Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

Plumes of acrid smoke rose into the atmosphere. The scent of fire burned the nostrils. Waves of mesmerising embers cascaded out from fields of bobbing grain. A chorus of screams transformed into deathly silence was all that remained of the farmstead’s quaint legacy. Twisting hulks of flesh wandered freely across the countryside air, patrolling for any persisting evidence of life. In the distance, a great windmill was burning to the ground.

Emerging from a humble farmer’s cottage was a woman whose pale features were accentuated by the darkness of her hair and robes. One might have called her presence ‘unsettling’ or ‘wicked’, reluctant to make the opinion known for fear of attracting attention. But in that moment, as she stood among the dead risen again, the intrinsic ‘evil’ hidden in her heart couldn’t be ignored.

Drayya wasn’t a morning person. When she awoke in one of the Golden Flagon’s lush beds, she decided to allow herself a few extra moments (an hour) of rest before tackling the day. Her lethargic morning ritual proceeded just as slowly as it had for the last 25 years of her life - 10 minutes of stretching followed by 15 minutes of light exercise. Afterwards, she ran a just-shy-of-boiling bath to enjoy for at least a half hour, before dressing herself and eating a hearty breakfast in the tavern with her own (Lieze’s) hard-earned gold.

After that, she was off to work. First on the agenda that day was torching as many fields and murdering as many inhabitants of Tonberg’s rural population as possible without being apprehended by the royalists. After a leisurely stroll through the countryside, she arrived at the hideout and prepared a formidable force of thralls before swiftly departing for the city yet again.

Torching farmsteads was nothing new to her. Over the course of Sokalar’s ambitious crusade against the Sovereign Cities, she’d personally seen to the razing of countless villages as the Order’s undead armies proceeded north from the Deadlands. The only difference then was that she was taking orders from Sokalar’s daughter, rather than the man himself.

“Hmph.” The thought gave her pause, “I never thought I would see the day when Lieze of all people would be ordering me around.”

It was time for her to move. The dagger in her left hand - dripping with blood, was the last precaution she’d taken to ensure that no survivors lived to tell of her deeds. It was far too dangerous to linger in one place, especially one with great towers of smoke advertising her exact position to any royalists stationed on the city walls.

With that said, Drayya couldn’t help but notice the distinct lack of any response from the city. She’d managed to torch about a fifth of the farmsteads surrounding Tonberg, and not so much as a single guard had appeared to investigate the commotion. Not that she was about to complain about such a fortuitous turn of events, however.

“...Right.” Slapping both hands against her cheeks, she readied herself for the next unfortunate family on her tour around the city perimeter, “It’s time to get moving.”

“Sir Helmach!” A noble but distressed voice yelled, “Stow your blade this instant! This woman is an innocent civilian!”

Silver steel covered Lieze’s field of view. The heft of a sword much too large to be considered the weapon of a human being blockaded her path with a terrifying sound. If she’d been standing a few inches closer, her left half and right half would have undergone quite the messy separation. In response to her confident declaration of treason, Helmach made his intentions quite clear as she attempted to walk past the blockade of royalists barring her way to the castle.

Of course, she understood perfectly well why he was so intent on stopping her. Beneath the roiling tension of Tonberg’s politics, a darker plot was brewing. Out of that entire crowd, only Helmach was aware of Lieze’s true nature. A single, sane man adrift in an ocean of insanity.

-But he didn’t have the authority to kill her on the spot, as much as he would have relished the occasion. As his sword was retracted and returned to his back, Lieze allowed her gaze to grace the information floating above his head.

Helmach Lawain

Level ??? Swordmaster (!???!)

HP: ??? / ??? MP - ??? / ???

BODY - 21 / MIND - 3 / SOUL - 11

His attributes had improved. If Lieze was recalling correctly, his [BODY] attribute was 19 when last she checked. Based on her own attributes and those of others she’d investigated, a single attribute increased for every level attained. Therefore, assuming everything she’d witnessed hadn’t been a complete coincidence, it could be concluded that Helmach’s level was [35], placing him ever-so-slightly above the likes of Drayya.

Lieze was forced to remind herself that she and Helmach were one and the same. More than likely, he was also reaping the benefits of quests, meaning the gap between them was much wider than she’d previously anticipated. Helmach - the Blackbriar, and Lieze - the Gildwyrm. Fanrae’s dichotomous rivals, each championing a corruption of their own beliefs. The Gods were playing a strange game indeed.

“As protectors of the peace, it is our duty to ensure that resolutions are reached without the need for bloodshed.” Standing between the two, the Green Dragon knight professed that simple desire, “If you wish to discuss this incident with His Majesty, I would allow a handful of these protestors to enter the castle. But the knighthood will not tolerate any transgressions against the king’s divine right to rule.”

He was searching for a solution that would please both sides. A noble choice, but one that would only end up accomplishing the opposite in practice.

“How many is a handful?” Lieze asked.

“10.” He answered quickly, “...No. 15. I believe that number would represent the scale of the crisis at hand.”

“His Majesty can’t look out a window and see how many people have gathered in front of his castle?” Lieze countered, “If that’s what it takes to avoid having to barge our way in, then I have no reason to refuse those terms. But you’ll have to give me your word that no stray dogs - like this gentleman here - will try to pull anything on our way up.”

Lightning struck between their gazes as Lieze and Helmach locked eyes. The two of them couldn’t have been less interested in politics. They desired the death of one-another, plain and simple. The knight’s armour hid his expression valiantly, but the lethargic limpness to his body language told Lieze that he was keen to get the situation resolved quickly.

“Very well. Gather a group together and make your way to the throne room. You there!” Pointing a silver finger towards the formation behind him, he singled out a guard, “Inform His Majesty that visitors are on their way.”

The guard didn’t say a word as he disappeared through the gatehouse faster than he had any right to in such heavy armour. Lieze, meanwhile, occupied herself with picking a few lucky faces from the crowd to accompany her on the way up. She didn’t recognise any of them. It was better that way, as far as she was concerned.

Just about every royalist in the city had been recalled to the castle’s defence. Formations of spear-wielding soldiers tapped the handles of their weapons against the ground in unison as Lieze and her entourage wandered up the winding pathway. She’d gotten too used to it - the sprawling view of the city from above. The sights of crossbows trained on her silhouette from arrow slits on high. The withering state of Ricta’s royal garden. Never had she expected to be making so many round trips to and from the fortress of the enemy.

Candlelight illuminated the throne room, masking the paleness of Ricta’s features. He seemed smaller on the throne then - much smaller. Lieze could sense the willpower it took to keep him from launching towards her in a frenzy upon witnessing the architect of his despair sauntering into the heart of his kingdom yet again.

As always, Alistair stood like a statue beside the throne, his sagged expression neither perturbed nor affected. The sound of Ricta’s finger tapping against the armrest mimicked the low thunk of a grandfather clock. As they approached the throne, those who had followed Lieze into the castle kneeled before their king immediately, as if their fervent demands of abdication and justice had suddenly dissolved away.

“Miss Lieze.” Ricta’s lip puckered inward. Lieze could have sworn she heard the sound of his teeth grating together, “Rarely is it that I’m offered the chance to speak with a commoner so frequently. You’re rather accomplished at stirring the pot, it seems.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not here to make small talk.” Lieze replied, “A guard was sent up earlier. I won’t waste your time explaining why I’m here, or why a crowd of disgruntled citizens have appeared in the city square.”

“Yes. An undead attack. I’m aware.” His answer was tired and predictable, “A tragedy, to be sure. I do hope it goes without saying that those widowed by this altercation will be receiving compensation for the lack of awareness on my part.”

“Lack of awareness?” Lieze repeated, “You allowed undead to enter the city. Now your people are convinced that the safety imparted by Tonberg’s walls is an illusion. No amount of gold can dissuade that fear, and no amount of honeyed words can convince your citizens otherwise.”

“Do not speak as if you understand the ways of civility, Outlander.” Ricta sat forward in his throne, “It is by my grace that Tonberg still stands - by my wisdom that the Order was repelled on that fateful day. Look around you, Miss Lieze. Towards your so-called ‘vengeful allies’. Would they kneel before me if this was not the truth?”

“They kneel because they are afraid of death.” Lieze answered, “The common man is not given the liberty of demanding what he pleases from a king. They have lives of their own - wives and children to provide for. Yet even so, they have been pushed far enough by your incompetence to place that happiness on the line.”

“Incompetence?” Ricta scoffed, “I have heard enough of this. Guards! Escort these dissidents out. I will not tolerate such insubordination in my city.”

“You’re in no position to evict me.” Lieze challenged.

“So you say. But come what may, I will not tolerate a witch manipulating my own people against me and blackmailing my divine self with threats of humiliation.” He declared, “...Guards! I’ve given you an order!”

The sharp clinking of armour resonated throughout the throne room as its statuesque protectors shuffled their feet. Ricta’s head threatened to spin like an owl’s as he turned it from side to side, his expression equal parts confused and frustrated.

“What is the meaning of this!? Apprehend these treasonous criminals at once!” His voice bounced from the chamber walls like the tantrum of a newborn. Then, seconds later, he felt a hand resting on his shoulder, and craned his neck to see Alistair looming over him.

“Please do not be alarmed, Your Majesty.” The ancient man blinked slowly.

“Alistair? Is something wrong?” Ricta regarded his attendant with a respectful tone.

“All is as it should be.” Alistair replied, “It would please me greatly if you would cooperate without a fuss. I swore a vow to defend your life, after all.”

“What?” Ricta shook his head, “What are you talking about, my friend?”

He didn’t receive an answer. All it took was a subtle nod from Alistair for the proceedings to begin. At his command, a knight padded over to the throne and gave a deep bow to Ricta before reaching out and taking hold of the boy king’s wrist.

“Wha- unhand me!” Wrenching his arm free, Ricta stood to his feet, “How dare you lay a finger on your king! What is the meaning of this!?”

“Your Majesty, please…” Alistair soothed, “As I’ve just said - all is as it should be. Please don’t make a fuss.”

“Explain yourself, Alistair!” He demanded.

Lieze wasn’t ignorant to the chamber’s deepening atmosphere. She could tell right away that something was amiss. Tactfully, she took a few steps towards the exit, only to catch the surprisingly attentive eye of Alistair.

“Excuse me.” He called, “I must ask you to remain still, Miss Lieze. There is much I would like to discuss regarding Tonberg’s plight.”

He couldn’t obscure the threat lingering between those words. Lieze already understood his true nature; hidden levels, health, and mana. He was part of Helmach’s fold. Another so-called ‘chosen’ of the Gods, gifted with the same power as she. From their very first meeting, he could glimpse her full name - Lieze Sokalar.

“That’s funny…” She couldn’t help but crack a smile, “That’s very funny. What a tempting invitation. But I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

“What a shame. Guards.” Lifting a hand towards her, Alistair spoke, “Apprehend that woman. Do not allow her to escape the city.”

There wasn’t a second to waste. Lieze had already turned on her heels, barrelling towards the exit. The shuffling of tin soldiers following closely behind filled the room with noise, leaving only Ricta’s scorned cries audible over the chaos.

“Alistair! You damn traitor! Unhand me this instant!”

A chill wind blew as Lieze emerged into the garden. Scattered droplets of rain dappled against her cheeks and steeled her resolve as soldiers poured out from the castle entrance, screaming demands and obscenities. The conclusion she’d feared had come to pass.

Quest "Game Changer" Complete!

Reward - 5,000xp

Level Up!

You are now level [22]

HP + 5 MP + 50

MIND + 1

Level Up!

You are now level [23]

HP + 0 MP + 55

MIND + 1