Lich King Araxesendenak sat within the confines of his force bubble and fumed. This was the second time. The second titan-blasted time that Tolliver had dropped a bloody great mountain on his head. That the mountain was partially comprised of his own fortress was only adding insult to injury.

Of course, he had prepared the force bubble spell–a high-tier ability that created an impenetrable bubble of pure magic around the caster that could withstand even the molten pressure of the world’s core if need be–for just such an emergency situation. And he’d had it set to trigger under just such a circumstance as this. After all, he couldn’t allow himself to be killed twice by the same happenstance. It was why he still carried a small vial of Miniature Giant Space Hamster repellant in his inner robe pocket.

That was a death he very specifically had no desire to repeat.

But nevertheless, he’d never actually expected to have to use the force bubble spell. Much less that he’d have to use it so soon after the last thrice-blasted time that the same septuple-blasted young human upstart had jolly well done the exact same thing to him. Perhaps the boy had some obscure class feature that gave him proficiency with large masses of immovable land as a secondary weapon?

{Araxesendenak} Cuthbert, have the hounds retrieved them yet?

What was worst was the bloody waiting. Regardless of how Tolliver made it seem commonplace, teleportation was not a common skill or ability, and even Araxesendenak did not have access to such a power outside of his own massively expensive and occasionally temperamental teleportation chamber. Which was down again, it seemed, and this time the gnomes couldn’t explain why. Something having to do with a fluctuation in some field somewhere. He only really understood a quarter of what the wretched creatures were saying at the best of times.

It was enough to drive a lich to night school, just so he could learn to converse with them in what was clearly their own native tongue.

So it wasn’t like he could just teleport out of this deuced rubble. He had to wait for his servants to shift enough earth for him to fly, climb, crawl, or hop out under his own power. And while he had skilled excavators and seismages on staff, it would still take them time to extricate him from the earthy embrace.

{Cuthbert} No my lord. According to our tracking crystals and the huntsmen themselves, Tolliver and his companions appear to have managed to go over the southern-most wall and have made their way into Phyrexes proper. The necrohounds and their handlers are currently circling to the nearest gate in order to resume the chase.

Araxes gave a dusty sigh. Well really. What was the bloody point of investing all that time and money and blood–though not as much of the latter as one might be tempted to think–into a nigh-impregnable wall around your palace if fugitives were just going to up and leap over it whenever they pleased?

Granted, it did wonders for one’s privacy when one was out walking one’s palace grounds. So perhaps not such a great waste of the aforementioned resources as all that. But still, one really did expect a wall to function both to keep unwanted interlopers out, while also keeping wanted interlopers in. He was going to have to sit down with his architectural team and see if they couldn’t come up with a solution. Possibly look more into that Invisible Wall idea Mortimer kept throwing out every decade or so.

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The lich king sat in the dark for a long moment, staring at something a thousand miles away. The damage to his Calcified Fortress would likely be negligible–aside from the dungeon area, of course. He had constructed it to withstand the strongest siege weapons this age had to offer. Even Tolliver, with all his capacity for surprising destruction, wouldn’t be able to make more than a dent in it–well, fair’s fair, a very large hole in it.

But it wasn’t about the fortress. Not directly. The boy had… foiled him. Not once, not even twice, but now three times. First when he’d dropped the original mountain of God’s Thumb on his head, then when he’d successfully defended his town from the might of Araxesendenak’s army’s and those mobs spawned by the Failstate. And now this.

It was untenable.

{Araxesendenak}: Cuthbert, Turn out the entirety of the city guard, Cuthbert. Mortals and undead legions alike. I want every street watched, every building cleared, every inch checked to ensure they do not escape again. And if they must be killed to keep them from escaping, then I will allow it.

{Cuthbert}: I thought you wished to keep Tolliver alive, my lord?

{Araxesendenak}: Oh, I do. But I am becoming less convinced that my want in this case is right and proper. The little prick is truly beginning to trod upon my nerves. To say nothing of his propensity for dropping bloody mountains on me. The first one I could forgive–

{Cuthbert}: I feel obliged to remind you my lord that one of the tasks you gave me was to point out when you were being dishonest with yourself in critical matters.

{Araxesendenak}: Oh very well, I would have torn his still-living heart from his chest and mounted on the lintel piece as warning to any others who might have had the bright idea and as a cunning conversation piece. But the fact remains, that would have been the end of it at one. But now he’s done it twice, and I am feeling markedly less charitable.

{Cuthbert}: Very good milord. I will alert the city watch. Shall I inform them of the reason?

{Araxesendenak}: You may say it is for treasonous actions against the crown. No need to give anyone who might be listening ideas about attempting to drop more regrettably-sized land masses on my head.

{Cuthbert}: It shall be done at once, milord.

And in the mean time, while he might not be able to go after them himself right this instance, he could at least track their movements somewhat. Had he access to his tools and treasury items, Araxesendenak could have divined their exact location and velocity. But he’d never saw the wisdom in investing too heavily of his own personal essence into divination magics. So after taking a token few skills that were pre-requisites for other more powerful and desirable magics, he had largely ignored that section of his skill tree.

He did, however, have those token few skills, one of which would allow him to discern not the location but the distance between himself and his target, as well as the direction in which they lay. He expended a handful of mana points now to cast the spell, and turned slowly in his force bubble until he was facing where Tolliver–and presumably the treacherous Giichi and the others as well–was located. Due east, and less than two miles away.

Araxesendenak tried not to grind his teeth together. So close. So close, and yet with tons and tons of rock between them. Nothing left except to be patient, wait for the spell to expire and for his minions to dig him out. Ten minutes, at the outside.

He could wait that long.

Afterwards, however, he was going to have to make sure to include a book or deck of cards or something insidThis was bloody boring.