The barracks were awfully far from the administrative buildings. This fact wasn’t overlooked by Linnik, who was panting by the time he reached the headquarters for the city guard. He was looking for the on-call adventuring team stationed there, who were the only realistic options to call on for these types of situations.

If he was lucky, they’d be able to assemble and go right away after the Lithauri for an investigation. But with the recent monsterfolk raid, the team would probably be off assisting with the cleanup. Linnik cursed internally when he realized that this might’ve been a stupid move. He should’ve taken his time and found out exactly where the adventurers were instead of rushing out of his office like some green-behind-the-ears messenger. He was a [Quartermaster], after all, so finding out their assignments wouldn’t have been hard.

But it was too late to run back now. Linnik didn’t think he’d even be able to. He reached a medium-sized building in the barracks complex and straightened himself out, trying to appear as if he hadn’t frantically sprinted over, much to the amusement of the soldiers stationed outside. One of them stepped forward, easily shouldering his spear, and called out, “What business do you have running here?”

Amid the faint chuckles of the other soldiers at his wording, Linnik pulled out a silver monocle inlaid with dark metal and fitted it over the right side of his face. It expanded to cover his eye and the inlay glowed with dull light, filling the edges of his vision with tiny runic characters. It was an artifact, of course, and one that was given to Linnik when he ascended to the position of seneschal.

It was also an unmistakable mark of office. Linnik’s comfortable, nondescript clothes didn’t say much about himself, but the Scient Lense told the soldiers that they were dealing with someone who was very, very far above them in the hierarchy. The soldier who had stepped forward immediately paled while the other guards snapped to attention.

“I’m sorry, sir, nothing was sent in advance! We’ll let you in right away.”

Linnik gave him a nod and entered the building. The monocle had displayed the names and ranks of the soldiers at the door in his field of vision, but he dismissed the glowing text with a few practiced movements of the eye. There were only a few people inside, most of them logistics staff who gave him a wide berth after seeing the silver covering half of his face. Linnik ignored their behavior and headed straight to a lone man sitting at a low table who was carefully applying something to a sword.

As he approached, the monocle lit up and spat out a frenzy of information. Linnik saw that the man was Brent Jerdam, thirty-eight years old, and a leader of a silver-rank adventuring team, the Crashing Hawks. He was a level twenty-five [Warrior]—a generic class, but perfectly respectable. The monocle couldn’t discern Brent’s traits or abilities, although getting accurate readings was a stretch, even for a powerful artifact.

Brent spoke up when Linnik got within a few paces. “I’m almost done with the runes. Give me a moment.”

Linnik respectfully held his distance and waited until Brent set down a slim metal rod and wrapped his sword in a cloth. Brent turned around and stood up, stretching. His eyes locked onto the silver monocle and briefly widened, but he hid his surprise well and held out a hand.

“I’m Brent Jerdam, sir. Adventurer and leader of the Crashing Hawks. How can I help you?”

Linnik was pleasantly surprised by the man’s tone. Brent wasn’t serving in Drastum’s military in any official capacity, being a separate contracted asset, and so he had no reason to acknowledge Linnik’s authority until it came to an assignment. That the man was showing some respect was more than he expected from a freelance adventurer. Linnik moved to shake Brent’s hand, feeling the firm and calloused grip contrasting sharply with his own smooth skin.

“It’s good to meet you, adventurer Jerdam. I’m Linnik Soens, Drastum seneschal. There’s an urgent assignment that I need the on-call adventurer team for.”

Brent raised his eyebrows when Linnik mentioned his rank. “Must be important for you to come all the way here, sir. What are the details?”

Linnik waved his hand. “Don’t bother with the ‘sir’. I have a Gray request for investigation and possible retrieval of… one of theirs.”

Brent eyed the seneschal. “The Necron—yeah, the Grays. The, uh, death magic people, right?”

“Yes. The target is somebody named Anthony Crishaw. [Necromancer]. You know how it is. He went off on a jaunt to the Kriloris dungeon and was due to return a while ago,” Linnik explained. He executed a complicated series of commands using his right eye and activated another feature of his monocle, which projected a ghostly image of Anthony onto the table. “Obviously, he hasn’t come back and the Gray got worried. It’s very likely that this has something to do with the recent Lithauri raiders.”

Brent examined the projection, taking in the displayed information. “Damn. Twenty-five years old and nearly twenty levels in both [Necromancer] and [Mage]. Must be some guy. How are the lizards involved?”

“We assume Mr. Crishaw took the most direct path to the dungeon, which cuts very close to a section of the Crags. Much of this route coincides with the path that the Lithauri raiders were tracked to take, with several areas being likely points of interception.” Linnik created a new projection, this time a map of the mazelike underground passages on the Southeastern side of the city border, and highlighted several spots with glowing circles. He was secretly proud of himself for learning these functions, as small as they were; most people would never reach this level of competency with an artifact. They were quite useful in explanations.

“As you can see here, there are several sections of tunnel—we’re looking at the ones wide enough for the raiders to pass through—where Anthony could have come across the monsterfolk. Another spot is a perimeter outpost which was overrun by the raiders. I need your team to investigate these parts and track down the Lithauri. If you can find their camp, that’s all the better.”

Brent rubbed his chin. “The investigation and tracking isn’t too bad of an assignment. I’m guessing that you want me to rescue this Anthony fellow? A snatch-and-grab is going to be a lot harder, especially if it means going right into a monsterfolk camp. You do know that operations like this aren’t simple, or cheap, right?”

Linnik appreciated the man’s straightforwardness. “You’ve got it mostly down. You’re also tasked with rescuing whatever captives the Lithauri took, although that’s a secondary objective. You’ll be reimbursed for equipment you use in full by the Gray, and you also get the standard bonus from your contract for an extended operation. I’ll give you all the information we know about the Lithauri.”

Brent narrowed his eyes and gave Linnik a sideways look. “Still, you’re asking for a lot. Are you really sure we need to get involved with this? We’re jumping at conclusions here.”

“My hands are tied. The Gray has too much influence to be ignored. Remember, Paragon Fallow’s one of them. This isn’t a request I can exactly say ‘no’ to.”

“So that’s how it is. Orders from necromancers. Those freaks wouldn’t last a day in a city on the surface,” Brent muttered. “They’re just monsters, playing with the undead, y'know? Can’t trust death magic.”

Linnik blinked, but schooled his face into a neutral mask. “I understand what you’re saying, but the Magisterium plays differently here. We’re underground, and that involves a whole new mindset. They’re our allies. Besides, the city heavily monitors necromancy. We don’t have to fear them.”

Brent muttered something unflattering about the Magisterium, which Linnik ignored, and heaved a sigh. “Fine. Whatever. Tell me more about the Lithauri. Don’t they eat people? How are we sure this Anthony guy wasn’t turned into lunch?”

“Well, the Lithauri are monsterfolk. They need mana to function at a higher level. Without a constant supply, they turn into real monsters,” Linnik said, pulling up a projection of a Lithauri warrior. He furrowed his brows. “Shouldn’t you know this? I’m sure everyone got a briefing when they were sent here.”

Brent shook his head. “No, not really. I wasn’t shipped in with the guard rotation. Nobody told us much besides that we were working with, um, death magic users, and would have to deal with monsterfolk.”

“Alright. I’ll give you a quick explanation. So, the Lithauri need mana. There isn’t enough ambient mana in most of the underground for their needs, besides the dungeon and mana wells. Obviously, the dungeon is too dangerous for long-term occupation, and most of the mana wells are too small to provide for the tribes. Drastum is actually situated on one of the strongest mana wells for hundreds of miles, and so the monsterfolk can’t access a major supply of mana or mana crystals. They’ve taken to raiding us for them, as you can see.”

Brent nodded. “Okay. All interesting, but how does this involve a necromancer?”

“I’m getting there,” Linnik said. “The monsterfolk disperse the crystals into ambient mana in their camps, seeing as absorbing them individually is too slow. Dispersing them is also slow, but it can be sped up with certain means. The monsterfolk have a crude, and frankly horrifying, method of doing so, which involves forcefully draining captive mages of their mana while channeling crystals through them. This eventually kills the victims, but monsterfolk aren’t known for their respect for people’s lives. Given that mages are pretty rare to find, it’s all but guaranteed that the Lithauri would take Anthony captive instead of killing him right away.”

Brent blew some air from his cheeks. “Well, damn. That clears a few things up. You want us to set out right away, then?”

“Yes. I’ll leave the specifics of the assignment up to you. Information will be sent over and you’ll have access to the armoury. Let me know if you need anything else.”

The light in the Scient Lense had died down while the two men were talking, and when Brent gave a faint salute, it lit up again. The adventurer captain nodded and turned away to his sword, muttering something about polishing. Linnik turned away as well, heading back to the entrance of the building.

He suddenly realized that he could breathe easier now that the strain of fulfilling the Gray request was out of his hands. While he hadn’t really needed to do this himself, it was… nice to do something personally. That kind of attitude had been one of the reasons he was given the position of seneschal, after all.

As Linnik exited the elite’s commons, his thoughts went to all the papers he had to finish with. That, and how he would explain his hasty departure to Rhenna. She would’ve held the fort for the short time he was gone. Hopefully.

— -

| [Necromancer] Level 18 -> 19

| New ability: [Last Stand]

His body was cold. Too cold. That was Anthony’s first thought when he drifted back to consciousness, helped by the loud sounds of metal irregularly clanking against metal. He blearily opened his eyes and looked around, trying to get a feel for what was happening. He was laying down on some sort of gurney and surrounded by grey-and-blue lizard-like monsterfolk. They quietly conversed in a strange, hissing language, not paying attention to the human necromancer in their midst.

Anthony shivered and tried to rub his eyes, but found that his hands were stopped short by heavy metal chains. Probably enchanted to stop magic, by the looks of them. The motion made a rattling sound as the chains scraped against each other and Anthony was afraid that the monsterfolk would notice, but the noise was lost amid the sounds of the other cages moving alongside him.

He realized that he was being kept prisoner near the rear of the group with the other human captives from the raid. He also realized that he was suffering from mana weakness—the result of forcing his way through the magic-blocker earlier.

As a [Necromancer], he was resistant to the corruptive effects of miasma and could actually hold it in his body, to some extent. When the monsterfolk scouts had hit him with a dart, Anthony allowed the miasma in his body to circulate and start breaking down the magic-blocker in his blood. This was an extremely risky move as the miasma could’ve completely overcome his body and turned him into an undead, but he managed to expel the death energy into his undead using [Necromantic Infusion]. All he remembered was that it came with the side effect of suddenly draining all the mana from his body—which was enough of a shock for him to fall unconscious.

And now he was here. With the monsterfolk. Anthony tried discretely calling on some mana for a spell, but with the enchanted chains and his own mana weakness, nothing happened. The runes on the chains detected his halfhearted attempt and flared up with brilliant red light.

Oh, damn. The nearest monsterfolk immediately snapped around to look at the glow. Seeing Anthony wide awake, they broke out into what seemed like an argument. Anthony could only lay there and wait while the lizard people bickered around, moving at a brisk pace through the tunnels all the while. The light from the runes on the shackles had died down and Anthony was thankful that he hadn’t drawn any more attention besides the monsterfolk right next to him. Who knows how they’d react to one of their prisoners trying to spellcast.

The monsterfolk seemed to finish their argument. A lizard person appeared behind Anthony’s head and loomed over the gurney, causing him to tilt his head back to get an uncomfortably close look at grey-and-blue scales. The lizard person growled in a quiet, low tone, “No magic.”

Anthony couldn’t help but notice that all of the monsterfolk seemed to carry a large amount of weaponry on them. That, and they didn’t wear much. He nodded, trying to appear submissive. The lizard person moved away and Anthony let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Apparently, it wasn't just the scouts who spoke common. It might have been harder to understand from the rank-and-file, but they got the point across. Anthony decided to heed the lizard person’s words and just settle down and examine his surroundings. Not like there was anything else to do in his situation.

He took a more careful look at his chains. They were rather roughly made, nothing like the fine rings that made up an [Armorsmith]’s chainmail shirts. However, they were more than strong enough to hold him. And they were enchanted. From the dim light of what little luminescent mold grew in the tunnel, Anthony struggled to see the tiny runes engraved into the metal, although he could sense their mana presence.

From his rudimentary inspection of the enchantments, it felt like they would drain away any mana he tried to muster. It was rather basic but quite effective against mages. Unless he was a very high-level mage or someone with a huge mana pool, he wouldn’t be able to force his way through the enchantment by overloading the runes. He wasn’t a [Warrior], either, so no [Strength] traits to rely on. It looked like he really was helpless to the probably-not-so-tender mercies of the monsterfolk.

Anthony sighed and thumped his head against the gurney. He instantly regretted it when it turned out that the material wasn’t padded. Now he had to deal with what was probably a bruise on the back of his head on top of his mana weakness and, y’know, being chained up in the midst of monsterfolk raiders.

Think. Be positive. Anthony remembered being told by his father that despair could crush you faster than any bodily weakness, and tried to find something to think about besides his abject misery. Now that he considered it, he was surrounded by monsterfolk. Might as well get something out of the experience.

Anthony looked around from his low vantage point and examined the monsterfolk, trying to see the monster in them. The thing was, they didn’t look like monsters. They certainly didn’t look like humans, either, but they seemed like people enough that Anthony wasn’t sure about how he should view them anymore.

On one hand, they were probably going to eat him, but on the other, they hadn’t eaten him yet, so that was a point on their side. True, some of them looked like they wouldn’t think twice before taking a bite, but Anthony was pretty sure he wasn’t going to become a meal. There had to be some other reason they’d taken him.

They’d known that he was a necromancer; the undead made it pretty clear. Maybe they needed magic users for some reason. [Necromancers] were [Mages], too, even if they worked with the deceased.

Anthony suddenly remembered about the revenant. It was an undead, but human-looking enough to pass as a living person at a casual glance from the monsterfolk. They would’ve destroyed the other undead, but maybe they had thought the revenant for a human and taken it as a slave.

Maybe he wasn’t alone here.

Using [Miasma Affinity], Anthony focused, trying to locate sources of miasma around him. He felt the tiny pearl of death energy located near his right shoulder, which was the small bit of miasma he always kept in his body. Most people would keep any miasma as far away as possible, but those of the Necronum weren’t most people. From his days under his old mentor, Marcadeus, Anthony had trained to constantly control that small pearl and keep it from spreading and corrupting the mana in his body. Now he was able to maintain the pearl at all times, no matter if he was sleeping or unconscious, and call on it whenever he needed to cast necromantic magic.

Anthony moved past that small pearl and extended his magic senses away from his body, searching further away in the raider group. Most of the cages holding the prisoners seemed to be around him, and it wasn’t long before he came across a miasma signature. There. A body inside a cage.

He sighed in relief. Now that he was focusing on that signature, he could extend a link using [Necromantic Bond]. He activated the ability and linked it with the revenant.

— -

“Hello. Can you hear me?”

The revenant jerked upright at the voice in its head, causing the other humans in the cage to squeeze backwards. Was it imagining things? Or was there really a person speaking to it?

“Hello? If you can hear me, try thinking of a, um, a… a presence! A feeling in your head of somebody else. It’s like—ugh, I don’t know how to describe this. Just—try doing that. A presence in your head.”

The revenant prodded at its forehead for a second, trying to see if there was anything wrong. It turned its head, taking in the terrified humans on the other side of the cage, the lizard people moving alongside, and the swirls of gold and silver light that seemed to be everywhere. There didn’t seem to be anything next to its ears.

“Hello?” The revenant whispered. There was no response from the voice in its head, but the humans seemed to be shocked. One of them was about to say something, but the others shushed him.

The revenant tried again, “I can hear you.”

Now the humans were looking at the pale thing-that-looked-like-a-human-but-wasn’t like they thought it was insane. Maybe it was. The revenant ignored their discomfort and waited for a reply.

“I hope you aren’t trying to actually talk. Don’t use your voice, use your… thoughts. I won’t be able to actually hear you from where I am, but we can communicate mentally. Think what you want to say, but, um, think it at the presence in your head. I mentioned a presence, right? You should feel like there’s something other in your thoughts.”

The revenant tried to do what the voice said. It felt around inside the seemingly foreign and mysterious collection that was its own thoughts, and tried to find an other. To its surprise, there was something else. Someone else. It was Anthony.

The name came instinctually to the revenant, and suddenly, everything seemed to be all right. Anthony was fine, and they were together. Mostly. They could even talk! Or… think.

The revenant remembered what it was supposed to be doing and thought, Hello! I can hear you!

“What was that? I can’t hear you clearly. Make sure you’re thinking at my presence in your head.”

The revenant thought harder. HELLO! ARE YOU OK?

The voice came back. It seemed to be getting irritated, from what emotions the revenant felt alongside the words. “Um… thinking harder doesn’t really make it clearer. Make sure you’re directing your thoughts.”

The revenant wasn’t daunted. It carefully focused on Anthony’s presence in its head and thought again. Hello. Am I clear?

Anthony’s voice was relieved, now. The revenant was happy that it could discern its master’s emotions. “Yes! Clear. Very clear. I can understand you well. This is using one of my abilities, [Necromantic Bond]. You should have it too. Now that you know how this works, we can communicate nearly any time, if we’re close enough.”

The revenant almost nodded at the words but for remembering about the humans in the cage with it. It didn’t want to confuse them even more. Maybe Anthony could help deal with them. He was a human, after all.

There are humans in the cage with me. What do I do?

“Oh, well, um, uh, don’t do anything. Just stay silent and don’t get them any more scared than they already are. You mostly look like a human, but your skin is too pale and your eyes are black. Also, you reek of miasma. They’ll probably be able to tell that you’re an undead.”

The revenant didn’t know how to respond to that. It looked like being an undead wasn’t very good, especially if it scared all the humans away.

Anthony spoke again. “Okay. What’s your status? How is it in the part of the group where you’re being kept?”

The revenant looked around again. [Miasma Sense] was still active and it painted a shimmering mirage of light everywhere it looked. The humans in the cage were a bright, tantalizing gold, and there was something inside the revenant that wanted to attack them to satisfy… something. The other cages also held golden glows, but they were mostly blocked by layers of silver—those would be the lizard people who seemed to be everywhere. The revenant saw that the ones around the cages were pulling on ropes, easily moving the floating iron cubes at the fast pace the group was taking.

If Anthony was next to the revenant, he would’ve recognized [Levitate] at work. The cages were certainly a strange sight, bobbing over the rocky bottoms of the tunnels without touching anything. They were faster than anything wheeled—harder to implement, too, although it was necessary. Wagons wouldn’t make it a dozen yards without breaking something on the spires and knobs of stone jutting from the bottoms of the underground passageways in the Crags, and for the matter, neither would humans.

For anyone other than monsters and the monsterfolk tribes who lived in the Crags, the terrain was hellishly inhospitable. Which was why the monsterfolk brought the cages instead of forcing the prisoners to clamber through the tunnels at a snail’s pace. The same environment that was so difficult for Drastum forces to navigate through also made it that human prisoners couldn’t travel through by foot. Unfortunate, but that was life.

The revenant marveled at the way the cages glided. I am in a floating box. There are humans inside the box with me, and there are other boxes nearby. There are also lizard people everywhere.

Anthony took a bit of time before responding. “Okay. These are all monsterfolk. Did you say floating? Oh, that makes sense. That must be how they’re moving us over this crappy ground. I wonder where they’d get the mana to power the enchantments… So, uh, anyways, do you see any floating rectangles near the cages? Pallets? Gurneys? I think that’s what you call them. I’m on one, and I’m pretty sure that’s where they hold the mages.”

The revenant turned off [Miasma Sense] so the light stopped getting in the way of details. Without the familiar glowing silhouettes of the people around it, the world seemed to become a lot darker, and the revenant struggled to not turn it back on and bring back the light.

However, with the absence of the mana signatures came images of reality. The revenant could see well in the darkness of the tunnels and took in a much more clear picture of its surroundings than [Miasma Sense] could provide. It looked around near the cages and tried to spot some of the floating rectangles Anthony was talking about. It quickly saw one and activated [Miasma Sense] to see that it held a gold-glowing human. I see a ‘pallet’. There is a person on it.

“Ok. Uh, good. I’m raising my arm. Do you see the person on the pallet doing that?”

The figure didn’t move.

No. It is not you.

“Yeah, I figured. You seem to be in a cage that’s further away. Ugh. Is there anything you can do without alarming the monsterfolk?”

The revenant peeked through the bars at the monsterfolk around the cage. They didn’t exactly stare at their human captives, but they weren’t being inattentive, either. Maybe it could try and slowly bend a bar?

Mmm. Maybe.

Under the eyes of the humans in the cage, the revenant grasped the middle of a bar and gave it a tug. It didn’t budge. The revenant pulled harder and saw the metal begin to emit a red light. Probably a warning, but one that was ignored. The revenant kept pulling and eventually, the iron bar couldn’t handle the relentless force anymore. It buckled ever-so-slightly and caused the warning glow to flare up in a wash of crimson. The monsterfolk nearby snarled at the sight.

So much for not alarming them. Several of the lizard people approached the cage with spears, jabbing through the bars and hissing and generally being rather upset. The revenant decided to stop testing their awareness and stepped back from the pointy iron bits, settling down near the humans. It turned out that they also got upset and moved away to the corners of the cage, fearful of the undead in their midst but also not wanting to get close to the monsterfolk and their spears.

The revenant felt pretty bad after seeing the humans move away, and edged closer to a small cluster of people to its right. They scattered away. Despondent, the revenant took up their place in the corner of the cage. Was it really so scary? It couldn’t help but ponder that question as an angry monsterfolk [Shaman] was called over to repair the bar.

Anthony’s voice sounded out again. “What’s happening? I saw one of the monsterfolk mages head over to the cages. Please tell me you didn’t do anything drastic.”

The revenant was hesitant before it responded. I was very cautious. I bent one of the cage bars.

“Lords. These are all enchanted to be alarmed and reinforced. You tried to break out of one of the cages?”

Maybe.

“What kind of response is that? Ok, ok, ignore what I said earlier. Don’t. Try. Anything.”

The revenant sulked—on the inside, at least—and sat in the cage. It tried to cheer itself up by turning on [Miasma Sense] and looking at all the whirls of light. It didn’t work.

— -

It was after a surprisingly short amount of time that the raider group reached the monsterfolk camp. Anthony had barely nodded off on the pallet before he heard the sounds of cheering and whooping. The sudden crash of sound had jarred him into reality and he saw that his captors had linked up with the rest of their tribe.

Anthony gazed around the large cavern, seeing burning firepits, simple buildings—how the monsterfolk had built them, he couldn’t guess—and even what seemed to be an array of runes stretching all the way around the perimeter of the camp. The ambient mana was somehow thicker, richer than in the tunnels, and he saw that the lizard-like monsterfolk were everywhere. It was all far more advanced, no, more civilized, than he thought they were. They were supposed to be primitive. But this? These were people. Or at the very least, intelligent and developing monsters.

Neither option was very endearing to Anthony, but he stopped thinking about it and focused on what was happening with the tribe. The returning monsterfolk were being welcomed very enthusiastically by their tribemates and the crystals and slaves were being transported to the center of the camp. Anthony could only catch glances of people being herded out of the cages before his pallet was pushed into a building.

The inside was rather drab stone—made from earth magic, from what Anthony estimated—and he was quickly moved into a circular room. There were two other humans here, both similarly chained down to floating gurneys, and several monsterfolk standing at intervals around the walls with strange staffs. From their mana signatures, Anthony could tell that everyone in the room was a magic user of some sort. Was this a ritual?

His gurney was turned so that his feet were facing the center of the room, allowing him to see a large obelisk of metal surrounded by coffin-like vessels. Anthony didn’t quite know what was going on until one of the human mages next to him was unchained by several monsterfolk and walked to the obelisk. One of the coffin-like vessels was opened and a body was taken out, barely recognizable as a human from all the bloody streaks covering it.

The mage shouted, “What the fuck is happening?” and was promptly struck across the face by one of his captors. Ignoring the man’s protests, the monsterfolk pushed him into the vessel and closed the top. They returned to their positions around the room and each began casting something, moving their staffs through the air and chanting.

Anthony was still processing the body when the obelisk gave a deep hum and lit up. He only had to squint at the light that filled the room for a few seconds before the screaming began.