“The Augury has revealed that the girl is still alive, but her location is obscured. What power could hide something from the gods themselves?”

Chapter 75

The small group of auxiliaries milled around for nearly half an hour before Garman joined them. The man was wearing his heavy armor and carried his large axe in one hand, resting comfortably on his shoulder.

From his red rimmed eyes and unshaven face, Wil thought that the warrior had a hard night celebrating in the inn. Once the sun had risen, the garrison became a disordered hub of activity, with drinking being high up on the priority list for the soldiers.

Of everyone who came to Aachen to seek their fortunes, the barkeeps were amongst the most successful. Every evening found the common rooms packed, and wagons full of alcohol was being shipped in daily to satisfy the need.

From what Wil could tell, the Legion higher ups ignored the problem, as long as everyone was sober during the Night.

Standing in front of them, looking like he hadn’t slept and reeking of Ale and pipe smoke, Garman was apparently ready to lead them into the dangers of Aachen.

“Alright you lot, like I promised, lets head into bloody Aachen. Before we do, I want to make sure you morons understand the rules.” He spat on the dusty ground.

“I’ll be honest, I couldn’t give a rat’s flamin’ arse if any of you die, but I need an excuse to the higher ups in case one of you wanders off and gets yourself killed. There are two rules for going into this gods’ forsaken shithole.”

“Rule one, stay in the middle of the god’s damned streets.” He started speaking slower and louder, like he was talking to a group of schoolchildren. “Remember kiddies, the undead don’t like the sunlight and the buildings are dark. I’ll make it as simple as possible for you shit heels to understand, go inside, get eaten!”

He straightened up and pointed at the group. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that one of you pissants are going to lose your bloody wits and wander in somewhere you shouldn’t. If you do, you’re dead and we aren’t going to help you. So, stay in the light, idiots.”

Wil could almost hear the grinding of teeth around him in frustration at the continued insults. He was almost impressed with large man’s ability to infuriate them.

“Rule two, if you hear someone calling you from inside a building, or a dark alley, ignore it. I don’t care if it sounds like your bloody grandmother calling you in for tea, don’t listen to it and stay in the light. These gods damned undead will do anything to lure you inside.”

“Got it? Good.” Garman said, turning away without even bothering to see them agree.

Lugging his large axe on his shoulder, he swaggered through the open gates and down the tunnel under the wall. The large warrior didn’t even check to see if anyone was following him.

With a shrug, Wil checked his satchel and adjusted his sword on his back before following Garman through the gate. He was one of the first through, and he could hear the murmuring of his companions behind him, discussing what to expect in Aachen.

They were a strong group, in Wil’s opinion. As a Rank 3, he was actually one of the weaker members of their party. Most were Rank 4, while a couple matched Garman’s Rank 5 strength. It was surprising that Garman felt that the group were incapable of surviving on their own in the dead city.

‘Just what the hell is waiting for us in there?’ Wil thought to himself. He believed he had seen everything that Aachen had to offer from the walls last night, but Garman’s words made him second guess himself.

The tunnel stretched out in front of him as he followed the larger man. The tunnel had come under assault during the attack, with the gate falling from the Lich’s magic. Since this wasn’t the first time the defenders had experienced this, they had built secondary defenses along the length of hallway, with collapsing the tunnel as the final defense.

Luckily, they hadn’t come to that desperate point last night. The undead had broken through the main gate but were stopped by an iron portcullis and a phalanx of guards wielding crossbows with silver tipped bolts and spears.

The narrow tunnel worked to the livings advantage, and they were able to hold off the attack until cleric’s divine magic cleansed the area.

The evidence of the fierce fighting still remained on the grey stone of the tunnel. Streaks of blood had soaked into the stone floor, and dozens of craftspeople were cleaning debris and repairing the stonework while clerics and mages repaired the wards.

The group was subdued as they walked, staying silent as they passed the grisly evidence of battle. Coming to the end of the tunnel, Wil saw that the craftspeople had removed the damaged gates, sending them back to the garrison blacksmiths to be repaired.

Walking into the sunlight again, the group stood on the streets of Aachen.

The city was understandably deserted, with the broad avenues covered in dust and bits of stone debris. Nothing stirred in the city in front of them, a stark contrast to the bustle of activity on the walls behind.

Even the wind had died down, the tall walls blocked most of the ocean breeze, allowing the warm sunlight to heat the cobbled stones beneath their feet.

The street led deep into the city in front of them, bordered by lifeless trees with no leaves and empty flower planters. Tall buildings lined both sides of the avenue, decaying buildings with broken windowpanes and open doorways. The nearest structures were dim, and Wil couldn’t make out anything only a few feet from the doorway.

There was a feeling of wrongness in the city, something that was hinted at when he stood behind the safety of the wards but hit him in full while standing here.

He could spot other, smaller groups of auxiliaries in the distance, walking in the center of the streets, well into the light, with weapons drawn. The living couldn’t waste any time during the day to search for loot to bring back, or clues on how to end this disaster.

“Welcome to Aachen, blighted arsehole of the west.” Garman muttered, beckoning them onward down the road with a wave.

The group walked slowly down the street, sticking to the middle of the road. Garman paused every so often to point out a location of interest. The merchant quarter, a mansion belonging to a council member, the artificer warehouses and a bank.

“Garman, must be a lot of loot in a place like that!” Someone from the crowd said, pointing at the white marbled bank from where they stood at the base of the steps leading to the building. The heavy metal doors to the bank were still intact, although slightly ajar, as were the windows, with steel bars covering every pane.

“Good luck with that, moron. You really think no one would have thought to enter? City full of greedy bastards and no one had the idea to check the bank?” Garman said, scoffing at their ignorance.

“Place is a death trap.” Garman paused, before grinning evilly at the person who spoke. “But don’t let that stop you. I’m sure you’ll be fine, go on up and see what treasures you can find.” Garman urged, laughing at the thought.

Wil saw the man flush red with anger at Garman’s insults, and whisper quietly with several others, gesturing at the bank with a greedy look on their faces.

‘Garman was right, they are idiots’ he thought, shaking his head at them.

The idea of entering the bank made sense if you were looking for loot, but after a couple years, the place looked untouched. There was obviously a good reason, and Wil wouldn’t be the one to find out why.

He was in debt, but he wasn’t that desperate, or stupid.

The tour continued for hours, and although Garman was unpleasant and insufferable, at least he was thorough. By the time they were heading back to the tunnel under the wall, each of them had a good idea of which areas they should focus on in the city, and which areas they should avoid.

As they walked, Wil asked Garman a question that had been on his mind since his arrival to Aachen.

“Garman?” Wil called out, dreading the interaction but needing an answer. The large man stopped walking and turned to face the young mage.

“What is it pretty boy?”

“Why hasn’t the legion just burned the city to the ground?” Wil asked, ignoring the insult.

“I was wondering that as well.” A tall woman asked beside him, dressed in leather armor and carrying a long spear. “I know this place is valuable, but after so many years, why not cut their losses and start again?”

Garman shrugged at the question and pointed at a nearby building. It was a one-story house, made of stone and wood, with a clay tile roof. The windows were caked in filth and the door was open, hanging on one hinge.

“Go ahead” he said, gesturing for Wil. “Try to burn it down.”

Wil looked at the man for a moment, trying to assess his reasoning, before he shrugged and approached the house.

Summoning his mana, he held his hand out and formed the tier-less spell ‘firebolt’. With a flash of light, the spell matrix flared, and a mote of fire hung above his hand. He pumped his mana into the flame, changing its color from orange to blue, finally stopping when it was white hot.

He had used enough mana in the cantrip to equal a tier 1 spell. It should be more than enough to start a blaze in a dry, wooden structure.

He looked at Garman for confirmation. Seeing the man’s nod, he hurled the white flame at the house. It flew through the open door, lighting up the darkness inside as the flame caught the wood floor on fire.

It burned brightly for only a few seconds before the fire dimmed and extinguished. Something had prevented the flames from spreading. He had put enough mana in that spell to easily start a fire big enough burn a small, wooden house down.

Wil looked at Garman again as the flames died.

“God’s damned buildings won’t burn.” He shrugged. “Soaked a house in oil one time, and it didn’t take. Whatever is keeping the dead from staying that way, it’s keeping the bloody buildings intact as well. We’d have to take the bastards apart, stone by stone.” He said, spitting on the ground and turning back to walk up the road.

One of the highlights, in Wil’s mind, had been the fabled docks of Aachen.

Standing on the stone piers, looking out into the water, he could imagine how lively and busy the place had been only a few short years ago.

The stone wall blocked the view of the ocean, the rock ripped from below the water by magic to form the fortifications, but he had hope that maybe, someday, the city could live again.

It was on their walk back, only a mile or so from the tunnel, that the whispers started.