Steve and Ryland rode the caravan to the capital and nothing happened.
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“Kind of surprised we made it in one piece. Since we met up, it feels like there has been some incident every other day,” Steve said.
“Yeah, honestly since going ghost it’s been nonstop. Like The Will is constantly throwing in random drama to keep it exciting,” Ryland replied as he laid in the back of the wagon.
“True, at least it was quick. Could have been worse. There was one time a fellow traveler gave me his entire backstory, saying that he was someone important. I’ve never seen the man since; it was just one long interlude.
“Yeah, I’ve seen that before. You just want to get to the action, but some dude decides to go into excruciating detail about his time at the academy or some crazy event that happened at the farm. Like, can you just shut it and let me sleep. I don’t care.”
At least, that was one point the two agreed on. They had their own goals and were not here to help others. The dirt road shifted into paved cobblestone as the impressive city appeared on the horizon. It was an engineering masterpiece. Towering spires penetrated the sky, each casting deep shadows on the surrounding land. Visible streams of aether circled the structures, powering their inner magics.
Runic walls surrounded the cityscape. The stone structure formed an impasse for any approaching armies. Not only did they protect the city, but they also housed many citizens, each living in a carefully carved dwelling. For a discounted rent, they would infuse their mana into the walls, constantly reinforcing the ancient magics.
The closer they got, the busier the passage became. As others pressed against them, their caravan formed a single line. They had to make it in before nightfall, or the gates would close. It was more annoying than dangerous; bandits would never attack this close to the capital. Still, it took quite some time for them to reach the guardhouse.
It was standard procedure to check the wagons. Paperwork was exchanged, and passes were given. Steve's documents from his last visit expedited the process. With the bureaucrats satisfied, the group was waved in.
He missed that smell- the scent of progress–Grease, Sweat, and plenty of magic. Many gods blessed the city of Ambrosia. Each one vying for power at the capital, their priests performing miracles daily to sway others. Steve knew it was all for show. While the coven of necromancers kept to the undercity, the various cults, sects, and congregations were battling above. Leaders disappeared, and those in the king's ear were ousted. For all the hate [Necromancer]s got, at least they stayed in the shadows.
They continued onwards to the Rider’s Guild. It was only two streets down from the main entrance. Hopping off the wagon, Steve pricked his finger and signed the arrival paperwork. The blood anchored the magics to his soul, and the gold was deducted from his account. He’d forgotten how convenient city life was. A region-wide enchantment linking the banks to those within. He wasn’t sure how it worked, only that it took the goblins, gnomes, and dwarves nearly two years of negotiating before casting. Each of the three races held competing firms, constantly vying for the gold of others. Steve had chosen the goblins to handle his funds; they tended towards the shadier side of deals, keeping the money clean and their clients private. They open their ledgers only in times of great war or crimes against the realm.
“Damn, I miss this place,” Ryland said
Steve shook his head but didn’t respond. He didn’t want to look like a madman talking to the air. Grabbing the barrel, he strapped it to his back and began the long journey home. Those he passed gave him a dirty look, he didn’t blame them. Steve was covered in grime, and his clothes were torn from the journey. It didn’t help that he was walking into the better part of the city. Cobblestone smoothed into properly paved roads, carefully curated boulevards intermixed within the sidewalks, all while the rich folk passed by. In theory, all were equal under the king’s watch. But in practice, it was far from the truth.
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Steve stuck to the servant walkways. Bushes and other decorations partially obscured them to keep the poor out of sight. He could have moved towards the proper sidewalk, but that would only enrage the guards. He was a firm believer in only breaking one law at a time, and, well, carrying a zombie was enough to get him executed. Thankfully, the cult of Deas wasn’t out. No doubt they were harassing others, trying to find any inkling of dark magic.
“Steve, where are we going? Shouldn’t we be going to Dagger Alley or the pleasure district?”
“No. Our coven is far smarter than that.”
“Huh, interesting. Makes sense, didn’t think [Necromancer]s would mingle with the upper class.”
“Uhh, not exactly. Just wait a moment. I’ll explain once we are safe.”
“Sure, Steve.”
Steve was nearly exhausted when he finally reached the spire of healing. The pathway opened into a lush circle of life. Berry bushes were being picked by the poor, priests and [Doctor]s met those outside. They would treat as many as possible, but it was nigh impossible in a city of this size. Still, out of all the gods, Steve had to respect Aena. While all others fought for power and influence, the Goddess of Healing focused on life. Those who entered the spire were sworn to secrecy. Even under extreme torture, none confessed. Their Goddess removing all pain and suffering.
A visible wall of divine magic isolated the spire from the rest. Taking a breath, Steve stepped through. The lingering magics wiped away the pain and rejuvenated the muscles. With newfound strength, he crossed the blossoming field.
“Uhh Steve, Lil Ry is getting a bit antsy,” Ryland said
Sure enough, Steve could feel the creature shifting within. It was dangerous for the undead to be this close to a locus of life, which, like the warm sun, was the antithesis of their form.
“Steve…faster.” Ryland had a bit of panic in his voice.
“I’m trying, I can’t make it obvious.” He said.
Passing through the door, he was greeted by Roxy. She was a high-level [Secretary Nurse]; no one knew her skill set, but she could diagnose nearly any illness with a glance. Not only that, she was already planning doctor schedules before greeting the latest client. Her mind keeps the spire efficient and effective.
“Hey Roxy, uhh bad news. Uncle F was attacked in the woods and ended up passing from his injuries.” It was a stupid lie, but enough to get the point across.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I know the two of you were extremely close. Thank you for telling me; I’ll update his file now. Would you like to keep his room, or are you vacating?”
“I’ll keep it, thank you. Anything I can get you later?”
She smiled
“I could go for something sweet. We have a new plague that is hitting the outer villages; I’ll be working overtime as we try to stifle the spread.”
“I’ll be sure to have it delivered fresh.” Steve didn’t have to do anything, but it was best to keep the secretary happy. Roxy ran this place, and he’d do anything to keep her friendly.
“Steve, this is weird…this is a sanctified house of Aena. Why would you have a room here?”
“Ryland just wait; it’s better to see than explain.”
The ghost huffed and continued to follow.
The two descended the sprawling staircase into the structure's crypts. By the third floor, the air had shifted into something sinister. The life giving aura transformed into the same vibe as the cave.
“Steve this is getting weird…” Ryland muttered
“Just wait”
The stairs ended with a open pit. It was a large circle surrounded by a waist-high fence. Eighth hallways radiated outwards, each lined with dozens of doors. A bright blue glow filled the air as ghostfire flickered in the sconces. Ryland could feel a tug at his soul, something calling him forward. Glancing over the side, he stumbled back.
The pit was filled with the dead. Dozens upon dozens of corpses forming a macrebe pile. Some twitching and groaning as the pooled essence of death reaminated those below.
“Steve…What is that?”