness of our goals, there can’t be another way of living.”
“So you do understand.” Graeme grinned - a horrible, crooked expression that revealed the sickly and demented man beneath his subservient exterior, “I knew we could come to an agreement.”
Lieze lifted her God-touched arm and curled its fingers around the poker’s tip. The pain was excruciating, but she didn’t allow even a simple grunt to escape from her lips in passing. As she yanked the pole back, Graeme’s loose grip caused the poker to slip out of his hand. Lieze allowed the poker’s length to slide down two fingers before taking hold of the handle and flipping it around, pointing the burning end in Graeme’s direction.
“What-” Instinctively, he backed away from the tool like a beast witnessing fire for the first time, “What do you think you’re doing!?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Lieze tilted her head, “You said so yourself - power and fear is what controls people. Those who wish to gain an upper-hand on their rivals need to do so through vicious means. Humiliation, torture, assassination… for the sake of ‘freedom’, we necromancers are willing to discard our humanity. Naturally that goes for myself, as well.”
“You deluded fool!” He yelled, “If you so much as lay a finger on me, Master Sokalar will strip the muscle from your bones and hang your skins from a clothesline! He will reduce you to a foetid, still-living diorama of organs! He will salt your flesh and leave you to be consumed by pigeons!”
“Will he?” Lieze asked, “-Did my father complain when you murdered your way to the top of the Order? Did he punish you for poisoning his lieutenants or torturing his informants? Sokalar only cares for one thing: results. He expects you to punish Drayya for her insubordination. But what will happen if you fail in that endeavour?”
“W-What?”
“He gave you a direct order. What do you think his reaction will be when you return to him only to report that Drayya is unharmed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Graeme said, “You are the one who interrupted me! Do you think Master Sokalar won’t see reason!? This is more than simple insubordination - it’s treason! You are rebelling against your betters!”
“Treason?” Lieze raised an eyebrow, “Within the Order, there is no such thing. Beneath my father, there are only those who are ‘weak’ and those who are ‘strong’. He perceives little else, knowing that strength of character is the defining trait of a worthy necromancer. You already know this, Graeme, but you’ll say anything to weasel your way out of a punishment, won’t you?”
“You wish to challenge my authority?” He asked, genuinely surprised, “A worthless, good-for-nothing ingrate, speaking to me as if she wasn’t the most pitiful necromancer in the Order just one month ago!? Do not think for a second that your relation to Master Sokalar will spare you from my wrath, young Lieze. When your back is turned, I-”
His prattling was cut short by a bloodcurdling scream. With a single thrust, Lieze pierced the flesh of Graeme’s cheek and seared his gums with the poker. His defiant attitude melted away, replaced by an inconsolable fear as his human instincts forced him to commit every thought to the excruciating pain in his mouth.
Lieze didn’t waste the opportunity to press her advantage. As Graeme fell to his knees, she stepped forward and pushed the poker down his throat, prodding the tip against his dangling uvula. Like that, the two of them remained in stasis for a few agonising seconds, expectation lingering in the stale air.
“If I wanted to, I could easily kill you right now.” She said, “All it would take is one movement to sink this poker into your stomach, scarring and searing your oesophagus all the way down.”
Graeme dared not respond. With the deliberate care of a sword-swallower, he kept his body still to avoid burning his flesh. The gaping hole in his cheek exposed a line of disfigured, chipped pearls from which saliva leaked onto the wooden floor.
“I know you’re keen to move on from this slight altercation, so I’ll state my terms plainly.” Lieze continued, “From today onward, your so-called ‘authority’ is meaningless to me. I have my own business to address here in Tonberg, and I can’t waste my time proving my superiority to fools like yourself. If you try to harass me, attack me, even insult me - I’ll kill you. I will kill you so swiftly and inconsequentially that you won’t even be a footnote on the list of my achievements.”
With a terrible, ripping sound, the poker was retrieved from his mouth. Lieze tossed the slick-with-spit tool onto the ground as Graeme fell to the ground, clutching his cheek in agony.
“Hah…” Sighing, she turned her attention to Drayya, “Now that we’ve sorted things out, let’s get you out of that chair. We have a city to conquer.”