Ellana was feeling nervous, disquiet, but most of all suspicious. Was this a greater tactical play? Was she missing something? It felt like a trap. Was she going to fail the Prince of Sands again? She chuckled slightly at the thought of the ironic title, perhaps that’s what led them here in the first place, what made them so many enemies. Should she have stopped it earlier? Could she have reigned her master in even if she wanted to? No, probably not, she’d been raised since childhood for obedience, and now, like it or not, they were here.

The city and surrounding towns had been as described in prior reporting, but this fortress was new. Had the empire staged a forward base? Had a mad warlord moved out here to hunt, what, birds? Was this just some new rising bird cult? She’d noticed it when she first began scouting the area, but shortly after she found it a gradually expanding ring of mists began to pour out of it. Had they been spotted? Was this some kind of defense or just a rude counter to espionage? The observational period stretched on, but there was no outward hostility, could they be an outcast from the empire which sought revenge and cooperation?

That wasn’t all that was odd, the place seemed populated with people wearing the cloaks of some local organization that liked mystique, regular hunting parties would battle with the birds, but after every battle just as many would emerge for the next fight. Well that much became clearer when she noticed the body parts being retrieved, they were using undeads, but why allow those birds down to battle them with the undead? Certainly it was good practice in controlling them, but it was also a terrible waste of manna, every animation could allow for less extreme training scenarios for decades, which suggested something else. While most mages chose to gather levels in towers through use of the continued flow of manna through their soul, there were still old school traditionalists who believed the only way to properly level was through war and slaughter, could this be what they were doing?

Subsequent observation showed the Cult of the Ancient Dungeon of Death meeting nearby, but strangely the necromancer in the fortress did not go out to participate. This was only further confounding, were there two death cults here now? The old one seemed plenty friendly with the local settlement, a boarder town of the empire regardless of how they protested being termed as such, old games the empire likes to play. On the other hand, why else would a combat purist of apparently substantial power and wealth move out here but to fight in wars?

Eventually the order came down for her to infiltrate the compound either to make contact or gather information. She had waited until they were fighting with another bird before slipping in under the cover of their own heavy fog with her spiritlight companion. The undeads fell easily, but she felt watched. Was it just her paranoia? The moment she saw three of the undeads, or perhaps cultists, converging on her position, she’d left.

Now, kneeling before the Prince of Sands himself, she hesitated. “Your highness, are you certain I should report before these faceless?”

Before he could even decide the flamelived hussy spoke out of turn, not that she’d expect any less given the predisposition of most heat brains. The crude woman wouldn’t know the first thing of decorum if it slapped her in the face. Elenna could admit her jealousy of the woman’s curvaceous body, but how she flaunted and used it left nothing but disgust. “Oh, the broken doll’s still got a chipped brain I see, how are we meant to work with a toy that stops to question every little task.”

Biting back a retort Ellana hesitantly adds “We are being watched.”

The holy wing however, Jace Kane if she recalled, dismissed her concern out of hand. “This forest is ancient and bloody, filled with life, filled with death, but no sentient being is present apart form us.”

The Prince of Sands gestured with his hand for her to continue, so with some hesitation Ellana reported the circumstances of her attempted infiltration, but when she reported her successful escape the scorpiod cut in “Useless, are all dolls so cowardly and incapable? Not only did you fail to infiltrate the forest or bring any new news, but you have the face to return with airs as if your information has any value.”

His words stung more than they should, but her face did not betray her, still and inanimate. He was right of course, but what could really be expected of a penal expedition into imperial lands? They were not staffed for a full campaign, not equipped for a true siege, and yet needed to leave the empire’s nose bloody by any means. The Prince of Sands had not pulled rank, knowing how quickly that would break the already fragile alliance between the four groups, but somehow that only infuriated her more, having to bow her head to the faceless and take their scorn in silence.

The prince is wrapped in a similar appearance of calm, as if considering the scorpiod’s words and giving them due weight he speaks. “We have two foes each with enough strength to require a full invasion if we hope to win. Fortunately we do not need a victory, just an accomplishment. If a new power is establishing itself here then it’d be adventitious to learn more before any true war if not there will be more uncontrollable factors. It might be that scouting alone will bring us merit. Considering that once either is attacked the other will be more guarded, it’s best that we make a single decisive strike. However if we were to attack one and be surprised by reinforcement by another this could go rather badly. Lets split into two, I and the flamelived will scout this new force, while the scorpiods and holy wings will attempt to ambush Ra-Lo while Ha-Na-Na is still still distracted. This way we can play to our strengths and with two shots at success. Even if one group is forced to retreat, we may still be able to go home.”

“No broken dolls ordering us around?” The scorpioid asked mockingly, clearly trying to get a rise out of the prince, but he simply shook his head. “Good, without you messing things up I might have a chance!” This had always been one of the biggest problems in the endless sands, every tribe thought themselves invincible, and that if the others just stopped holding them back that they could win every war alone. Most were wise enough to know it as bluster, but some were stupid enough to believe it wholeheartedly, charging to death alone. There was good reason Ellana couldn’t even be bothered to remember the scorpoiod’s name, as far as she could tell he was just another useless muscle brain. Scorpioids were often physically strong but rarely strategically wise, rather culture of bravery and bravado fitted well with the role most tribes tended to assign to them, vanguard, or at times, cannon fodder.

It didn’t take long to break camp and assemble, Elenna found herself running ahead of her group, guiding them through twisting trails woven over tangled roots and below verdant canopy. The ever present mist kissed her neck as she ran keeping her just shy of working up a sweat. In theory that crude woman would be scouting with her rather than trying to entice the prince, but Elenna knew it would only be wasted time. Moreover, the faceless, by and large, were incompetent by nature to put it bluntly. They simply hadn’t had enough time to train, their lifespans were too short, how could they take a century or two to learn things properly? The only good thing about the faceless were their abilities, but would she be honestly looking, or just complaining and insulting Elanna?

She let her irritation settle into an ironic smirk. Truly failure can only be delivered by one’s allies, not one’s enemies. She made a mental note not to let the other woman get in her way. Wouldn’t it be best if she could help the prince herself? Wouldn’t it be best if he praised her, if she once more had the opportunity to hear how irreplaceable and good she is? Her mood subtly lifted as her feet danced over a tangled web of tree roots as if they weren’t there. The strange haunting fog that plagues this area of the forest tangled with her hair. No wind kissed her skin leaving her feeling vaguely uncomfortable, that paired with tense cold tingle in the base of her spine, but the holy wing was right, the world is not peaceful and an abundance of death here or there is not abnormal.

Silently as a shadow she approached the first wall of fallen trees. The fools, there weren’t even guards standing atop the first row, they were so confident in these to block intruders, and yet… Walking towards the joining of two trees she slipped into the section where roots met branches in a tangled web of wood. Perhaps they were right to be confident, no normal person could enter through here, and yet Elenna’s hands flew, arms bent, body curled and flexed as she maneuvered acrobatically through the tangled mass of wood. She’d passed through here before, she already knew where to bend, where to jump or push off. This was what made the faceless inferrior, a century of contortion, five centuries of acrobatics, eight and a half centuries of learning to time her movements with the sway of the wind or the flickering of light and blend with the world, of learning to silence her movements and prevent from rustling or snapping little twigs.

The practically flew from the hole head first, quickly surveying her surroundings, ready to kill the first defender. She lost control of her momentum as the world spun. No, that was impossible, that shouldn’t happen. Reassessing she saw the world spin as the wooden wall she’d just passed through came into view. A dozen cloaked figures stood around her headless body, blood still streaming towards her out of her neck. Ahh, so that’s what happened. I died. The world went black.

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This is why the faceless were destined to forever be a servant race. They never died, they never got the chance to learn from their mistakes, to reflect and grow like Elenna was doing now. She had underestimated them, she figured they’d at most find the unanimated dead, maybe increase patrols, maybe not care. The primary advantage of necromancers after all was not having to care about every little corpse, but it seems that wasn’t the case. No, they knew where she entered, they knew how she entered. Time magic? No, unlikely, either a necromancer or a puppeteer, maybe they could speak with souls or remotely monitor through eh puppets? Carefully she elimonated the second option, none had seen her enter and she’d always killed them from behind, the cloaks would block their view of her even if their heads were screwed on backwards. That was troublesome to an extent, but ultimately futile.

Light returned to the world. Her stone face hung at the prince of sand’s hip like a decoration, the blue flames of the floating wisp of light that normally accompanied her. Through it she could again see the world. How long had passed? Cloaked figures littered the ground, maybe two dozen in total, it must not have been long.

The flamelived woman looked smugly, almost gloatingly at her stone face. No doubt she’d already been through a round of bragging about how she would have seen the ambush through the tree, how Elenna was foolish and useless for running ahead and getting herself killed. The tension built and then slowly released, that was the pettiness of mortals, and the true reason she had died. Nevertheless, Elenna knew in her heart the other woman also feared, who did not fear that which doesn’t fear timeless undying immortals at least a little bit? She should probably be happy that the woman was too wrapped up in petty thoughts and futile lusts to lose herself in fear and hatred as had happened many times in the past.

She was not without her own petty thoughts though, glancing at the accompanying men she noted that one of the flamelived had a limp arm and another a bad gash on one of his legs. Not enough to keep him off it, but her own people had only mere scratches by comparison. Alas she did not smirk back, her face remained expressionless but for the faint flickering of the wisp. They continued to advance, but apparently those dozens of corpses were not their main force, for up ahead a veritable army of cloaked figures emerged, ready to clash with our much smaller force. Were these true warriors instead of shambling corpses I might be worried, but instead she just watched idly, already knowing the victor.

Her idle eyes followed the flamelived woman and her suboptimally large ax. It wasn’t overbearingly so, but she should have picked something lighter and easier to maneuver, something that would have allowed her to react in time when, carried by the weight of her blow, she found herself unable to guard against another ax which embedded itself nicely into the back of her head. War was always such a bloody and gruesome affair, but Elenna almost wanted to smile seeing the woman she considered to be her killer this time meet the same end.

The skeleton that killed her seemed vaguely competent, even going on to kill one of her own before the prince of sands himself appeared behind it, slashing its skull with a dagger hilt and parrying an attack from behind him at the same time. The man fought like a machine, every movement times and calculated, every delayed or hasty step maneuvering him perfectly to meet his foes. Oh how she longed to have such skill, but she wasn’t envious, not really, just awed and appreciative. Such skill would come to her in time, and time they had plenty. In the end there were only four of them left, and of those the only flamelived was crippled, all but useless, but he could walk and the prince did not abandon him. Maybe his eyes would have some use.

Advancing she watched as they climbed over walls, expecting to take out the last few archers, but there were no archers. It looks like that last battle depleted their manpower. It was odd, proper necromancers often rely on preset commands animating more quantity in order to maximize their advantage, that was why there were often so many weak shambling masses lurking through preset paths, but these ones were readily redeployed and organized, almost like people. They could have been sentient, but sentient communities of undeads are less careless with their lives, and often more malicious and devious. No, these are likely controlled by a group of necromancers. If it’s a bunch of kids they can probably only control a few each and consider them and their placement more important. Rather this increase in leadership and ability to micromanage was an advantage that their leader was not letting go to waste, they’d likely regathered for a final defencive.

She watched her party slowly closing in on a fortified compound, but it too proved deserted. She weighed it carefully in her mind. Logically speaking, this defensive structure should have aided the defenders, allot more than the almost barren field in between tree walls upon which they’d fought. Sure archers had fired down from the sides, but could it compare to walls? No, she was underestimating her foes again, they’d noticed her skill and ability, they’d noticed the attackers were elites, fighting in a narrow space would have prevented them from using numbers and the chaos of a melee to kill as many as they did. Whomever was commanding them understood battle and adapted quickly to the unexpected. Entering the fortress they found tunnels, many many tunnels.

Thus they spent their day carefully, meticulously, combing through these tunnels so as not to let any escape, but it was all for naught. Whichever necromancers had occupied this place had long since fled, probably durring the main battle itself. The fortress was still filled with supplies. The tunnels in contrast were mostly empty, but with several defensive features. They were pointed the rong way though, as if the necromancers expected to be fighting mole men in the depths rather than the peoples of the sands above. Interesting, but not too useful.

“We’ve circled this place thrice, if they’re here there’s only one place left to look. Staring at the flamelived he pointed at the trash pit with clear intent. The flamelived looked closely at it recounting its contents. “The walls are stone, nicely squared off. There is a bunch of wood at the top, mixed in with the wood is torn clothing, broken tools, chipped bones, slag and other trash. At the bottom are corpses, bones, many bones, but nobody living. Some of them might be alive, but most carry neither the flame of life nor the colder flame of death.”

“No tunnels?”

“No tunnels.”

“No magic?”

“A little in the corpses but that’s it.”

She could see the prince weighing his options. There could be a lich in there,, but the odds were low, more likely it was some kind of hastily constructed trap meant to blow up in heir faces while the necromancer fled with his students. With only three able bodied combatants left, the prince shook his head and signaled for them to clear out. However, upon reaching the exit he spun and tossed three yellow stones which landed right into a crack in the trash pit tumbling deeper and deeper. The sounds of thunder and collapse followed us out. The prince had always been a cautious and thorough person.

[Todd pov]

They talked for quite a while there, but I mostly got the gist of it. These were sand people, the enemies of the empire, and what they were doing here was, well, politics. You see, when I’d heard that the empire acknowledged this city’s independent sovereignty I assumed that was fair and done, after all, in the modern age if someone didn’t want land and accepted a declaration of independence, then nobody would dispute it. Here however, it seems the sand people do not accept the city’s independence. Additionally, rather than claiming that they are part of the sand people’s lands, the sand people simply consider them part of the empire, an encroaching two faced part that wants to con them into accepting further militant encroachment towards their own lands. Thus this is considered a hostile act likely to spark another war with the empire. Yes, another, it sounds like there’s a whole bloody history to unpack there, but they’re not talking about it and this seems like an unwise time to strike up a conversation with them.

Soon enough they start advancing towards me, the girl is scouting up at the front. Well, don’t blame me for picking easy fruit, I gather several skeletons to prepare and they manage to decapitate her flawlessly. While we wait I also resurrect Brice with as many of his men as I can

Odd. Her death is vary weird. Looking closely I notice that she in fact has two soul cores. One in her body, and a second in that little wisp of light that follows her. Initially I had thought it was a cool magical equivalent of a futuristic treasure hunter light, but now that doesn’t seem to be the case. When she dies I watch the soul from her body pass into the wisp and the soul in the wisp shatter and be absorbed by my skeletons instead. Is this light some kind of one up mushroom? A second life? At the same time the stone face falls off her leaving a much more normal and somewhat boring face made of skin, bone, and flesh. Very weird.

I don’t have long to contemplate that however, as I siphoned off the extra bits of soul from the already level-capped undead I noticed something I probably should have been paying more attention to. This soul is big bigger than others I’ve eaten anyways, which I guess isn’t saying much seeing as she’s the first actual person, but-

[Congratulations on reaching level 9]

[Detecting strict control and management over your domain]

[You have gained the ability Rules]

The world went white.