Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

Alma’s seat was uncomfortably stiff. It was bent in such a way as to intentionally endanger one’s spine. She sat with her back straight, hands resting on her lap. The single candle illuminating the room wasn’t enough to calm her nerves.

“The Lich’s daughter is captured?” A hoarse voice recalled, “...Well, that won’t do at all.”

“I was told the two of you share a business arrangement.” She responded, “I’m not going to pretend that I’m here for any other reason than to request your help in freeing her.”

“You say you are also a necromancer?”

“Y-Yes.”

Alma felt strange admitting it so nonchalantly. The Elf sitting across from her didn’t take offence to the girl’s barely-hidden disgust as the joints of his lanky arms popped while sweeping them from one end of the desk to the other. Baccharum’s cheeks sunk into his pallid, bony face as he descended into thought for a few seconds.

“Helmach is a dangerous adversary. A thorn in my side which grows deeper by the day.” A strange accent leaked from his words, “But young Lieze has the potential to be a powerful ally. Not to mention that her father wouldn’t be best pleased if she were to perish…”

“I’m not suggesting that we need to defeat Helmach…”

“No, no. I understand your intentions.” Bacharrum curled his elongated fingers, “But, you must understand that I cannot waste valuable manpower inviting Helmach’s wrath. If we are to make an agreement, then you and Lieze must be willing to shoulder the responsibility of dealing with him afterwards.”

“You want us to… kill Helmach?”

“I am taking an exceptional risk. The Acolytes’ patience for my particular brand of business is beginning to wear thin. If you can eliminate them, however, then my trust in your shared abilities will be validated.”

“This… I don’t think this is the kind of decision I should be making.”

“Miss Lieze is a cunning sort. In fact, I believe she may even be quite receptive to the idea of dismantling Helmach’s extrajudicial fold. The two of us stand to benefit.”

Alma sighed, “Very well, then. It doesn’t seem like I’m being given a choice.”

“Splendid.” Baccharum concluded, “My associates will relish the opportunity to tangle with the Acolytes. Add a few Dwarven miracles to the mix, and it will be quite the raid indeed.”

“D-Dwarven miracles…?”

“There is no time to waste.” He hurried, “I can gather a not-inconsequential number of my men within the hour. Helmach’s precinct is surrounded by rubble and destroyed homes--quite the tempting stage for a surprise attack. I suppose that’s one more thing I have to thank the Order for.”

“Then… I’ll return to the hideout and gather a few allies of my own.” Alma replied, hesitant to use the term ‘allies’ instead of ‘thralls’, “We only need to rescue Lieze… there’s no need to do anything that would attract too much attention.”

“Taking any action against Helmach is a guaranteed way of incurring his holy wrath.” Baccharum argued, “If we’re to do anything, it may as well be impactful.”

“Unbelievable… I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Are you not an associate of Lieze’s? I imagined you were another stranded member of the Order when you declared yourself her ally.”

“You might call me an indentured servant.”

“But you are a necromancer?”

“That’s… true.” She admitted, “But, falling in with the Order… I’m not certain about that. The priesthood are permitted to raise their dead without prosecution, so why can’t that same privilege be granted to the common folk?”

“Because the priesthood resurrect corpses with their souls still intact.”

“But- doesn’t the Order’s philosophy seem… correct?” She asked, “There’s so much unnecessary suffering in this world… necromancy already proved that the body is a mere shell--the first stepping stone on the way to an immortal, spiritual existence. Instead of warring with their kind, why can’t the Order be allowed to continue their research undisturbed?”

“Hm.” With an unsettling crack, the Elf’s head twisted, “I can see why Lieze recruited you. Yours is a soul one push away from succumbing to evil.”

“Would you call the Order evil?”

“To the Elv, there can be no greater evil than the separation of body and soul.” Baccharum explained, “-This dogma persists in every culture, but its method of expression can vary. Those who are capable of questioning that unrelenting truth… they are a truly dangerous sort. That is why the Order is so feared--and so reviled.”

“And yet you conspire with them all the same.”

“Hmhm…” Something akin to a chuckle escaped from his throat, “Isn’t that the truth? Yes… then perhaps I, too, am a creature tempted by evil…”

Alma wasn’t allowed much variety when deciding which of the thralls to bring along for Lieze’s rescue. She couldn’t march a Gravewalker or a Horror through the city walls, leaving her with no other viable companion but the grotesque Fleshbag Lieze had left behind just the other day. Under the cover of darkness, it could easily slip through the front gate in a moment of idle distraction from the guards.

The Acolytes of Reunification weren’t a particularly well-equipped force. Unrecognised by the priesthood, its members were only outfitted with as many weapons as their shallow, patriotic purses could afford. With that said, many of its most powerful members--former priests, mostly, would put up quite the fight. And that was to say nothing of Helmach himself, whom Alma could only pray would never cross her path while infiltrating the precinct.

Baccharum had made good on his agreement. By the time she was on her way back from the hideout, thugs of all brands had emerged from their seedy holes to participate in some good-old-fashioned violence. One of them--a man with a wicked scar running across one eye, ambushed Alma from behind as she wandered into the northern district, eliciting a gasp of surprise from the wary girl.

“You the necromancer?” He asked curtly.

“D-Don’t sneak up on people like that!” She exclaimed.

“Listen, hen--this ain’t no time to be actin’ like a maiden. If our boys hover around the district for too long, the guards’ll be comin’ in droves.” He explained, “Old Rummy must like you and that crazy bird, ‘cus he’s let us stick our noses into the Dwarven workshops. Last time this happened, we nearly set the whole fuckin’ city on fire.”

“W-What do you mean?” She asked, not certain if she wanted to hear the answer.

From his pack, the lowlife retrieved something small and rough--a kind of iron sphere with a strange wooden plug poking out from one end. Alma couldn’t decipher anything about its usage besides the fact that it was probably some kind of weapon.

“Can’t remember what the Dwarves call ‘em, but all you need to do is set this plug alight. A few seconds later, the whole thing bursts open and coats whatever’s nearby in fire. Heard there’s a kind that sends little iron bearings flying about, too. Kills a man instantly--or maims him for life, at the very least.”

“How terrifying…”

“S’no wonder nobody wants to war with ‘em anymore.” The man exhaled through his nose, “I’m tellin’ you, those holy men won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Don’t we have… uh, a plan of attack?”

“All’s Rummy told us was to drag ol’ Helmach away from the buildin’. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Jus’ hope I’m not gonna be one of the poor souls he happens to chase after.”

“Silas made it sound like most of you have a score to settle with the Acolytes.”

The ruffian scoffed, “You know what’s gonna happen if Helmach gets his way, don’t you? Folk like us bein’ hung for so much as swipin’ a loaf of bread--nonhumans like Rummy bein’ chased out of the city for no reason at all. ‘Course we hate his fuckin’ guts.”

“Don’t you hate necromancers, too?”

“Obviously.” The scarred ruffian crossed his arms, “But you saw what happened the last time they tried to attack, didn’t you? Dragon’ll scare them away good and proper as many times as it takes.”

“Is that so…”

Alma was beginning to understand the contempt Lieze held for those who didn’t think ahead. While Baccharum was preparing to ally himself with the Order when the time came, his underlings had somehow convinced themselves that Tonberg would simply never fall. They were willing to ally with necromancers for the sole purpose of eliminating a short-term problem. It was almost pitiful.

“Right, then…” He continued, “Give us the go, and we’ll start tearin’ up that precinct.”

“Are you sure everyone’s ready?”

“If they fancy gettin’ paid, they’d better be.”

Alma suddenly realised she hadn’t even brought a weapon with her. The Fleshbag was still obediently moving through the shadows close to her position, but one thrall could only protect her from so many attackers. Not to mention, if one of the Acolytes witnessed an undead creature protecting her, she’d be branded a blasphemer and be hunted down by the church.

“...I understand.” She replied, “Begin the attack.”

But she couldn’t back out. Lieze wouldn’t hesitate to arrange for her arrest if Alma betrayed her. She was being manipulated--treated like some kind of disposable tool. Her life had changed so drastically over the course of a single day. Her desires, caught in a flux, had allowed Lieze to push and pull as she pleased. Alma’s mind was in pieces.

“I’m no tool…” She muttered, “I’ll prove that.”

The ramshackle décor of the precinct left much to be desired. It was considered sacrilegious to house depictions of the Gildwyrm in anything but the most auspicious rooms, but the Acolytes’ pockets only ran so deep.

Helmach despised that aspect of the faith. The priesthood’s single-minded devotion to appearance was no more than a farce to attract worshippers. He couldn’t tolerate the so-called Cardinals who submissively accepted the sanctions imposed by the reformation. As far as he was concerned, the entire thing needed to be pulled out by the roots.

His mind was aflame, sat at a rotting desk in the building’s former reception. Words poured out from the ink of his quill onto parchment, but his mind was elsewhere. Verses repeated a thousand times stained the yellowed paper black with faith--a ritual once forced upon him by monks, but which now seemed to calm his mind.

Helmach blinked. His eyes were heavy. Visions plagued him even beyond the realm of dreams. The innocent face of his dear sister threatened to ignite a fury he’d kept long-dormant. Her murderer was sitting defenceless in a cell right beneath his feet, and yet he couldn’t so much as touch a hair on her head.

“Ah…” Placing his quill down, he tried to stop his hands from shaking, “That worm… that pathetic murderer… why did it have to be her, of all people…?”

His lamentations were interrupted by something. A flash, like divine thunder, pouring through the half-shattered windows of the precinct, followed by incoherent yelling. Almost as soon as his gaze went to the front doors, they were suddenly thrown open. An Acolyte, spear in hand, found Helmach in his seat with frenzied eyes.

“Helmach!” He exclaimed, “It’s a raid! Baccharum’s fools are using those Dwarven projectiles again!”

“...Hmph.” Reserved, Helmach reached for the greatsword balancing on the desk and stood to his feet, “A raid, is it? I suppose it has been a few months…”

“W-What are your orders?”

“What do you think, you fool!?” He screamed, “Weathered or not, this is a holy sanctuary! Don’t call yourself a priest if you aren’t willing to defend it at the drop of a hat! Gather the men and respond with a counterattack!”

“O-Of course! Right away!”

Helmach couldn’t claim to be particularly proud of his soldiers. Most of the ruffians who requested membership were only looking for the authority to persecute those they held grudges against, and the few who earnestly desired a return to the city’s traditional ways were poorly-trained in the ways of combat. Frankly, he was just about the only thing keeping the group held together.

“Noma…” Helmach placed a hand to his chest, “Even without you, I won’t stop…”

Without his sister, faith was the only thing that kept the gargantuan man moving. The greatsword in his grasp felt heavier than ever as he stepped beyond the threshold of the precinct to join his allies in the building’s defence.

…

..

.

A few moments later, another head poked through the doorway. Curls of raven-black hair escaped stubbornly from her habit. She was a nun, but her body language was far from absolved. Alma imagined herself more discreet than she actually was as she stole into the decaying precinct, watching carefully for any Acolytes. Behind her trailed something not quite alive, yet not quite dead, either. It wasn’t long after her entry that the sounds of clashing blades and explosions began flowing freely through the windows.

“A prison… a prison…” She muttered, “Over there… a stairwell…”

A stone bust of the Gildwyrm seemed to judge the girl as she dived beneath its maw into a carved doorway. As she descended into darkness, her foot fell upon a missing step, sending her face-first into the chipped cobblestone flooring at the bottom of the passageway.

“Hm?” A pair of hands leaped forward to grasp at the bars of a particular cell, “Is that you, Alma?”

“L-Lieze?” She stammered, blood flowing from her nose towards the ground, “You’re still alive…”

“Of course I am. Do you have the key to the cell?”

“No…” Rising to her feet, she turned over the strange object in her hands to see if it was damaged, “-But I don’t think it will be necessary.”

“...That’s not a black powder bomb, is it?”

“Um… let me see…” Turning her attention back to the stairwell, Alma hopped up a few steps to take hold of a torch lingering in a rusted sconce, “All you have to do is burn this wooden part…”

“Wait--Alma! Don’t you dare!” Lieze exclaimed, “You’re going to turn us into stains on the ground if you light that fuse in here!”

Her protests fell on deaf ears. With some effort, a few embers began to rise from the sunken wooden plug. Lieze immediately turned to rush towards the back of the cell as Alma quickly set the bomb down by the door before retreating to the stairwell. A few seconds later, the prison was engulfed in a blinding light. Lieze heard a tremendous thunderclap, followed by nothing but deafened rings. A fleck of scrap metal tore into her cheek, eliciting a silent yelp from the girl as the perimeter of her cell--door and all, was blown apart.

HP - 55/85

“Ah…” Her sense of sound returning, Lieze pressed a finger against the tender flap of skin hanging from her cheek, “...Alma?”

“Y-Yes?” She replied, head poking through the haze of smoke permeating the hallway, “I didn’t know it would be that powerful…”

“There’s no time to waste.” She resolved, “Whatever you’ve done to divert Helmach, it won’t last for long. We need to escape.”

“Baccharum’s men are creating a diversion!” Alma explained hurriedly, “We… we should return to the hideout. Before anyone sees us.”

“I agree.” Lieze wiped her bloodstained hand off on her robe, “Let’s be on our way.”

Quest "Deliverance" Complete!

Reward - 1,400xp

Level Up!

You are now level [9]

HP + 20 MP + 25