Ashera Thorne spoke little, governing her domain from a sculptor’s workshop. Marble and sandstone busts surrounded her, a silent quorum of ageless observers. An unpleasant place to work in. But everyday new bodies were brought before her, to be raised. Through her brutalist methods she manufactured undead. Never smiling, never frowning, but always working. Liam would check on her via a portal before he slept and when he awoke, each time finding Ashera Thorne working. As a surgeon-in-waiting he appreciated her expertise. Broken bones were internally splinted, or replaced with metal rods. Crude treatments that would poison living flesh yet seemed only to strengthen the undead. Incisions were stitched shut by one of two women who worked alongside Ashera, seamstresses by their skill with threads and needles. Burnt or missing flesh was replaced with clay or terracotta, and then a crystal was implanted into the head or chest whichever body part was most easily accessed –A synthetic limb was often a better host for the core than trying to open an intact ribcage or skull– then the crystal served as a locus of mana, collecting power and regulating it so the animated dead could self repair and remain motile.
To Liam, the very concept of undeath sickened him. To the paladins, not even the Lord of Death, Hades would reanimate corpses. It was a taboo they hadn’t believed could truly occur. Yes, there were legends of draugr and vampir, but none of the church’s warriors truly believed in such creatures. Which kept them far away from the dead. An aversion made possible by the understanding innkeepers. Who seemed to not entirely trust Ashera. Despite complying with her every order. For she had returned their son to them. A facsimile that protected the inn and kept them safe, as well as his wife and daughter. Just as he had protected them in life.
“It aint right my lord. Dead men walking. We should burn the abominations. Then maybe raise the town.” Muttered Owen, earning an emphatic nod from Velena.
“Finally talking sense! Just say the words and I'll hit the queen demon’s workshop.” She said.
“I gave an order. Do not make me repeat myself.”
Owen looked like someone had pissed in his beer. Then took a swig anyways.
“Ah, yessir.”
Liam sighed, “You know I see things differently from you. But let me demonstrate how. Ashera Thorne is not of this world, whatever magic she is working would rival Taloc’s own power. In many ways, it exceeds his control over life and death. But! And this is very important. She isn’t manipulating their souls at all. Those crystals she is implanting collect ambient mana, similar to your armor. These undead may act like the people they were, but they are more like robots.” Said Liam.
“What’s a row–boato?” Asked Velena, brow furrowed as she tried to pronounce the english word.
Ah, feck… These guys don’t understand anything concerning technology. Joy.
“Uhm, mindless automatons. Think of them almost like an intelligent plant. It knows to absorb water, it knows to reach for the sun. But it feels no pain when cut, nor sympathy when its neighbor is reaped. And I suspect the crystals have a finite lifetime.”
“Aye my’lord, Lady Thorne promised us they did. Tis why we agreed to letting her work.” Said the innkeeper, passing out another round of beers to the paladins.
He was a well meaning man, gray haired, with a white beard kept neat via short braids. Not long enough for someone to grab in a barfight, yet very distinct.
“Oh? Is the Lady not a local?” Asked Owen.
“Bloody heaven! No! She was thrown out of a portal. In a sorry state too,” Said the innkeep, shaking his head as if the memory alone was evil. “She came through during a wave, two dozen portals opened, fire dogs, green giants, lizards bigger than my house, all sorts of nasty.” He shuddered. “She killed them all in the blink of an eye. Then interrogated the mayor. Nearly leveled the whole town, but that silver eye of hers can see any lie, even a half truth or vague deception! Thank Taloc for that. She put the town together, and said the undead would work for a decade then retire the most damaged. Set up a whole timetable for them to be retired.”
“Ah, she means to lessen the loss, not remove it entirely.” Said Liam.
“It’s disgusting.” Said Velena.
“We all do foolish things when mourning Velena. This is an emergency. You can raise the dead and live, or die. I consider it no different than the siege of ancient Vere, when Taloc permitted his warriors to eat the flesh of the dead to survive. Deplorable, disgusting, and exactly what it took to win. Leave Ashera Thorne and her undead be. I have spoken.” Said Liam, dismissing himself from the inn.
He wandered the town, taking in the undead works. They were a boon beyond measure, a shield to protect, a spear to slay, and a hammer to rebuild, working ceaselessly. Just like Ashera Thorne. Even when Liam had crafted a quartz watchtower, Ashera hadn’t left the workshop. Nor did she halt her work to eat or sleep, sculpting throughout the night. Completely ignorant of the spectacle in her window. The tower stood a grand one hundred feet tall, truly colossal given the surrounding medieval construction methods. With houses not even a third as tall surrounding its base. But Liam didn’t stop there, he worked the paladins, lending his own strength as they paved the town and raised two concentric walls around the city. The inner, and taller, wall was wide enough for guards to patrol its crown, protected by crenelations. While the outer wall was thinner and comprised of dark citrine, a yellow orange haze that was transparent enough to see through, yet dark enough to conceal details. Exactly what the town guard needed to protect several acres of farmland. Not enough to feed the town entirely, but more than enough to stretch supplies from one year into three. An anti-siege tactic that Liam hoped would prove effective.
—
“My lord, your powers grow beyond what I can fathom, how is it that your power has so swiftly exceeded my own? I remember the day, at your mother’s funeral –may she rest in peace– when you first learned of earth magic.” Said Owen, marveling at the latest gatehouse.
Liam touched the gates, channeling more mana into them. The towers on either side of the gatehouse grew taller, sprouting quartz roofs before swelling sideways. Top floors expanding over the tower proper so Liam could carve murderholes into the floor. Then create rhomboid plugs that would sit in the murderholes when they went unused. Ones with stone handles for humans to lift them by. Zahrat al-Fayhaa had gone from a farming town, to a fortress in a few short days. Now she was an impregnable bastion of strength, one that would guard humanity’s access to Khereshetal. And as a future crossroads for gorgons.
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“Ah, there is more to magic than just the spells and levels Owen. Ashera uses our mana, but wields an entirely foreign power…” Liam’s voice trailed off, lost in thought.
Owen leaned towards Liam, whispering his question.
“Ashera said you weren’t from this world. What did she mean lord?”
“Oh, nothing important.” Said Liam, glancing around and finding only Karnak to be present. “Actually… Owen, you’ve served me faithfully, and this will eventually become known, so I have no fear you’ll abuse this knowledge. But… It’s complicated, and not for common folk. My soul, or my intelligence, my personality I guess… Taloc doesn’t make that bit of us. And mine, isn’t- well. I existed before he grabbed it. I’ve lived two full lives, and a third via memories. The skills I acquired in those lives enabled me to wield these powers.”
“So you’re a grown man in a child’s body?” Owen’s brow suddenly furrowed deeply, “You must have been aware when your mother nurtured you.”
It was a statement, one said without emotion. Yet it was a dire condemnation.
“Dude, what the fuck. Don’t remind me! Look, you did it when you were a kid! It was like taking a shit, unpleasant, stinky, and entirely required. Besides! Look at me now!” Said Liam, flexing both of his substantial biceps. “Sucking on my mother’s teet was enough motivation to accelerate my growth. Get onto solid foods.”
A chuckle escaped Owen’s clenched teeth.
“Judge a man by how he responds to evil, and not by the evil done to him.” Recited Owen, quoting a passage from the Teutonic Codex.
“Ha, that’s, yeah, exactly it. Oh, that reminds me, how are the paladins leveling?”
“All battlemages have reached the pinnacle, as have all but three of our earth paladins. We’ve begun using our breastplates to empower each other, though the conversion comes with a severe loss in mana transfer. Lord, truly, you work magic like no other. It troubles me that we’ve become so dependant on your stewardship, so we’ve been trying to pick up our own pace. Its enough that the water magi are leveling nicely, and we’re able to begin ‘powerleveling’ our light affinities. You’ve turned a backwater diocese into a rival for the royal magicians. My lord, I cannot thank you enough.”
Liam patted his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, I’m only preparing you for the challenges ahead. When we reach Greenwood you’ll need to powerlevel every felinid you can, and build fortresses to put these quartz walls to shame. Oh, and powerlevel Soren’s magicians.” Said Liam, inspecting the defenses of Zahrat al-Fayhaa one more time.
He wanted any untrained militia to be able to hold these walls against orcs, or hellhounds, or even hydras.
If the portals have spread this far south, then no one is safe. Casualties will be worse than the black plague even if we fortify these towns. That plague only killed a third of Europe. Ah, Greenwood lost half its towns and some obscene number of citizens, at least three fourths of our people died… How many people are left? Duke Kheresh said Sintra and Greenhaven were still in the fight, but at what cost? Are Jenkins and Arlet still alive? Thought Liam.
“Truly, you’ve granted us divine revelation. Your name will go down in history as the Saint of Powerleveling. The one who granted humanity strength. Empowering not just us, but Taloc. As we are his servants.” Said Owen.
He pondered the comment for a moment, made deeply uncomfortable by the mention of sainthood. “No. I would rather not be immortalized as a saint. Not when history is such a fickle thing. You would erect statues to commemorate my gift of knowledge, only for them to be torn down by a generation who came into power because of that knowledge, and curse me for existing.”
“I see Taloc’s purpose in re-using your soul. You have a wisdom beyond your years, will you teach us more than the secret to levels?” Asked Owen.
“Teach? Uhm…” Liam choked on the request. Could he even remember half of what his teachers had presented to him? Probably, but certainly not their entire lessons. His information would be rote, boring, and missing steps because he couldn’t google the relevant studies.
“I cannot teach on the road, and will need time to collect my thoughts then split them up into lessons.”
If I had a thousand years I might be able to rebuild my knowledge from the modern era…
Liam touched his ears,elves lived for a long time, and even a half elf would probably live for several hundred years.
What should I do after we reach Greenwood? Start a school? No, one wouldn’t be enough, maybe three schools, one of mechanical engineering, one for philosophy both political and metaphysical, and one for magic. If they all collaborated we could modernize this world. Turn Greenwood into an industrial paradise. Or at least bring it into the 18th century.
Once he defended the city, then he could worry about upgrading their metallurgy and sanitation. Magic could replace heavy industry; or at least build the first machines. After all, making a hammer from scratch was incredibly difficult, what with refining the metal into a block then using rocks to pound it flat and somehow forming the hole for the shaft. But once you had your first hammer, making the second was an afternoon picnic.
Indoor plumbing first, flushing toilets, then we can worry about guns and cars. Thought Liam, signaling for the caravan to depart Ashera Thorne’s territory.
I’m coming Nyota, please be the woman I left behind.
—
Taloc inhaled deeply, sensing the foundation of his world disintegrating. Pandora had succeeded in her aim, shredding the veil that separated worlds.
“You dumb bitch, we agreed to shut the veil for a reason. No race is ready for mana to rain from the skies! Not even you stupid demons can survive mana saturation on that level.” Muttered Taloc.
The changing circumstances forced his hand. He wrapped a chain around his forearm, working the bonds until the metal began to screech under the strain.
“I’m coming home Lumiko. Centuries early, but Miko always preferred when I was home.” Muttered Therun Perun Taloc, heaving with all his might. The cracked chain that had imprisoned him for thousands of years finally snapped.
Golden light showered across the console, the tool of flashing lights that was required to rework the felinids. It was so close, and yet, totally out of reach. For a dozen other chains restrained Taloc.
But one hand was free, and with it, came a hundredth of his power.
“Ha, ha, ha haHaHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Cackled the Lightning God.
He extended his hand, aiming for the one woman who had made his daughter’s life a living hell above all others, and sent a bolt of Lightning that would have made Zeus turgid.
The bolt passed through the ship’s floor, flying across the world to Lucrezia Blackwood. Its force was so great, so unbridled that the whore once known as Lady Lucrezia Blackwood, vaporized, along with a dozen noble ladies who’d been sharing tea and crumpets with her.
“Oh yeah, look out bitches, cause I’m back!” Shouted Taloc, laughing like a madman as he sent eight messages to his faithful.
‘Thaddeus’ the time for you to rise has come.’
‘Renosipe, move the college and her magi to Greenwood.’
‘Matimeo, Niana carries a sword that does not belong to her show it to the desert flower.’
‘Soren, start gathering energy to send Dead Ashera Thorne home. It’ll take a portal as great as Pandora’s.’
‘Quetzalcoatl, we are one step closer. Once the Lightning Daughter is safe, Aid Francois in the city of liars.’
‘Francois, beneath Aldric’s castle is an arcane circle. Find it, then find a way to dismantle it’.
He sent 2 additional messages, speaking of oaths he had not forgotten.