Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

The Wurm she’d been rewarded for her efforts was more than enough to pay for everything Lieze would need to survive in Tonberg for the foreseeable future. The Bag of Holding gifted to her from the bank was a black pouch that seemed infinitely larger on the inside than the outside, and yet allowed her to take from it whatever she desired at a moment’s notice. Enchantments were technically forbidden by the Order of Necromancers, but she wasn’t the one who made it.

The Golden Flagon seemed to her like an ideal base of operations--until she could source one of her own, that is. She would also need allies in the long-term. People she could depend on, whether for funds or information. Only, she would have trouble getting close to any of Tonberg’s citizens without exposing her true nature, or attracting the interest of the priesthood, meaning her best bet was associating with the city’s lowlifes, of which there were no doubt plenty.

By the time she had finished enjoying breakfast in the tavern, a notice appeared on her scale.

Notice

You are no longer suffering from Mana Burnout

Those were the words she had been waiting for. A second later, two more messages appeared.

New Quest Received - "Shady Business"

Find a black market dealer.

Reward - 90xp

New Quest Received - "Thick as Thieves"

Make an ally in Tonberg.

Reward - 120xp

“An ally…” She muttered, “I’ll have to be careful about who I trust.”

Her colleagues at the Order wouldn’t be able to help her anymore. But she didn’t need help--with the power of her scale, it was quite possible she’d be able to match, or even surpass, the likes of Drayya one day. Standing up from her table, Lieze made her way over to the guild receptionist.

“Miss Lieze.” She smiled warmly, “Did you sleep well?”

“About as well as I could, given the circumstances.” The girl answered, “I was wondering--the notices on the board are graded, aren’t they? How does that work?”

“Requests are graded from ‘F’ to ‘S’ depending on their difficulty.” The receptionist explained, “The higher the grade, the higher the reward--as well as the dangers involved in completing it. The Kobold cave you cleared out yesterday was an F-grade request.”

“What sort of things does an S-grade request demand of someone?”

“Well… you may as well consider ‘A’ to be the highest grade. ‘S’ is reserved specifically for matters that threaten the city’s security.”

“Like the necromancer attack?”

“Exactly. Rarely, there are also S-grade bounties for exceptionally powerful foes.”

“Bounties?”

“Think of them like contracts which are always up for grabs. The bottom half of the board is reserved for bounties, and the top half for requests. Bounties usually target monsters, but every once in a while, the city will post a criminal in the hope that someone will bring them in.”

“Could I have a look?”

“Of course! They’re what members are for, after all.”

Something the receptionist said had intrigued Lieze. As she wandered over to the gargantuan board plastered with requests, she directed her attention to the bottom-half and scanned for anything that looked like a wanted poster. Eventually, she was able to catch a glimpse of what appeared to be a blank notice from the city. Pulling it from the board, she examined it closely.

! WANTED ! - Baccharum 'Rummy' Silas - ! WANTED !

Charges - Possession of illegal substances with intent to supply / Tax evasion / Identity fraud / Bribery / Unregulated marketeering (including the trafficking of weapons and illegal substances)

WANTED ALIVE - 11,000 GOLD REWARD

Lieze couldn’t help but think that this ‘Baccharum’ fellow sounded exactly like the kind of lowlife who could help her get an edge in the city. The only problem would be finding him. Tactfully, she placed the bounty back on the board and began to consider her next move. Her original plan for the day was to revisit the Kobold cave and raise one of the creatures as a new thrall. Considering she wouldn’t be able to put either it or the Gravewalker to good use anytime soon, she instead decided to pursue the suggestion of her scale and try to locate an ally or two in the city.

But where to begin?

“Never heard of ‘im.”

“Are you certain?”

“Look, girlie-” A slurred voice accompanied the man’s accusatory finger, “Ye think jus’ ‘cause I’m a bum, I know where all the dealers are?”

“Would a few gold coins loosen your tongue?”

“Hah…” His sigh was without humour, “How many we talkin’?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Fifty.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Clean yer ears out, lass…” The fellow rubbed his tired face. He reminded Lieze of a stray dog, “Fifty gold coins.”

“How will I know you’ll tell me anything if I give you the money?”

“How will I know ye aren’t just gonna scarper the moment I do?” He contested, “Rummy’s the one you want, eh? I can tell you about him. I’ll even throw in a warnin’ for free.”

“A warning?”

“That’s right.” The vagrant raised a finger again, “Never go lookin’ for Baccharum Silas.”

“You aren’t worried this will come back to bite you?”

“Ah, the man knows the business… knows we take everythin’ we can get. Slap on the wrist, that’s all… or, maybe not--you tryin’ to bring him in?”

“No.” Lieze answered simply, “Business.”

“Oh, well… that’s another story, then. Might even get a ‘gift’ or two if you end up bein’ useful to him.” The beggar’s hand lowered to the tin pan at his feet, “Fifty gold coins.”

Lieze relinquished her money knowing full-well she was being fleeced. It wasn’t a low sum--especially not for a vagrant. The fellow perked up as he saw the golden pieces glimmering in the midday sun.

“The pub on Baker’s Lane, near the northern gate.” He informed, “Bartender there--he’s on Rummy’s racket.”

“I wanted to know where he is, not who his sources of income are.”

“Y’think I’ve got a clue, lass?” He shot back, “If Rummy were that easy t’find, the city woulda snatched ‘im up years ago. If ye fancy meetin’ with the man, he’ll be the one to find you first, believe me.”

“Hah… fine.” Lieze sighed, “What sort of things does he deal in that makes the royalists want him?”

“Yer tellin’ me ye don’t know that?” A dry chuckle escaped from the vagrant’s lips, “Why look for ‘im, then?”

“I just told you. To do business.”

“Fair ‘nough.” He relented, “...Well, the man moves most o’ everythin’, really. But folk like me, we only care about one thing--lunar buds.”

“The Elven flower?”

“That’s right. Ain’t no better remedy in this world for a weary heart.” The vagrant seemed to grow ecstatic just talking about the subject, “Jus’ crush the petals up all nice an’ fine, then snort ‘em ‘till yer nose starts bleedin’. Feels like yer above the clouds, it does. Perks ye right up.”

“I didn’t know they could be found south of Akzhem.”

“Neither did I. Not ‘till Rummy came ‘round a few years back. Still costs a pretty penny, mind you--not like that stops anyone from ruinin’ themselves with it.”

“It doesn’t sound like my sort of thing.”

“Ah, that’s what everybody says.” He waved a hand, “The world’s this close to endin’, lass. Won’t be long now ‘till them necromancers come knockin’ again. An’ this time, there ain’t going to be no Gildwyrm to save us… Yer gonna blame an old man for tryin’ t’ enjoy himself in his final days?”

“Why not join them?”

“Hah!” The beggar’s yellowed teeth peeked out from behind his lips, “Why not, indeed… got a feelin’ Rummy might like you, lass.”

“Thank you for the information.”

Lieze was surprised to hear that the streets of Tonberg were rife with drugs considering the priesthood’s strict prohibition of such substances. Even so, the homeless vagrant she’d just paid for some useless information did have it right--Sokalar would most likely be attacking the city as soon as he could rally his forces. Chances were, the army hadn’t even retreated as far as the Deadlands. How amusing it was, she thought, that of all people, a beggar understood the city’s fate better than most.

Tonberg’s northern district wasn’t entirely representative of its normally-untarnished image. Much of the damage suffered during the siege appeared to have gone unnoticed by the royalists. Homes ripped clean in half by Drayya’s Rot Behemoths were only a stark reminder of the tragedy--and the miracle--which had unfolded just one week ago. Lieze wondered just how many had perished. The city’s population must have been halved, at the very least. It was a wonder anything was getting done.

The pub she was looking for was unnamed and rundown. She was half-worried the building would collapse as soon as she touched the door. A few pairs of eyes targeted her from the moment her silhouette creeped through the doorway. Compared to the illustrious Golden Flagon, the mere sight of its rundown interior was almost enough to make Lieze depressed. It sold itself as nothing more than it was--a poorly watering hole for the hopeless and defeated to drown their sorrows.

The bald bartender didn’t raise his head to greet her as she helped herself onto one of the stools.

“I heard that Baccharum Silas owns this pub.” She opened simply.

“...This is no place for a young lady.” He replied, “Do yourself a favour and scram.”

“I’m looking to do business with him.”

“No idea who you’re talking about.”

“There’s no need to play the fool. I’m not trying to turn him in.”

“Oi, missie.”

A voice caught Lieze’s attention from the front of the bar. A gaggle of disillusioned thugs who had been listening in to their conversation seemed about ready to jump off their stools. The leader; a man with one scar running through his pale-white eyeball, seemed almost amused by the situation.

“Rummy doesn’t like bein’ sought out. That old bartender doesn’t know a thing--jus’ pays when he’s told to and doesn’t ask any questions.”

“I suppose you would know where he is, then?”

“It’s not about knowin’ where he is, lass. The boss is a busy man.” He replied, “The only way you’re gettin’ anywhere near him is with a personal recommendation.”

“Are you offering?”

“Well, that depends--are you lookin’ to kill the man, or jus’ talk to him? And don’t waste anyone’s time tryin’ to lie about it. You don’t look to me like someone with anything to offer.”

“Is there anyone in particular he’s looking for?”

“Unless you’re a bloody Dragon Cardinal, then no.” The man answered, “Man likes to keep up with current events, you see. If you’re just another kid from the guild lookin’ to get herself killed, then I’d advise you move swiftly along ‘afore someone plants a knife in your back.”

“I’m a necromancer.” Lieze admitted, “From the Order.”

“Huh? Heh…” The fellow’s surprised expression fell quickly, “Never heard that one before. Ballsy move, though. I’ll admit that much.”

“Do you need me to prove it?”

Perhaps it was the sheer confidence in Lieze’s eyes that caught the lowlife’s interest--or perhaps he wanted to see the girl crumble after exposing her gamble. Either way, he quickly turned his attention to the bartender.

“Old man. You’ve surely got a dead rat or two in this dive, huh?” He wondered, “Couldn’t go and grab one for us, could you?”

The bald proprietor didn’t answer, but he did set down the glass he was cleaning to disappear into the pub’s storeroom. Not a moment later, he emerged dangling the pink tail of a massive rat between his fingers. Lieze left her stool and wandered over to the decrepit table occupied by the patrons. A tiny maggot fell from the rodent’s underbelly as the bartender set it down on the table before returning to the bar.

“Well then, missy-” The scarred man gestured towards the corpse, “You’re a necromancer, aren’t you? Go and pull this poor soul back from death, huh?”

“A thrall’s soul isn’t revived.” She corrected, “Necromancy involves the purging of the soul from the body, so that it can be replaced with animating magic.”

“Huh, huh…” He nodded his head along to her explanation, “Real interestin’, but I don’t see it movin’ yet.”

Lieze held an impatient hand towards the rodent. Closing her eyes, she surrendered her mind to the will of the Blackbriar, once more set upon by nightmarish visions of a world where undead horrors roamed freely through crumbling cities. Having been half-prepared for the creeping sensation, she was at least able to keep her breakfast in her stomach.

The rat spasmed as if being yanked by invisible strings. The three lowlifes seated at the table leapt from their stools, eyes widened in horror as the small creature proceeded to stand on four feet once again, its eyes devoid of lustre.

! MANA BURNOUT !

Your [Spellcasting] feature has been disabled for 24 hours.

Lieze was a little annoyed at having to waste her precious mana on a mere rodent, but it was necessary to prove herself.

“Oi! This lass is the real bloody deal!” The scarred underling exclaimed.

“I hope I’ve made my intentions quite clear.” She began, “Baccharum may have his ear to the ground in Tonberg, but the one thing everyone really wants to know is when the Order will be launching its next attack. In exchange for his services, I would be more than willing to part with such information.”

“Shit… what do we do, boss? She can’t be lyin’...” One of the lowlifes spoke up, his voice trembling, “Then again… the city’d pay a damn fortune to get their hands on a necromancer…”

“Idiot!” The ringleader berated, “We’d have more gold than sense if we turned her in, sure. But Rummy would have our bloody heads if he knew we didn’t hand her over to him!”

The man’s single eyeball followed Lieze warily as he shifted his attention, “Alright, lass… you’ve made your point well enough. I’ll get you a slot with old Baccharum.”

“Much appreciated.” Her self-satisfied grin was equal parts kind and mocking, “-And, I do hope it goes without saying that what you’ve learned today is never to leave this room.”

“Ever since what happened in Saptra… the four- er, three of us know better than to upset one of you maniacs. No offence.” For an instant, the scarred man almost seemed pensive, before turning his attention back to the bald proprietor, “-And don’t you get any ideas, either!”

As always, the old bartender acted as if he had heard nothing at all.