Chapter Six - Elite Elders

Cinder made it quite clear to me that this wasn’t the Ashen Forest sect. Rather, the large pavilion we stopped before was the political seat of the sect. It was where the sect exerted its power over Shitake city, and from where it could deploy cultivators to aid and defend the city in case of trouble.

The sect itself was deeper within the forest, likely well hidden and shielded from prying eyes.

“So, are we meeting with anyone in particular here?” I asked.

“Yes yes yes,” Cinder said. “Believe it or not, I’m well-ranked within the sect. I’m not one of the elders, but... well, we have few elders, and few members near the higher ends of their cultivation journeys. The Ashen Forest sect is quite small to begin with, and few recruits even make it to the outer sect.”

“I see. And I presume that means that despite your relative youth, you’re well-regarded within the sect?”

“I am,” Cinder confirmed. “Unlike many sects, our command structure isn’t rigid. We do not kowtow to every elder and force outer disciples to kiss the shoes of core members. There’s no time for that.”

I nodded along. Uniformity and rigidity of that sort was often a consequence of having an organisation grow to the size where it became impossible to maintain personal connections with every member.

An army needed everyone to respect the ranks of those above them because at any moment that person might have to relay orders without those below coming to know them.

My undead armies had similar systems in place. Or perhaps the systems I had were even more rigid. After all, I couldn’t rely on the intelligence of the average undead fodder. They needed to be able to follow the precise orders of the command units seeded within the army without question or hesitation.

An organisation made up of strong-willed sentients would need a little more flexibility, but the same principles were in play.

Cinder continued, unaware of my thoughts. “Here, every member’s contribution matters, regardless of rank. We’re too few to do otherwise. But that also gives us a certain sense of unity and it makes us mighty. We can afford to put more effort into the education of each new member.”

That sounded very good. Something told me it wasn’t the full story, however. There was something else going on, and I didn’t want to be taken in by Cinder’s pretty words and bright, hopeful-sounding idealism.

I tried to keep myself constantly aware that I was not immune to propaganda.

We approached the entrance of the pavilion. Two guards, recognizing Cinder, nodded in respect and opened the doors for us. Alex would be staying with the carriage, and that meant someone was keeping an eye on Rem as well. The moment we were through, the administrators and city servants that had come out to greet us broke apart.

It was always amusing to see such pageantry fall apart the moment the one it was meant to impress was no longer on the scene.

The interior of the Ashen Pavillion radiated power. It wasn’t just the luxurious wooden pillars carved with small figures or the grand statues of cultivators meditating. There was magic in the air here. Faint but noticeable.

Unlike the servants and administrators that met us outside, within the pavilion those who had come to greet us were a much smaller, more elite group.

There were three of them, and all three were clearly cultivators. A young man, Cinder’s junior, was to the far left, then an older woman, her stooped back and the long white hair framing her masked face, as well as the carefully carved cane she was gripping to the only signs of her age. Finally, another man, this one around Cinder’s own age, at a guess. He was sitting upon a wheeled chair. It looked very much as though he had become one with the chair.

A device on the chair’s side, like a small bellow, was pumping air into a pair of tubes leading into the man’s mask. What I could see of his face was covered in scarring, and he seemed emaciated, but his eyes locked onto me with a ferocious intelligence and I chose not to under-estimate the young cultivator.

“Cinder,” the older woman said. “I have been worried. It gladdens me more than you could know to see you returned.”

“Hello, Elder Frost,” Cinder replied with a bow. “Brothers. Before anything, let me introduce a... companion I made along the way. This is Harold, the necromancer.”

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The elder’s eyes scanned over to me, and I could feel her assessing me with her gaze. “You’re not what you seem,” she said.

“Few things ever are, but in this case, you’re more right than you’d think,” I said.

“I don’t sense anything,” the younger man said. “A civilian, Sister Cinder?”

“If you feel more comfortable, you can remove your disguise,” Cinder said to me.

The suggestion was open, but it felt like she wanted to present me as I truly was. I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered by that or not, but I acquiesced nonetheless. My illusions flicked away, and I was once more, to all appearances, a proper gentleman lich.

The younger cultivator took a step back, then he pressed a hand over his mouth. “Sister! That is an undead! The very same the Imperial palace warned us about.”

“Did you spit blood, brother Char?” Cinder asked. “Have you been pushing yourself too hard again? Soot, you said you would watch over our brother.”

Soot, the young man in the wheelchair, raised his arms feebly. “I did. He insisted on moving faster than he ought, and I let him suffer from his own hubris a little. You know how Char can be.”

‘Yes yes yes, but I still worry,” Cinder said casually. The way she was speaking downplayed the moment quite a bit, turning it all into a simple conversation between close friends. It was well played, at least when it came to reassuring Char and the elder, who hadn’t taken her eyes off of me yet.

“Welcome, guest,” Elder Frost said. “It does these old bones good to see that the Ashen Forest is making friends still.”

“And these older bones are quite glad to be counted amongst your friends,” I replied.

The woman chuckled darkly. “Yes, I suppose I’ll have to get used to not being the eldest elder, hmm? Cinder, guest, should we retire to more comfortable rooms?”

“Of course, Elder Frost,” Cinder replied, “But first, a brief word, if I may?”

The older woman nodded, her piercing gaze never leaving my skeletal visage. Cinder stepped forward, her heels clicking against the ornate flooring. “While Harold is indeed the undead the Imperial palace warned about, he is not our enemy. In our journey together, he has been nothing but kind and polite. And he has expressed interest in understanding our sect and potentially forming an alliance. I believe he can be a valuable ally, given the looming threats we face.”

Char, still visibly shaken, hesitated before speaking. “But, Sister Cinder, allying ourselves with someone the Imperial palace warns about? That is... it's risky.”

Soot, still sharp and assessing, was the first to respond. “Everything in life is a risk, Brother Char. Sometimes, to gain new strengths and insights, we must be willing to step out of our comfort zone. Let’s hear him and Sister Cinder out.”

Elder Frost finally broke her gaze from me and turned to Cinder. They stared at each other for a moment, and I felt like I was missing an entire conversation given in twitches and glances. Finally, she nodded. “Let’s retire to my chambers. The view is much nicer, and I can have warm tea brought up. Hmm, fine guest, I’m unfamiliar with your dietary needs?” she asked the last casually, while walking towards the far end of the room already. Her cane echoed the faint shuffling of her feet.

“Mostly nothing,” I replied truthfully.

The steps at the rear of the pavilion were navigated with grace and aplomb. There were little tracks built into the staircase and Soot locked his chair into them before rolling his way up, something which no doubt would require enormous strength to manage.

“We’ve been looking into purchasing a flying sword for brother Soot for years now,” Cinder admitted to me as we walked.

“That would be quite clever. Those are expensive, I take it?”

“Very very very much so, yes.”

Finally, we arrived at the topmost floor of the pavilion and entered a room surrounded by windows overlooking Shitake and its surroundings. There were cushions strewn about and a few small cases of unknown purpose.

The elder sat upon one of the cushions facing me, then laid her cane across her lap. “Now,” she began. “Tell us, Harold the Necromancer, what brings you to our sect?”

I took a deep yet unnecessary breath. “I’m here because Cinder was quite polite. But truthfully, I intend to retake something of mine, and I suppose some company along the way wouldn’t be amiss.”

***