Romulus nearly sagged in relief when his experimental casting completed, staring down at the kneeling form of the freshly Wighted Rasmus Argent with a victorious smile. Even with Motarius explaining the process of Necromancy step by step, it had been inordinately difficult to actually implement the process in a successful way. He’d failed four times in row before he’d finally managed to properly tap into the Dark magic, and he’d very nearly killed himself in the process.
It had been worth it, though.
He could see a small ‘attachment’ next to the Duke generated by his HUD that signified he was a minion, represented by a skull with a chain around its forehead. Romulus had also received a new interface the moment he’d successfully summoned the duke, one which even now sat to the side of his HUD in a smaller window than the one it had initially appeared as.
He could look into it properly later.
For the immediate moment, he had other issues.
The wardens that the Duke had brought with him stood shellshocked, Isolde most of all. They were all looking from the Duke to the throne, as if their brains were still playing catch-up. Isolde herself was at her father’s side, shaking him as if she could rid him of what she might perceive as some sort of fugue.
Of course, that was assuming she had found a way to rationalize the fact her father had been carried into the air and torn into pieces by spectral hands of dark mana. That had been hard to accomplish, but Mortarius had agreed the theatrics were important. The others didn’t need to know how exhausted even that little use of the well had left Romulus. They needed to believe he was unassailable.
What better way to accomplish that than to target the person all of them subconsciously saw as invincible?
“The Duke has paid for his crimes against me.” Romulus said as he subtly shifted into a more authoritative posture, his fingers bridging together and elbows resting on his armrests. He waited for them all to look at him before continuing. “He came here with the intent to do far more than simply kill the Revenant-King. He intended on stealing that which is sacred to the goddess of Death, and in doing so, unwittingly unleash a cataclysm upon Eternus.”
“You’re lying!” Isolde shouted immediately, glaring up at him with pain, hatred, anger, and a mix of other emotions Romulus couldn’t even begin to decipher. “My father is a good man! An honourable man! He would never do what you—!”
“Your father is a liar, one who attempted to supplant the rightful ruler of this land.”
“He is the rightful ruler of this land!” Isolde spat. “As his father was, and his father, and—”
“A line of usurpation is poor evidence against usurpation, Isolde. Your family has been illegally squatting as the rulers of this territory for generations, on the orders of a King with no legal claim to anything upon this peninsula.”
“If you think we were going to recognise some dead thing as the rightful—!”
“The Revenant-King is not the one of whom I speak, though indeed Mortarius was the rightful ruler of these lands before I succeeded him. No, I speak of a higher power. One whose authority is not to be questioned.” Now for the hard part. Romulus had them. He could tell by the way that even Isolde hesitated, suspicion and rage warring with a hint of curiosity and dash of fear. He had to act quickly, before their distraction evaporated. He was in no condition to fight, and the Duke had been Wighted far below his original level.
“You have likely wondered how I came upon my new gifts. It was not without cost, but it is a cost I would pay again without hesitation.” He looked across them for emphasis as he spoke, ensuring he was calm. Controlled. They would let him finish. Rushing would only undermine his power over the situation, and make him look nervous. This was a sale, and these people were potential investors. He needed them to want to buy his product.
“The goddess of Darkness has returned to Eternus. After eons of imprisonment at the hands of her traitorous siblings, the Dark Lady once again exerts Her will over Eternus and all who dwell upon it. It is She that I serve, and it is She that I now call upon to confirm my status as Her Avatar on Eternus.”
This was the risky part. Mortarius had assured him it would work. It was part of the Avatar bargain that he could apparently invoke Lilith to ‘confirm his status’ once every day. It was supposedly something relatively simple, and protected under the clauses that also protected divine proxies from godly wrath. He only hoped the ancient King had not overestimated their goddess’ strength.
Relief filled him a second later as a System window appeared before him.
SYSTEM MESSAGE
At the request of the Avatar of Darkness, the Dark Lady does hereby confirm to all those present the glorious truth of his words.
Lilith, goddess of Darkness, Death, and Order has returned to Eternus and selected the Traveler, Romulus, as her Avatar of Darkness!
All hail the Dark Lady! All hail the new Revenant-King!
Tremble, mortals, before the incarnation of Death!
Romulus dismissed the prompt quickly, focusing more on the people before him. Almost as one, he saw the shoulders of the wardens slump as they read the System message. It was one thing to see Necromancy, but when the System told you something, even the most stubborn of souls had to accept it. As his eyes roamed over the collective, Romulus schooled himself to impassive superiority. He had to play this out to perfection to achieve his goals.
“I am prepared to make you all an offer.” He said into the defeated silence, carefully not watching Isolde as she clenched her fists, clearly reading and re-reading the System prompt in rage. “You are all loyal men and women, soldiers who gave your all for a cause that was tainted from the start. You now have a choice…”
Almost every head in the throne room shifted to him, watching Romulus cautiously.
“Your city has been graced by the Dark Lady’s glory. Solarius and his false faith can no more shelter you than the Duke could hope to stand against me. You have the choice, here and now, to decide your fate. In the days of old, the Dark Faith believed in merit over all else.” He waved a hand across them all, as if he held their lives in his palm. A careful balance of indifference and supremacy.
“Kneel, and swear yourselves to the Dark Lady. Offer genuine oaths of fealty to the goddess upon whose land you reside, and you and your loved ones will be given a place of safety in Her new Empire on Eternus. Give her your Faith, and in return I shall guarantee you and any that you know who swear to Lilith will see the dawn of Her dominion absent the fear of Her wrath.”
He could see many of them wavering, their eyes darting to the still-kneeling Duke.
Now for the hook.
“Alternatively…” He said more harshly, lifting a hand in signal and sending an unspoken command to his first and only Wight. Rasmus rose smoothly in response, turning to take up position before the throne with his blade in hand. “...you may choose to resist, if you believe yourself up to the challenge.”
That got them, and when the first knee hit the ground, the next followed in a wave.
By the end, only Isolde remained standing with her gaze locked on her father.
“You do not seem convinced, Isolde.” Romulus said more calmly than he felt. He hadn’t completed his sale, yet. Isolde could still turn it all on its head. “Or is it that you cannot accept your father was anything other than the man you thought he was?”
That seemed to draw her attention, and Isolde turned to him with red eyes. “You don’t know anything about my father!”
“Rasmus, tell her your plan. Offer no deception.”
“Yes, my liege.” The Wight responded coldly, turning his gaze to Isolde. “I intended to use the Traveler as a means to an end to claim the Liber Nox, the sacred book of the Dark Lady. My intention was to use it to resurrect my wife, with your body as the host for her spirit.”
Romulus’ eyes widened at the last sentence. That was unexpected.
And gross. Incredibly, incredibly gross.
Isolde stared at the Wight in silence. “You’re lying.”
“I cannot lie.” The Wight responded simply.
“You’re lying!” Isolde shouted again. “You’re… You’re bewitched! He’s making you say it!”
Romulus frowned at her words. Perhaps he had misjudged—
“Captain, he ain’t lying.” One of the Wardens said quietly, glancing at Romulus worriedly.
Romulus simply gestured for him to continue. He was interested.
“Yer father… He had strange books, Captain. I overheard him once, muttering to hisself in his study. Something about yer lady ma and that leaver knocks thing.”
“Harold…?” Isolde asked in a whisper.
“It’s true, Captain.” A female warden said, glancing at Harold and then back to Isolde. “I overhead some of the same, though it wasn’t as specific. He kept mumbling about ‘the book’ and how you were a ‘perfect host’. I thought he was talking about the banquets…”
“Not you too, Tricia. How many of you are under his spell?” Isolde demanded. “We be under no spell, Captain.” A second man said gruffly. “We be free of mind and spirit. This fella do be scarin’ the wits outta me, but I do be sensing no deceit in his words, and as you know, I do be havin’ some talent with Truthsayin’. He do be speakin’ true, Captain. All of it. Your father too, the bastard.”
“I…” Isolde seemed at a loss. Hearing it from the Wight that was or had been her father was one thing, but having it confirmed by the wardens — her wardens seemed to have breached her faith in a way nothing else had managed to.
Romulus watched as she stared at her father, her cheeks flushed with emotion. “Why?” She finally asked.
“Every time I looked at you, all I saw was your mother. When I discovered the texts speaking of the Liber Nox in our estate’s hidden library, I realised I could have her back. You looked sufficiently like her that it would be like having her again, but younger and fertile.” The Wight spoke coldly, as if it were reciting from a book. “I could always have another child. Preferably a son. Better you die so that she may live again.”
Curses rippled across the wardens, and several of them retched at the revelations.
Isolde stared at her father in a mix of horror, sadness, pain, and disgust — her cheeks stained by tears as she watched the caring, kind parent she had loved peeled away to reveal the horror beneath. The blonde choked back another sob, swallowing the emotion and visibly steeling herself.
“I renounce you.” She said hoarsely. “I renounce your name, your house, and my oaths.” She reached up and tore away her tabard, throwing it to the ground. Then for good measure, she spat on it. “Isolde Argent is dead.”
The sound of ripping fabric echoed around the throne room, and as if Isolde had been the final nail, the rest of the wardens threw down their tabards in kind — scattering the fabric across the throne room like unwanted garbage.
“There remains one matter to be resolved.” Romulus said in the same calm, imperious tone. “Isolde… will you bend the knee?”
Isolde turned to him as he spoke, and her jaw clenched when he posed his question.
Come on… Romulus pleaded within the confines of his mind. Take the nudge…
“I have one condition.” She said at last, her eyes moving to her father and then back to Romulus. “Release him. I never want to see him again. Release him, and if you will have me, I will serve you in his stead.”
“This is an opportunity.” Mortarius said suddenly from beside Romulus, fully aware only the Traveler could see him. “Isolde is clearly still held in high regard by the Duke’s former Wardens. I’d wager your Sanguine Mind had something to do with them swearing loyalty, but without Isolde they will waver as you execute the next phase. You need to bind her to you, but in such a way that she remains Isolde.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Romulus leaned back in his throne as if he were pondering Isolde’s offer, while subtly motioning Mortarius to continue.
“Give her the Blood Kiss. She will be Sired at a much lower level than her current one, but it will show them your power, and she seems the type to demonstrate an impressive level of loyalty in the right circumstance. Were our places reversed, I would have marked her as a potential Death Knight immediately.”
Romulus reached up to rub his mouth to cover his muttered words. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.” Mortarius said with regal confidence. “Trust me. She’s perfect.”
Romulus nodded and pushed himself up from the throne, taking Lightsbane in hand as he did. “Very well.” He said as if addressing Isolde, his armoured footsteps echoing throughout the chamber as he stepped forward. “I agree to your terms, Isolde, with an addendum… You will be the first to see the power of the Dark Lady, and accept Her gifts.”
Isolde froze, her eyes darting warily to the Wight that was her father in fear.
“No, not like that.” Romulus said with a hint of amusement. “Your heart will still beat, your lungs will still draw air, you will still retain life… But it shall be enhanced. You shall be the first of my—”
“Methuselah.” Mortarius supplied with a sigh.
“—Methuselah.” Romulus said smoothly as he descended the stairs from the dais. “I shall grant you the gift of eternal life, and you shall be the first elevated to position within the—”
“Midnight Aristocracy.” Mortarius called again with a hint of boredom.
“—Midnight Aristocracy.” Romulus finished as he halted before her. “Do you accept, Isolde?”
The blonde woman swallowed as she looked at him, looking at her father again. “Will I… Will I retain my soul?”
“Yes. Your mind, too. Methuselah are not slaves, they are simply empowered. I know you to be a woman of honour, Isolde. I would consider it a privilege for you to join my Court. I feel confident in trusting your intuition to guide you true, be it for my interests or against them.”
“Well, that’s asking for a knife in the back…” Mortarius said from above.
Romulus suppressed a snort. After all, the ancient King was technically correct.
Isolde hesitated for a long moment, and then released a shuddering sigh. “I can’t believe this. Yesterday I was content with my life. Everything seemed… good. Now not even a full day later, my father is a Wight and I am offering my fealty to the Revenant-King.”
“It could be worse.” Romulus said with a wry smile. “I could be a Paladin of Solarius.”
That earned a snort of laughter from at least a couple of the wardens, with the truthsayer cackling. “Aye, that do be true. Pretentious wankers.”
A more broad round of laughter accompanied the statement, and Romulus nodded to Isolde. “Kneel, Isolde. When we are done, I will dismiss your father’s soul.”
Isolde hesitated a final time, her eyes darting to her father searchingly. Then, after finding what she was looking for — or perhaps not finding it — she turned back to Romulus and knelt gracefully, her right knee to the ground and her left boot beside it. A knightly position.
Romulus drew a steadying breath as he looked down at her. “I, the Revenant-King, do hereby invoke the sacred rite of the Sanguine Kiss. I call upon the Dark Lady to stand witness and welcome a new acolyte into her embrace, that she may be judged and elevated if found worthy.”
The Liber Nox shifted suddenly at his words, unbinding itself from his hip and floating into the air. The covers snapped open, silver pages fluttering rapidly until they landed at the correct page. Romulus looked down at it, reading the instructions with an internal sigh of relief. He’d only known the first words, not the rest. After a moment he began to speak.
“To ascend, first you must die, for it is only in Death that you may truly understand the glory of defying it.”
Isolde stared at him in surprise, frowned, and then nodded while steeling herself.
“First, I shall bind us in blood.”
Romulus nodded to her in approval and lifted Lightsbane in his right hand, bringing it against the wrist of his left. Immediately, the armour protecting his flesh turned translucent and the runeblade drew a line against his skin, parting it like silk and allowing silver-streaked red blood to flow well over the wound. A flash in his HUD told him he had taken damage and was suffering a slight bleed, but Romulus ignored it.
Murmurs filled the throne room at Romulus’ actions, but he ignored those too.
When prompted by the book he stepped forward, offering his wrist to Isolde. The woman hesitated for a moment, glancing up at him in question. When he nodded to her and lightly wiggled the wrist, she closed her eyes, took a breath and brought her lips to his wrist.
The moment she did her eyes shot open and rolled upward, and she released a very uncharacteristic moan of delight. Romulus felt his cheeks warm at her reaction, and cleared his throat. He had noticed that the stages of the spell greyed out when completed, and when the section that read ‘offer blood from the wrist’ turned grey, he firmly withdrew his arm.
Isolde almost lunged after it as he did. Almost. She seemed to master herself just before she acted, and reached up to wipe her lips, her own cheeks turning red from embarrassment. He could relate. If his blood tasted anything remotely like Lilith’s, he couldn’t blame her.
Romulus looked at his wrist for a moment and, to his surprise, it stopped bleeding only a few seconds after Isolde released it. The skin even started to heal before his eyes, in tandem with his recovering health. That was useful. He suppressed a smile and turned back to the Liber Nox.
“With the Kiss complete, I commit you to the embrace of the Dark Lady for her judgement. To know death, you must first embrace death. Are you prepared?”
He stepped forward as he asked and looked down into her bright blue eyes.
Isolde’s expression firmed, and she nodded to him once.
“What does that mean?” One of the Wardens asked, a hint of fear in her voice.
“He’s the servant of Death, ya mook. Captain’s gotta die and come back, innit!”
Romulus looked from the woman to the man, and then nodded. The Wardens adopted grim looks at the confirmation, but seemed to take strength from Isolde’s own lack of concern, the blonde remaining ready and stoic before Romulus.
He turned back to Isolde, gave her a reassuring smile, took a small breath, and then slammed Lightsbane into her sternum.
As she gasped and staggered, he pulled Lightsbane from her chest and bent to catch Isolde as she dropped. Her body fell against him, already lifeless, and Romulus laid her gently upon the throne room floor as he kneeled down, placing her hands over her stomach and stepping back thereafter. He saw the Wardens visibly relax at the action, as if observing the care he took with her body alleviated any lingering doubts or concerns. They would, it seemed, let it play out.
After all, it wasn’t as if he could escape them if he’d deceived them.
Romulus had expected the process to take a while. Several minutes, at least.
Instead, Isolde’s body erupted into black flames moments after Romulus had settled in to wait. More cries of alarm echoed from the Wardens, but nobody made a move as the fire licked and burned across the blonde’s body and armour. She started to rise a moment later, pulled from the ground as if held up by a pair of hands, and slowly shifted to a standing position several inches above the ground.
As fast as they appeared, the flames vanished from across her body and Isolde dropped to her feet. When the flames vanished, Romulus was rendered speechless.
Isolde’s blonde hair had turned the same shade of silver as his own, and her already lovely features had been enhanced. Her face had become symmetrical, and her jaw and cheekbones sharper and more aquiline. Her nose had shortened, and her lips had become full with an alluring, natural pinkness to their hue. When she opened her eyes, a pair of silver-flecked red irises stared out at the world, her pupils having taken on an abyssal shade.
Her armour had changed as well. Where before it only hinted at what lay beneath, now her plate seemed to fit her like a second skin. The steel had been darkened to black, with silvery chainmail between the joints. The plate had been thinned and sat more snugly upon her, allowing the previous hint of her hourglass figure to now be properly demonstrated in spite of the smooth plane of her breastplate. Her armour had gained clawed extensions over her knuckles, and her plate boots ended in lethal talons.
The blade on her hip had changed as well, and be it his bond with Lightsbane or something related to his Avatar status; Romulus knew immediately she had been gifted with a Revenant Runeblade.
Finally, a crimson tabard had been draped over her chest and a roman-style petruges — a skirt of leather straps that shortened as they extended toward the sides — had been added to the bottom of her breastplate. When she reached up to throw back her hair, a long cloak of black fabric completed her new ensemble.
The Liber Nox slammed shut and returned to his side, chaining itself to his hip.
“Woah.” Romulus said into the silence that followed.
“The Dark Lady sends her regards, Revenant-King.” Isolde said with a smile, her voice more melodious and rich than before. It was a confident, powerful soprano. “She has also informed me that I am to be the first of Her Inquisitors, charged with ensuring the sanctity of Her Faith and the enforcement of Her Avatar’s will. This includes the enforcement of any and all laws within any lands you claim as your own.”
“I’ll be damned…” Mortarius said from above. “That is one hell of a first Siring.”
“I see.” Romulus said, momentarily too stunned to formulate an appropriately formal response. “I… I admit to being surprised. I didn’t expect… this.”
“The Dark Lady told me you might be.” Isolde smiled ruefully and turned to the watching wardens. “For those wondering: I am still who I was, just… better. I know many of you have doubts, but I spoke with the Dark Lady and She offered me no deception. The path ahead of us will be difficult and bloody. I know all of you will rise to the occasion, though. You have never failed me before.” She smiled ruefully. “Unless it means letting me win at King’s Fountain.”
Laughter followed from the group, and Romulus noted the straightening of several backs, along with nods exchanged by wardens. In some places he saw postures relax, as well. They clearly loved Isolde, and her reassurances appeared to dismiss many of their concerns.
“I told you.” Mortarius said smugly.
Romulus ignored him, turning back to Isolde as she looked at him and continued. “As for you, Revenant-King: She wished you to know that this drastic change is a consequence of the potency of Her blood within your system. Because you Sired me so soon after your own Ascension, I was able to benefit from the remnants of Her Essence. She does not wish you to expect this to happen each time.”
“Okay.” Romulus said as he gathered his wits. “That makes sense.”
Isolde bowed her head to him, and then looked at her father. “Now that we have concluded my fealty…”
Romulus glanced at the Wight, and then abruptly remembered what he’d said. “Right. Of course. You obviously upheld your end of the bargain, allow me to uphold mine.”
“Actually your majesty,” Isolde interjected, “I was hoping you would allow me to do it.”
Romulus blinked and Mortarius whistled.
“Are you sure, Captain?” One of the wardens asked. “He’s still yer father…”
“He wanted to possess my body and rape me in order to have my mother back.” Isolde said with an edge of steel to her voice. “I am positive, Lamonte.”
That silenced any further questions, and Romulus simply nodded. “Proceed as you wish, Isolde.”
The newly Sired Vampire moved immediately, her Revenant Runeblade drawn in one smooth motion. The blade was beautiful, a long bastard sword not unlike Lightsbane, though the blade held a silvery hue and was serrated on the left side near the base. The crossguard was also different. The ends of the T were marked by wicked spikes, and the centre of the crossguard differed even further with a small tiger’s skull as its centrepiece, matched by another on the other side. Both skulls had their jaws braced against the base of the blade proper.
“Tell me something, father.” Isolde said softly. “Did you ever love me for me?”
“You reminded me of what I had lost.” The Wight responded resolutely. “How could I ever truly love a pale imitation of my beloved?”
Isolde released a long, steadying breath. “Thank you.” She said simply.
Rasmus’ head hit the ground with a harsh thud a moment later, and his body collapsed lifelessly.
Isolde turned to Romulus when she was done. “Thank you, my King.”
“Did it help?” He asked carefully.
“It will. In time.” She responded simply. “But that is for later. I believe we have more work to do yet.”
“I take it the Dark Lady filled you in?”
“She did.” Isolde confirmed.
“You have no objections?” Romulus asked curiously.
“Before the Kiss, I might have.” She admitted. “Even now, it pains me to know what will happen… But I understand now why it’s necessary. The Dark Lady showed me so much. You need not worry about me, sire. I owe you a debt I can never repay for saving me from my father’s intended fate. I am yours to command now and forever.”
Romulus inclined his head in acceptance. He would take what was offered.
With that done the Revenant-King sheathed his runeblade as he turned away from Isolde, ascending the stairs to the throne once more. “Our work has only just begun.” He said when he reached the top, turning back to the wardens and Isolde. He suppressed a smile at the way many of them shifted their heads, clearly stealing glances at their improved, proudly standing Captain.
“I promised your families safety in return for your oaths. I will honour that vow. Now, however, we must proceed with the true purpose of my coming here.” He looked across them all, letting his eyes linger on each one. “Beneath this Necropolis lies an extremely powerful well of dark mana. It has been accumulating for over a thousand years, and with the Dark Lady’s blessing, I have been granted access to its depthless power.”
“You’re welcome.” Mortarius said sarcastically.
Romulus ignored him as he continued. “I am about to use that power in a ritual that will rebuild this city into its former glory, rouse its ruins from the earth, and offer every living soul for miles the chance to join the Dark Lady’s Faith. Those of you who have family or loved ones, give me their names. I will ensure they are exempted from the process, and spared the consequences of refusal…”
His words were met with cheers.
“...for now.” He finished harshly, cutting off the sound. “This is no small undertaking. I am the Avatar of Darkness. I am the living will of the goddess upon Eternus. All who wish to remain within my dominion must swear their loyalty and Faith to the Dark Lady. I will tolerate no exceptions, from the youngest child to the frailest elder. All will swear, or they will die.”
Silence met his words, and Romulus thought he could almost sense the fear. It was a strange feeling. It didn’t help that he felt like a stereotypical villain in what he was saying, but he also knew the importance of aftercare with a successful sale: He needed them to understand what it was they had bought. No returns policy, so to speak. It was the first time in his life he was thankful his parents had dragged him to so many thespian plays.
“Our great work is about to begin.” He said imperiously. “Let all who stand against the return of the Revenant-King pray to the Dark Lady for mercy…”
Romulus lifted his chin.
“...for they shall receive none from me!”
The silence was broken by Isolde, who dropped to a knee and saluted fist to heart.
“All hail the Revenant-King!” She shouted. “All hail the Avatar of the Dark Lady!”
The wardens stared for a moment, and then like a stack of falling dominos joined her.
“All hail the Revenant-King!” They shouted, some in fear, some with interest, and a small few with growing fervour. “All hail the Avatar of the Dark Lady!”
Romulus smiled. His prologue had ended.
It was finally time for his story to begin.