Dead Tired

A story written for the 2020 Royal Road Writeathon!

The goal is to write a complete story in a little over a month. I'll be doing this live, on a publicly available GDocs, with people able to view it from an equally public Discord that you can join right over here: Join the Operation: LichBomb Discord Server!

I can still vividly remember the most disappointing day of my life. I was sixty, perhaps seventy years old. An accomplished wizard, a peerless researcher who had devoted his life to uncovering the darkest secrets of the arcane arts.

Nothing was beyond my reach, no subject was too complex--or too dark--for me to unravel.

The nations of the world and I had reached an agreement. They would leave me be, and in turn I would only teleport into their keeps and stashes of hidden lore every few years.

Information, I believe, is to be shared. Mostly with me.

I was... content. Happy. There's nothing like the discovery of something new, of a new piece of the puzzle clicking in place to brighten my day.

I had been running a series of experiments, my laboratory filled with the stench of chicken blood and offal, my gloved arms covered to the elbows in experimental refuse. A normal, productive evening.

The memory is a bit hazy, actually. It's been centuries, you see? I recall muttering something to an assistant, one of the many that apprenticed themselves to me on their own quests for knowledge.

The arcane sciences, you see, are art and--as the name suggests--science.

The most complex spell can be impacted by the slightest thing. Truly, most of these small variations can be ignored or smoothed over with an application of will and power, but that would mean... failing.

It would be like a master painter hiding a mistake behind a fresh layer, as opposed to truly understanding why each stroke marked the canvas as it did.

I had just pinpointed, with repeatable experiments, the reason why certain very illegal spells whose nature involves the soul and the extraction thereof would sometimes function poorly. As it turned out, the turning of the moons above did have an impact on the arcane, and I could prove it at last!

I knew that I had once more found a way to slip my name into the history books. It almost led me to missing out on the ping, on the warning flashing through my consciousness.

I had levelled up.

Grinning, I turned and inspected my stats.

My grin froze.

The world, for a moment, felt cold with confusion and uncertainty.

Level: Max

Two words, right at the top of my own status screen. Nothing else. Just those two.

I would like to say that everything hit me like a flash, that my rage against the world, against the system, and against the gods, started at that very moment, but that's not quite true.

Stepping back, I told my assistant to pick up after our experiments, and I returned to my chambers for a bit of wine and a moment to contemplate.

Seeing something at the maximum level wasn't impossible. I had certainly gotten some stats that high over the decades. Seeing their growth stop was irritating, but that was tempered by the knowledge that I had reached the pinnacle in that one area.

By my level? The expression of how strong I was?

If that had reached the maximum, then there was just no more growth to be had. No more point in experimenting to gain experience. No point in combating beasts to see how their magics worked, or of studying to grow ever more powerful.

I can recall throwing a goblet of wine across the room. An uncharacteristic show of violence and frustration for me.

I think it's understandable. I had just then discovered that one of the pillars in my life had not so much crumbled, but been revealed to be meaningless.

This was, of course, utterly unacceptable.

In the years that followed, my research took a turn away from merely knowing the secrets of magic and of the universe. No, that wasn't enough. Power alone wasn't enough. Magic wasn't enough.

I needed more. A new cause, a new reason.

First, immortality.

Through means too dark to speak of. Nations burned, fearsome creatures that terrorized entire continents were rendered down into so many reagents. Heroes rose up to fight me, misguided and full of thoughtless zeal. They made good testbeds for my further learning.

Once I became immortal, truly immortal, I set my sights higher.

I could have become a lord of sorts. An emperor of the dead that I had turned into my unsleeping, ever loyal army, but I had no interest in mere rule.

What would I learn from observing peasants squabble in the mud? What secrets could merchants sell me that were truly worthy of my time? Why abase myself to the machinations of nobles who chased after only small pitiful things like prestige, honour, and power, and who would rather take it from others than earn it for themselves?

No. I aimed for the seat of the gods.

The clergy mocked me before they fell. Holy magic was magic, and magic was my domain.

The gods scoffed at my efforts, then cried as their celestial palaces met the earth at long last.

And then...

And then...

I watched over the world. A thousand years old. More powerful than anything in the land. My level, still mockingly only at 'Max', calling upon others to underestimate me.

I suppose I could have remade the world in my image. Turn it into a bastion of learning and enlightenment.

But frankly, I was tired.

At long last I decided that, for my own health, for my own self-interest, I would lay myself to sleep. Not to death, for that had been barred to me when I found Death and killed him. Not to timelessness, because who was I to allow mere time to dictate my actions? But to rest.

I would sleep, and in some eons to come, when the universe at last reached its end, I would look upon the vast emptiness of the void itself, and demand answers.

The glowing orbs that served as my eyes extinguished themselves. My loyal servants, crafted with my love and care, laid themselves down to rest. And I slept.

And then some punk woke me up.

Rem never liked being out and about in places with lots of humans. They were always so very noisy, and they didn't move right.

Humans were always in motion, twitching and walking and running and moving their arms around to do stuff. There was none of that silent contemplation, the slow calculated positioning that came before a strike.

She didn't like that. It made them so very annoying to deal with. Worse, when the humans saw her face, with her many-faceted eyes and finger-sized mandibles, they always had such loud reactions. They'd scream, and if she pinned them down to demand things they would tremble and kick.

Her mother had said that humans were not for eating, and the word of the God Mother was absolute, the humans had nothing to worry about.

Rem reached up and adjusted her hood. It hid her face, reducing the amount of screaming and running that would happen. It also made her peripheral vision terrible.

She hated cities.

Not only were they filled with humans, but they stank, and it was hard to hunt. You ate one noble's favourite dog and all of a sudden life got really complicated for a while.

Rem twitched her scythes, the many powerful muscles that held her arms back from snapping out tensing up.

She didn't have a choice in the matter though. Her Divine Mother had demanded that they find that Herald of...

Rem brought her arm up and rubbed her elbow over an eye. She couldn't remember. Something about science?

He was a skeleton guy, and her mom wanted her and her sisters to find and kill him. Easy.

So, she was in this stinking city because that's where people went. And she'd find that skeleton guy before her sisters, and then she'd get to eat her sisters because they were so much slower than her.

Her mandibles worked, keeping her acidic spit in check before it spilled down the front of her robes.

Robes!

That was another thing that was stupid about humans. They had to wear all these clothes things, and they imposed them on perfectly normal mantis girls like her. She didn't want to wear any coverings. It wasn't natural.

Had she the right kind of face bits, Rem would have pouted.

She came to a stop in the middle of the city square. It was a big place. Very square. With square buildings all around. A very functional name for a place. She liked that.

What she didn't like were all the hawkers screaming from behind kiosks and the carriages moving by, pulled by hardy horses that she wasn't allowed to eat where people could see her.

The air stank of manure and human sweat and... she opened her mandibles a bit wider and turned to the side. Something smelled different. It didn't take much for her five eyes to settle on a cart set off to one side, right by the corner leading off to some road with a collection of shops selling human things.

The cart had a fire on it, in a sort of stone device, and a young man was turning a spit on which a small, skinless bit of meat was skewered. The fat from the meat landed in the fire with a sizzle-hiss that sounded as good as it smelled. She noticed a bag next to him, filled with more meat.

Rem skittered over to the man and the cart and the meat. The problem with cities--one of them--was that the hunting was awful. But they sometimes had food just set out like this.

She stopped before the stall and paused.

Humans had this thing where they traded small pieces of metal for food. She wasn't stupid, she understood currency and all of that. She even took the little pouch of coins that her mother's servants had offered her to help on her mission.

The problem was that scythes were really not suited to fiddling inside of a pouch to pull out a single coin.

No matter. If the meat selling person wanted his coins, he'd have to figure it out.

She leaned forwards before the cart until the man turning the spit paused and looked at her. "Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked. "We have some excellent beef here today. Fresh from the field."

Rem hissed and screeched at him that she was, in fact, very interested in his stock of meat. She even slid her hood back to better communicate.

Of course, the stupid human didn't speak the language of insects, and he fell back, gibbering stuff about how his emperor would save him. The stupid human.

Rem shifted her mandibles in frustration and focused as hard as she could. She, of course, knew how to speak human. Not all the human tongues, because humans being humans they had to make things complicated and have more than one language, but she could manage with the local dialect at least.

"Stupid," she said, addressing the man. "I'm hungry. I want this meat."

The man picked himself off the ground and swallowed hard as she eyed him. "You're one of those... ah, I mean... of course?"

"Good. Good stupid," she praised the human. She carefully slid one of her scythe-tipped arms out from under her robed and tapped the cart before her. "Now."

The man nodded quickly, pulled the meat off the spit, and stuck the whole thing onto a long piece of wood.

Rem eyed the skewer, then her scythes.

Scythes were great for many things. Cutting, stabbing, pinching things against the spines jutting out of her arm.

They were not great at grabbing things. That was one area where humans had it better than her.

Carefully, she aimed at the piece of meat in the man's hand, then her arm shot out and stabbed through it, one of the little spines on the back of her arm holding it fast so that she could pull it to her widened mandibles.

The human's face went pale as he watched her other arm come up to hold the meat in place as she chewed it apart, her mandibles tearing pieces out and tossing them to her acid-covered palps. "Oh, Emperor," the man whispered.

When she was left with nothing but a piece of wood sizzling with her saliva, she tossed it down, then leaned over the cart. "How much?"

"P-pardon?"

"How much money was that?" she asked.

"I..." he swallowed, then pointed to a sign.

She looked at the scribbles on it, then back to the man. Did he expect her to know what any of that meant? "Tell me, stupid."

"It's two copper pieces?" he tried.

She had silver pieces in her pouch. Opening her robes a little more, she exposed her belt, which was a piece of leather strapped around her waist, then pointed to her money pouch with a sythe. "The money is here."

"It's okay, totally okay," the man said.

"Take the money!" she hissed.

She didn't need anyone accusing her of being a thief. Again. It was too much trouble dealing with all those stupid cultivators. Sure, they tasted better, but they also put up more of a fight.

"It's fine?" he tried.

She tilted her head down so that she was meeting each of his eyes with at least two of her own. "Take the money."

The map's tongue darted out and licked his lips. Carefully, he reached out and brought his trembling hand over to her money pouch. He fumbled with the drawstring for a moment, then pulled out a silver coin.

"I want change."

The man jumped a foot into the air, almost fumbled the coin, then clutched it close. "Of course!" he said.

"And another meat."

"They're not ready yet," he said. He sounded like he was about to cry.

She didn't like it when humans cried. Especially the young ones. They always threw tantrums when they found her eating their dogs.

If humans didn't want her eating their dogs, they just had to find less delicious pets.

"I don't care," Rem said. "Give me another meat. And no wood."

The man fumbled with his own change pouch, then placed some coins on the top of the cart next to a piece of fresh meat from his meat bag. "Th-there you go!"

"Put it in the pouch, stupid," she said as she grabbed the meat and started chewing through it. It was much better uncooked, but she did miss the warmth a little. Of course, actual fresh meat wouldn't have that kind of problem.

Once the shopkeeper... the cartkeeper, had put her change away, she thanked him by not eating him, then stalked off while picking at her mandibles with one of the spikes on her arm joint. She'd have to try eating at other stalls, to try our different sorts of meat. It wouldn't beat hunting, but it would at least entertain her for a little while.

She didn't know how long she'd be in the city. Seven Hills, which was a stupid name for a city, was right on the border of the Flamming Steppes and the rest of the Empire. She wasn't allowed in the rest of the Empire of course.

People like her were always accused of being beasts and hunted by cultivators if they moved too far from the Steppes and the influence of her divine mother.

This was the city nearest the border, so if that bony guy came here, he'd have to pass by this city.

Most humans moved from city to city, and used roads to move around when they could. It was because they didn't like hunting, which was always best far from the roads.

Like a good ambush predator, she just had to find a place to stalk the bony man from, then she could chop his head off, and be rewarded for all of her efforts.

Not that Rem particularly cared much for rewards and such. She was a simple kind of mantis.

She was halfway to the edge of the city square when she noticed something that caught her eye. A splash of white in the sea of blandly dressed humans. Her eye twitched to the side to follow the motion.

It was a person, a human, moving through the crowds with an elegant, almost dance-like gait. They wore a black dress, with white lacy and a head-dress atop their head.

They movements weren't the motions of a normal human though. They were too precise, to perfect. Even with the wide skirt they avoided so much as brushing anyone, all without slowing down their step.

She thought she recognized them. Then it clicked. The person that was travelling with the bony person she had to kill.

Her mandibles clicked together in joy and she lowered herself down before darting ahead.

So lucky! Her prey came to her.

Now all she had to do was find a place from which to catch this person in an ambush and she'd not only have another meal, she'd get a lead to the bony man.

Being the patient hunter that she was, Rem didn't merely rush towards the woman in the black dress. She instead moved to the edges of the square and climbed up the walls of a building until she lay herself flat atop the roof.

From there, she could wait, saliva drooling out of her mouth as she watched the black-clad woman going from cart to cart and from shop to shop. She had a basket which she filled with all sorts of foods and cloth and other such things.

Once, Rem thought she was seen, but that was unlikely, she was in the shade cast by a taller roof, and her robes were of a similar colour as the tiles on which she rested.

She lay there, completely unmoving for some time.

And then the woman slipped into an alley nearby.

Rem's mandibles twisted into a content grin.

It was time to strike!

Anyway! Good news!

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Cinnamon Bun volume One is now available for pre-order on Audible!

It's officially coming out on the 19th!

I am unbelievably excited!

So yeah, if you have an audible credit to spare, or just want to support Cinnamon Bun's release and the release of my other stories in audiobook formats, then please consider pre-ordering!

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The Flaming Steppes

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If you want to join the Dead Tired Discord, and see chapters being written live on Tuesdays and Thursdays, then you can find a link here: LINK!

Thank to you soon!

I woke up with a hunger. For a certain definition of hunger.

When I first became a lich I lost many of my earthly desires. Notably, hunger and any sort of base need. For a time I was satisfied with this, but I found that, surprisingly, that lack of need for sustenance drove down my creativity by a noticeable margin.

The solution, of course, was to poke at the problem with some magic. A minor compulsion, placed on myself, and delayed with a complex array of randomizers and timers. Such that, in the end, I would have sudden cravings for certain foods, or views, or activities. Nothing I couldn't ignore, but it always amused me to fulfil these desires.

"I," I declared. "Am a little hungry."

The others in the room with me looked up.

We were in the main control centre for the F.O.S.S.I.L. Head, buried deep within the gigantic construct. Seventeen was manning the helm, and the limpet was pouring over some manuscripts, preparing herself to learn some new magics. Mem was sitting off to the side, with large Alex-made mittens over her scythes so that she could pet the limpet's dog, and Rem was knitting. Or trying to, at any rate.

"I can help with that," Alex said.

"Hmm," I said. "No, I'm thinking of something in particular. It is a vile and unhealthy food. Not something someone of your caliber should ever produce."

"Oh," Alex said.

I stood and made my way out the door. I didn't require anyone, but Seventeen to follow, but they certainly did, only stopping when I arrived on the main deck under the noon-day sun.

"What are you doing, Master?" the limpet asked.

I hummed, then cast a few mage hands and had them start to carve symbols onto the deck. "I'm creating a portal. I know a place where we can get what I desire with relative ease."

"Oh, alright," the limpet said. It saddened me just a little that even magic this complex wasn't met with the same wonder as it would have inspired just a week ago. The limpet was beginning to expect me to just be able to do anything, which wasn't always the case.

"Mem's never been portalled before," Mem said.

"It's not as fascinating as you might think. I suppose all of you will wish to come along?" I asked.

I refrained from sighing at all the curious nods I received. And the hiss from Rem that I summarily ignored.

Kneeling down a little, I tapped my bony fingers onto the symbols I'd engraved and allowed a small amount of magic to pour into the runes. An eldritch glow suffused the deck, and the runes activated sub-runes, which in turn pushed magic, raw and wild, into constructs that began to push out into this world in the form of whirling pools of magic.

"Pretty!" Mem declared.

"Yes. Now, every stand in the centre," I instructed. There was a circle in the middle, cleared of any interference, and obviously made for people to stand upon. The group, myself included, came to stand upon it. Then I just needed to adjust a few things, and we were almost ready to go. I merely had to trigger the spell arrays.

"Mem wonders what this does," Mem said.

"That's the aiming array," I explained. "To go from our universe, to another one. The one we're heading towards is called Arth."

"What's ours called?" Mem asked.

"I don't believe our multiverse has a name," I said.

"That's sad," Mem said. "Mem names it the... Memtiverse. Now it has a name!"

"That's wonderful," I said.

"I don't know if I want to live in this multiverse anymore," the limpet muttered. "Um, should you be touching that?"

My head whipped around to see the mantis poke her midden-covered scythe into a rather fragile set of runes.

"Please don't touch--"

The world warped.

We crashed with all the grace of a pigeon who'd swallowed a fireball, onto a wooden deck.

The first thing I did, of course, was observe the state of the magic around me. The portal spell was still active, still counting down, and still aiming us towards my intended destination. It had merely changed so that we would be dumped in areas of narrative importance along the way. Interesting.

All I would need to do to tweak that was.

"Uh, hi there!" said a youthful voice.

I glanced around. My companions were coming to their feet and taking in their surroundings as well. We were upon another deck, though this one was made of wood. A large balloon, done in garish colours, was held up above us, and we seemed to be floating some hundred-odd necrometers above a large body of water.

"We weren't expecting guests, sorry! Do you guys need anything? Water, a snack?"

"Uh," the limpet said. She stood up and came face to... chin, with a bright-eyed young woman in a partially-armoured blue dress and with a rather dashing hat that failed to obscure the pair of ears sticking out of her head. "Master, is this where we're supposed to be?"

"Broccoli," someone said. "I don't know if they're all that friendly."

A glance to the side revealed a young woman with wings for arms--a harpy?--next to a rather plain human girl and a small man with a pair of wings fluttering on his back.

"Oh, come on, they just dropped out of nowhere. The least we can do is be polite. Look, they have a cute maid, and a couple of mantis people, and a nice skeleton guy, and this girl looks very nice too."

"Um," the limpet said.

"Thank you," Alex replied. "I do believe we've arrived at the wrong destination. I do hope we aren't imposing upon your hospitality."

The bunny-girl snorted. "Don't be silly. My Beaver is open to anyone."

Alex and the limpet blinked at the same time. "How very hospitable of you," Alex said. "I... yes, well. That's... wonderful."

"Thanks!" the girl said. "So, what brings you aboard our ship?"

I stood a little taller and dusted off my suit. "A small mishap with some teleportation magic. Nothing to worry yourself over."

"Oh, wow, that's awesome! Well, not that you go off track, but that you can teleport. Will you be staying with us for long?" the bunny-girl asked.

"Broccoli, they're obviously... a little strange," the harpy replied.

"Awa, they, um, seem nice?"

The Broccoli girl--was that truly her name? What sort of parent would name their child after a vegetable?--clapped her hands. "Wonderful! We can have a surprise sleepover, and we can talk, and we can learn all sorts of cool things about each other, and by the time morning comes around, we'll be the best of friends."

I started pushing more magic into the portal construct.

"Oh, and I love your maid outfit, and your mantis-butler outfit. You'll have to tell me where you got those!"

The magic took hold, and yanked us away.

I sighed in relief.

We landed in... a bedroom?

A window against one wall... no, not a window. It was a screen of some sort--using some kind of technology to transport a live image of another location to the wall--which was displaying a scene of a cityscape. Huge buildings, towering high enough to touch the sky, with small vehicles darting around in the air.

Large images flashed everywhere in the cityscape, calling for the watcher's attention with scenes of violence and near-pornography that would have shocked the people of my home world.

Within the room itself, a room lit by small magicless devices, was an occupied bed, some simple furniture of a style I was unfamiliar with, and a lot of discarded clothes strewn about the floor.

"Interesting," I said "A world where technology was embraced over magic."

"What in the fuck!" one of the bed's occupants screamed. She--a young woman with a mechanical arm and severe burn scars over part of her body--raised her non-magical, metallic arm towards us, and a small opening appeared over it. "Myalis!"

I noticed a small cat to the side. No, not a cat. The image of a cat superimposed upon another machine. It felt... very intelligent, a machine being controlled by an intelligence that was not in this room. An old one, at that, and powerful in its own way.

"This is... irregular," the cat-machine said.

"No shit," the girl in the bed said.

Another girl raised her head. Dark-skinned, with wide eyes partially hidden behind the covers she held up to her face. "Cat, is that an antithesis?"

"Uh," the other girl said.

"Mem says hi!" Mem said.

"We're sorry for the inconvenience," Alex said. "We're having some technical difficulties with our portal magic. It shouldn't be an issue for very long."

"Portal magic?" the cat-like creature asked. "Please, tell me more."

"Perhaps I could," I said as I turned my magical senses away from the humans in the room. The two girls had some interesting technological implements stuck in and on them, but those were all superficial, and while interesting, they weren't the goldmine of information that the other one had, even if it had a tendril connected to the metal-armed girl.

"Are you attempting to bypass my firewalls?" it asked just as my scrying magic reached it. I observed an interesting system in place to make scrying more difficult. I analyzed it, catalogued the interesting parts for later, then moved on past it. "That was an interesting breech method."

I sensed a whole host of devices and scanners turning our way. Not merely in the room, but from near-orbit, from the local planet's moon, and in dimensional space.

"Bone Daddy looks busy," Alex said.

"Would someone please tell me what in the god damn is going on?" the metal-armed girl on the bed said.

"Yeah, sorry," the limpet said. "Mem poked a thing, now Master's magic is working strangely. What's that thing?"

I spared a bit of attention from my magical poking and prodding to look over at what the limpet was pointing at.

It was a device covered in long, sinuous tentacles, some of them excreting a sort of juice that glistened in the room's artificial light. One of the girls, the one not connected to the artificial mind, blinked. "You mean Mister Tentacles?"

Alex whipped around and placed his hands over the limpet and Mem's eyes."Perhaps it's best you don't observe that," Alex said.

"Mem wanted to touch it!"

"No," Alex said.

"What about me?" Rem asked, her scythes raising.

"I don't have sufficient hands," Alex admitted.

"Myalis! Some explanation please! Because I'm used to kittens interrupting my fun time, not... a fucking skeleton in a suit, a girl, two giant talking bugs and a fucking catboy maid!"

"Ah," I said as I felt a magical tug. "It seems the portal's reactivating. It was interesting meeting you," I replied.

"Please contact us again," the intelligence said. "We have questions."

I nodded, then felt the naval-tug of teleportation yanking us away.

This time, we crashed into a sandy dune. Our footing, quite unstable, led to us tumbling down the side of the dune until we came to a stop at the bottom.

"Master, I'm starting to dislike this," the limpet said.

Something metallic crunched. A two-part sound that was at once a menace and a warning. "I ain't too keen on whatever this is either."

I stood and found that we were in a desert. Even a quick scry around the area revealed nothing, but endless sands in all directions. The only life here was small, and swift to scurry away at the approach of my magic.

It wasn't a magicless world, but it was near it.

Nearby was a woman in a long leather coat with a metal device in her hands, a long tube with a small telescope above it. Behind her was another fellow, and elf of all things, and behind that...

"What an interesting device," I muttered. "Some sort of magical engine... simple pistons and rotors... very precise engineering. Though it seems to have weathered some rough times."

"Hello nice lady," Mem said. "Can Mem hug your friend the big metal man?"

"What in the name of all the gods are you?" the woman asked.

Alex, ever valiant, stepped up to answer, and paused when the woman levelled her obvious weapon at him. "We had a little mishap with some portal magic. We should be out of your hair in a moment."

"Oh god, it's hot here," the limpet complained.

I supposed it was a little on the warmer side. I flicked my hands to the side, casting an area cooling charm that lowered the temperature noticeably. The weapon swung my way. "What was that?"

"Magic, obviously," I said. "I don't think we'll be staying here for very long."

"Where are you from?" the elf asked. "An undead... I haven't heard of the undead since... ever. You're a legend, from before the great war."

A great war? Ah, that could explain the temperature. There was definitely something magical about the way this desert was formed.

"So, Mem can't hug the metal man?" Mem asked.

"No you can't, stupid."

The portal flickered, and once again we were moved.

This time we were deposited in the front of a classroom. A nice enough room, with rows of chairs--currently filled--and a nice blackboard at the back. A place of learning! I had always enjoyed those.

Mem looked around, spotted the students--mostly young women--and waved. "Mem says hi!" she said.

"C-class three threat!" someone yelled.

The young men and women all stood up and... started dancing?

I was confused until powerful magics wrapped around them, like spiked chains, gripping onto their souls and minds and twisting. Then they loosened and the young folk were suddenly dressed in flamboyant outfits, often with weapons.

"Quick!" one of them shouted.

I sighed and cast a mass sleeping spell over the room.

The portal flickered, and once again we were moved.

This time we were deposited in the front of a classroom. A nice enough room, with rows of chairs--currently filled--and a nice blackboard at the back. A place of learning! I had always enjoyed those.

Mem looked around, spotted the students--mostly young women--and waved. "Mem says hi!" she said.

"C-class three threat!" someone yelled.

The young men and women all stood up and... started dancing?

I was confused until powerful magics wrapped around th--

I shuddered. This had all happened before. Time manipulation magic? Was someone playing some silly games with the fabric of the universe here?

I spotted the likely culprit, a redheaded young woman, surrounded by three others that I presumed were her friends. The little clocks and suchlike on her dress were a rather obvious giveaway.

My hands moved, and I flung a sleeping spell at her. No point in killing someone merely trying to learn.

The portal flickered, and once again we were moved.

This time we were deposited in the front of a classroom. A nice enough room, with rows of chairs--currently filled--and a nice blackboard at the back. A place of learning! I had always enjoyed those...

Had I the ability to, I would have frowned.

"Mem says hi!" Mem said.

"C-class three threat!" someone yelled.

I knew where this was going. This time I snapped out a rapid series of spells, two of them hitting the little time manipulator and confusing her before knocking her out, the other spells washing across the room and setting the other students to sleep.

"Did Mem do something?" Mem asked.

"No, nothing of note," I said.

This time, when the portal grabbed at me, I made sure it moved us elsewhere.

We appeared in a quaint little garden. Flowering bushes all around, a wrought-iron table nearby with fresh tea waiting upon it, and three girls sitting around it. The air was filled with birdsong and the happy buzz of lively bees.

It was a magic-rich world, though that magic was under a tight leash.

The young woman at the table, the two who were about the limpet's own age, merely blinked at us for a moment before looking down at the third among them.

I locked on her and froze.

"Dreamer," one of the girls asked with impeccable calm. "Did you summon these people here? You should have waited until after tea."

The one they called Dreamer looked at us.

I felt a shiver running down my bones.

This was no child.

Certainly, there was a form at that table, a construct made to look like a child with curly hair and inquisitive eyes, all bundled up in a lacy dress and bare feet, but that was no child.

I started pushing more magic into the portal spell. A lot more.

"No," the Dreamer said. She looked at us, then her tongue darted out between her lips.

I felt it. The hunger.

That. Was. No. Child.

I pushed and poked at the portal, willing it to go faster.

"We're sorry for the interruption," Alex said. The butler did not sense the horror, the all-consuming hunger, that he was speaking to. He did not see the tentacles crawling in the shadows, slipping in the nearby bushes, the mana-tentacles already reaching out with questing limbs to see what our portal was made of.

He did not see the pretendtacles, there and not, the metatentacles, currently looking at you, the reader, with confusion and curiosity, or the myriad of other tentacle and tentacle-like abominations waiting to be unleashed.

The portal started to activate.

"Wait," the Dreamer said.

The portal shuddered to a halt.

Magic wasn't meant to do that.

I gave her a skeletal grin. "Yes?" I asked while my magic whipped out and tried to fix the damage.

"What're you doing here?" she asked.

I replied with honesty. "We were heading out to eat something, when our portal encountered a small issue. It should be bringing us to our destination soon. We truly are sorry for the inconvenience."

"Oh," the Dreamer said. She looked at all of our heads. "No hats," she muttered. "Abigail do you want them?"

"Um, no?" the girl next to the Dreamer said.

"Can I eat them?" she asked.

My bones started to rattle.

"Mem would rather not be eaten!" Mem volunteered.

"I don't think that would be very nice?" the Abigail girl said.

The Dreamer shrugged. "Whatever then."

A space-and-timetacle grabbed and flung us away.

We crashed into an alleyway.

I took a moment to just rest there.

The others, happily oblivious to just how close they'd come to being the snack of... some creature that I couldn't yet describe, all bounced to their feet and glanced around. "This place stinks!" Rem said.

I sighed and rose to my own feet just in time to hear Mem gasp.

"Hello little children! Mem is Mem!"

I looked to the side and found that we weren't alone in the alley. There was a group of young women... why was it always young women?

At their head was a girl with bear-ears atop her head. She was frowning at us, hands on hips and eyes narrowed. Behind her was a child in a leather coat with a large pair of spectacles on. She was attempting to... use some sort of Fear effect on me. Interesting, and easily dismissable.

Behind them, and somehow connected to them via an interesting quirk of soul magic, was a plain, very nervous looking young woman, and all around her, three girls who were also the same girl.

That was interesting. One soul split amongst three identical bodies. I'd never seen anything like that before.

"Hello," Alex said. "Forgive us, we are a little bit lost at the moment."

"Actually," I said. "We've arrived where we're meant to be."

The bear girl huffed. "Who are you people? You got any idea who we are?"

"No, I don't particularly care, either," I said. A glance out the end of the alley revealed our final destination just across the street. La Maison de la Poutine. A shady little establishment that sold the thing I had been craving some minutes ago. I wasn't so tempted now, but I was here already. "Come along, everyone, let's get a snack for the road."

"Um," the oldest girl in the group said. "I think, uh... yeah, okay, just... fine. Let's go home girls, I don't think we should mess with that group."

"Aww, but sis, I can take them!"

"They are pretty suspicious," the one casting Fear said.

"Let's tail them!" one of the triplets called.

"Mem doesn't mind making new friends!" Mem replied.

The bear girl huffed and started walking after their group. "Never met a bug person before. So, are bugs disgusting evil capitalists?"

"Mem's never capitaled anything."

"Oh? Then you'll love hearing about this thing. It's called Communism, and it's great."

***

Cinder was used to a certain level of both discomfort and comfort, yes yes yes. She was, currently, the young mistress of her sect, and that had afforded her some luxuries that the average citizen of the Flaming Steppes could only dream of.

It also meant that she had ruined herself in the name of progress and in the endless pursuit of power. She was raised to expect pain and suffering and torment in order to become just a little bit stronger.

She wasn't sure where her current predicament fit.

She was sitting on a plush seat. Fluffed cushions squeezed beneath her derriere and her feet rested comfortably upon a little stool that was adjusted to just the right height for her. There was a small tray just at hand's length with little snacks (at the moment these were crackers with a selection of cheeses and meats and a few decadent sauces) and there was a large fluted glass with some sort of bubbly water to her side. It oozed with magical strength and she suspected that some cultivators would murder for a sip of it.

This was, without any doubt, the most comfortable she had ever been in her entire life.

She was also sitting across from the person that some people would call the God of Death (or the death of gods, depending on how liberal one wanted to be with ancient translations). He was sitting, one bony plaid-clad femur across the other, with his skull resting against a closed fist while a book hovered before him.

The book's spine was clearly made from the spine of some small creature. There was a skull on the cover that routinely cried black tears, and whenever a page was turned, the book sobbed. She had read the title when Harold pulled the large book from the small pockets of his tweed jacket, Courting Death: Married Life for the Recently Deceased.

The book's pitiful cries were the only sound in the carriage. She wasn't even sure if the world outside existed anymore, it was so quiet. She hadn't touched her drink or the snacks, just in case it made any noise which might distract the undead sitting across from her.

This made the situation altogether rather uncomfortable.

Harold didn't have eyes, but Cinder could feel his sudden attention on her. She sat up straighter and resisted the urge to adjust her robes.

"Are you not hungry?" Harold asked.

"I'm fine fine fine," Cinder said. She tightened the muscles of her chest, stopping her stomach from growling. The food smells delicious. She really wanted to eat it, but she also wanted to keep her head attached to her shoulders. That latter desire was currently winning out.

She'd suffered plenty in her cultivation. Skipping a meal was nothing.

There was a snort from next to her as the third person in the carriage finally moved. Mem's head came up, and she idly rubbed at one of her eyes with the elbow of one of her scythe arms. "What's happening?" she asked.

"I was wondering why Cinder hasn't eaten," Harold said. "Are you hungry?"

"There's food?" Mem asked.

"You were given some as well," Cinder said. That was a few hours ago, of course. The carriage had come to a stop and the strange cat-eared and cat-tailed Alex had opened the door to see how everyone was doing.

Mem looked around and discovered the plate next to her seat. "Oh, Mem doesn't remember eating this. Mem must have been asleep."

"You can eat while sleeping?" Cinder asked.

Mem make a gesture with her arms, raising and then lowering them. Cinder supposed it was as closest a mantic could get to shrugging. "Sometimes Mem's food isn't there when Mem wakes up. But Mem has never eaten anything nice while sleeping. You don't have to worry."

Cinder wasn't worrying about that before, but now she was.

The mantis people were a scourge. Mem... or perhaps her siblings, had been terrorizing the Ashen Forest since long before Cinder was born. Her great-great grandfather, the originator of the ashen Forest sect, had written extensively about the founding of the sect.

It came to exist where it was explicitly because of the predations of Mem's goddess mother.

The Mantis Queen had a taste for cultivators. Young, powerful men in particular. The Ashen Forest, as one of the least hospitable places on the continent that was still within the Flaming Steppes, was the perfect place for their sect to settle.

Her entire family history was filled with members dying to the poisonous plants in the region, to the impossibly cruel weather, and to the wild, untamed magics that made the forest a supernatural threat, but those deaths were probably fewer than those who would have died eaten by the Mantis Queen.

Or so they hoped.

Now... she suspected that even if the queen was removed, the Ashen Forest sect would remain where it was. They had made the forest their home, tied it into their culture and cultivation.

She loved her sect, dearly, but she would be the first to admit that they were perhaps a little set in their ways.

Cinder picked up the tray with the little snacks. It seemed as if Harold didn't mind there being noise in his carriage while he read. She still wasn't sure what to think of him, but he seemed overall rather nice. It was terrifying. "Did you want to share?" she asked Mem.

The mantis perked up. "Yes, please."

Very, very carefully, Mem reached over with just the tips of her scythes and pinched a cracker before removing it from the plate. It swiftly found its way into her mandibles and its crumbs joined a dusting across her chest.

Cinder took one for herself and brought it close to the bottom of her mask. She tugged the bottom up and out. The cool air across her lower face stung, but just for a moment before she was nibbling away at her snack and the mask was back in place.

It was, as she suspected, delicious. Surprisingly however, there was a distinct lack of magical potency. It was merely a well made, entirely mundane meal.

"Would you mind if I enquire about Alex?" she asked.

Harold turned his head towards her. There were no eyes to see in his skull, though the faint magical orbs within swirled her way. "I don't mind. Though I imagine Alex knows more about Alex than I do."

"Of course, of course, of course," Cinder said. "I wouldn't ask anything to you that I think is unkind. I am merely curious."

"I am not the sort to leave curiosity unsatisfied," Harold said. "Ask away."

Cinder cleared her throat. "This food is quite good," she said with a gesture to the plate. Mem was muttering something which summoned a small, ethereal hand. It glided over and plucked a canape away. "But I can't help but notice that it's not filled with any more ki than a mundane meal."

Harold tilted his head, as though considering. "Do your meals usually have ki in them? Also, is it ki, or chi? I never quite understood the distinction."

Cinder sniffed. "Those to the south call it chi, but they're obviously just wrong," she said. "In any case, yes, rare ingredients will be potent with life-giving energies. These can help you heal, grow stronger, or just help you refine your cultivation."

"I see," Harold said. "I'm no stranger to the alchemical arts. I made a study of them for a century or so, though alchemy and the more mundane science of chemistry were never my favourite subjects. I wonder if sects like your own practice something similar to that art?"

"I think so," Cinder said. "I have studied the art of making poisons, as have many in the Ashen Forest. The same techniques that can improve the potency of a poison can also be used to increase the potency of foods and tinctures and pills."

"How very interesting. I often feel like the world has regressed significantly when it comes to magic and in some ways culture. It would be nice to see at least one field where significant improvements have been made."

Cinder bobbed her head in a slow bow. She would make note of that. The sect had a vested interest in impressing this undead man.

Or they would, once she explained things to them, which she was very much not looking forward to.

"I'll be certain to show you around, once we arrive," Cinder said.

"Tomorrow will be a busy day, then," Harold said.

"Tomorrow?" she asked. Yu Xiang, the city they'd departed from and which was still under the control of the rather terrifying (at least according to her reputation) General Limpet, was weeks away from the Ashen Forest. A cultivator going all out could certainly traverse that distance in a shorter span, but... but Harold seemed certain that they would be there by tomorrow, and she wasn't ready to doubt him yet.

At least she wouldn't have to stew in her worried for long.

New volume!

I had come to the Flaming Steppes for two reasons. The first, because it was the location of the nearest of my plundered phylacteries. And second, because the location interested me. It was rumoured to be a space where nature itself had turned fully against the civilised and where great monsters both living and not roamed.

So far I had been somewhat disappointed by the claims that this region was impossible to civilise, and despite being within the Steppes for some time, I had yet to reclaim my lost phylactery.

I wasn't disappointed. What was a month worth to someone who had lived for eons?

Actually, no, that was foolish.

Too often, as a mortal, I had read accounts written by--or transcribed from the speakings of--great immortal beats and persons. These often spoke of them seeing the passing of decades the same way a simple man might see the passing of the average day.

This seemed entirely reasonable to my mortal mind at the time. Years did feel as if they slipped by faster as I aged. Would they not be faster still once I had reached a grand old age?

But no. As it turned out, these ancient old immortals were just dull, boring fools that didn't do anything for decades on end.

Tending to a garden as a hobby was a perfectly valid, and even productive, way to spend one's time. Tending to a single bonsai plant for a century while doing literally nothing else wasn't.

I had met a few crotchety old monks that might disagree, but half the time they were so out of touch with current affairs that it was hardly worth the time to talk with them. And I won't get started on the topic of druids.

I was becoming distracted by my own ruminations again. With a smidge of focus, I brought my attention away from the book I was perusing and back into the present. The carriage was making its way at a decent pace through the endless countryside of the Flaming Steppes. Mem had discovered how to open the windows and Cinder was still sitting straight as if she through a little casualness would set me off into a homicidal rage.

So all in all, very little had changed.

"When we arrive at the Ashen Forest, which I imagine will happen relatively soon, should we head directly into the forest itself, or is there somewhere we should stop first?" I asked.

Cinder jumped a little, then looked my way. "Hmm hmm hmm. Shitake city is built within an hour's walk of the Ashen Forest. On paper it's the seat of the sect."

"On paper," I said. "So the sect itself is within the forest?"

She nodded. "Near an area called the Untravelled Cove. There's a large basin at the base of the mountains to the west of the Flaming Steppes. Water flows down from these and pools into a great lake. The sect is near that lake, though not exactly on its shores. That would make us far too obvious."

"I see. Shiitake city will be our first stop, then. Is there readily available transportation from the city to the sect?"

Cinder shook her head. "No no no. That would be imminently unwise. The sect's exact location is known to some on the outside, but we've always kept the number of people who know to a minimum. It's safer that way."

"Safety and obscurity is entirely valid, though I've always disliked it on a fundamental level," I said. "Information is to be shared, most of all with me."

Cinder nodded slowly at that. "I think, once the sect elders learn of your arrival, they might not mind it if you show up and learn what you can about the Ashen Forest. No offence, but most of our most specialised skills would be less than useful for you."

Before I could question her on that, I noticed that we were slowing down, the world outside of the carriage's window went from a rapid blur to moving no faster than if I were walking.

"Mem thinks we're here," Mem said as she leaned closer to the side. "Mem's been here before."

"In Shitake city?" I asked.

Mem bobbed her head. "This is the closest city to where Mom lives. When she sends us out to get stuff, it's usually from here. Sometimes it's Seven Hills."

Seven Hills was a little more familiar. We had crossed through that little city on the way east. It wasn't terribly impressive. The carriage rolled to a stop, and I noticed that there were carriage carts and pedestrians heading the other way. We were clearly close enough to the city that we were starting to run into traffic.

The door on Cinder's side swung open, and I found Alex standing on the ground next to the carriage, the floor reaching up to his chest on account of the height difference. "Hello, Daddy," he said.

"Yes?" I asked.

"We have an issue."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Oh no," Cinder muttered.

I climbed out of the carriage. It was nice to move after so long sitting in one space, though I hardly had muscles to ache. The air outside of the carriage seemed rather dry, with drifts of yellow-brown dust covering the sides of the roads and extending out into sparse fields.

Ahead was a short line of carts leading up to an imposing wall.

Shitake city rose out of the ground like an imposing barrier of worked stone dusted grey and orange by fallen ash. The only thing poking out above the walls were a series of rounded roofs made of carefully overlapping clay tiles.

So far, nothing too extraordinary. The issue that Alex had seemed to come from a large sign mounted next to the entrance gate.

WELCOME TO SHITAKE! CITY OF MOULD AND ASH!

EVERYONE WELCOME!*

A smaller sign was planted on the ground next to the road.

*Except foreigners, the undead, people with lisps, philosophers, mathematicians, werewolves, non-imperial dragons, fake jade salesmen...

The list actually continued for some time, but it was clear that the latter additions were added by another brush, and in a smaller and smaller font as the sign slowly ran out of room.

"Miss Cinder, do you think that will be an issue?" Alex asked.

Cinder poked her head out of the carriage, then let out a sign that resonated strangely within her mask. "Give me a moment," she said as she stepped out and landed with a slight bend of the knee. She tugged her parasol out from under her seat, then flumped it open.

I glanced upwards. There was a very faint stirring in the wind, and with it came rain. I reached a hand out and allowed a few flakes to land upon my finger so that I could better inspect them. Ash. Small pieces of grey-yellow ash.

Cinder noticed my inspection. "That's from the mountains to the west. The forest shields the city from the worst of it. I would warn you not to eat any, but..."

"I'm afraid I don't have the stomach for it," I said.

The corners of Cinder's eyes creased ever so slightly. "I imagine your culinary preferences lean more towards soul food anyway," she said.

"I'm not that sort of lich," I said. "Though I am always curious about how a city feeds itself. I haven't noticed very many farms on the way in."

"We farm from within the city," she said. "Mushrooms, mostly. They're apparently a delicacy to the south, but here they're so common as to be seen as drab. Unfortunately, with so little farmable land, there's not mushroom for anything other than what we're growing already."

"Oh-hoh!" I said. "I suppose even their value elsewhere doesn't change how the locals with lichen them to an everyday food."

Cinder's shoulders shook. "I'm going to clear things with the city guard. I do have some amount of pull here, so you shouldn't have to worry." With a bow of her head, Cinder started towards the wall and the gatehouse built into it.

"I don't like this place," Rem said.

I glanced up. The mantis was sitting awkwardly atop the carriage, the reins leading to the horses tied around her scythes with little bows. "You don't?" I asked.

Rem hissed. "The people here that should taste the best are all bad for you. And there are lots of my sisters here. She moved her eyes to stare at Alex. "You won't like them. They're not as smart or as polite as me, and they're even more useless than Mem."

"So, not a family reunion to look forward to," I said.

"It's worse," Rem said. "There's... bureaucrats."

Well, that was an ill omen if I ever heard one. Though I hadn't yet discovered a form I couldn't tackle. Immortality lent a certain advantage when it came to challenging paperwork.

Hey, Stray Cat Strut Volume Four is up on Amazon! If you liked Dead Tired, there's a small chance you'll enjoy Stray Cat Strut too!

I was all for giving Cinder time to secure our passage into the city, but after the first half hour I began to wonder if there was trouble. Once an hour had passed since I'd last seen the young lady my concern grow into full-fledged worry.

"Mem wonders if Cinder is okay," Mem said as she dangled halfway out of the carriage's window.

Rem snorted from her seat atop the carriage. "Maybe she was eaten by one of the bureaucrats," she said. "What a waste. It would have been better for Rem to eat her."

"Are the bureaucrats here truly so awful?" I asked.

Both Rem and Mem shuddered. "Mem doesn't like them very much," Mem admitted. "Sometimes they'll help Mem a little, but when they explain things, Mem doesn't always understand, and then Mem has to run all over the city doing stuff and bringing forms to people and Mem never has the right ones and it's very scary."

"Rem just stabs them," Rem said while making stabby gestures at the air. "That makes them angry, but I'm stronger than they are, higher up on the food chain. They can't make me do anything. Then can't." She stabbed her scythe into the roof of the carriage rather insistently.

"That all sounds rather exciting," I said. "Alex, watch over the girls, don't let them bug you too much, oho! I'm going to go see if Miss Cinder needs any assistance."

Alex curtsied. "Yes, Father Big Bones."

I paused. "That's a new one."

Alex nodded, a smile forming as he did. "I'm trying new names for the Bone Daddy, since sometimes you don't seem to like that one."

"Well, keep at it," I said.

If I was going to actually assist Cinder, then I'd need to be somewhat more presentable than usual. That is to say, I couldn't merely walk into an office with my natural appearance. The last thing one wanted to do while dealing with bureaucrats was to give them an easy way to dismiss you, in this case, the illegality of the undead complicated things for me quite a bit.

Fortunately, Disguise Self was a simple first tier spell. Properly cast it would take a particularly discerning and intelligent individual to see through the illusion. I fetched a mirror out from my pocket and looked myself over, paying particular attention to the face.

The face was the part that one had to be the most careful with when crafting an illusion. Someone whose limbs were slightly too long might trigger a slight amount of suspicion, but an illusory face being even a minuscule bit inaccurate would foster a deep sense of unease in even the most foolish of people.

At the moment, I looked like a kindly older gentleman. Someone who was perhaps a very healthy seventy year old human, or a prematurely aged but recovering fifty. A few artful wrinkles suggested a life with many smiles and sharp eyes hinted at something like intelligence.

I tugged on the lapels of my jacket--tweed, of course--and then started walking my way over to the front of the line of carriages while tucking my mirror away.

I noticed as I walked over that the people in line seemed entirely ready for a long wait. Several had formed a small group off to one side of the road, sharing a meal over a small fire. Others were reading from scrolls, or taking a nap while lounging across the seats of their carts.

These were people who expected to wait for quite some time. Either Shitake city was a place that catered to layabouts, or this kind of pace was business as usual.

That was... interesting, actually. The purpose of a good bureaucracy was to streamline processes, to establish order and make a society function efficiently. But it seemed the bureaucracy here had the opposite effect--creating a bottleneck that led to idle hands and idle minds.

Was that on purpose?

As I approached the city gate, the sight confirmed my earlier observations. Miss Cinder was just within, standing tall and proud in front of a small stall manned by a bespectacled gentleman who was very carefully looking over a long sheet of paper. She seemed entirely calm on the surface, but her parasol was spinning quite rapidly, and I could sense the slow, roiling frustration wafting off of her as I approached.

"Ah, Miss Cinder. Seems like we're a bit entangled in red tape, are we?" I announced, walking up to them.

Cinder turned toward me, her eyes lighting up for a fraction of a second before she regained her composure. "Ah, Harold, your timing is impeccable. This gentleman here is scrutinising every letter of my documents as if they were the sacred texts of some ancient prophecy."

The bureaucrat looked up, adjusting his spectacles to get a better look at me. "And who might you be?"

"A friend," I said, adding a slight bow for good measure. "Harold, at your service. I was just wondering if perhaps I could assist in streamlining this process? A watchful eye and a second opinion often aid in such matters"

He looked me over cautiously but then shrugged. "Very well. There are no regulations against a citizen in good standing receiving assistance with their paperwork as long as there are no outward signs of coercion. But know that any irregularities will be met with the utmost scrutiny."

"Understood," I said. "Now, what seems to be the issue?"

"I needed to prove that I'm a citizen, which I have," Cinder said.

"With some irregularities," the man behind the counter said.

Cinder's eyes narrowed. "Yes. With some irregularities. My papers are all fine, however."

"Yes, but we strongly suggest that people renew their paperwork more frequently. If your papers are within a year of their expiry date, they can be refused."

I had my illusory eyes blink. "Just to be clear, you mean a year before they expire?"

"Yes," the man said. "You wouldn't eat something just moments before it has gone bad, would you? There's no sense in waiting until the last moment to renew your papers."

"Ah, but unlike perishable goods, documents don't rot," I said, leaning slightly forward on the counter. "It's not a matter of physical degradation but of administrative continuity, isn't it? Besides, the idea behind an expiry date is that the document is valid until that date arrives, correct?"

The bureaucrat hesitated, perhaps considering the flaw in his logic. "Well, yes, but it's advisable--"

"Advisable is not mandatory," Cinder snapped. It sounded like her patience was wearing thin. "Now, my papers are valid, are they not?"

He sighed. "Technically, yes. We covered that already. Very well, let's proceed." he shifted some papers around. "Your reason for entry isn't clear. You need to fill out a form 6b with full disclosure of the items and materials you're bringing into the city as well."

"I just did that," Cinder said as she snatched a paper from the man's hands. At a glance, it looked like a long list of items written in a careful pen.

"You didn't fill it out entirely. I can see from here that the carriage in question has four horsesleading it. The form you filled makes no mention of those. I'd suggest you fill it out entirely or else you might be pulled aside for an inspection which might lead to some fines."

I raised my illusory brows as I took this all in. "This seems like a rather slow process for allowing people into the city. I thought your sect had some power in this region, Miss Cinder."

Cinder nodded. "This is the expedited version," she said.

With a sense of incredulity in my voice, I said, "The expedited version, you say? Fascinating. Well, perhaps I should offer a philosophical perspective on the nature of bureaucracy."

Both Cinder and the bureaucrat turned to look at me, clearly intrigued by the change of tone.

"You see," I continued, "in the end, the true weight of a bureaucracy isn't determined by how many papers one has to fill out, or how meticulous the vetting process is. It's determined by the force that stands behind it, the ability to impose its rules and edicts."

The bureaucrat seemed slightly confused, but Cinder nodded, clearly understanding where I was going with this.

"To put it more plainly," I said, leaning in closer and lowering my voice, "at the end of the day, the only bureaucracy that truly matters is the one with sufficient firepower to demand that you take part in it."

"Was that a threat, sir?" the bespectacled man asked.

"No, but this is, Phantasmal Paperwork Killer."

The spell, invisible to most, struck the bureaucrat in the chest and he gasped.

This was an altered version of the rather potent Phantasmal Killer spell. The original tapped into the nightmares of the creature it was cast upon, creating illusions of their greatest fears. This version targeted the deeply embedded anxiety of bureaucrats everywhere, making the man suddenly feel as if he was overwhelmed by an insurmountable pile of paperwork, each sheet filled with confusing clauses, contradictory instructions, and incomprehensible legalese for which he wasn't trained.

His face paled, and he clutched at his chest as if he were drowning in an ocean of forms and documents. His eyes widened in panic as he looked from Cinder to me, grasping the edge of the counter for support.

"Now," I said calmly, dispelling the illusion and giving him a moment to catch his breath. "Perhaps we can simplify this process and let Miss Cinder and her party pass? Unless you'd like me to fill out forms for a formal complaint about the unnecessarily cumbersome bureaucratic procedure here, citing your inefficiency as a prime example?"

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"I'm terribly sorry sorry sorry," Cinder said with a twirl of her parasol.

I dismissed the apology with a wave of my now not-so-bony hand. "Nonsense. It wasn't your fault, and I hardly had a problem with dealing with this. It was rather cathartic, in fact. Besides, a bureaucrat's life is made of two simple tasks: inflicting torment and enduring it."

Cinder and I watched as the line of carriages and carts blocking the gateway into the city crawled forwards. Finally, my own carriage was able to slip through a gap and pushed out onto the cobbled road. Alex was grinning wide atop it, hands on the reigns where the undead horses--currently illusioned to seem like they still had some life left in them, even if their smell and demeanour left much to be desired as far as illusions went--pulled the carriage along dutifully.

I raised a hand up, and the carriage rolled to a stop by the side of the road.

A small crowd of citizens eyed us curiously, particularly Cinder, who had attracted quite the following in her time outside. I supposed she would be recognisable, even outside of her sect. She was the inheritor to her clan, a powerful cultivator, and a shapely woman, or so her robes hinted at.

"You're quite the celebrity here, it seems," I said as I looked about. The interior of Shitake city was rather constrictive. Homes were built in close proximity to each other, and often went tall rather than wide. Having most of the buildings being three stories and more meant that the sun's light was quite dim.

The space just beyond the gateway into the city was a little more spacious, with enough room for carts and carriages to turn around, and for sticky-beaks to hang out and stare.

The people of Shitake were an interesting bunch. Masks seemed to be in fashion at the moment, often with floral patterns and dyed bright colours. It made for an interesting splash of brightness when people otherwise only wore drab browns and greys and plain, undyed clothes.

Hats were common as well. These were similar to the sort of flat, conical hat that I'd seen some farmers wearing out in their fields, but smaller. Their brims were no wider than the wearer's shoulders, and the hats tended to be a bit rounder and fatter.

All in all, it gave the impression that these people had large mushroom caps on their heads, and at the moment, there had to be half a hundred people hanging out along the roadside, looking at Cinder and keeping to themselves.

"Our sect is popular here, yes," Cinder said. "We... save the people here from a lot of trouble. The mantises are the biggest threat to those who remain within Shitake, but beyond its walls, this area is one of the most dangerous in the empire."

"Oh?" I asked. "I'm presuming it's not merely because of environmental reasons?"

She shook her head, then shifted her grip on her parasol. "The ash is an issue, of course. It clogs the lungs. The unprepared will find themselves coughing and choking on their breath. And it's usually permanent. More than one young, overconfident fool has come to the Ashen Forest and dismissed the warnings about the air here. They pay for it for the rest of their lives with hacking breaths and a persistent cough. But those who live here know how to live with the ash. It's what lurks beneath that's a bigger threat." Cinder gestured to the carriage, indicating for me to climb aboard first.

I nodded in acknowledgement, then climbed in. I heard Cinder speaking with Alex for a moment, giving my maid some directions through the city, then she closed her parasol, tapped it on the ground to dislodge a fine layer of dust, and climbed in herself.

"You were saying, about other threats?" I asked.

"The Ashen Forest is a place of poisons and ash, but there are monsters that thrive in it. The ash is rich in chi. Someone with the right skills can use it to improve their cultivation. Some monsters learn how to do the same, and become exceptionally powerful in the process."

"Like those tasty snails!" Mem said.

I glanced at the mantis. She seemed oddly enthused about these snails. "Care to elaborate?"

"They're snails, and they're tasty," Mem said. "Mem doesn't mind eating them, because they are mean, and not soft and gentle and pretty like dogs and kittens are. They are also tasty."

"The ash snails are a good example, yes. They grow to the size of a man's head and can lay in ambush for days beneath the ash. Their shells are unbreakable to a non-cultivator, and they are known to eat their prey alive," Cinder said.

"Does one need to be sluggish in order to fall for their ambush?" I asked.

Cinder shook her head. "No, they're quite slow, but often they'll only move at night, and very slowly. It's surprising how close to you they can come without you noticing them. They will spend the night moving in on unsuspecting travellers, break into their tents, then strip their flesh off while companions and family can do nothing but watch as the ash snail shell-ebrates its victory."

"I imagine that must leave the locals quite shellshocked," I said. "I'd say that it's one shell of a way to go, hohoh!"

Cinder nodded, the corners of her eyes creasing up in a smile. "Yes. But in all seriousness, they're only one of many threats you can find in the region. They do have a use. Their shells can be ground down to create a very valuable red dye." She ran a hand over her flowing dress, highlighting the red patterns woven into the silk.

I nodded along. I was aware that snail shells could be used in creating dyes. "What about alchemical reagents?" I asked.

"The snails are poisonous," she said. "Not venomous, however. You can extract the poison from their flesh, but of all the poisons we use in the Ashen Forest sect, ash snail poison is one of the weakest."

"Interesting. Are there other creatures and monsters to be cautious of?"

"Many many many," Cinder said. "The grey flamingos are a nuisance more than anything, but their beaks are venomous. There are several species of large lizards that will come down from the west. There are smaller lizards that are native to the area. Vampire iguana are a threat that even a more experienced cultivator will want to avoid."

I nodded along. It sounded as though the Ashen Forest sect eked out a living in an area that was far less hospitable than I'd originally thought it was. It was impressive that they'd survived, and more impressive that they'd thrived.

I looked out of the carriage's windows as we rode along. The houses were built close together, with great overlapping rooftops that left only a narrow band of sky visible above. The walls were mostly painted white, reflecting some of that light down onto the streets where I saw a number of people sweeping away small mounds of ash.

I imagined that with the near constant ashfall, being a street sweeper was probably a full-time job for some of the citizens of Shitake city.

"The ash is collected," Cinder said, and I glanced her way. "Sorry sorry sorry. You have... eyes, now, and I was able to follow your gaze. The street sweeper. They collect the ash and resell it to the mushroom farms."

"Are there many farms like those?"

"Plenty," Cinder said with a casual shrug. "Enough to feed the city. Though we import a lot of food from elsewhere, of course. No one wants to eat nothing but mushrooms day in and day out."

"Yes, a proper diet needs mushroom for variety," I agreed.

Cinder chuckled in a rather unlady-like way. "Exactly, yes. We buy a lot of butter. We can't keep cattle here, and can only grow plants that enjoy dimly lit places. Mushrooms fit the bill. Some of the farms have dozens of floors, each basically no larger than a crawlspace, with thousands of racks for mushrooms to grow in. The ash is used as a potent fertiliser."

The carriage rumbled along the cobbled streets, and I continued to take in our surroundings. Despite the ash and grey slides, the city held a certain vibrancy. It was alive, and the people living here were determined to stay that way despite all odds.

"Our sect helps the city," Cinder began. "And in return, the city helps us. It's a symbiotic relationship, and one which will never last. We're failing, bit by bit. Soon, all of this will be joining the ash." She looked at me. "We need your help."

Three days left for the Meme contest!

[img: https://i.imgur.com/iP8rL9P.jpeg]

My fic's on Amazon! It's also on KU, if that's your jam!

LINK: Amazon.com

There was something else I was supposed to post here... but I can't remember what it was!

Cinder kept her gaze focused on my illusory eyes. It was a little strange... though perhaps not all that strange, but people tended to meet each other's eyes when talking. It was a perfectly natural thing to do. Eyes told you a lot about a person, whether they were listening to you, their state at the moment, and since they were central to the way most people expressed themselves, it was easiest to read one's expression while seeing the other's eyes.

It was something people with faces took for granted.

No one realized how much they relied on others seeing their expression until their face was gone.

I set my illusioned face into a kindly smile. "You know, it's not often that someone asks me for help," I said.

"Really?" Cinder asked. "You're quite powerful. And you have been powerful since before history was recorded."

I brought my hand up, two fingers splayed out. "You raise two questions. I'll put a pin in one of them, but allow me to come back to it later. To answer your more direct question; yes, really. While power may make one the target of those seeking help, it also comes with its share of people who would rather work to take that power away from you."

"Oh oh oh, I suppose that does make sense," Cinder said.

"Most of the time, when I heard of someone asking a powerful person or being for help, it was help to get rid of me." I chuckled. "Those were the days. Back when I wasn't quite at the height of my power and people still tried to get rid of me. I almost missed that once I went from being considered a threat to being considered something akin to a natural disaster."

Cinder blinked. "I suppose that would change how you see things. You mentioned that you had two questions?"

"Less two questions and more two lines of discussion. One was to answer your own question, but this one is more of a self-indulgence."

"Go on," Cinder encouraged. She glanced out of the carriage's window, at the city scrolling by. "We have another ten or so minutes until we arrive."

"You mentioned that I've been powerful since before history was recorded. Which I know to be factually incorrect." I raised a hand, abating Cinder's concern. "No, don't worry. It might just be a local thing, or perhaps that's based on the history you're aware of. Could you explain that further?"

"According to our histories, the proper, written history started some ten thousand years ago, with the onset of the Empire as a great guiding force for humanity in a time of great darkness. The actual records are mostly kept in the Jade Throne, but they're viewable by all. Locally, we have only colonised the Ashen Forest for a few hundred years. That makes our sect... not new or young, exactly, but certainly not one of the ancient and venerable sects of the west."

"Interesting. And these histories mention me?"

"No no no. Not at all. It's the unofficial histories that mention you."

I perked up at that. "Unofficial histories? I must admit to a certain weakness when it comes to forbidden lore, illegal texts, and any writings which have been deemed too dangerous to circulate."

Cinder nodded slowly. "We don't know how accurate these are. But... Shitake City wasn't built at random. The location was a ruin, once. Much of this is gone. The ruins had carved stones, and when the city was founded, the founders discovered several basements and underground areas that were excavated."

"I imagine this wasn't done for purely archaeological reasons?"

"No, it was done for the stone. There are quarries nearby, of course, and we can make bricks, but it's much easier to reuse ancient carved stones than to make new ones."

That seemed perfectly reasonable. There was, of course, a lot of merit in preserving old sites, but at the same time, a brick was a brick. Shitake felt like it had found its balancing point at the moment. It wasn't quite a thriving city, but they were surviving well enough.

I imagined that it wasn't always the case. Founding a city in such an inhospitable place must have been a terrible burden on the first inhabitants of the region, and so I could hardly blame them for wishing to use the wealth of resources they just happened to stumble across.

"They found things within those ruins. Books, ledgers, ancient murals. Eventually news made it to the Jade Throne, and a group of cultivators showed up, taking everything away. Or almost everything."

"Ah, some of it survived?" I asked.

She nodded. "This isn't something we advertise. But copies of those ancient texts were made before they were confiscated. The language was hard to decipher, but for the most part it was the same common tongue, only... different. Very different."

"A few thousand years will do that to a language," I said.

"I suppose. The sect suspected that there might be some hidden knowledge that could be of use, so we secretly hired some scholars."

"To translate the works?"

"No, to train others in the art of translation. People we trusted. The likelihood that the scholars we hired from the capital were spies was far too high. It took a few decades to have a team of people able to translate, and then we set them to the task. That took even longer. The result, after several long years, was a set of some thirty books and ledgers from the distant past."

"I can't imagine they held that many secrets."

Cinder's brows drew together. "Not the ones we wished for, I don't think. My grandfather, the then-sect leader, was very disappointed in the results. No teachings of cultivation or any secret techniques. The translations are in the sect now, available for most proper sect cultivators to read."

"Did you?" I asked.

She nodded. "Of course. Most of us have. Well, perhaps not the ledgers. Those are just long lists of purchases. They paint an interesting picture of the prosperity of our ancestors, but that is all. Some items are strange, and it allows us to speculate, but that is all. Some of the texts are obviously fiction of one sort or another. Tales of heroes defeating cruel masters. The rest are biographies and actual historical texts. It's the fiction that always intrigued me."

"Oh?" I wouldn't have painted Cinder as an enjoyer of storytelling. Personally, I enjoyed a good bit of fiction on occasion, but most of my reading was very much non-fictional.

"They talk of knights and adventurers and mages. Not a cultivator in sight. Only strong men and women, doing what is right and fighting against evil. I don't know if they were truly stronger than the cultivators I have met, but they were certainly more... gallant. Yes yes yes, it filled my younger head with a desire for adventure. Of course, the villains are always you."

"Ah," I said. "Yes, I suppose there was a surge in popularity for stories which held liches as the great evil-doer. Honestly, it was quite flattering initially. I found the depictions of myself as a moustache-twirling evil doer quite amusing. Even if I've never been one for facial hair. Ohoho! Some of them even wrote me as quite dashing. One series had me kidnapping quite the number of young ladies. They never explained quite what a lich was supposed to do with so many innocent maidens. Other than locking them up in cages with a distinct lack of clothing."

Cinder chuckled. "That seems like a strange twist on your character."

"It is," I agreed, shaking my head. "But humans have always been adept at weaving the most colourful tales. It amused me for a time, and then the stories just became too repetitive. The same trope over and over. 'The dark lich and his desire to kidnap the princess'. It became more of a satire. You know, I don't think I've ever kidnapped a princess. A few heads of state, certainly, but never specifically a princess."

"You're out of luck. The Emperor only has sons, I think. There are no kings from which princesses can be born right now."

"Ah, well, that's quite unfortunate. I suppose I'll just have to wait. It's one of the great advantages to immortality. You'll get to experience things eventually if you're just patient enough."

The carriage pulled to a stop, and I could hear the gentle bustle of the city around us. Cinder glanced out of the window. "Ah. we're here." She shifted, gathering her belongings and then paused to touch Mem in the side. "We've arrived," she said.

"Oh." Mem said. "Mem was thinking."

"About?" I asked.

The mantis wiggled her arms, paused, then wiggled them some more. "Mem must have been thinking so hard she forgot to remember."

"I can't say I've ever experienced that before, and yet I'm still somehow not surprised. Shall we? I think we've got some work ahead of us."

Some News!

First, the Meme contest is over! This is the winning Meme!

[img: https://i.imgur.com/YNQHBIN.jpeg]

So... I don't usually do shout-outs, but the Winner of the contest is Emergency Complaints, and he happens to have launched a story, like, a day or two ago. So maybe give it a look? LINK!

Also...

[img: https://i.imgur.com/kjyJLPL.png]

There's a Love Crafted Webcomic up on my patreon! For Freeeee! Well, it's just the prologue, but I think it's pretty neat<3

LINK!

Hope you enjoy <3

They arrived at a big important building right in the centre of Shitake, but Mem really had a hard time caring too much.

That was a little not-nice though. She really wanted to care. Miss Cinder was nice to Mem. She didn't insult Mem even once, which was a new record for cultivators. Usually they insulted Mem within minutes of seeing her, but Miss Cinder had spent days close to Mem without saying one bad thing.

Unless she was saying bad things in a way that Mem couldn't understand, in which case it didn't matter, because then Meme wouldn't understand that she was being insulted in the first place.

Mem wondered if Miss Limpet and Mister Bone Daddy Harold, Destroyer of Worlds and also Alex were cultivators, but she didn't think so. Miss Limpet dressed a little like a cultivator, but she did magic and had a nice dog. The others were very different too.

Mem liked different. Different hadn't insulted her at all yet.

She stepped out of the carriage after Mister Harold and Miss Cinder were already out, then she stretched her head back as she took in the big building they had stopped in front of. It was one she'd seen before, though she'd also avoided coming too near.

The Ashen Pavillion was a grand structure, towering above many of the other buildings in Shitake City. It was made of grey stone, with little carvings all over of cultivators doing cultivation things.

It was the administrative centre of the city, which was why Mem tried to avoid it so much. She didn't like administration stuff. Sometimes, they made her sign things and read things, and Mem had a hard time saying no to pushy paper people, which meant that she'd spend days trying to understand their forms, but they were written in complicated ways and always made Mem want to cry.

The administrators were outside now, all lined up in a neat row, silly hats on fully display. They bowed as one. "The Administration Welcomes Lady Cinder," they chorused.

Mem decided that she didn't want to be here. She slipped closer to Mister Harold's side, then carefully touched his shoulder with her elbow joint. "Yes?" he asked.

He was a lot more expressive with skin and flesh on his face, but Mem wasn't sure if she trusted his expression. Not that she didn't trust him. Mister Harold was very strong and very honest. If he said he was going to burn a city down, Mem would be inclined to believe him, regardless of if he had a face or not. It was just that the face felt wrong after seeing his skull for so long.

"Mem was wondering if she could go take a walk. Mem doesn't think you'll need her for all of this." She waved her scythes in the general direction of the Ashen Pavillion.

"Hmm, I suppose we won't be needing you here. Do you have any money, for food and sundries?"

Mem bobbed her head up and down. "Mem does!"

That had been a gift from Mister Commander Seventeen. He had given her a small pouch filled with silver and gold coins and said that it was her pay for her first week of work.

Mem had never been paid before. It was very nice.

"Well, enjoy yourself. Though you might want to return here before it gets too dark."

"Mem can do that," Mem agreed. She bowed to Mister Harold and Miss Cinder, then glanced up to the top of the carriage. Rem was arguing with Alex, and Mem wasn't sure her bigger sister would want to talk to Mem at all. She usually didn't.

Mem waved her goodbye anyway, even if Rem didn't see it.

She had money, time, and was in Shitake city. There was only one place that Mem wanted to go to now. With a bounce to her step, Mem took off across the city. It didn't take long for her to find a building that was a little lower than the rest and which she could scale up the side of. Mem wasn't great at parkour, but she was really good at picking herself up after going splat.

Once she was higher up she was able to better orient herself.

Mem wasn't very smart according to a lot of people she'd met, but she did have a very good sense of directions. Mem only very rarely got lost, so with a bit of staring around and locating landmarks, she figured out where she was and where she wanted to go.

As she bounced from rooftop to rooftop, Mem found herself thinking back to Miss Cinder, and maybe more importantly, the rest of the Ashen Forest sect.

They hadn't ever been very nice to Mem. Mem had liked this city before, though. It was loud and filled with people, and those people sometimes tossed their food away in places that Mem could reach.

The cultivators picked on her for going through the trash, but they rarely hurt Mem. They were too afraid. Not of Mem, of course, but of Mem's mom and her sisters.

Mem wasn't sure she understood cultivators.

Mem had always been a creature of simplicity. She liked straightforward things: the soft warmth of sunlight filtering through the trees, the gentle hum of city life below, and the satisfying taste of leftover pastries. Cultivators, however, were not straightforward. They were, in Mem's opinion, very puzzling beings.

She remembered how her mom had once told her about the balance of nature and how every creature had its place in the world. "Even the tiniest ant has a purpose," she'd said. "To be eaten by me." But what was the purpose of cultivators, especially when they were always looking down on those they deemed weaker or different? They went on and on about defying the heavens, but Mem didn't understand what the sky had done to anger them so much.

Their entire lives were dedicated with strange daos. Different paths that they took that would lead to power and prestige and other things that Mem didn't care much about.

It was strange.

Eventually, her thoughts drifted away, and she realized she'd arrived at her destination.

Shitake needed lots of protection from rats and mice and small monsters. There were ash birds, who'd attack people, and mean little critters that would ambush people.

So the city had big kennels where they kept all sorts of animals to help protect the city. Cats and dogs, mostly, who'd hunt vermin and little monsters.

Mem landed before one of these, then knocked on its door.

Soon enough, it opened, and a grizzled old man stood at the entrance. "Oh," he said. "Hello, Mem."

"Hi," Mem said. "Can Mem help? She has money this time."

"Wouldn't say no to some help," he said. "Nor to a bit of coin. Betty just had a litter of pups. Could use the extra coin to get her some proper meat."

"Mem will share," Mem said.

Puppies!

Mem followed the old ratcatcher to the back where there was an open space with a sliver of sky above. There were lots of cubbies in the walls, and some exits into the backroads and alleys so that the dogs and cats could come and go.

They were used to the ratcatcher, but Mem's presence set a lot of the animals on edge.

That was fine. Mem went to the middle of the space and settled herself down. She needed to focus and time for what she was about to do.

This was something she'd seen Alex trying to teach Rem. Rem was much smarter than Mem, but Mem really really wanted to learn this, so she did.

"In the sky where the birdies all land

There's magic that I don't understand.

But with hope in my hearts,

And a weird little start,

I'll... something-something, Mage Hand!"

A small, ethereal hand appeared before Mem. It wasn't very good, with six fingers, none of which were the same size, but it worked.

Mem glanced down. A curious kitten had approached. Slowly, carefully, she lowered the magic hand.

The kitten smacked it, then it let the hand rub across its little head.

Mem didn't understand cultivators and that kind of person. If it was up to her, the only Dao that would matter would be the Dao of Petting Small Things.

The next few hours were the best in Mem's life. She couldn't touch the small babies herself, but some of them rubbed themselves against her legs. There were cats that purred, and kittens that kittened, and puppies doing puppy things.

She didn't understand Mister Harold and the Limpet any more than she understood cultivators... except when it came to magic. Because magic was really magic if it let her finally do what she'd always dreamed of doing; giving tummy rubs to good little boys and girls.

Alright! I have a bunch of news!

First, The Agartha Loop has launched on Amazon!

[img: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/81iFV++gIQL._SL1500_.jpg]

LINK!

Predictably, it's not doing nearly as well as Dead Tired, but it's a time-loop magical girl story, which doesn't have the same appeal as a OP MC comedy.

But wait... there's... is that a whole new story?

And it's an OP MC comedy?!

Yeah!

[img: https://i.imgur.com/kEMLf6b.png]

Presenting the Complicated Love Life of Ivil Antagonist, a Warhammer 40K-inspired Romantic Comedy!

The prologue is here: LINK! It's up for you to read for free, to get a sneak-peak at the story. It'll be launching in November with daily chapters for the first little while!

Cinder made it quite clear to me that this wasn't the Ashen Forest sect. Rather, the large pavilion we stopped before was the political seat of the sect. It was where the sect exerted its power over Shitake city, and from where it could deploy cultivators to aid and defend the city in case of trouble.

The sect itself was deeper within the forest, likely well hidden and shielded from prying eyes.

"So, are we meeting with anyone in particular here?" I asked.

"Yes yes yes," Cinder said. "Believe it or not, I'm well-ranked within the sect. I'm not one of the elders, but... well, we have few elders, and few members near the higher ends of their cultivation journeys. The Ashen Forest sect is quite small to begin with, and few recruits even make it to the outer sect."

"I see. And I presume that means that despite your relative youth, you're well-regarded within the sect?"

"I am," Cinder confirmed. "Unlike many sects, our command structure isn't rigid. We do not kowtow to every elder and force outer disciples to kiss the shoes of core members. There's no time for that."

I nodded along. Uniformity and rigidity of that sort was often a consequence of having an organisation grow to the size where it became impossible to maintain personal connections with every member.

An army needed everyone to respect the ranks of those above them because at any moment that person might have to relay orders without those below coming to know them.

My undead armies had similar systems in place. Or perhaps the systems I had were even more rigid. After all, I couldn't rely on the intelligence of the average undead fodder. They needed to be able to follow the precise orders of the command units seeded within the army without question or hesitation.

An organisation made up of strong-willed sentients would need a little more flexibility, but the same principles were in play.

Cinder continued, unaware of my thoughts. "Here, every member's contribution matters, regardless of rank. We're too few to do otherwise. But that also gives us a certain sense of unity and it makes us mighty. We can afford to put more effort into the education of each new member."

That sounded very good. Something told me it wasn't the full story, however. There was something else going on, and I didn't want to be taken in by Cinder's pretty words and bright, hopeful-sounding idealism.

I tried to keep myself constantly aware that I was not immune to propaganda.

We approached the entrance of the pavilion. Two guards, recognizing Cinder, nodded in respect and opened the doors for us. Alex would be staying with the carriage, and that meant someone was keeping an eye on Rem as well. The moment we were through, the administrators and city servants that had come out to greet us broke apart.

It was always amusing to see such pageantry fall apart the moment the one it was meant to impress was no longer on the scene.

The interior of the Ashen Pavillion radiated power. It wasn't just the luxurious wooden pillars carved with small figures or the grand statues of cultivators meditating. There was magic in the air here. Faint but noticeable.

Unlike the servants and administrators that met us outside, within the pavilion those who had come to greet us were a much smaller, more elite group.

There were three of them, and all three were clearly cultivators. A young man, Cinder's junior, was to the far left, then an older woman, her stooped back and the long white hair framing her masked face, as well as the carefully carved cane she was gripping to the only signs of her age. Finally, another man, this one around Cinder's own age, at a guess. He was sitting upon a wheeled chair. It looked very much as though he had become one with the chair.

A device on the chair's side, like a small bellow, was pumping air into a pair of tubes leading into the man's mask. What I could see of his face was covered in scarring, and he seemed emaciated, but his eyes locked onto me with a ferocious intelligence and I chose not to under-estimate the young cultivator.

"Cinder," the older woman said. "I have been worried. It gladdens me more than you could know to see you returned."

"Hello, Elder Frost," Cinder replied with a bow. "Brothers. Before anything, let me introduce a... companion I made along the way. This is Harold, the necromancer."

The elder's eyes scanned over to me, and I could feel her assessing me with her gaze. "You're not what you seem," she said.

"Few things ever are, but in this case, you're more right than you'd think," I said.

"I don't sense anything," the younger man said. "A civilian, Sister Cinder?"

"If you feel more comfortable, you can remove your disguise," Cinder said to me.

The suggestion was open, but it felt like she wanted to present me as I truly was. I wasn't sure if I should be flattered by that or not, but I acquiesced nonetheless. My illusions flicked away, and I was once more, to all appearances, a proper gentleman lich.

The younger cultivator took a step back, then he pressed a hand over his mouth. "Sister! That is an undead! The very same the Imperial palace warned us about."

"Did you spit blood, brother Char?" Cinder asked. "Have you been pushing yourself too hard again? Soot, you said you would watch over our brother."

Soot, the young man in the wheelchair, raised his arms feebly. "I did. He insisted on moving faster than he ought, and I let him suffer from his own hubris a little. You know how Char can be."

'Yes yes yes, but I still worry," Cinder said casually. The way she was speaking downplayed the moment quite a bit, turning it all into a simple conversation between close friends. It was well played, at least when it came to reassuring Char and the elder, who hadn't taken her eyes off of me yet.

"Welcome, guest," Elder Frost said. "It does these old bones good to see that the Ashen Forest is making friends still."

"And these older bones are quite glad to be counted amongst your friends," I replied.

The woman chuckled darkly. "Yes, I suppose I'll have to get used to not being the eldest elder, hmm? Cinder, guest, should we retire to more comfortable rooms?"

"Of course, Elder Frost," Cinder replied, "But first, a brief word, if I may?"

The older woman nodded, her piercing gaze never leaving my skeletal visage. Cinder stepped forward, her heels clicking against the ornate flooring. "While Harold is indeed the undead the Imperial palace warned about, he is not our enemy. In our journey together, he has been nothing but kind and polite. And he has expressed interest in understanding our sect and potentially forming an alliance. I believe he can be a valuable ally, given the looming threats we face."

Char, still visibly shaken, hesitated before speaking. "But, Sister Cinder, allying ourselves with someone the Imperial palace warns about? That is... it's risky."

Soot, still sharp and assessing, was the first to respond. "Everything in life is a risk, Brother Char. Sometimes, to gain new strengths and insights, we must be willing to step out of our comfort zone. Let's hear him and Sister Cinder out."

Elder Frost finally broke her gaze from me and turned to Cinder. They stared at each other for a moment, and I felt like I was missing an entire conversation given in twitches and glances. Finally, she nodded. "Let's retire to my chambers. The view is much nicer, and I can have warm tea brought up. Hmm, fine guest, I'm unfamiliar with your dietary needs?" she asked the last casually, while walking towards the far end of the room already. Her cane echoed the faint shuffling of her feet.

"Mostly nothing," I replied truthfully.

The steps at the rear of the pavilion were navigated with grace and aplomb. There were little tracks built into the staircase and Soot locked his chair into them before rolling his way up, something which no doubt would require enormous strength to manage.

"We've been looking into purchasing a flying sword for brother Soot for years now," Cinder admitted to me as we walked.

"That would be quite clever. Those are expensive, I take it?"

"Very very very much so, yes."

Finally, we arrived at the topmost floor of the pavilion and entered a room surrounded by windows overlooking Shitake and its surroundings. There were cushions strewn about and a few small cases of unknown purpose.

The elder sat upon one of the cushions facing me, then laid her cane across her lap. "Now," she began. "Tell us, Harold the Necromancer, what brings you to our sect?"

I took a deep yet unnecessary breath. "I'm here because Cinder was quite polite. But truthfully, I intend to retake something of mine, and I suppose some company along the way wouldn't be amiss."

***

"The crux of the matter is simple," I said. "Some time ago, a very long time ago, I created a set of very powerful items. Recently, I discovered that some of these were being... misused by this new crop of gods and I don't doubt that some cultivators are tinkering with my things as well."

Soot leaned forwards. He was the only one of us not seated on a cushion. Mostly because he was still seated on his wheeled chair. It gave him a certain height advantage that I was certain wasn't entirely common for him. "What do these items look like?" he asked.

"Oh, no two are quite the same. Though they do share some common characteristics. Most are about the size of an adult human's skull. Mostly round, with differing ornamentation. Otherwise, material compositions differ enough that the similarities become harder to trace. There's a lot of crystal, precious metals, gems. Anything and everything that can be used as a solid, long-term magical focus."

"They're all magical?" Cinder asked.

"Very much so. Which is why I suspect so many of them were nicked by gods and cultivators," I said.

The elder, Frost, nodded her head slowly. "A powerful artefact, especially an ancient one, would be very attractive to most cultivators. One that they cannot understand even moreso, and one which exudes power... that would be quite the temptation indeed."

I nodded along. To be entirely honest, I could respect the odd inquisitive mind that ran into one of my phylacteries and tried to uncover its secrets. A younger me would certainly have been intrigued by the prospect.

"I don't begrudge anyone that has used one of my... items. I merely wish to retrieve them before any harm can be done. And to do that, I would appreciate the help of your sect. I suspect that we're actually after very similar things at the moment."

"What do you mean?" Char asked.

"The nearest phylactery to our current position is to the west of here, somewhere within those rather active mountains."

"The lair of the Mantis Queen," Soot said.

Cinder shifted on her cushion, the small gesture enough to catch the attention of the others. "We have a common adversary. We will gladly aid you in your quest to defeat her, though we have no successful experience against the Mantis Queen. She has killed many, and we can only offer our experience and expertise in facing her."

"You offer our guest much, disciple," Elder Frost said. She shifted so that her white hair hung over her eyes, masking her expression.

"I offer as much as he needs," Cinder countered. "Harold is powerful. Allying ourselves to him, at least for this cause, is a risk, but if it succeeds."

Soot leaned to the side on his chair. "I, for one, wouldn't mind seeing the Mantis Queen brought low. But I'm entirely biased and willing to admit it."

I nodded. The mantis people were not only the farthest thing this world had to a proper civilisation, they were also a major source of problems for the people living in Shitake City. Not least because their queen liked to eat people.

Elder Frost leaned back, and the others turned their attention to her. A few seconds later, I realised she was waiting for me to say something.

I cleared my throat. It felt silly, since we weren't really negotiating anything, but I couldn't help but feel a little flustered at all the attention. Usually there was a bit more... well, a certain degree of formality. Either that, or derision and casual disrespect.

I haven't yet met enough cultivators to make an accurate statement on them. After all, the few meetings I had were far from numerous enough to count as a sample usable in any form of statistics. Still, so far most meetings with cultivators had them acting in a way that I found rather rude and abrasive.

Cultural differences aside, I suspected that cultivators harboured a death-wish with the way they interacted with everyone.

Cinder's sect seemed entirely counter to that, and I wondered if they were the exception that proved the rule, or if they were just bizarre. "I intend to retrieve my phylactery regardless of any assistance. But, if you suspect that you can assist me, then perhaps we could make this a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"You will find no one better suited to guiding someone towards the Mantis' Queen's mountain than us," Elder Frost said with a tap of her cane into her open palm. "But we rarely venture so close to her home. Her children reside within the shadows of the mountain, and there are few hunters more patient and more skilled than they."

"I understand. I am not currently worried about them."

Cinder sat up a little. "Elder. Might I make a proposition?" Elder Frost gestured and Cinder continued. "Sir Harold, I suspect that if anyone could defeat the Mantis Queen it would be you. The Mantis Queen has proven to be the dire enemy of this sect, and of this entire region. If you help us defeat her, then the Ashen Forest would be in your debt. We would do all in our power to help you regain your... phylactery? Yes yes yes. We would help you find it, and others like it. And... perhaps assist your endeavours to the east? The defeat of the Hungering Inferno leaves a vacuum that needs to be filled. I'm certain your General Limpet is up to the task, but with our assistance, it would be done quicker."

It was always like this.

Or rather, there were two broad strokes that things could take.

Once someone had amassed sufficient power, either more would be given to them, or someone would try to wrest it away. Usually, both happened simultaneously.

This, of course, didn't merely apply to magical power. In fact, it was significantly more common with the kinds of power that had a more political bent.

At the moment, I supposed I was technically the ruler of Yu Xiang. It wasn't a great jewel of a city, but it's split from the Jade Empire would be noticed.

With this move, I would essentially gain Shitake City's allegiance as well.

Without doing any of the work.

To some, this would be a great boon. More power, freely given.

I had fallen for the trap myself, once. It didn't take long for me to discover that with great power, came unfortunate levels of responsibility, nagging bureaucrats, tax issues, and a host of other headaches.

I was still tempted. At the moment, the Limpet was the technical leader of everything. The problems would be hers, wouldn't they?

Being the power behind the throne seemed significantly more pleasant.

"Very well," I said. "I will retrieve my phylactery. In exchange for assistance in guiding me to it and giving me all the information you have on this Mantis Queen, I will be folding the Ashen Forest into the territories of... hmm, Name Pending."

"Name Pending?" Char asked.

"Yes. For now."

The cultivators glanced at each other, at least until Soot spoke up. "So, we'll help you, and in exchange, you take over the sect?"

"No, in exchange the sect folds itself into Name Pending. That includes the governance of this city and territory. Of course, it goes without saying that I can't allow a foreign god-like entity to ravage lands ostensibly under my control. So she will have to go."

"Go?" Char asked. Clearly, he liked repeating the last words of any statement I made.

"Die? Perish? Extinguish her light? Pass her away? Succumb? Though... I suppose she is insectile... so, squash? Crush?"

"Exterminate," Cinder added.

"Ah, zap, flatten, smack," I continued.

"I got it," Char said, sounding a bit sour about it, though really he'd brought this on himself.

"In anycase, that's my offer. The removal, relocation, or extermination of some minor godling in exchange for... oh, I'm sure I can draw up an appropriately worded contract that we'll all be happy with."

The room grew deathly (heh) quiet as the members of the sect took in the offer.

Finally, Soot broke the silence. "I think the proposal warrants some serious discussion," he said.

"Some of our elders are in closed-door-cultivation," Elder Frost said. "But they'll need to weigh in on this."

"I think this is important enough to warrant the interruption," Cinder replied.

"We have faced the Mantis Queen for decades. The threat she poses to our people and our city is immeasurable. If we can eliminate her once and for all, it could change the fate of our region. Joining forces with the undead would do the same." Elder Frost eyed me for a good long while. "We shall consider this gravely, Mister Harold the Necromancer. Gravely indeed."

I grinned the sort of grin only a skeleton could grin. "I do feel like grave considerations are a speciality of my craft," I said. "In any case, I look forward to cooperating with you."

***

Rem was bored. Very very bored.

The entire trip from Yu Xiang to Shitake City had been one long boring boring trip filled with nothing to do but be bored and worried.

She had not had a single chance to take a bite out of the annoying maid sitting next to her. Not one! Alex must have known that Rem was looking for an opportunity to lunge and bite their stupid maid head off, because they never lowered their guard.

Once, on the second day of their trip, Rem had stared at Alex's face for a few hours, watching the way the morning sun filtered through Alex's stupid soft hair, the way their eyes focused so diligently on the road, the way their little chin had the faintest of dimples in the middle.

Alex hadn't been paying attention, not until they turned, whipped out a handkerchief, and started to rudely wipe the saliva off of Rem's face.

Rem was going to eat them.

She was biding her time. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It would come, of course. Alex would lower their guard one day and Rem would be waiting for that very moment. Then she'd wrap Alex in her strong arms, grab onto Alex's stupid pouty lips, and rip them off Alex's face before chewing their delicious maid intestines.

She was looking forward to it the entire trip, but no, all Rem had found was boredom. Days sitting on a padded bench not designed for mantis' while they rode atop the hilly roads of this nowhere part of the world.

The Flaming Steppes had nothing to see and less to do. It was no wonder the Jade Throne didn't care about this place. Why should they? There was no good hunting, no good fights, the magic in the air was thin and constantly washed away by the wind.

Rem was actually looking forward to getting back to her home.

More or less.

She knew what her mother would do to her if she was caught. The outfit, with the lapels, and the soft silk undershirt, and the warm pants covering all of her legs... that wouldn't be accepted. The Mantis Queen would rip it off of Rem like a little human child ripping into a present, then the nice butler uniform, made by Alex who even Rem would admit was a good tailor, out of materials that seemed like even the most powerful of cultivators would be proud of, would be tossed aside.

Rem was more worried about herself in that situation, of course. She'd be eaten, which was how a lot of her sisters ended.

Rem could still vividly remember the example her mother had made of Mes.

It had taken weeks to get the pieces of that sister cleaned up.

"What are you doing?" Alex asked.

Rem turned towards the maid, then glanced down at what she'd been doing. The tip of her scythe was carving little designs into the wood of the carriage's bench. She was actually very good at that kind of carving. There were several images of mantises, with large scythes and terrifying faces, which was her, and several depictions of maids.

Most of them had their heads drawn on the ground next to them, with fountains of blood coming out of their delicious neck holes. "Nothing," Rem said.

"If you're doing nothing, then maybe we could do it while practising your magic?" Alex asked. They were being encouraging again, with that stupid 'nice' tone like Rem needed any help.

"Rem doesn't need help."

"I didn't say you did," Alex said. A warm maid hand came out and patted Rem on the back. "Just that you might want to practice some more. A butler's job is to improve their master's lot, but also their own."

"Rem's improving herself plenty," Rem said rather testily.

Alex smiled that insufferable smile that Rem kept seeing in her dreams. "Okay. I don't want to push you too hard. The journey to improvement is never-ending, but that doesn't mean that you can't take little breaks along the way. One trick is to switch from one task that's difficult to another that's a little simpler. Like going from cleaning a chimney to simply sweeping the floor."

"Rem doesn't care."

"Anyway. I think with Bone Daddy occupied, we can take a little tour of the city!"

Rem blinked her eyes at that. The suggestion had come out of nowhere. Since they'd arrived in Shitake City, all they'd done was drive the carriage around the city's confusing streets. Rem had been tempted to make a run for it a few times already, but she didn't think she could escape the maid. She definitely couldn't escape Harold.

Mem was gone already, stumbling away like a moron to do whatever stupid thing she was going to do. Probably with her stupid mage hand that she'd figured out before Rem had.

She brought her scythe down onto one of the little mantises carved onto the bench a few times. "Fine," Rem said. "Where does the maid want to go?"

Alex shrugged. "Just exploring. It's nice to know what's available in a city. Local delicacies, sources of raw materials for our work. The food and current fashion trends. Even just knowing where a reliable general store is can be valuable."

Rem rolled her eye stalks around. This was exactly why she didn't want to be a stupid maid, or a butler or whatever. This was a waste of time. Her mother had told her that the only way to grow stronger was to hunt and fight and consume the flesh of things that didn't want to be eaten. Like cultivators and other mantises.

Shopping and buying things didn't feature in all of that. Her powerful mother didn't shop. She was given expensive and glorious gifts from the envoys of the Jade throne.

Rem had never received anything from the Jade Emperor, but she was just one of her mother's many hundreds of children. She would need to be much stronger to distinguish herself enough for that.

Still, Rem couldn't find a reason not to follow Alex just then. It was better than sitting on the carriage, parked in some stinking stable. "Okay," she said.

They both stepped off the carriage and after a minute or two of Alex's usual fussing, they started talking. Alex led with a stupid smile, steps light and measured, the long skirt of their uniform billowing out slightly.

Rem didn't know how they moved without making noise. It was infuriating to be the louder of the two. She was supposed to be a predator!

"Why are you hissing and waving your arms now?" Alex asked.

"I want to be the quiet one!" Rem hissed.

"Then doing that seems kind of counter-productive."

Rem stared at the maid, who smiled innocently.

She really didn't get along with Alex. The maid was too different. Too weird. Alex had a way of smiling, and making jokes, and making things happen, but it was all a trick. Rem knew it was a trick, because the maid had tried it on her before.

She had thought, for a brief moment, that it might have been working, that she was starting to like the maid. That was when the truth had hit her.

Alex was an asshole.

Rem knew assholes. She was an asshole. She liked being an asshole. She was good at being an asshole. Assholes and cultivators, Rem's mother had once said, were always smiling and saying that they were doing things for you, but in reality, all they cared about was themselves.

Rem could respect that. In herself. And maybe in some of her more tolerable sisters. Sure, they'd stab each other in the back, but it was understood.

Alex was a new sort of asshole. The kind that actually cared about the stuff they pretended to care about.

It was all very confusing, and it didn't fit into the neat dynamic that Rem had grown up understanding. Prey, predator, asshole, cultivator, food, mother. The six things that everything fit into. Alex didn't.

It annoyed her.

"We can start with the shopping district," Alex said. "A lot of stores will be closing up, but there are some that stay open late. If you want to buy something, I can teach you how to barter, but for now I think it would be best to just take a look and see what kinds of things the city sells and for how much. Then we can plan out where we want to shop tomorrow when the markets are in full swing. What do you think of that, Rem? Do you want to look at the shops, or should we find somewhere to have dinner first?"

Rem gave the idea some thought. "Food," she said. Food was the best option.

Alex grinned. "Alright. I have some discretionary funds. We can eat somewhere ni--" Alex cut off mid-word, and Rem found herself readying for an attack.

And it came, but not physically.

There was a mantis on the road ahead of them, standing there while looking right at Rem. "Rem?" she asked. There was another mantis, up on the rooftops, just their head sticking out to stare.

Rem glared. "Rob," she hissed. "Rob and Mug."

The two mantises grinned. "This... is a stick up. Give us all your meat, Rem!"

***

Alex took a moment to properly assess the situation, as befitted a maid. The two mantises--Rob and Mug, according to what Rem had said--were out ahead of them. Rob was up above, the Mantis hanging halfway off the side of the rooftop, four of her legs holding her back from falling, and her wings spread wide to assist her if she jumped.

Mug was closer by. Alex had learned how to read mantis expressions some time ago, though it was still tricky. Mantises didn't have normal mouths, or eyebrows. There was a little that could be read from the position of their eye stalks, but most of the time, if someone wanted to know how one of them was feeling, they'd have to read their body language.

Mug looked like someone excited, body bent forwards, legs tensed to jump, wings folded but trembling excitedly.

Alex imagined that Mug was maybe planning on launching herself out of the alley she was hiding in. Mug was mostly focused on Alex, so there was nothing to worry about.

"Hello," Alex said gently. "I'm Alex. You seem to be familiar with Rem already?"

"Yes," Rem said. "Come down and try to kill Alex, please." There was an excited frisson that passed through Rem's entire body.

Alex wondered if Rem was more excited to see her sisters die or if it was the fighting itself that excited her. In any case, if Rob and Mug did attack, then Alex would have to fight back. It might not come to that, however.

Mug was looking at Alex, head tilted to one side slightly so that the mantis could get more eyes onto Alex. "You're a cultivator?" she asked.

Alex smiled. "No, not really. I'm a maid in the service of the necromancer Harold. Rem here is my apprentice in the maidly arts. I'm training her to become a butler at the moment. I hope you don't mind me using you as an objective lesson in manners and respectability?"

Mug looked from Alex, to Rem, then back. "Rem, who is this idiot?" Mug asked while pointing a scythe-arm at Alex.

"That's the maid," Rem said. "If you think you can eat Alex, then go ahead. Try. I want to see. But Alex, you're not allowed to turn them into butlers!"

"I see. I suppose training one mantis to become a butler is enough work for me," Alex admitted.

"We're not going to become butlers," Mug said. "We're going to take your stuff. I want your pretty dress, and your money. And your meat."

"You can't eat Alex," Rem snapped.

"Yes I can," Mug said. They sounded almost confused. "I just need to put them in my mouth, then do like this." They moved their mandibles, chewing on air as if to show Rem how it was done.

"Yeah, I've been eating stuff all my life. I want the pretty dress too," Rob said.

Mug spun, a quick sudden motion that left her staring up at Rob above. "You can't! I called it first. It's mine after I take it."

"Yeah, okay. It's yours. But then I'll take it."

"No!" Mug said. She waved her arms around in protest. "You always do this. I steal a thing, and it's mine, then you take it. That's not fair!"

"Then don't be so easy to steal from then, idiot," Rob said.

Rem huffed. "None of you are taking Alex away from me!" Rem shouted. "Alex is my maid."

Alex felt a little flutter in their chest at that. It was nice that Rem was being a little protective. They were still planning on teaching her to be a proper butler, and butlers needed to have a certain degree of possessiveness towards their master, but there was no reason they couldn't encourage a little protectiveness as well. Alex was surprisingly proud of how far Rem had come in such a short time.

"Now, now," Alex said calmly. "This situation is devolving into a fight when really there's no need for that. I must warn you that I can only allow a certain amount of interference in my work. Rem, you might want to take note of this."

"Of what?" Rem asked. "We're just posturing, we haven't even started killing each other yet."

"Yeah!" Mug said. "You're supposed to give me all your stuff, then I kill you."

"Why would we do that?" Rem asked.

"Because if you give me your stuff, then Rob will know that it's my stuff. Then I kill you because I'm hungry and the maid smells strong."

Alex blinked, then very surreptitiously sniffed at their armpit. There was no detectable scent.

Rob jumped off the roof, landing behind Mug with an earth-shaking thump. She was bigger than either Mug or Rem. Taller and thicker. Alex guessed that she was also older. Alex hadn't paid too much attention to it while Rob was far above, but now that she was on the ground level, the scars and old wounds dotted across her body stood out a lot more.

"If no one wants to do anything but look stupid at each other, then I'm gonna just do my thing," Rob said.

The large mantis lumbered over to Alex. Then Rem stepped up in front of Alex.

Alex was touched, but this was a bad time for that. They cleared their throat.

Rem and Rob stared at each other, the former with her head lowered and the latter with her own eyes looking down. "I'm not going to let you steal Alex. Only I get to eat the maid."

Alex reached over and gently places a hand on Rem's shoulder. "Chivalry is an important aspect of a butler's methodology and way of life, but, in some cases, you must be willing to step aside. I thank you for your attempt, but please allow me to handle the situation in a manner appropriate for a maid, and not a butler, such as yourself."

"What are you talking about, stupid weird maid?" Rem asked.

"Rem, I know that this is your sister, but we have a job to do and a schedule to keep. We're here in the city for a reason. If you want, we can continue shopping after I've taken care of these two young ladies."

"This isn't time for a lesson, this is time to kill Rob and eat her."

Alex shook her head. Rem was nice, but there was still so much they had to learn. "Let's take this opportunity to study one of the caretaker arts. Notably, the art of packing."

"Packing?" Rem asked.

"Yes. Observe carefully, please," Alex said. A hand dipping into their purse and removed a small spool of ribbon. It was made of a rather simple cloth, but dyed in a nice greenish colour. A simple pattern of lace was inlaid across the middle of the strip of ribbon, giving it just a little bit of flair without distracting the eye too much.

"There once was a chore quite bland,

For which no one raised their hand

But with a twirl of the wrist

And a mystical list

Summoned forth a helpful Mage Hand!"

Rob leaned back hard as not one, but seven mage hands appeared around Alex.

Stepping closer to the mantis, Alex flicked the spool of ribbon out, then ducked out of the way of a quick swipe of the mantis' scythe. A mage hand caught the spool, another the unfurling ribbon, and then Alex dove forwards, rolling under Rob's blows and between her many legs.

Hopping up on the other side, Alex swiped their dress clean of any detritus, then caught the spool of ribbon.

Rob tried to spin around to attack Alex, but that only made things worse. The mantis was covered in ribbons. Some lengths were folded onto themselves and tied into knots, others had looped around Rob's scythes, head, and many limbs. The mage hands were swooping in and out, like birds after prey.

With a dull thump, the mantis hit the ground, rolled over a few times, then came to a stop.

Alex clapped their hands together, smiling down at the mantis. It wasn't their best work, and a little flashy, but it had worked.

Mug was laughing.

It was the same sort of laughter that Alex had heard before, and that made the entire affair less enjoyable.

Rob looked like a confused holiday tree. she tried to move, tripped, tried to correct herself, and only got caught even more in the web of ribbons.

"See," Alex said. "This is what a proper application of a little maid-ly creativity and simple spellwork can allow you to do." She gestured to Mug. Mug stopped laughing. "Your turn!"

***

The cultivators of the Ashen Forest sect were kind enough to provide me with a small suite within the sect's pavilion. It was an apartment with three bedrooms, a pair of washrooms, as well as a small kitchen space, a room for closed door cultivation, and access to a roof garden where some benches waited atop some flat stones with raked ash between them.

It was telling that they didn't include a library in their suit. Or maybe I had just set my expectations too high.

"Yes, this will do," I told Cinder.

She bowed her head my way. "Good good good, I'm glad you found the rooms to your liking. These are usually reserved for visiting elders of other sects. Though I think we can count on one hand the number of times that has happened."

"I suppose that the area is hardly a tourist attraction."

"It isn't," Cinder confirmed. She glanced back towards the doorway, where Char was resting his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes half-lidded in boredom. "We'll be leaving at first light in the morning. I hope that's enough time for you to rest and recuperate?"

"It's not as if I need the sleep," I said. "But I do appreciate the time. It'll let me catch up on some of my reading."

Cinder nodded and then hesitated for a moment before slipping away. Char followed her out of the suite, sliding the door closed behind him. I suspected that he was there as a sort of chaperone, which was an inherently silly thing to have, all things considered. My libido was about as alive as the rest of me.

I took a moment to wander through the suite once more, this time with an eye socket towards a good reading spot. There weren't many, surprisingly. Whomever had designed this suit had done so with an eye towards luxurious austerity.

That is, the space was tastefully empty of anything, with large rooms that only held as much furniture as they needed and not an end table more.

A proper reading nook, in my humble and well-studied--and therefore correct--opinion, was a space where the reader would feel comfortably coddled. A small, warm space, free of distractions, with good lighting and a minimum of distracting sounds.

Outdoor spaces were fine for this, though it was usually best if the outdoors was a window away, as opposed to where the reader was directly located.

Personally, I enjoyed a good skylight, or a full-glass wall overlooking something calm. A shoreline, perhaps an uninhabited forest. At times a graveyard, for the classic necromantic aesthetic.

Ideally, a reading nook should have at least one large seat, with cushioned arms, several blankets, a few pillows soft enough to squeeze against one's side, and perhaps a foot rest. Leather seats were right out. The material clung to skin in a distasteful way, and even though I had no skin in that game (ohoho!) I still disliked it on principle.

A fireplace was nice, but not necessary. A butler or maid on standby was nicer still. Perhaps one ready to remind the reader of the time so that they might ignore it and any duties they had in order to continue reading.

The suite was certainly not up to spec, but it was a good effort given the short time they had to prepare it.

I found a good-enough seat, some pillows from the bedrooms, and a small box that I could use as a footrest. These were all levitated to a room with a window overlooking Shitake City's ashen rooftops.

I settled myself down, then reached into a pocket for a book to read.

Long ago, I had discovered myself afflicted by a sickness I called Reader's Hesitation. It was an illness that arose when one had many choices of what to read, but wasn't in a mood for any of them.

Unfortunately, no matter the genre, style, or themes I was in the mood for, I would always eventually reach the end of written matters in that niche. It was extremely frustrating to want more of something that I had already caught up on.

I'd even gone so far as to resurrect favourite authors so that they might continue their works, and I was the patron of many an artist.

Eventually, however, I'd discovered a simple solution. A catalogue of books I'd enjoyed the reading of. Some more than others. Essentially, it was a list of some several thousand books that I'd rated between satisfactory and excellent.

These were placed within a pocket dimension which would create a copy of a random book from the catalogue when reached into.

Of course, by necessity, I had read every book in the catalogue, but that's where the clever part came into play.

On reaching into the pocket dimension, a complex magical trigger was pulled, one which would give the reacher a fresh book to read, and which would simultaneously erase their memories of that very same book.

I sat back into the seat, a new book in hand. It was blue, with a pair of lagomorph ears on the cover. "Oh, this seems interesting," I commented to myself. I had no recollection of this one, as intended.

I opened the book, finding a small review written on a loose leaf just behind the cover. It was penned in my own hand, and, of course, spoiler-free.

Nodding to myself, I opened the door and idly started reading. This was a distraction. There were certainly other things I could be doing at the moment, even other books that I could be reading. A refresher on certain topics wouldn't go amiss, and perhaps I should have been studying the work that went into the creation of my phylacteries. After all, I was on a mission to recuperate one of them at that very moment.

But I didn't feel like doing that.

Once, I'd been the sort of person that put work first. Studying and improving myself was my priority in all things. Amusement was only found as long as that amusement came from my work, and I did truly enjoy the scientific process. Discovering something new, or proving myself wrong, was always a great way to spend the day.

However, as the realities of immortality began to sink in, I realized that while I had forever to do what I wanted, the only thing standing in my way was myself.

I wouldn't consider myself a lazy bag of bones, but some divertisement from time to time isn't that great a sin.

I was about six chapters in when the door to the suite opened. Fortunately, I recognized the soft, padded steps as Alex, and the louder, clunkier steps followed Alex as Rem. It seemed as if Mem wasn't with them. I imagined that she was probably lost.

Alex came to stand nearby, then they waited.

"Why aren't you saying anything, stupid--" Rem started.

"Shh," Alex said.

"What? What do yo--"

"Shh," Alex repeated, a little more insistently. "A good butler knows to wait until their master has reached the end of a chapter before interrupting. It's only polite."

Rem sniffed, but other than some low grumbling didn't say anything else. Fortunately for the mantis's patience, I was a quick reader and these chapters weren't overly long. I carefully dog-eared the corner of the page I was on, then closed the book. "Yes?" I asked.

I noticed that Alex and Rem were both carrying a mantis-person. They were covered in ribbons, one... significantly more artfully than the other, and they both seemed to be knocked out at the moment. "Hello, Daddy," Alex said. "We were mugged."

"Were you mugged by these two?" I asked.

"Only her," Rem said, while pointing to the mantis she was carrying. "That one's Rob."

I sighed and shook my head. "Rem, I have a question for you, who named you?"

The mantis blinked. "My mother?" she said, though she didn't sound entirely certain.

"And at what age did she name you?"

"Young?"

"Hmm, interesting. I'm wondering if your sibling's names are a case of nominative determinism or if it's all just coincidence. Depending on which, it may or may not be a case of fantastic wordplay, which would oblige me to respect your mother at least a little."

Rem glanced at Alex, then back at me. "Can you eat that?"

"Nevermind," I said. I'd question Rem's mother myself when the time came. "In any case, what do you intend to do with these two?"

"Does Father want the bodies?" Alex said. "I can kill them so it doesn't show."

"I don't have a particular need for them, no."

Alex hummed. "More butlers?"

"No!" Rem said. "You haven't finished training me, yet."

"That's true," Alex replied. "Well, I don't know what to do, then. Maybe we can give them to the sect? I think they generally dislike the mantis people."

"I suppose it's an idea," I replied. "Let me know what you chose to do. Oh, and we're leaving at first light in the morning. You might want to track down Mem between now and then." I returned to my reading, curious as to what past-me meant by that review I'd left myself.

***

Fenfang Fang's Observation Log | Day ninety-nine

It's weird that it's been almost a hundred days since I met Master. It feels longer, and shorter, all at the same time.

I think I've been making good progress over all, all things considered. My spell repertoire isn't where I want it to be, but from the books Master has given me, and from the stories he's told, it'll probably be a few years before I'm as strong as I want to be.

Still! I can't complain too much. I'm making actual, tangible progress. I've become quite good with some of the easier spells. I can cast Prestidigitation without the somatic gestures now, though I haven't figured out how to completely cut out the incantation yet.

Note: I can cast Prestidigitation without the incantation, but it's significantly weaker, with far worse results. With both incantation and gestures, I can now summon up to twenty-two distinctly shaped and coloured objects moving in unique ways. Without the somatic component but with the incantation, that drops to twelve. Without the incantation but with the gestures, I can manage about eight, if the spell works at all.

I can almost manage to cast the spell on a single small illusion (as long as it is as simple as I can make it) without either incantation or gestures. The problem is that this usually fails outright, and it causes a slight headache and I think it still drains my magic reserves, even with a failure.

More study and practice is required.

Note end!

I'm still pushing myself to become a better caster every day, and my repertoire of spells that I've 'mastered' is growing.

From some discussions with Seventeen, I think I'm firmly in the 'first tier' of spell casting.

Out of something like ten tiers, with each one being exponentially harder to master. That's a little discouraging, but I didn't expect to be strong with no work, so it's fine. I'm out of the zeroth tier, which is a big step already!

Master left me a couple of books to study before he left on his mission to the west. I also have a small collection of spell books to re-re-re-read! I think at this point I just need to look at a page to remember every word written on it.

So far, my spell-list looks something like this:

Fenfang Spell List:

Zeroth level

Chill Touch - Mastered (Working on gestureless)

Prestidigitation - Mastered (Working on quick casting)

Frostbite - Mastered (Working on gestureless)

Spare the Dying - Mastered

Sapping Sting - Mastered

Eldritch Blast - Practising

Mage Hand - Practising

1st level

Detect Magic - Mastered (working on gestureless)

Cure Wounds - Practising

Inflict Wounds - Practising

Cause Fear - Mastered

Some spells are easier to practice than others. I can use Cure Wounds and Inflict Wounds on the undead, but I don't know if that's super useful, and it requires dedicated training time to do. That's not as easy to get nowadays.

Some of the other spells I'm learning I can practice whenever I want.

I'm particularly proud of Mage Hand. It's not a spell that Master showed me, but one that I picked up from watching Rem and Mem trying to figure it out! I had to work backwards from basic principles to get it to work.

Spellcraft is... a lot more complex than I initially imagined, and I never thought that it would be easy to begin with.

It'll take a lot more reading and learning before I can start making my own spells. Maybe I should hold off for a while?

The spell that I'm currently having the hardest time with is, annoyingly, a zeroth level spell.

Eldritch Blast.

Master gave me a mission to learn this spell!

Note: Master said that if I had mastered it by the time he returns, he'd let me pick a second level spell to learn. That's... such a massive opportunity! I need to work extra hard here!

Eldritch Blast, according to the books that Master left, is a relatively simple spell to cast. You concentrate magical power borrowed from a patron into a simple form, then fire off the spell. The gestures are all very simple. The incantation... isn't.

The spell doesn't have a universal incantation. Casting it is more about begging a patron for help, then releasing the energy.

And it's so easy!

I can fire them off like a rich cultivator raining gold on peasants. I can make them twist, and change directions, split to hit two targets.

Eldritch Blast is like... the prestidigitation of killing things.

Master expects me to fully master this? In just a few weeks? That's... well, maybe not impossible, but there's so much potential here that really getting to know this spell could take ages.

Note end!

Maybe if I wasn't so busy.

I need to work out a better schedule for my day-to-day stuff. Master has only been gone for a couple of days, and already things are getting complicated.

I'm now, currently, something like the provincial leader of Yu Xiang. An entire city.

I never expected to ever be in charge of a city, but here I am, and I really have no idea what I'm doing.

Thankfully, I have Seventeen to help. He's been promoting some of the smarter undead into administrative roles already, but he says it'll take weeks for them to be trained up. In the meantime, I have to handle all of the army's logistics myself.

An army that doesn't eat or sleep, so it's not as bad as it could be, but I still constantly have things to worry about.

Yesterday, the city council sent a very politely worded and rather long letter asking me to move the more... odorous undead out of the vicinity of the city. So I had to set up a second camp further out for all of the zombies and wights and such.

Fortunately, Seventeen's willing to help. Those are now our long-range patrols, so they're not staying close to the city or roads anymore.

The skeletons are being paired up with local guards for policing work, and we have a whole aerial surveillance system in place.

I have so much more on my plate now than ever before.

It was hard enough when Master was around, and I just had to worry about magic, the undead, and maybe the occasional cultivator. Now I have to worry about everything. The city's council is asking for my help with irrigation, deciding the location for farmer's plots, splitting funds for the newly-freed conscripts, transporting them back to their villages, tax reforms, and what to do with the dead.

I don't know how to address any of that!

But I'm not going to fail.

Or, maybe I will, but not without doing my best!

I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep it up for. Cultivators will come, sooner or later. They already knew about Master being here.

I'd discovered some forms and letters in the Hungering Inferno sect building, specifically in their administrative wing. I don't have much time to look into that kind of thing, but I do have some. They've known about Master for a while. Maybe even since I met him. Or a little later? It's hard to tell, exactly.

They were charged by the Jade Throne to seek him out and try to kill, or if not capture, him.

Now that Master's acted more openly, the Emperor will certainly find out, and then we'll all be in a lot of trouble.

Well, Master might not be. I think he could maybe take the Emperor on. But I'm nowhere near ready for something like that.

I'll have to see if we can prepare the city some more. I'm sure we can set things up so that if a cultivator does visit, and they're not too strong, we'll be able to scare them off.

Maybe.

I really don't know what I'm supposed to do. I'll just have to trust in Master and everything he set up, I guess.

Note: Master says that worrying too much is a waste of time, so I should try to stop worrying about it, or at least focus on productive things.

Note end.

For now, I'm trying to work out a way to get some studying in between dealing with the city and the undead army and exploring the sect compound's records for anything useful.

I think I might need to ask Seventeen for more help, this is too much work for one apprentice to handle all on her own!

Yeah, that's a good idea! I should see what he can do to help out. My job should be to improve myself, not... do all of the work of running a teeny-tiny empire.

I'll approach the city council tomorrow. Some of them seemed very reasonable.

Right, day ninety-nine record over. Back to work for me!

***

I finished the seventy-sixth book in the series I'd started the night before just as the sun rose over the walls of the city.

I tucked the book away, then stood while placing bony hands on my hips to stretch out my spine. Once, when I had flesh over my bones, I'd been very careful about my posture. Sitting straight and keeping my back in good working order.

Unsurprisingly, undeath had put an end to back pain for me, and from then on I had to make a conscious effort not to allow myself to slouch.

"Papa is ready for the day?" Alex asked as they stepped up. Alex had been standing at attention a few paces away from my reading chair all night, as a maid should. "Do you want me to draw a bath? Prepare a change of clothes?"

"Hmm, yes, I think that would be acceptable," I said.

Alex left with a bob of the head, disappearing deeper into the suite. In the meantime, I reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a folded bundle of clothes, carefully wrapped in wax paper and tied with a neat bow. It was a little dusty, but the packet had been waiting in a pocket dimension for several millennia, so that was only to be expected.

I left it on my seat, trusting Alex to find it. It was a spare set of clothes. I had been wearing the same ones for... well, since I went to sleep, actually. The suit wasn't dirty, not with Alex always hovering around, but it was starting to wear a little.

Besides, perhaps I was due for a change of colours?

With the bath drawn up in no time at all, I slipped into the washroom and unclothed myself, then sank into the steaming-hot water. It felt nice to warm up my old bones a little. I found a scrubber with rough bristles on the end, and used it to rub out the grime and dust caught between my joints. Prestidigitation was good for a quick bit of spot cleaning, and Cleaning magic on its own wasn't to be underestimated, but there was something cathartic about a good scrub.

I exited the bath a short time later, after removing my skull and giving it a vigorous shake under the soapy water.

I made sure to tap out any water caught within.

Mortals often complained about having water in their ears after a swim, but that was nothing compared to having a skull filled with water. Alex approached with a nice fluffy--and pre-heated--towel and patted me down. Then it was time to get changed.

"Ah, it's nice to have a little change," I said as I did up my bowtie in front of a tall mirror.

"It suits you very well, Papa," Alex said with a hint of pride.

I paused. "Suits me? Ohohoho! Well done, Alex."

"Thank you," Alex said with a curtsy that I caught in the mirror.

The new suit was a pale brown, made of tweed, over a dark beige shirt, all paired with a maroon bow-tie.

It was a sharp contrast from my previous suit, which was brown tweed over a beige shirt with a red bowtie.

"Hmm, yes, I like the contrast of the maroon with the paler suit," I said as I twisted my neck left and right. "In any case, are we ready to go?"

Alex nodded. "Yes, Snazzy Daddy."

"Hmm, that might be too far. We're a pun family, not a rhyme family."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's all good," I said forgivingly. It was an understandable mistake to make. We all erred a little in imperfection. Impunfection? Hmm... no, best keep that one to myself, it was a little too forced. "So, any news for the day?" I asked.

The sun was fully up now, though it was still the early hours. The pavilion and the city beyond were just coming awake.

"I haven't had time to see about the daily news," Alex said. "But I can confirm that Mem is back. She's in the pavilion's jail cells below, along with Rob and Mug. Rem was tasked with cleaning the carriage before her bedtime. I don't think they'll have finished before now."

"That's fine. The practice won't hurt, and in any case, I suspect that we'll be travelling with the sect today."

Alex nodded along as I led us both out of the suite I was given and into the main parts of the pavilion. That's where I was intercepted by a bright-eyed Cinder. The night's rest at home seemed to have treated her well, and she'd taken the opportunity to freshen up and change into a cleaner dress herself. "Hello, Harold," she said.

"Hello," I replied. "And good morning. Are we prepared to head out?"

"We are," she said. "Elder Frost and I will be leading you to the edge of the Ashen Lake, by the main sect holdings. I hope that keeping a cultivator's pace for the next part of the voyage is acceptable to you?"

"Certainly," I said. "Though I might want to take some time to grab samples from the local flora and fauna as we move."

"That can be done. I think we all prefer to travel while taking small breaks along the way," Cinder said. "Besides, part of the sect's duties lie in exterminating any threats close to Shitake City. We'd only be doing our work."

"Well said," I replied. "Ah, yes, I must enquire about Mem."

"Mem?" Cinder asked. "Is she well?"

"I imagine so, she's currently in your prison, or so Alex informs me."

"Ah," Cinder said with a slow nod. "That's... plausible. I'll have her retrieved. And the other mantises?"

"I don't care about them," I said. "Though I wonder what the usual procedure would be here?"

"They are... generally considered enemies of the sect which we can do nothing about. A threat and a pest, but one given the blessing of the Jade Throne on account of their affiliation with their godly mother. We suffer a number of losses whenever one strays into the city."

"I can imagine," I said. "Alex didn't paint the two they ran into last night as model citizens."

"Rob and Mug are... surprisingly, not the worst," Cinder said. "They're thieves, and occasionally murderers, but that's the extent of their crimes. They rarely fight any cultivators, and most citizens are used to surrendering some portion of their goods to the two. They'll even avoid mugging the same person twice. Civilians are advised to carry two pouches for their gold, one with lesser denomination coins. It also helps against the more normal type of pick-pocket."

"I see, I see," I replied. "Well, do with them as you please, it's not skin off my nose... which has none to begin with! Oh-hoh!"

Cinder chuckled along with me before she paused to confer with a member of the pavilion staff who was sent scurrying off to fetch Mem.

We gathered outside, where Cinder and I found seats in a small garden behind the main building of the pavilion. Alex darted back within to fetch what we'd need for the journey, and to find and awaken Rem.

I suspected that Mem would be getting an involuntary bath as well, if she was in any state other than perfectly clean.

"So, the lake today?" I asked.

"It's just far enough that we'll be arriving there within the day," Cinder said. "After that, we can cross the lake, possibly overnight if word travelled ahead rapidly enough."

"And beyond that, what's the plan?" I asked.

"There are mountains to cross beyond that. The Mantis Queen's lair is within those, along the southern end of the mountain ridge. If we make it to the foot of the mountains by tomorrow morning, then we can start to scale them. The Ashen Forest sect has long discovered ways into the mountain's cavern system, as well as..." Cinder hesitated. "Are you familiar with dwarves?"

"Stout little fellows? Fond of metalwork and tools? Yes."

"There are several clans living beneath the mountains, and more to the west where they have a fortress city which is frequently besieged by the Mantis queen. We have a... tentative alliance with some of these dwarves."

"I see," I said. "You wouldn't be the first cultivators to make friends with them," I said.

She blinked. "We wouldn't?"

"I met an architect near the ruins of Silvershire who had some dwarven friends as well. Ruolan, I believe?"

Cinder sat up. "Wait... Ruolan from the Abyssal Depths sect?"

"You know her?" I asked.

"We've been rivals for almost my entire life," Cinder said. "We both swore to kill each other... multiple times."

"Ah," I replied. "So you do know her. Small world, I suppose."

"You must tell me how you met," Cinder said. "So that she doesn't get ahead of me in some other way."

"Certainly. It all started as I was exploring an old haunt of mine, the city of Silvershire, which of course are all ruins now. I was also training the Limpet through the early stages of magic use," I began.

***

By the time I was done relating my story to the very attentive Cinder, Alex had returned along with Mem and Rem.

Mem seemed very pleased, and was swaying her head from side to side in an amused fashion. Rem did not seem very pleased, and looked fit to disembowel her sister for what seemed like the crime of being in a good mood.

"Are we ready to head out?" I asked.

"Yes yes yes," Cinder said as she jumped to her feet. "I'll inform the elder that we're to leave. We'll be carrying some light supplies with us. Is there anything in particular you need? Alex?" The first half of that question was aimed at me, but she quickly turned it towards Alex, who was the appropriate person to ask, after all.

Alex hummed. "I think that I have enough supplies in my bag for a few days on the road. Our resupply mission yesterday wasn't as successful as I would have liked, but I did pick up some basics. We'll have plenty to eat and changes of clothes, as well as toiletries."

Rem hissed at the last.

"Do you have an issue with toiletries?" I asked.

Rem raised her arms a little, what I interpreted as mild aggression from her. What would be mild dislike for a more humanoid person. "I hate the bathroom," she said. "It's the worst place to clean. There's too many rules. Then the stupid maid makes me clean myself there. It's gross!"

"Rem has a hard time in the bathroom," Alex said. Then the maid ducked under a swing of Rem's scythe.

"Rem doesn't have a hard time! It's stupid in there."

"You keep destroying the bathroom tissue, and drinking the shampoo," Alex pointed out rather calmly.

"It seems like bathroom matters are a roll-licking good time for you," I said with a skeletal grin.

Rem stared. "What?"

"I'm merely saying that you're not as soap-fisticated as you could be."

Rem glanced between Alex and I. "Is the dead one broken?"

"He's making jokes!" Mem said. "Mem loves jokes. She heard one that was very nice recently."

"Oh?" I asked.

Mem bobbed her head. "Why did the butcher slay two pigs and a goat when the cultivator came to town?"

I had to admit, I didn't know that one. "I don't know, why?" I asked.

Mem blinked her many eyes, then shrugged her shoulders. "Mem doesn't know. She didn't hear the end of the joke because people started screaming at her. But they did laugh after, so it must have been funny."

"Ah... I see."

Cinder cleared her throat. "If... we're all quite ready, I think we can find Elder Frost at the front of the pavilion."

I acquiesced, even though I was still in a mood for a bit more wordplay, but there was a time and place for such things, not to mention a people. Of all the reactions to proper wordplay, by far the worst was the uncomprehending 'what' of someone too foolish to understand.

We found Elder Frost at the front, as promised. She had a small bag on her hip and her arms folded into the sleeves of her dress as she spoke in hushed words with Soot. Char was nearby as well, looking as though he was very recently chastised.

The elder finished speaking with Soot, who nodded then rolled back and away. Soot soon bowed our way before Char grabbed the back of his chair and started pushing him in.

"Hello, Elder Frost," I said.

"Harold," she replied. "Cinder. I was just giving Soot some final instructions. A team from the sect will be arriving soon, to watch over the city in my absence."

"Is it just Mister Soot and Mister Char right now?" Alex asked.

Elder Frost stared for a moment before replying. "For the moment. More sect members are coming down. If... when, we succeed in defeating the Mantis Queen, they'll be charged with clearing the city of her spawn. Especially the more troublesome ones."

"All of my sisters are troublesome," Rem grumbled.

"She's not wrong," Elder Frost agreed. "Though there are degrees to such things. Mem here is accused of kidnapping people's pets and some breaking and entering and trespassing, as well as rooting through people's trash, but never any... terrible crimes, for example."

"Mem didn't kidnap them," Mem said. "She just stayed with them while they were all alone."

"I see," I said. "It's comforting to see that justice is being applied fairly. Shall we be off then?"

The Elder nodded graciously. "Follow me, please," she replied before she took off, walking at a careful pace with the assistance of her cane. She set a very steady pace which we all fell in behind. I didn't mind having her in the lead, the woman clearly knew her way around this city better than I did, and it allowed me some time to glance around and take it all in.

Shitake City seemed like a place that one could fully immerse themselves in for a mortal lifetime without discovering everything there was to learn about it.

It was layered, with space within the walls clearly at a premium, so the locals built up. We actually crossed some newer constructions as we headed north. A few buildings looked like they were being dismantled next to others which were brand new. A renovation? The newer buildings had an extra two floors on their neighbours, which I imagined added up to quite a lot of additional floor space.

"Is the city going through a boom period?" I asked.

"Hmm hmm hmm, a little bit," Cinder replied. "Most of the empire is in a boom at the moment."

"Truly?"

She nodded. "It's only been some fifty or so years since the entire continent was entirely brought into the grasp of the empire."

"Hmph, you wouldn't think that, from the way the Emperor goes on about the empire being eternal and all-encompassing," Elder Frost said. "But it's not wrong. There are, or were, several parts of the continent which were still either unexplored or considered entirely uninhabitable. Some are still the latter, but fewer now than before. Now the Emperor is pushing for a wider expansion."

"Wider?" I asked.

"More children, bigger families," Cinder explained. "A slow but steady cultural shift towards a more agrarian way of life for the majority, to support larger cities for the minority. You don't see it here as much in the far-east of the empire."

"I imagine because the location is less hospitable?"

She nodded. "Exactly. This is no longer the last frontier. There's nothing new to discover in the Flamming Steppes. We don't produce enough food to export much, nor any other resource of great value. What we do have are poisons, a toxic environment, and lots of room."

"Room might be worth much, one day," the elder said. "I visited the west some thirty years ago. The far western sects are much stronger than we, but their lands are also much kinder. The cities are larger and more open, and the sects can afford to pitch a wider net when recruiting from the talented and ambitious."

I hummed to myself. I'd have to ask the Limpet about it. She was surprisingly well-travelled for someone her age. "Do people travel a lot?" I asked. "From... do they call the areas provinces or states?"

"Provinces," Cinder said. "We don't have a local provincial government here. Though some of the western provinces might. The central ones certainly do. As for travel. No. Not really."

"Travel is expensive, and time consuming. Merchants travel, those with nothing but desperation in their bellies, and some few wandering cultivators will take on a dao that will have them explore the world, but most stay where they're from, with rare exceptions," Elder Frost said.

"I see. I think that was often the same in my day. There were times when it changed, where a nation's people would become rich enough to travel, but most people lived and died within a day's walk of the same place," I said.

"That's rather sad," Alex said. "But I can understand it."

"Why?" Rem asked. "It's stupid. You go where the prey goes."

Alex shook their head. "As a butler, your job would be to tend to the master's domicile. A domicile rarely packs up and moves. It's natural for a maid or butler to remain in one place their entire lives if that place is where their master needs them, isn't it?"

I wondered... I had had a number of maids and butlers in my day. I warned them of my intentions before taking my rest, but I had left them in charge of some small estates and laboratories. Were they still there to this day? "You'd think wanderlust would kick in eventually," I said. "Even I ventured out of the lab, at times."

We reached the outer wall of the city, where the gate was opened for us, then the time for chatter was reaching a middle, because it was time to get a move on.

SCS 5 is out on Amazon! Go check it out!

Plz?

"So," I began as we kept up a respectable pace through the more sparse woods near the city. "What sort of wildlife should we expect around here?"

Cinder was the one to answer. She was at the head of our little group, pathfinding through the woods while taking a zig-zagging route. That mostly meant hopping from one flat-topped stone to another, each some three or four necrometres apart and perhaps a necrometre above the ground.

These rock formations were obviously unnatural. Stones didn't just rise out of the ground as stumpy little pillars at more or less even intervals so easily.

Interestingly, these seemed to be acting as a sort of road. With branches heading out to the sides and some stones visible deeper in the woods.

They were relatively well hidden as well, I could only see one or two stones ahead, with no straight path in sight. Instead, most of the stones were placed in such a way that the natural ebb and flow of the hilly landscape hid those further out from view, or they'd be hidden from the side by large, thorn-covered bushes or older trees.

"So close to Shitake City? There's very very very little to worry about. The natural predators in this region are culled frequently. There are snails, as I believe I've mentioned before, but they're relatively slow moving."

"I see. And further out?" I asked.

"Hmm hmm hmm, further out there are more dangerous animals to worry about. Ash wolves come to mind. They are large beasts, the same grey as the ash all around, and they can lie in wait for long hours only to jump out and attack. They fight in packs."

"Rem remembers those," Rem said. "They are large, and bony. The meat they have is tasty. Lots of chi, but there's very little actually meat."

"Bone doggies," Mem said. She sounded rather despondent. "They're not very nice doggies."

"Bone doggies," I repeated. "I presume that they're covered in bones, then? Are they perhaps undead?"

"No no no," Cinder said with a dismissive wave of a sleeve-covered hand. "The ash wolves are living creatures. Though their nature is very... Yin. As are most creatures from the Ashen Forest."

That was a new term that was I wasn't entirely familiar with. I made a mental note to explore that later. "Are they the most dangerous predator in the woods?"

Cinder shook her head. "No. That would be the mantises."

Rem puffed up a little between one jump and the next. "We are the best hunters," she said.

I could actually believe her. Yes, Rem and Mem were both... relatively weak, all things considered, but even the exceptionally impatient Rem was able to hold still for extended periods. And for all that I suspected her Intelligence was a dump stat, she was still able to talk and with some learning read and write.

That placed her and her siblings above the common animal. Being that intelligence made a predator an exceptional threat. It allowed for strategic and tactical thinking. The laying of traps and the outsmarting of foes.

It meant that they could, if pushed, use tools to make the task of hunting their prey that much easier.

"There are other dangerous animals within the forest," Cinder said. "One of the reasons we're travelling via these stepping stones is to avoid disturbing the ash. Some creatures linger beneath the surface and will jump up to assault you. That, and the ash can be deceptively deep in places."

"How deep?" Alex asked.

Cinder actually came to a full stop three stones later. It was a larger platform, more than wide enough to accommodate all of us and jutting out of the side of a hill. She pointed down into the dip in the landscape below. "How far do you think the ground is?" she asked.

Alex glanced over the edge. We were only perhaps half a necrometre away from the surface of the ash. "It doesn't seem so deep."

Cinder chuckled. There was a tree next to the stone plateau we were on. With an easy hop, she leapt up into its branches, then stopped her foot down. The branch cracked, the sharp retort echoing out across the barren landscape before the entire branch came rushing down, dislodging ash from above as it went.

Alex covered his mouth with a handkerchief as she backed away from the edge. The branch crashed down onto the ash... and disappeared below.

"We're on the edge of a gorge," Cinder said as she landed next to us once more. "It's deep deep deep."

I leaned closer to the edge. The large branch had come to a stop some three necrometres deeper than I would have expected. Assuming that it had touched the ground below, which wasn't a sure thing... then there was something like four or five necrometres of ash here. "That's ash-tonishingly deep. Ohoho!"

Cinder chuckled, and I noticed Elder Frost giving me a look that I couldn't quite decipher.

"Places like this are relatively common," Cinder said. "Where the wind isn't strong, or is blocked by the hills and trees, and where there's a dip for ash to settle. They're dangerous for those walking across the Ashen Forest. Naturally hidden pitfalls. But also, places for monsters to lurk."

She pointed just in time for the ash around the tree branch to shift. Something with a large, long mouth, snapped its many teeth into the bark of the branch. It was shaken, and that shaking made more ash fly up into the air and unsettled the rest so that the hole was covered up.

"What was that?" Mem asked.

"Ashligator," Cinder said.

I snorted. Ashligator! Fantastic!

"They're not much of a threat, actually. Slow, territorial, they rarely venture out of the thickest ash. Dangerous, yes, but only for those that don't know where they're going."

"More than one curious visitor to these forests have lost a leg to them," Elder Frost said. "We should keep moving."

I nodded along and followed as we hopped over to the next stone.

"These pillars. Obviously they're not natural..."

"One of my ancestors," Cinder said with some pride.

"My uncle," Elder Frost said. "He was a weak fighter, but a cunning and powerful cultivator all the same. He discovered some magical tricks that allowed him to turn ash into stone. He created a path for us from the edge of the forest to our sect. Then more. Many more."

"Leading to points of interests?" I asked.

Cinder nodded. "Points of interest, and paths that lead nowhere. We actually have outer disciples tasked with travelling across the forest via unused paths, just to ensure that they're still serviceable, and to leave tracks for others to follow."

We were leaving tracks ourselves. Cinder and Elder Frost and Alex were the only ones moving in such a way that they left no footprints. I was, of course, a wizard, not a rogue, so I have little care about stealth. Then again... Rem and Mem's steps only left small points behind, so the shoe-scuffs of my oxfords were the most obvious markers we were leaving in our wake.

I used a bit of prestidigitation on our next step to smooth out the ash behind us.

It was a clever system, actually.

These stones were safer, ostensibly, than walking on the ground, which meant that anyone with a lick of common sense would use these to travel. The stones could be used to mislead people and send them off in the wrong direction because they acted as roads. Someone travelling through the Ashen Forest would want to use these.

But there was another layer to their use. They made the ground seem that much more dangerous, and the forest that much more threatening. It was a simple psychological trick, like providing a tiny sphere of light in the void of darkness. A promise of civility in a sea of danger.

That could easily be turned against someone. Flick off the light, and suddenly the one depending on it would be caught unaware and unprepared.

How hard would it be to tuck a few traps into these stone platforms? A few spells with delayed reactions, the caster hidden in the ash like one of those ashligators?

We continued, keeping an even but quick pace for another couple of hours. Then the stones ran out.

"From here on we walk," Cinder said as she hopped down. The ground puffed up with her step. "We'll be staying on the ridge of a hill. It means we'll be very visible, but the wind sweeps the ash away."

"Fair enough," I said as I stepped down as well. "I imagine we'll reconnect with another similar set of stepping stones further out?"

Cinder blinked, then nodded. "Quite so. Just an hour's walk across the hills. The rest of the stepping stone paths from here lead to areas of the forest which are... unsafe."

"Any other threats we should worry about?" I asked.

"Hmm, you don't breathe, so it's not an issue for you. But we'll be traversing a windy area with fine ash particulate in the air. They'll clog your lungs and leave you for dead if you're not equipped properly."

"Well, that's breath-takingly inconvenient," Alex said.

GUYS!

Dead Tired's audiobook is out!

You can listen to a sneak-peak here:

I was quite glad for the existence of spells like prestidigitation as we waded through calf-deep ash. The two cultivators had techniques that allowed them to step onto the loose ash as though it were solid ground, but our mantis companions lacked any such abilities and were forced to push through the ash with some difficulty.

I took some mild amount of pity on both Mem and Rem as they started to cough and splutter at the presence of so much ash. Cinder had been right when she warned that the ash could be dangerous to those that needed to breathe.

A few simple healing spells, cast so that they'd dispense their healing over the span of several hours rather than instantly, helped to alleviate our insectoid companions' suffering. It also stopped Rem's grumbling. I wasn't entirely irate by her complaints, seeing as there was a good reason for them, but I would be lying to myself if I didn't admit that they were frustrating to hear.

The path that Elder Frost charted eventually led us to a second set of stones that we could walk upon. I noticed that these had been brushed off and were much easier to find. They had tall banners next to them, with a symbol embroidered onto their surface.

The banners were black and white, a diagonal stripe splitting the shades across the middle. In the centre, a mountain, and from the top of it, a grey tree rose. "Is that the symbol of your sect?" I asked. There were two words written in the local pictograms. Ash and Forest.

Elder Frost chuckled. "It is. There was a strong fad some three decades ago. Every sect needed a banner with art and symbols to represent them. This is ours."

"A fad," I repeated. "I recall such things coming in vogue then leaving in time. Knightly houses would adopt a coat of arms, then the nobility would adopt a crest of their own. Businesses catering to them would commission complex signage, then smaller ones would adopt their own."

"So everyone would have a banner of their own?" Cinder asked.

"Until every shop and inn and street gang has a crest of their own, yes," I said. "Then the nobility would start to think that such things a gauche and rather kitche and would simplify or drop their own heraldry, starting a new cycle."

"How long do these cycles take?" the elder asked. "I recall such banners being popular in my youth, but that was a long time ago. Then they, as you said, became somewhat unfashionable."

"I think the time for fashions to change depends on a number of factors," I said. "But the most important of these are the degrees to which people can afford to change their organisational appearance--which requires both the means to produce new appearances and the means to afford that production--and a certain degree of communication. Good ideas, if isolated, are lost."

Cinder nodded along. "The idea for the banners came from the west. A few of us went there for a grand tournament where banners were seen, and so we created our own. More recently, I think the idea of such things has become less popular. Though maybe not unpopular."

"That makes sense. The empire is rather wide and communication standards are still quite slow. News seems to mostly circulate via criers, heralds, and letters. If the empire had better road infrastructure, or magical means of travelling, then news and new ideas would move far faster."

"Is that something you wish to change?" Elder Frost asked.

I considered it for the next few steps. "I don't think so. But I might bring about such changes anyway. If your sect falls in line, the limpet continues to grow, and we start to establish a foothold in the empire, then I see no reason why the regions under my control should stagnate. Poor communication bothers me, and it's not overly complicated to rectify."

"How would you do it?" Cinder asked. "I'm very very very curious."

"Well, the simple method is to employ undead birds to carry letters and light parcels. Use undead labour to rebuild and improve roads, In times of uncertainty or when banditry is still an issue, instituting a caravan system with undead guards can also improve material-travel times."

"Logical steps, but only available to those with the undead at their beck and call," Cinder said.

"No, it's possible without. Merely more difficult. Magic makes for a fine replacement. Undead are generally weaker than golems and servitors made of metal and magic. Summons from other planes of reality can do most tasks in the same way, though with questionable allegiances. Or you can do it all with well-trained, well-paid people. Yes, that is the least effective method by which to start, but I think that given time and space, technological and mechanical solutions can be found for issues that you don't want to tackle via magical means."

Elder Frost glanced back at me. "Why would you care so much for fixing things without magic, when you seem to always have the magic for them?"

"Hmm, an interesting question. There were once large areas of the world where magic was weakened. A nation once created an entire field around themselves which disrupted magic, making the casting of weaker spells entirely impossible, and complicating the casting of more powerful ones."

That had been a space where spells below the second tier were almost impossible to cast, and those between the third and fourth were significantly more complex. At least for those spells who earned their tiers from complexity as opposed to their level of danger.

"That region developed mechanical systems to overcome the hardships they imposed upon themselves. Long aqueducts for moving water. Railed cars connecting cities together powered by steam engines. Without magic as a shortcut, but with time and resources to innovate, they found their own solutions. That is something I can respect."

"What happened to these people?" Cinder asked.

"I politely removed their leadership. Their anti-magical stance was rooted in superstition and foolish beliefs. Their ancestors, those who'd actually created those very same systems, had done so because they couldn't control magic. And having things outside of their control was, to them, unforgivable. Once the fields faded, magic returned as a favourable option."

"Was magic better?" Cinder asked.

"Industrialization is powerful, and creates great works. But it also does much harm. Magic is, in its own way, significantly cleaner. Just ask any druid about the consequences of an industrial revolution."

Cinder frowned, but nodded. I imagined that the young cultivator would ask the first druid she met. If she did meet one. Druidism seemed just close enough to cultivation as a vocation that I imagined there was a severe overlap in some places.

That could make for an interesting point of study.

We continued to chit and chat as we ambled along, hopping from stone to stone, each marked with a banner of the sect. I imagined that remaining hidden, so close to the heart of the sect, was a moot point. If someone had made it through the Ashen Forest to this point, then they'd make it to the sect no matter what. The banners also provided a clear marker of... ownership over the location. No one trespassing could pretend to be confused or lost when there were large signs flapping in the wind every dozen necrometres.

"I can hear water," Alex said. I glanced over to the maid and made note of very twitchy ears. "Not too far from here, bone daddy."

"That's the lake," Cinder said. "We've arrived. And it's only early evening."

"We'll have to see if the ship we requested is prepared," Elder Frost said.

As it turned out, it was.

We left the edges of the Ashen Forest, landing on a beach whose shores were covered in muddy ash covering countless small pebbles and larger boulders. The Ashen Lake was quite large. So much so that I couldn't see across it to the other side, though the tops of the mountains there were still clearly visible in the distance.

A pier had been erected along the shoreline. It was made of stone, the same as the stepping stones we'd been using, though these were weathered by age and the tides and left stained by ash and grime.

A ship sat next to the docks. A single masted vessel, quite long and sturdily built, and painted a dull grey with white sails. It was crewed by three figures, all in the garb of the Ashen Forest sect, and all of whom stopped at our arrival and quickly gathered on the pier.

"Lord Harold, these are the members of the sect who will be bringing you across the lake," the elder said. "I believe it is in their best interest to introduce themselves to you, as they will be attending you for the journey."

***

The three cultivators, two young men and a young woman, bowed gracefully before my companions and I. I could sense that they were nervous, both from strange looks directed my way, and from glances to Elder Frost.

Still, one of them stepped up.

He wore the grey garb of the sect, though his outfit lacked any robes. Instead he wore loose pants and a tight shirt under a grey overcoat. His mask had a large visor over his eyes that likely allowed him a good deal of peripheral vision. He also wore a peaked cap. "I'm captain Ashmud, of the Flameskimmer. Inner disciple of the Ashen Forest sect."

"Hello, Ashmud," Cinder said. There was warmth and coldness in her tone, and I sensed something of a history between the two.

The elder cleared her throat, then gestured for the other two to present themselves.

"Greetings, honoured guest of the Ashen Forest," they said in unison, then the young lady took a small step forwards. "I am Greyflake, outer disciple of the Ashen Forest."

"I am Char," the young man said. "Outer disciple of the Ashen Forest."

Greyflake had a dress on that was similar to Cinders, though of lesser quality. It was white and grey, with some simple embroidery woven into the cloth to create the image of a many peaked mountainscape. Her loose dress allowed plenty of room for hidden weapons, which she was putting to use.

I suspect that the thin girl's weight was half weapon. She had knives strapped to her arm under loose sleeves, more along her waist, some on her back, and more sheathed around her thighs. All artfully hidden within her dress, but there were so many that it was impossible not to notice.

Char, on the other hand, was a big lad. He looked like the sort of young man that ate well and grew well as a result. His mask was small and simple, and he wore less protective equipment over himself than the average Ashen Forest sect member.

His only combative equipment was a cudgel by his hip, and a pair of knuckle dusters on a bandoleer for ease of access.

"Captain Ashmud, Greyflake, and Char," I said. "Are all of the names in the Ashen Forest so... evocative of your ashy home?"

"We earn new names for ourselves as we become disciples of the sect," Cinder said. "Most of these are given to us by older, more experienced members. Char here is one of those that I named myself."

"Ah, I see," I said.

Not an entirely uncommon practice. It made the division between a member's current and past life, pre and post joining of an organisation, a lot clearer.

"His name used to be Charles," Cinder said.

I paused for a moment, then cackled slightly. Charles becoming Char! I wondered if there was more wordplay under the surface here.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," I said with a nod. Next to me, Alex curtsied, then nudged Rem who grumbled, but did her best impression of a butler's bow. Mem was staring at the water, entirely unaware of what was going on. "So, if I understood correctly, we'll be traversing the lake today onboard the Flameskimmer?"

"Aye," Captain Ashmud said. "The old boat's not the greatest or the prettiest, but she's reliable. She's been with the sect for half a century now!"

"The mountains which are our destination can be reached by land, but the path is long, arduous, and utterly utterly utterly unmapped," Cinder said. "Traversing the lake is also a danger, but less so."

I nodded along. "Very well, then. Are we ready to take off right away?"

"Leaving at this time of day isn't the easiest, but it's not a task that I'll be unable to accomplish," Captain Ashmud said. I had the impression he was grinning under that mask of his. "Come on, outer disciples, let's get her ready to depart." He gave me a nod, and Elder Frost a short bow before returning down the pier towards the ship. The outer disciples had far more elaborate bows to give before they ran off after the captain.

"This is where I'll be leaving you," Elder Frost said. She eyed me for a moment. "Keep Cinder and the disciples safe, please. I know that you are someone of another league, one who has defied the heavens and succeeded, but still, the Ashen Forest is a good sect beset by hard times. I dearly wish to see it flourish, for the flower to pierce the ash."

"I'll see what I can do," I replied. "This has mostly turned into a fun side-expedition, and those are always ruined when someone dies horrifically. It would bring the mood down for the rest of the adventure."

"If the cost of your help is our entertainment, then we will do what we must," Cinder replied rather cryptically. "May I have a few moments with the Elder? I'm certain the outer disciples will be glad to show you the ship."

"Certainly," I replied before gesturing Alex and the mantises forwards.

The Flameskimmer wasn't the most modern vessel I'd ever embarked upon, but it was well designed for its environment, and well-maintained. Captain Ashmud seemed to take great pride in his ship, judging by the lack of ash on deck and the well-polished railing.

Its sails were an interesting choice. Full battens, running their entire length and set half a necrometre apart. It would make for sturdy, rigid sails as opposed to the more loose sails I was used to seeing.

"Welcome aboard," the captain said. "This old junk doesn't have too much room, but the largest compartment below is yours."

"Oh, that's fine, thank you," I replied. "I hardly need to sleep, and I don't take up much room. It might be best to leave the room for the mantis sisters. Alex, would you mind squaring our things away."

"Of course, Daddy bones," Alex said with dazzling grin. "Come on Rem, I'll teach you how to sort things for a trip. Mem, come along too, please."

Alex easily crossed the deck, but I found myself a little unbalanced as the ship rocked below me. I considered taking some time, plucking out my legs, and replacing them with my sea legs, but it was likely unnecessary. I'd grow accustomed to the shifting deck in due time. Besides, this seemed like it wouldn't be a very long trip.

"Forgive me for bothering you, captain," I said while Captain Ashmud was quickly reeling in some rope and coiling it into a bundle. "But how long is the voyage from here to the opposite coast?"

"Hmm, it'll be overnight. If the winds are fair we'll be there by morning. Otherwise, with no wind, we'll have to row some ways, and that'll mean arriving in the afternoon."

"I see. Thank you. Though, I don't see how this large of a ship could be rowed by a crew of three, seven if you count all of your passengers as well," I said.

Captain Ashmud's eyes lit up behind his visor. "Let me show you, then," he said. I had seen similar expressions before. This was a man about to show someone a project that they'd poured lots of time and effort into and which they very much cared about. "You're right, a ship of this size would need a few of perhaps a dozen rowers, at minimum, to move anywhere. It's even worse in this lake."

"Because of the ash?" I asked with a gesture towards the waters. They were grey. Not the grey of a lake under an overcast sky (it was actually bright and sunny today, the sky a brilliant blue past a thin layer of rippling clouds) but the grey of deep pollution.

"Exactly. The top layer of the lake has a film of ash on it. It clings, like mud. You wouldn't think it, but it actually slows ships down considerably. Although it also means that the waves are weak, on the surface. Beneath, the current is stronger, but the lakebed is covered in a thick soup of old ash as well. If you stir it up with some oars, it becomes much worse."

"I see," I replied.

He brought me to the edge of the ship, where some sort of device was tucked in next to the railing. "So we came up with this. Well, I did, and I had engineers and carpenters from Shitake work on it."

The captain unfolded the device, then brought it back before extending a few arms from it. Finally, it clicked into place. It was a set of six long oars, each interlinked. The links themselves were connected to a second device, a sort of false oar that that captain held low.

"Ah, I think I see," I replied. "Clever."

"With this, one cultivator can move multiple oars. The added weight and the added resistance from the water would make it impossible for a mortal man, but as cultivators, that is no issue! Ingenious, no?"

"Are you done showing off your toys?" Cinder asked as she stepped aboard. "We're ready to depart as soon as you are."

Okay! A heap of news!

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[img: https://i.imgur.com/vpI4Lk7.jpeg]

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Royal Road link: Fluff | Royal Road

And finally, I've launched a new story!

It's called The Complicated Love Life of Ivil Antagonist

[img: https://i.imgur.com/iBgzZZ0.png]

Ivil Antagonist has everything a woman could want. Power enough to blanket out suns and turn worlds into molten hells, a fleet of warships at her command, and the fear of an entire space-faring nation.

But she's silently growing tired of being at the top. There is no place more lonely for someone who has killed all of the competition, and she knows that it will be impossible to find an equal.

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The Flameskimmer pushed away from the pier with a smidge of effort from our cultivator hosts. The outer disciples used some oars to make distance between the ship and the docks, then Captain Ashmud unfurled just a bit of sail that caught the wind with a snap, and off we went.

"We've got the winds at our backs," the captain said. "We'll make good time if it keeps up. I don't know if we'll be able to make land overnight, but we'll get to the opposite shore by morning."

"Good good good," Cinder said. She stood on the foredeck, right behind the ship's prow where it was cutting through the ashy surface of the lake. "I don't want to spend any more time on this lake than I need to."

"You dislike the lake?" I asked.

The young woman nodded. "It's... not a good environment for me or for my cultivation. I do not want to have such a glaring weakness, but I have no choice in the matter. These waters are not suitable for me to fight upon."

"I see," I said. "Do you measure everything on the scales of how easily you could fight upon it?"

Cinder tilted her head to the side slightly. "No, sometimes I measure things on the scale of how well I could fight it, other times on the scale of how well I could evade it. There are some cultivators that only measure things in relation to how easily they could defeat that thing. Those cultivators tend to die at their first meeting with a true adversary."

"Ah, yes, that kind of person. I encountered my share of similar adventurers in my day. Young men and women who saw the world painted in shades tinted by ego and self-confidence. Strange colours those."

Cinder nodded. "Here, the world is grey on grey, and it is always willing to kill you. It's one of the more valuable lessons the sect has to teach."

"The subtle art of running away?" I asked.

"I don't know if it's all that subtle, but yes."

"Subtle or not, it is very valuable," I said. "I might be quite a bit stronger than I once was, but even I have retreated from my fair number of kerfuffles."

Cinder eyed me for a moment. "I find that hard to believe. You are... powerful."

"I think that I'm undoubtedly well-versed in several magical arts and I'm a well-read scientist. That certainly gives me an edge. Add to that the undeath and millenia of experience and I suspect that I'd be a formidable foe for most. But I wasn't always this way."

Cinder nodded slowly. "Some of the elders of the sect have that same kind of humility. They are at the height of their power now, even in their old age, but they still recall a time when their cultivation wasn't as far ahead. They like to remind the rest of us about it."

"That's sensible. It's a good reminder that even the greats were once beginners. It takes a lot of effort and thousands of mistakes before you reach a level where you are no longer making a fool of yourself. It's commendable to remind others that you, yourself, were once awful at the things you are now great at."

"I suppose so," Cinder said. "And you were once awful yourself?"

"Of course! My interest in the arcane began... why, I was just a small child. But I, too, was unable to properly cast prestidigitation once. It took long laborious hours, years of work and practice, before I grew in skill and knowledge enough to call myself an expert. I think the only thing that set me apart at that time was that expertise was not enough for me. I wanted more than mere mastery. I wanted to be the perfect caster."

"You strove for the heavens, and you reached them," Cinder replied. "For all that you profess a dislike of cultivators at times, you--and no offence is meant by this--have certain traits in common."

"Hmm, I suppose I might," I replied.

The captain deployed all of the sail that he could, then he snapped at Char and Greyflake, setting the two of them to rowing even though we were still picking up speed. I suspected that part of the reason for that was to break up the surface of the lake. The oars churned up the ashen surface, allowing the ship to better cut through the muddy waters.

As we picked up some speed, the ship rose out of the water slightly. A clever trick with the sails acting as foils. It meant that we were soon skimming along the surface at a respectable speed. I leaned over the front of the ship to take a look at the prow, and discovered that it was quite thin, acting as a blade through the water, and it had small curved planks along its side that pushed the ship upwards as it moved.

That was some impressive engineering, moreso even than the complex system of oars, even if this part was entirely stationary.

"Ah! You've figured out our secret," Captain Ashmud said as he ambled over. He was entirely comfortable on the swaying, bucking deck.

"Indeed. It's some clever work. Is there an enchantment to lighten the ship as well?" I asked.

The captain grinned. "Aye! There is. That cost a fair deal as well. We had to have those lightened parts enchanted at the capital. It's just the beams that make up the frame of the ship. The rest is unenchanted, for the most part. Still, those are some of the heaviest parts of the vessel. The mast is enchanted as well. It keeps our centre of weight a little lower."

"Impressive," I said. "How did you come up with all of this?"

"Lots of tiny models," he said with confidence.

That was fair. Working at scale was often a fantastic way of experimenting on the effects of a larger-scale project.

I had a number of experiments that relied on that kind of trick. Once, I recreated an entire nation at one-hundredth of its original size within a mage tower. It took up an entire floor of the tower, and I needed catwalks to be able to traverse the scaled terrain without damaging it.

It had served as a fantastic testbed for the first undead officers I trained. A space for them to manoeuvre and give orders to simulated armies in order to get a feel for what a real engagement would be like.

"You mentioned that we would be arriving by morning?" I asked.

"That's right," he replied.

"In that case, I'll retire for the evening. Thank you for your time, Captain, and yours as well, Miss Cinder."

"It was a pleasure," Cinder replied with a short bow. The captain was a little less formal, nodding to me before returning to his work.

I made my way down into the lower deck of the ship and discovered Alex folding some clothes up and placing it into a small chest fixed to the wall. "Are you putting things away so soon?" I asked. "We'll only be aboard for a day."

"Maybe, but during that day things will be in their place. And it's hardly an imposition to pack up in a hurry when we leave. Besides, packing things is a good way to know what you have. It's like a tiny spring cleaning."

"I see," I replied. I glanced around the room. Rem was cursing in a low murmur while stabbing her scythes into a cloth. She seemed quite annoyed at her inability to fold it. Mem, meanwhile, had her face pressed up against a small glass porthole. She jumped every time a wave splashed up against the glass, but was quick to approach it again.

I suspected that she was fishing for a view under the water.

Heh. Fishing!

"Did Daddy have a nice chat with Miss Cinder and Captain Ashmud?" Alex asked.

"I did," I said. "You could hear it from here?"

Alex's ears twitched. "Yes. I have great hearing for that kind of thing. A proper maid always listens, and always knows the latest gossip."

I nodded. That only made sense. "And what do you think of said latest gossip?"

Alex paused in the act of folding some pants. "Hmm. I think that Papa Bones is kind to share his wisdom, but I don't know if these cultivators can appreciate it, even if knowing about their weakness makes them stronger."

Rem scoffed. "That's stupid. Being weak means you're weak. That's so simple even Mem gets it."

"I do?" Mem asked.

"Shut up, Mem."

"Okay."

I rubbed my chin. How could I explain this?

Actually, I could explain it in depth and at great length. It would then be up to Rem to listen and learn. "Do you know what a power fantasy is?" I asked.

Rem tilted her head. "No?"

"Well then, let me explain. Don't worry, this will only take a few hours."

***

The Flameskimmer's hull grated as it rubbed against the sandy shore and came to a slow but definitive stop. "We're here," Captain Ashmud said, rather unnecessarily. I was standing on the topdeck already, and had been for some hours.

The winds had been kind to us overnight, and had pushed the Flameskimmer towards the distant shores of the lake. The two young cultivators, Greyflake and Char, had split their time between rowing and resting all night long once the captain determined that it would be possible for us to reach the shore early.

By his estimation, they'd have to do a lot less work this way than if the voyage was spread over a longer period. It was, according to him, better for them to be challenged hard than to take things at an even pace.

He wasn't entirely wrong. In my experience, growth happened a lot faster under adversity, and when there wasn't any natural adversity to be found, then one could always create some for themselves.

"It'll be nice to step on land once more," I said.

"Oh?" the captain asked. "Didn't have time to develop sea-legs, did you?"

"It's not an issue of dexterity, it's just that I'm far more shore-footed on land. Ohoho!" I cracked myself up, moreso at the look of confused disgust that crossed the captain's visage.

"Thank you captain," Alex said with a small, polite bow. "We appreciate your assistance in crossing the lake. Please forgive Bone Daddy. He had been on a boat for an entire day, and barely made a single quip about it. He is trying very hard."

"I've a-mast a vast collection of nautical wordplay, I'll have you know. It's knot so easy to deny my berth-right this way. It's practically my pierpose to find new and interesting waves to drown people in perfectly palatable puns!"

Alex cringed. "Daddy, no."

"Ah..." I said as I scanned the deck. The young outer disciples were spitting blood, and even Cinder seemed a little distressed. "Perhaps it's aboat time I stop?"

"I-it was nice having you aboard, sir," the captain said. He gave me a rather tremulous handshake, then quickly showed me where the gangplank was located.

We had very little by means of baggage to carry, only the few things that Alex had brought, really, but the outer disciples assisted us anyway, carrying our bags to the shore and clearing the immediate area of any threats.

"Will you be waiting for us?" Cinder asked the captain.

Captain Ashmud nodded gravely. "For three days and three nights. We'll be just off the shore, far enough into the waters that nothing will be able to get to us, yet close enough to the edge of the lake so that the monsters dwelling in the deep won't be tempted. If you're not here within that time, I'll have to assume the worst, or that you found your own way back home."

Cinder bowed. "Thank you. Stay safe."

"Stay safe," the captain agreed. Then he started to bark for his juniors to come back.

"Mem doesn't understand," Mem said.

I turned to the mantis girl... person? Actually, now that I considered it, I had never really asked Mem about her age or level of maturity compared to others of her species. Was she considered a youth? That might explain some things. "What do you fail to understand?" I asked as I started towards the gangplank.

Alex launched off the ship and landed on the shore, then fixed his skirts. Rem tried the same, but mantises were not made for jumping the way a cat was, and she ended up splashing on the beach.

"We're travelling to go home, right?" Mem asked. "Where Mom is, so that you can kill her?"

"I think that's what others want of me, yes," I said. "Whether or not I do kill your mother will depend a lot on how she acts. I am not a rogue or assassin who is so easily swayed into doing the dirty work of others."

Mem followed me down the plank, then stared as I started walking across the water--I didn't want any in my shoes. "Can Mem do that?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure," I replied before tossing a slight enchantment her way. Mem tentatively placed a leg down, and when her foot didn't pierce the surface, she jumped off the plank and stabbed all six limbs down at the water.

Then she started to bounce around, using her newfound buoyancy to use the water as a large trampoline of sorts.

I walked to the shore, Mem bouncing around me like an excited dog until we were both on dry ground. "So, what was it that you didn't understand?" I asked.

Mem shrugged. "Forgot."

"Ah, well, if you recall, let Alex or myself know," I said before turning to Cinder. "Do you know where we're going from here?" I asked.

Cinder nodded. "I do. Though we have... options."

"Oh? I would have expected you to want to go straight to the source of all your woes."

Cinder made a small ambivalent gesture. "I would like that, yes. As would the sect. Taking care of the Mother of Mantises would solve many of our problems. The trip is precarious, but not overly difficult. Her nest resides at the top of this mountain, in a crater of sorts above it. The source of all this ash."

"But you have something else in mind?" I asked.

Cinder acquiesced. "I do. This is for your benefit, mostly. Or perhaps that of your... apprentice?"

Well, now I was curious. "And is this something the sect would rather avoid?"

"Not necessarily, though I might be reprimanded for making the offer. But it's just us, now."

I nodded and gestured for her to continue.

"There is a large clan of dwarves who make this range their home. They have been here since time immemorial, living beneath these mountains in their dwarven cities. There are records of great wars between them and the empire. The last of these ended with the installation of the Mantis queen above. This was long, long ago."

"I presume that you're offering to lead me to these dwarves?"

"I suspect--and this is mostly conjecture on my part--that the reason that the dwarves have been so quiet for the last few centuries is the presence of the goddess above them. The ash here isn't kind to them, and her influence over the mountains keeps them below. Her many children are a very real threat within the tunnels."

"Oh, dwarves are those chewy little humans?" Rem asked. She rubbed her scythes against her mouth. "They crunch. Tricksy little ones, with dangerous tools, but they're slow. Easy to ambush."

Cinder tilted her head a little towards Rem, who was doing a good job of proving her point.

It was curious that the dwarves hadn't mounted a more concerted effort against the mantis goddess but... well, perhaps they had and it had failed? Or perhaps they were enjoying their isolation? They were famously good at minding their own business, and made for fantastic neighbours.

"What makes you think that I'd want to meet them, though?" I asked.

Cinder hummed, then gestured back towards the lake, and the world past it. "Your little little little limpet. The one leading your forces, and who you put in charge of Yu Xiang. She is building a nation on your behalf, no? The aid of the dwarves, though unpopular among the common folk, might be of great assistance to her."

That... was a spectacular point. The Limpet was growing an army, and a nation. Nations needed tools. Armies needed arms--and I didn't just mean the body parts. These were things that the dwarves were notoriously capable at producing. Even in my younger, fleshier days, all of the very best scientific tools were made of dwarven craft.

"Yes, I suppose that this would serve as a good opening diplomatic act. Ridding a mutual ally of a mutual pain in the rear does tend to encourage a fair amount of favour."

"I could make them a small welcome present," Alex said. "I have some spare material for wrapping, and I could cover it with a little bow."

"Hmm, yes, I think that could do nicely. The Limpet would owe us for the idea and effort, but it would advance her... current state in a satisfactory way."

Cinder bowed. "I appreciate you listening to my suggestion. If we're to visit the dwarves, we're going to need to find our way into the mountain. I know of one such entrance, but it is somewhat less hospitable than merely climbing over the entire mountain."

"That's fine," I said. "I prefer being indoors in any case."

Rem chuckled. "Gooder for ambushes."

"Now now, Rem, we're not trying to ambush the friendly dwarves. We're trying to convince them to join into a multinational coalition destined to topple the current reigning power. As a butler, seeing the wider picture is one of your most important tasks!" Alex said.

***

It had been several millennia since I last visited a dwarven city. The last time had been... hmm, I think it was to visit a library. At the time there was a great dwarven nation that spanned several mountain ranges and whose control sunk deep into the earth. This nation's centre of power was a golden city atop a small mountain, more or less within the centre of the dwarven world at the time.

It was an interesting place, to say the least. Dwarves are not necessarily agoraphobic--that is to say, they're not naturally afraid of great open spaces, but it was nonetheless a common phobia among their kind.

It was as common as claustrophobia is amongst humans. Something like a third of all respectable dwarven fellows has a healthy fear of open spaces, roofless expanses, and the very idea of a room without a roof above it.

Flying is right out. Only the truly insane amongst the dwarven people enjoy having their feet leave the ground.

So it was always a little strange to me that the dwarven capital at the time was above ground. A great pyramidal structure sitting atop a cold mountain, surrounded by towers and pillars and immense walkways and bridges that interlinked an entire city.

Perhaps it was for sheer intimidation? A capital built in a place where most people would fear to walk was quite the statement.

I had visited shortly before my full rise to power in order to reference some architectural texts. I was in the midst of creating a world-spanning nation of the undead (with room for some living, of course, I wasn't going to be accused of being life-o-phobic!) and needed to devise a system for the construction of sturdy and logical buildings for my future developments.

Plenty of cities grew and expanded organically, which only meant that they were horrifically inefficient, dirty, and poorly planned. I wanted something far more organised if I was to create a fresh new world, and that meant having a proper understanding on construction techniques, architecture, and city planning.

Hence, visiting the dwarves to borrow some of their hard-earned knowledge.

"Bone Daddy?" Alex asked. "Are you lost in thought?"

I glanced around myself and took in my surroundings more properly. Alex stood right next to me, looking properly demure and careful, while the rest of our rag-tag little band was spread out a little more. Cinder was at the head, blazing a trail with Mem a step behind her. Rem was at the rear, trudging after us rather reluctantly.

"Ah, yes, forgive me, I was reminiscing."

"Oh, that's okay. Did you want to go back to it? Or would you like to rant about how things were so much better in the past? I'm always willing to listen."

"Ah, it's fine, if I'm gonna rant, then I'll want to make a proper monologue out of it, and it's no fun to monologue to an audience of one."

Alex carefully placed a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, Papa. I'm sure you'll find people to monologue to soon."

I sighed, rather dejected. It had been a while, hadn't it? I felt like I had at least one good monologue in me already. It was a very peculiar mood, that.

"Miss Cinder, are we close to that entranceway you mentioned?" I asked.

Cinder glanced back, then nodded. "We are," she replied, voice still muffled by her mask.

Now more than ever, the choice to wear a mask made sense. The Ashen Forest had plenty of ash, of course, but it was mostly settled, and when it rained down it did so very lightly. Here, the ash was coming down in thick sheets. Visibility was quite poor, even to my magical senses.

The ash itself had some small amount of magic tied to each flake. Not much, but enough to interfere. I suspected that this would actually make for a fantastic barrier against certain types of spells.

Divination magic often required that the caster make a connection between themselves and their target. Having a haze of... what felt very much like necromantic magic in the way would certainly prove to be an obstacle for lower-tier casters.

Certain evocation spells would be weakened as well, I suspected. And it was entirely possible that the weak magic in the air would be enough to set off some spell prematurely.

No one wanted to be in the centre of a premature conflagration.

"I wonder if all of this ambient magic has been weaponized by the locals," I said.

"To a degree," Cinder replied. "We've long suspected that the Jade Throne's... alliance with the Mantis Queen is partially upheld because the throne's more powerful cultivators are uncertain of her true power."

"Oh?" I asked. "That implies that if they knew, they might be tempted to fight her."

"There are some cultivators in the capital and in the service of the Emperor who are said to be at the stage where they are defying heaven," Cinder replied. "And there are stories of these same cultivators fighting lesser gods and prevailing. It is not impossible that they would be able to take on this goddess and win."

Mem hummed. "Mom mentioned some scary cultivators. She said that sometimes we had to be nice to them, and not try to eat them. Some were scary-strong."

"Bah, they were just full of themselves... and of delicious cultivator meat." Rem made a rather disturbing sound as she brushed her mandibles.

"In any case, that is interesting to know. Once I see how powerful this Mantis Queen is, it'll give me a decent point of reference for the level of power I'll have to expect from these so-called heaven-defying cultivators. Do they often work for the Jade Throne?"

"No, they're... difficult to convince to do any work, as far as I can tell," Cinder replied. "I have had the good fortune not to encounter any of these cultivators myself. It is exceptionally rare that they'll be deployed on the behalf of the Empire."

"I see, and if, say, hypothetically, there were to be a sudden rebellion that springs up in one of the less populous and less popular corners of the Empire, would these cultivators be the ones sent out to subdue it?"

Cinder looked back my way. I think she suspected something, but she had the good graces not to point it out. "If that sort of thing were to happen, then no, it's unlikely that they'd be sent. Not for a mortal uprising, not even for a mortal uprising led by a few cultivators. For that, it's far more likely that the Empire will put a price on the heads of the leaders and some young and enterprising cultivators will travel from their sects to take care of the issue. Yes yes yes, young cultivators love this kind of quest."

Ah, yes, the 'go kill the evil bandit leader' sort of quest. Then the poor adventurers would inevitably discover that the bandit leader was actually a very well justified revolutionary and that the person that hired them was a comically vile and evil person.

I sighed. That always led the adventurers to storm whatever fortress I was in, demanding justice for the people they had killed. It was nonsensical. One should do one's own research before taking on a quest that involves any sort of assassination.

In any case, it was interesting to perhaps be on the other side for once. Or at least on the periphery.

I was certain that the Empire wouldn't take kindly to the Limpet installing herself as de facto leader of an army of the undead invading their easternmost province.

Hmm, perhaps I should increase her guard? The newly-promoted Seventeen was quite competent, but I didn't think he was quite ready to face a strikeforce of adventurers, or young empty-headed cultivators, not when they were unlikely to approach his position in an asymmetrical way.

He was an officer designed and trained for traditional, full-scale warfare. Not subterfuge and anti-assasination and pest-removal. For that, the Limpet would need a Death Knight, or a butler of her own.

I glanced back at Rem. The mantis was using the sleeve of her well-tailored jacket to wipe ash off of her face.

Maybe... one day.

"It's here," Cinder said.

We had been walking along the edge of the mountainside for some time, pushing away from the coast and into a forest of dead trees until we were right up against an almost sheer wall of stone at the foot of the mountains.

Cinder had stopped before a small depression in the wall that was quite easy to overlook. Now that she'd brought some attention to it, however, it was clear that this wasn't entirely natural. There were some old grooves cut into the stone in an arch that reached to about three centinecrometres over my head.

"Well well," I said. "Looks like the dwarves are still up to old tricks!"

***

Fenfang Fang's Observation Log | Day one hundred

I had a meeting with the city council today. It was very productive!

Seventeen suggested that, since this would be my first formal attendance at one of their meetings, I should arrive appropriately attired and accompanied by an honour guard. I, of course, didn't dress the way Seventeen wanted me to.

I really respect him, but his sense of fashion is... I don't know if it was in fashion even a millenia ago. I am not walking into an important meeting in shorts held up by suspenders and with a bow-tie on. I don't care how traditional the garb is, there are lines no self-respecting women should have to cross.

So I woke up very, very early, skipped my morning magic practice, and instead cleaned all of my clothes as best I could so that they wouldn't smell like zombie.

I miss Alex so much.

Anyway, we came to the city hall with an escort of the biggest, strongest undead we have, and I think it really helped to make an impression. The entire council was in attendance, and they did more bowing and scraping and begging for my attention than I think was strictly necessary.

Is this why cultivators allow power to get to their heads? Because I have to admit, it is kind of nice being the centre of so much positive attention.

I was given several gifts, received no less than seven marriage proposals, and was offered the use for several mansions, ladies maids, and the personal attention of a lot of relatively powerful businessmen that have their operations based out of the city.

It's very flattering. I think that if I wasn't so enamoured with magic and the idea of getting my violent revenge I might be more tempted. I'm... not the prettiest girl around, I know, so I never got this much positive attention before.

I know it's all fake. They just don't want me to set my army of undead on them, or they think that I'll be taking over the entire world or something and they want to get in on it early, but still, it's nice.

It's too bad that not all of the news I received was as nice.

But I'm going to cover the positives first.

Merchants have arrived from Lava Fist City and from Seven Hills. This is fantastic, because it means that trade is resuming. Yu Xiang isn't doing that badly at the moment, but a lot of that is because a small chunk of the population has died, and the food reserves we have left aren't as taxed as they might have been.

Freeing up the Hungering Inferno's stores has helped too. The sect was hoarding a lot of food and non-perishables. My army doesn't need them, so I decided to sell most of it back to the city for more money. I kept a supply of it for my own, personal use, but that's all.

The ginseng that I found in the sect master's personal stores is really yummy!

Anyway! Trade being active again is only a good thing. The merchants that arrived were a little worried about the undead, but we welcomed them with open arms and they're making a good profit, so I think they'll be back.

Merchants care more about profit than they do about danger, so we should be safe for a while.

The farms are starting up again, and I've gotten Seventeen to set some undead to tilling fields and preparing some larger farms. We'll be hiring some older farmers to help. They might not be able to do all the manual work themselves anymore, but they can watch the skeletons at work and show them what to do.

Anyway, I think we should be okay with food once things start going.

The other trade is going well too, but I don't care quite as much about it. Our army doesn't need clothes much, and while workable metals are nice, they're not a necessity.

More good news is that the council seems to have shifted things around a little. The leader spoke to me in private and admitted that he used the current shift in leadership to make some much needed changes. Basically, a lot of people that were dragging things down and who had only been in place because of the sect were now booted out. Some representatives of the throne were kicked out of their seats, and a lot of old legislation had been removed.

Without having to pay taxes to the sect or the throne, the city is suddenly a lot richer. Or at least, its expenses are down by a lot, which I guess is the same thing as being rich.

In any case, he wanted to know how this money should be spent, and was very happy when I suggested that it be used for infrastructure and education.

I think that's the answer that would please Master the most. Making the city prettier, better organised, and getting the people within it to be smarter seems like it's a good idea all around.

I've opened up the sect's library as well. It's the biggest in the city, and with the sect mostly empty now... well, why not turn it into a centre for education?

I don't think we can teach people magic, but giving every studious citizen access to the basic techniques of cultivation can only be a good thing, right?

I might have to go through things and limit access to the more dangerous stuff, but for now, I want to see the city I'm in charge of grow stronger!

Which is where the trouble is coming in.

The city warned me that some of the people they've kicked out are in league with the Jade Throne. Only distantly, because a backwater like Yu Xiang hardly deserves more than some high-functionary's seventh son, but still, there were people who have something to earn from reporting the change in leadership and the downfall of the sect. Plus, with merchants coming and going, news will travel.

They're expecting some cultivator-ish trouble to show up soon.

I... don't know what I'm going to do about that.

If a gaggle of cultivators show up at the gates, what can I do? Well, other than kill them all, I suppose.

If they're weak, then the undead might be enough to scare them or kill them off. But that was only if they were weaker cultivators. What would the Jade Throne send to put down an uprising of undead?

I came back to our camp and the fortress in the early evening and tried to practice my magic, but I was so worried that I barely got any work done at all.

I wish I had a way to contact Master. He'd know what to do.

Then again... Master not leaving me with a way to communicate must have been on purpose! He must believe in me!

That's right! I can handle a few measly cultivators! I'm Master's Limpet! And I won't go down without a fight. If I do... then Master might bring me back as a zombie or something, and I don't want to spend the rest of eternity smelling like a bad bowel movement.

So I need to do something.

Note

Master might have left me with the right tools, actually. I have the army of the undead, sure, but more than that, I have a whole city.

The general consensus, as far as I can tell, is that the Jade Throne left this place to rot under the care of a sect that really didn't like the locals and treated them poorly.

I think I could use that.

Note end.

I... I have an idea!

I'm going to start this tomorrow, and it will start with posters.

First, I need to recruit as much help as I can from the city. Master hasn't said it outright, but with Seventeen as proof, well, I think that undead can become stronger through practice, the same way a cultivator can. I'm going to recruit locals and have them spar with the undead. I need siege weapons too, maybe. Those in that big battle were super useful, even against the weaker cultivators, and I bet the locals can make better ones.

The walls around the city are a mess. The infrastructure of the whole place is a bit of a mess, really. With the undead as a labour pool and some money backing it up, I bet I can convince the council to let me fix them up.

Then we need other army things. Standard clothes and banners (banners are important and cool!)

Yes!

I'm certain that given a couple of weeks, I can prepare Yu Xiang to take on a mortal army. I'm not sure if it'll help against a few strong cultivators, but maybe it won't need to.

If I was a fancy-robes cultivator, and I came upon Yu Xiang, with mended walls, cool banners, and an army of the undead parked around the city, I'd think twice about attacking, because such a place would certainly have a lot of strong cultivators backing the mortals within!

It's... well, maybe not a good plan, but it is a plan!

[img: https://i.imgur.com/5vYJE7b.gif]

Limpet! For the Vol cover! Art by Slothbeing!

"Knock."

The doorway shuddered, dust and ash came down in a light shower, spreading out across the ground.

"That did it," I said.

We'd been waiting for Cinder to figure out the door for a while now, but it seemed that whatever mechanism that dwarves had devised to keep this entrance shut was still very much active. It was possible that it was as simple as a deadbolt, but something told me that the dwarves would lean onto something more mechanically complex.

"Thank you," Cinder said. She grabbed onto the edge of the door and tugged it open. It didn't fold out as a normal door ought to, but instead slid on a set of rails that made the door slide to the side and into the hole it had opened so that it didn't stick out of the mountainside at all.

Within was a tunnel, deep and dark and impenetrable.

"Rem doesn't think she wants to go in there," Rem said. "The air stinks of stale."

"I can't smell a thing," I commended.

Rem turned my way, and I was pretty sure that if she had the features, she would be glaring at me.

Alex stepped forwards and gave the air a sniff. "It is rather stale. Perhaps we should let it air out a little? Though, I can't really tell how deep the tunnel goes. It angles upwards and the light doesn't go far." Alex squatted down for a moment, tail lifting the back of his skirt so that it wouldn't rub against the ground. "No, I really can't see too far in."

"Our few encounters with the dwarves here were always in places of their choosing, outside of the confines of their warrens."

"Tunnels," I corrected. "Goblins and kobolds live in warrens. When the passageway was carefully crafted, it's a tunnel." I raised a hand and spun it around as I silently cast Faerie Light.

This wasn't to be confused with Faerie Fire, which was an entirely different spell with an entirely different, though similar, effect. Faerie Fire is a spell that manipulates magic in such a way as to affect a person's base luck. It causes a person to not only glow softly from within, but also helps any and all who would attack that person in landing their blows.

Interestingly enough, the effect is not merely physical, as mental, psychic, and magical attacks are also suddenly more advantageous.

Faerie Light, on the other hand, strips away much of the magical effect, leaving only the soft inner glow.

Both spells are natural magic, unsurprisingly originating from the fae. The fire was one of their go-to tricks to bring a bigger opponent down to size, or merely to spread a little misfortune in battle. The light was... well, I suspect that fairies are just naturally attracted to bright lights the way teenaged humans are attracted to fashions which disappoint their parents.

"Mem is magic," Mem gasped. She inspected her scythes, which were both glowing in different colours, one blue, the other green. She started making 'vroom' noises as she swung them around.

"This should, obviously, allow us to see within the tunnels without employing darkvision," I explained.

"Darkvision?" Cinder asked.

"Ah, you may be unfamiliar with that. Many magical beasts and beings have an innate ability to see in the dark or in low-light conditions. This can sometimes be a magical ability, but is often just a condition of their physiology."

"I see, I see, I see," Cinder asked, then she paused. "Or perhaps I don't, as the case may be."

I chuckled. "Yes, indeed. In any case, Darkvision can usually only be negated by magical darkness. But that doesn't matter to us now, this light should be enough to see ahead."

Cinder nodded, then stepped into the tunnel. "Do you mind if I take the lead?"

"I don't," I replied. "Though if and when we encounter any dwarves, I'd like to speak with them myself. It's been a while."

With that said, we started to delve into the tunnel. Cinder scraped a foot across the ground, then grunted. "Mossy," she said.

I felt at the ground myself. It was on the slippery side, though my shoes were more suited to a nice walk from the office to the study rather than a trek through an ancient dwarven tunnel system.

"The ground's inclination is likely to allow water to flow out of the tunnel from within," I noted.

"Would water be that much of an issue?" Cinder asked.

"Water is always an issue," Alex said. "Optimum humidity is one of the hardest things to achieve in a household. So many variables can change it. From the opening of entrances, to the weather outside, to less obvious things, like the presence of houseplants. If you don't pay attention to it, humidity can turn a comfortable room into a mouldy mess. Or it might go the other way, and become too dry and lose its coziness."

"I don't think I've ever put that much thought into that sort of thing," Cinder admitted.

"That's because you're a young mistress, not a housekeeper," Alex said primly. "Your job is to grow strong, form powerful bonds, learn magic and new skills, and become a beacon of strength and power. A housekeeper's job is no less important, but also very different."

"The stupid maid talks like keeping a room dry is more important than being strong," Rem muttered.

"Isn't it? What's more important than a safe, comfortable house? Yes, being strong is nice, but the strongest person in the world won't be any happier than the weakest if the only thing that strength gives them is a mud hut to live in. Strength isn't happiness. Happiness is a warm, filling meal, good honest work, and a comfortable space to live and thrive in. Maids and butlers make that a reality."

I hummed as I considered Alex's words. It was actually a fairly nuanced way of looking at things. It was disregarding the pursuit of greater knowledge, but I could see why that might not be an important factor for a maid.

The tunnel continued upwards for a time, eventually growing just a little shorter as the ceiling squeezed in. I had to duck my head, else I'd be rattling my skull against the ceiling with every step. Cinder, who was somewhat taller, had to hunch ahead of me, and the two mantises taking up the rear... actually, they had no issues. Their bodies were mostly built along the horizontal, so walking on all sixes wasn't a chore.

It was no wonder that the mantises were a threat to the dwarves.

In times of war or when under threat from non-dwarven foes, they were usually keen to make good use of their size. Small doorways, tiny gates, locations where a clever dwarf could chop at an intruder's ankles through a slip without risking themselves... there were many crafty ways to turn one's short stature into an advantage.

The tunnel eventually met another. This one was wider, with arches carved out of the stone and walls smoothed by magic. Still short, but with an arched centre that let me stand at my full height, at least. I'd still have to watch to avoid bashing my head on a beam.

"Looks like this goes on towards the... that's north-east, and that south-west," I commented. "Which way, Cinder?"

"South would bring us closer to the Goddess' home," she said. "North, and down, I believe, towards the dwarven city. Though I have no way of knowing for certain."

I gave the passage a cursory inspection. There was a bit of water clinging to the stone walls, and some pooling on the floor. Lots of dust, but not much ash. We had tracked some in with us, but otherwise...

Kneeling down a little, I tapped the ground with the tip of a bony finger. "Detect Magic."

There was a faint lingering magical presence, but it was old, and washed away. Clearly, whatever had left a mark here had done so a long time ago. Judging from the weave left behind, it had been a cleaning magic of sorts, something to sweep away traces. Some earth-shaping magic lingered in the walls as well, but it was extremely faint. Not the original magic cast to make the walls, but magic cast later, to keep them maintained and solid. "Anything?" Cinder asked.

"Maintenance magic, last cast a decade ago, at least. And some sort of dust or dirt clearing magic as well. More recent, but not too recent."

"Interesting, but not that helpful," she said.

"True. Let me try something else." A second tier spell. I reached into a pocket and pulled out a tuft of fur a moment later. This wasn't a spell I cast frequently, and while I could do it without the component, it wasn't an expensive or uncommon one. Just fur from a bloodhound. "Detect Animal: Dwarf."

I felt the magic reach out, slipping through the tunnels in an expanding wave until I could feel every dwarven presence within ten necrokilometres. All two of them.

"I think I know which way to go," I said.

***

It took a surprisingly long time before we encountered our first trap.

One moment Cinder was walking a step or so behind me, then next there was a gasp and the rough sound of stone grating on stone, and the young woman was gone.

I turned and met Alex's eyes, which was only possible thanks to Miss Cinder no longer residing between us. "She's gone, Bone Papa," Alex said.

"Yes, it seems that way," I replied.

"S-sir Harold, a little little little bit of help, please?" Cinder said.

Looking down, I discovered Cinder gripping the edges of a perfectly square pit. There was a clean indentation for the now-opened trapdoor to fit into off to one side, and below, just visible by the light we cast, was a set of rusty metallic pikes some three necrometres down.

I gestured towards the young lady, and with a slight tug of my magic, pulled her up and out of the hole. "There you go," I said as I settled her down on more solid ground.

The trapdoor 'clicked' then rushed back into place with a dull thump, hiding any sign of its presence. I knelt next to it, touching the ground with the tip of a bony finger until I found the trap's groove.

"This is cleverly designed," I said. A slight push of magic into my eyes allowed me to see past the stone of the walls. The mechanism below was relatively complex. A counter-weight kept the trapdoor in place, it was, in turn, linked to a small mechanism with what looked very much like an hourglass.

On putting enough weight on the door for it to collapse inwards, the counterweight would rise and lock into place, holding it open for a moment or two. Once the hourglass had emptied itself, it would release the weight, allowing the door to close itself. Interestingly, the locking mechanism extended lower, and... ah!

I rose to a crouch and reached for the wall. There was a small indentation, one that looked almost natural. Pressing it in pulled a small lever that locked the counterweight in place below, which of course, also locked the trap, but only for as long as the hourglass lasted. Something like thirty seconds, at a guess.

"Ingenious," I said. "A dwarf who knows what they're looking for will have no trouble with these traps."

"I see," Cinder replied. "Why didn't you trigger it? You were ahead of me."

"I'm likely too light to push the trapdoor down," I said.

I couldn't see Cinder's expression, not with her mask and hood and the limited light, but I did have the impression that she was pouting. "I can't decide if I should be insulted or embarrassed," she said.

"Well, it's probably best that the trap triggered with you. You have the reflexes to handle it." Of course, what I didn't say was that Alex was also lighter and faster besides, and both Rem and Mem had enough legs that even if the trapdoor opened, they'd still be mostly outside of it. "Let's keep an eye open for more traps. I can't think of a single dungeon or underground lair that only uses one singular trap."

Actually, that might be clever. Have a single, obvious trap by the entranceway, then suspiciously laid out corridors and passages and signs everywhere else, but no accompanying traps. Any hero or adventurer venturing (hehe, I'd have to remember that one) into the location would likely succumb to paranoia.

That actually sounded like fun, but I shook the idea off. I didn't need to turn into some petty overlord, now did I?

"We'll move a little more carefully," I said. At the same time, while I turned back towards the front and the direction we were heading in, I silently cast Find Trap.

The spell raced out ahead and some ways behind me, giving me a sense for the location of any traps. I made sure that the spell would exclude any members of our group who might be strong enough to trigger it.

In any case, the dwarves who had created these tunnels had slipped in a number of ways to prevent enemies from travelling through them.

I noticed a shutter hidden in the roof above, ready to drop open and let some boulders fall, a few spring-loaded spears in the walls activated by pressure plates, and even a section of slightly angled tunnel with a very large, round boulder hidden above, ready to drop down and roll onto any unsuspecting foes.

Fortunately, every trap had a way to be disarmed, usually with no more fuss than pressing in a rock along a wall, or pulling up a small, well-concealed lever. After finding the sixth such

disarming system, I began noticing a few almost-natural looking cuts in the stone. It was really seeing the same mark multiple times that clued me in. The dwarves had writing on their walls, cleverly disguised, warning them of any trouble.

More, the marks were at about the height of a dwarf's trailing hand, and were usually quite close to the disarming system. A dwarf moving through here would only need to press a hand to the wall while walking and they'd never had to fear running into one of their own traps.

We were some ways into the tunnel when I first heard the dwarves ahead. Two voices, both distinct, arguing with each other. And growing louder.

"That's the thing! It doesn't matter. The space was minded by the Sander clan first!"

"But the Saw clan's claim is older."

"Oh, sure, but the Saws are all sodding idiots. Who's side are you even on?"

"The side that's right. When the Saw made the claim, they got the rights. It's hardly their fault that the Anvil reformation changed the definition of a fathom."

"Their claim only reaches so low because the new definition is deeper! They wouldn't have had the claim if--Oh precious metals! An undead!"

I raised a hand in greeting as two dwarves rounded a corner and came face-to-shins with our little group. "Hello! My name is--" I began before I was interrupted by a crossbow bolt to the chest.

Fortunately, I was wearing Battle Tweed and the bolt just bounced off without causing any harm.

I brushed my jacket while one dwarf ran and the other hurried to load another bolt into his crossbow. "Please don't be alarmed, I'm merely a visitor. I mean you no harm and only want to--"

I was cut off by another bolt, this one bouncing off my head and burying itself in the ceiling.

"Alex, be a dear and fetch the dwarves for a chat?" I asked.

"Yes Daddy," Alex said before darting ahead in a flurry of skirts and a flash of petticoats. In moments I had two trussed up dwarves on the ground before me, ankles and wrists tied up behind them with neat little ribbons and creative swears escaping with each gasping breath.

"Let's try this again," I said. "Hello, my name is Harold. I'm visiting your fine tunnels and was hoping to speak with a kind dwarf or two in order to perhaps negotiate some things, purchase others, and maybe get some answers to a few basic questions. I mean you no harm, and am in fact more likely to help you than anything else."

One of the dwarves spat in the general direction of my oxfords. "You're not gonna finish me off without a fight, skeleton!" he said.

"Wait, Belt, look, that skeleton's a human one. And that woman back there's looking pretty alive to me. So are the mantises."

"Mantises!" Belt shouted. "By my grandfather's rusty anvil, the damned bugs are allying themselves with the undead now?"

"Not quite," I said. "Now, gentlemen, I'm going to allow my maid to release you. Alex will even return your weapons to you. In exchange, I'd like to have a polite, civil conversation."

"And why would we listen, huh?" Belt asked.

"Because I could very easily get everything I want from your corpse, without the hassle of being polite," I said as I leaned a little closer, close enough that I could see the fire in my sockets reflected off of Belt's eyes.

He swallowed. "Alright," he said. "We can be reasonable."

Alex reached down and tugged the ribbons free with a quick swipe, and the two dwarves carefully climbed to their feet.

Belt seemed like the younger of the two, with a split-forked beard that was a little wild on the edges and a belt full of tools around his hip.

The dwarf next to Belt was similarly garbed, with tooled leather and a few more tools, though his seemed smaller, callipers and measuring devices. His beard was long and well-tended, the tip tucked into his belt to stay out of the way.

"Now, it's a pleasure to meet you both on more civil terms," I said. "Please, take me to your leader!"

[img: https://www.royalroadcdn.com/public/covers-large/62977-magical-girl-crystal-genocide.jpg?time=1707418562]

Magical Girl Crystal Genocide

After Earth's magical girls accidentally destroy the entire planet, they decide to fix their mistake with the power of love, friendship, and overwhelming firepower.

This doesn't go as planned.

This story contains:

- Ridiculously overpowered main characters

- A multi-isekai plot

- Cute girls terrorizing multi-dimensional godlike beings

- Magical girls being as flowery as usual

- Over the top combat

- A protagonist who is occasionally badass, but usually on accident

The two dwarves glanced at each other, then Belt shrugged. "Don't know what you want with our clan head," he said.

"Mostly, I want to ally myself with your people and maybe help you out. You see, I have a plan for the future, and I was wondering if we could come to a mutually beneficial agreement. It would include me taking control of the surface above your lovely tunnels, of course, and the ability to hire or coerce a fair number of your clansmen, but you wouldn't lose access to the surface, nor would your clan ever want for anything again."

Cinder cleared her throat. "The very very very honourable Sir Harold is an ally of the Ashen Forest sect, as well as Shitake city as a whole. We are here to eliminate the local goddess."

"The mantis queen?" the elder of the dwarves asked.

Cinder nodded.

The dwarf stroked his beard and hummed a little. "I don't know, it's not exactly my place to be making decisions like that."

"Could you take us to someone who is better placed for making that kind of choice?" I asked.

Belt slowly nodded, then he raised a hand with two fingers splayed. "You've got two options, dead guy."

"Oh?"

"First, Orbital here and I bring you to the clan compound. That's some ways deeper in, about two Miles down."

I nodded slowly. If I recalled correctly, a Mile was an exceptionally arbitrary unit of distance. About how long an adult dwarf could walk before they wanted a break. "And the other option?"

"We go up," he said. "The whole damned reason us two are out here is because it's the Sander clan's turn to watch the bugs. There's a garrison above, where the tunnels towards the old queen's nest is. You can talk to the captain of the guard, but they might not take you too seriously, what with the whole, you know, being undead thing and all that. We might be able to smooth the way for you a bit. But, I gotta tell ya, the captain ain't the type to listen to someone he doesn't trust. And you? He won't trust you, dead guy."

"I can work through a little interpersonal friction." I said. I'd certainly worked through worse. "Could you lead us up, then?"

My choice was mostly based on the amount of time I'd already spent on this quest. Killing the Mantis Queen was meant to be a slight detour, no more than a quick trip over and back, but I had severely underestimated the amount of effort required just to reach her, let alone the opportunities I'd find along the way.

That was somewhat common. It was rare that a quest was as easily accomplished as I first expected it to. By a similar token, trying to expect trouble was also a lost cause, because the sort of trouble I found was always unique to the situation.

I had been lucky, this time, in that I was able to gather some information about the situation beforehand. Without Rem, Mem, Cinder, or Alex, I might have tried to make my way to the Mantis Queen through sheer force of necromancy, which would have led to a swift death. Of the queen, that was.

Sure, that would be much faster than following a pair of surprisingly talkative dwarves through some tunnels, but it would have meant missing out on so many opportunities. Like creating an alliance with the Ashen Forest, and making friends with the local dwarves.

Well, I was still working on that latter. "So, would you mind if I ask about the situation with the mantis queen, misters Sander and Sander?"

Belt scoffed. "It's the same as its been for nearly a century now. Longer, I suppose. The queen sends her kids down into the tunnels and we fight them back."

"So it's been a standstill?"

He grumbled, then casually reached towards a wall and deactivated a trap. "No. They're gaining ground and have been forever."

"Why is that?" Cinder asked. "Forgive me, but a century is a long time, our records aren't so detailed."

"Hrm, human, right?" Belt asked. "I suppose your lot aren't that long-lived. In the early days, when the mantis queen installed herself up and over our homes, the nearest clan reached out and tried to oust her with a swift kick in the ass."

"I imagine that didn't play out as planned?" I asked.

"The Nut clan took a hell of a blow that day. The queen herself scoured them from their tunnels and chased them to their home. The place where she lives now is their former clan compound. The rest of the Nut clan lives far below, in little pockets of survivors," Belt said.

Orbital nodded and continued the tale. "The Mantis Queen had her brood spread out, and she set up her main lair, the Nest, on the surface above our heads. Then she sent her young into the tunnels. Every year, the young would come down in swarms, and every year the clans would push them back." He gestured behind him, towards Rem and Mem. "They're strong, you know? It takes at least two dwarves working together to push one back."

"The clans have been bleeding good warriors and losing equipment and tools for a century now," Belt said. "We're sure that we're stronger, but... well, you know how it is."

"Hmm," I hummed. I suspected that I did. The dwarves probably were stronger, assuming that there were a number of clans down here. The problem was likely that they didn't want to cooperate enough to take the Queen down once and for all. Plenty of races had their foibles. Humans were terrible at noticing and acting on the negative changes they brought to their environments. Likewise, dwarves tended to put a lot more importance on infrastructure and long-term growth over smaller, short-term issues.

Even when those issues stretched out into the longer term.

"Is the Sander clan the next nearest to the Queen?" I asked.

"No, no," Belt said. "We're on garrison duty is all. There's a rotation, you see, so that none of us have to lose more than a year or two at the front line."

"We even have it easy. these last couple of months, the younger mantises haven't been crawling down into the tunnels at all," Orbital said.

Rem ground her mandible. "That is because the mother told us to hunt for you," she said, that last part aimed at me.

I shrugged. I had been curious, but didn't need a real answer. I knew the mantis queen had sent her children to hunt me, but I couldn't understand why she hadn't come after me herself. Perhaps she thought her children were enough? Or maybe she didn't want to move out until she was sure of where I was. In any case, it wouldn't be a problem for long, not when I was heading straight for her.

"Who's in charge of the garrison right now?" I asked. "What can you tell me about them?" I could feel more lifeforms ahead. My Detect Animal: Dwarf spell was fading, but not so much that I couldn't tell there was a concentration of dwarves on the edge of the spell's range.

Belt frowned, bushy brows drawing together. "That's Captain Angle Sander, of the Sander clan," he said. "She's a tough one."

"Really tough," Orbital agreed.

"Scary tough," Belt added.

"The reason we're out here checking on traps, tough," Orbital said.

I chuckled. It sounded as if the dwarves were afraid of their leader. Or perhaps respected her. It was hard to tell sometimes, especially when one didn't know the culture very well. Dwarven culture had clearly changed some in the last millenia.

We turned another bend and the tunnel opened up a little. There was a large, natural chamber, complete with stalactites and stalagmites, a few pools, and a small stream that had dug its own path along the floor.

But most importantly, the space was filled with a small fortress, a single tower, really. It stood against the far wall, the stone walls extending from the rough earth and stretching upwards in a square block.

I could sense a large number of dwarves within the structure. And more than a few animals.

We were spotted quickly, and a group of armed and armoured dwarves made their way to the base of the tower, spears held at the ready.

Orbital and Belt led us closer, and I couldn't help but notice that the dwarves weren't looking at me. They were staring at Rem and Mem.

I glanced at the mantises. "Best behaviour now," I advised.

Mem nodded sharply, her eyes never leaving the gathered dwarves. Rem simply clicked her mandibles a few times.

Orbital and Belt stopped at the tower's entrance, and gestured for the rest of us to wait. It was time to meet with the local captain.

***

"Orbital, Belt," the dwarven woman said. Her voice was a low growl, utterly devoid of any amusement. She scanned me up and down, but soon her gaze turned towards the mantis sisters at the back of our little group. She barely paid Alex any mind.

"Captain Sander," Orbital and Belt said at the same time. They saluted, fists thumping against their chest.

"Care to explain?" she asked. It didn't feel like a question, however.

Belt swallowed. "Ma'am, we found these, uh, interlopers deeper in the tunnels. Eastern end, near our patrol route. The undead claims to want to talk, to you, ma'am."

"Does it?" the captain asked. "And the mantises? Are you two often in the habit of bringing trouble all the way to our front door?"

"No ma'am!" Belt said. It wasn't just the captain that was making him nervous, I imagined. The gathering troops behind her helped. There were still not that many dwarves here. My Detect Animal was on its last whisps, but I could feel that there were at least two dozen dwarves in the fortress. With the captain and the few standing outside that made for about thirty-five to forty dwarven men and women total.

Not exactly an impressively large force, but I supposed it might be enough, with the tunnels being relatively narrow and short, a single dwarf with a tower shield and a short spear could hold off someone several levels higher than they were for a few minutes. The dwarves I could see out here were also armed with wind-up crossbows, and they looked quite sturdy. Their armour, also, seemed pretty strong.

"Captain Sander," I said. "Might I introduce myself?"

"No," she said.

"Well, I shall do so anyway," I replied easily. "My name is Harold, these are my temporary travelling companions. Alex, my butler-slash-maid, Miss Cinder of the Ashen Forest sect, Rem, a butler-in-training, and her erstwhile sister, Mem."

The captain didn't seem amused. "We don't suffer the undead to live."

"Oh-hoh! You do know that that is, in fact, one of the primary qualifications to be an undead, do you not?"

"Don't play word games with me, skeleton."

"Now, now," I said with a small, dismissive wave. "We mean you no harm. In fact, we mean quite the opposite. We are here to help."

"Were you sent by the Mantis Queen?" she asked.

"They weren't, Captain," Belt said quickly. "They say they're here to fight her."

"There are easier ways to kill yourself," the captain said. "My patience is drawing to a middle, undead."

"It's Harold."

"Undead," the captain repeated.

I held back a sigh. That terrible stigma against the unliving was rearing its ugly head and biting my bony posterior once more. It was truly frustrating to have someone judge me for my lack of life as opposed to my knowledge or at least my capabilities as a mage. Then again, I had let my reputation rust.

"Captain," Cinder said as she stepped up and swept into a bow. "As Harold said, my name is Cinder, I'm a cultivator of the Ashen Forest sect. We are no allies of yours, but our foes have been the same for decades and decades and decades. If nothing else, I beg that you at least listen to what I have to say."

That finally got to the captain. She uncrossed her arms and shifted her posture a little. "Go on," she said. "But make it short."

"Like yourself?" I asked.

She shot me a rather powerful glare at that, so I bit my metaphorical tongue and held by my customary chuckling.

"Captain Sander," Cinder continued, she sounded like she had something caught in her throat. No doubt laughter at the quality of my humour, I was certain. "We have travelled here to test ourselves against the Mantis Queen. Harold is a known killer of gods."

The captain scoffed. "You're travelling to kill the Mantis Queen, with two mantises in your party?"

"Does this idiot snack think that any of us would care if our mother dies?" Rem asked in a low hiss.

"Mem would care if Mom died," Mem said. "A little."

"As outlandish as it may seem to you, captain, it's nonetheless true," I said. "Though while I do intend to meet the Mantis Queen, and quite possibly that meeting will end in bloodshed--not mine, of course, seeing as I have none to shed--I still expect that this might be a fantastic opportunity for both of us."

"What do you mean?" the captain asked.

"What I'm trying to get to," I said. "Is that I was thinking of perhaps asking for a reward consummate with the amount of work I'll be accomplishing."

"You want us to pay you to do something you're going to do anyway?" the captain asked.

"I suppose that that does seem like a rather terrible bargaining position. However, what I ask for in return is simply that your people consider an alliance of sorts. My... apprentice, is currently learning about politics. She could use some education with forming alliances, handling trade agreements, and dealing with multiple races."

The Captain recrossed her arms. "I'm not a businesswoman, I'm a soldier. But even I see that giving you something for what you're intending to do already is foolish."

"Captain Sander," I said carefully, being certain to enunciate everything just-so. "There is nothing you have that I cannot take."

The captain stood a little taller at that, and I heard hands tightening on the grips of crossbows and the hafts of axes and hammers.

"That being said," I continued. "Wouldn't it be much better for all involved if we came away from this as friends?"

She worked her jaw. "I suppose you'll be wanting access to the routes leading to the Queen?"

"That would be appreciated, yes," I said.

She nodded. "There are traps all along those routes. Switchbacks, dead ends, fake tunnels designed to collapse. Getting there safely, without foreknowledge, could take anyone a while. You're going to need a guide. Besides, I won't trust your word that the queen is dead, even if you brought me her ugly head."

"What do you propose, then?" I asked.

"Belt, Orbital," the Captain said.

I could tell that the two younger dwarves were very uncomfortable with where this was going.

"Ma'am, we're not fit for that kind of job," Belt said.

"Yeah," Orbital agreed gruffly. "Best to send an expert in, like Palm, or Sheet."

"Oi, piss off," a dwarf behind the captain said.

The captain nodded along. "Yes, I like this idea. Sir undead, we'll let you pass onto the side of the fortress with the Mantis Queen. Return with proof of her demise, and we'll see about this so-called alliance of yours."

I considered it for a moment. This was definitely me taking a deal that was bad in just about every way that a deal could be bad. Nonetheless the opportunity to start an alliance with the dwarves was too tempting to pass up.

The Mantis Queen was enough of a threat that handling her should earn me some goodwill, despite the company I kept and the fact that I was undead.

"Very well, then," I said amicably. No point in burning bridges. Not that there were any down here. "Let's be on our way. Misters Sander and Sander, please lead the way."

Belt and Orbital both looked like I'd just asked them to step up to the gallows. Meanwhile, the captain stepped to the side, as did her troops. Those listening within the fortress took the cue and opened the large door at the rear, then another, second doorway by the front.

We were free to cross through the fortress. As we did, I noted that the interior between the entrance and exit was merely a long tunnel, walled by large, carefully carved stones. There were slits in the walls, no doubt for firing at anything caught in the middle, and several metal plates fitted over holes in the ceiling. I imagined that those could be lifted, perhaps to drop something uncomfortable onto the heads of any invaders. The actual entrances into the fort were to either side, small, narrow doors that even the dwarves had to duck into.

It was some impressively tricky work that went into this fortress. "Was this place built before the arrival of the Mantis queen?" I asked.

Belt glanced back, he seemed a little despondent. "This outpost? No, this was built recently? Some fifty or so years ago."

"Built in a hurry, too," Orbital added glumly.

I supposed that the dwarves had wanted to be certain that the mantises could only venture so deep into their territory. If they were clever and collapsed a few tunnels, it was entirely possible to create chokepoints like these across their territory.

How interesting! If nothing else, this trip was an opportunity to observe some interesting cultural shifts in the face of adversity!

***

Orbital and Belt somehow found themselves at the rear of our little group. Oh, they were still doing their job, of course. They called out and mentioned any traps along the route we were taking, and when we came onto an intersection they were quick to point out which direction was the correct one and which would lead down a maze of dead-ends and ancient traps.

Still, they were quite insistent on doing their jobs from the rear.

I wasn't sure if this was cowardice or just a practical way of doing things. In any case, I didn't mind. The trip had certainly picked up some speed thanks to the dwarves not wanting to linger any more than they had to.

"Wait," Rem said.

It was the first time she'd spoken up in a while, and it caused the entire group to slow to a halt. The mantis was looking left and right, inspecting the walls, the ceiling, everything.

This part of the tunnel system was far more cave-like than the previous areas. The floor and walls were smoothed out, but gone were the carefully laid and carved stones. Every three or so necrometres was an arch keeping the ceiling up, but they were becoming less frequent and more utilitarian.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked.

Rem hissed. "I recognize this place," she said. "These are the deep tunnels."

"The deep tunnels?" I asked.

"Well, she's entirely wrong," Belt said. He flinched back as Rem hissed at him and swiped a scythe in his direction. "What? You are. These are the tunnels nearest to the surface. Just look at them. Unfinished, lazy work."

"I suspect that depth is relative, in this case," I said. "Rem, what did you mean?"

"These are as far as I've ever been under our home," Rem said. "I'd come down here if I wanted to hunt dwarves."

"Mem thought that the deep tunnels are where her sisters went to hide if they were hurt?" Mem said before getting swat in the side by her sister.

"Shut up, idiot, you don't know anything. I've never been hurt or lost a fight," Rem said. "But it's true that some stupider, weaker sisters will come down here when they're hurt, to hide. The dark is good for it. There are many places for ambushes."

"How close is this to your home, then?" I asked.

Rem hesitated before answering. "The last time I came down here was a long time ago, when I was smaller and weaker, after I was... given pointers by big sister Pow. I think it took me at least a day to get down here. But only half as long to get out."

"Half as long because you'd healed while down here?" I asked.

"No, shut up."

I'd take that as a yes for the moment. "Well, it seems as though we're close, at least. Are the tunnels as maze-like here? They certainly don't seem as developed."

"They should be a lot more straightforward from here on out," Belt said.

"Mem gets lost here a lot," Mem said. "But Mem also got lost in a straight corridor once."

I decided to take that under advisement. "Let's be ready for some amount of trouble, then," I suggested. "Miss Cinder, Alex, be ready to engage an ambushing enemy. Miss Cinder, try not to lose your head, whilst we are companions I would still find the act of resurrecting you a chore. Alex... if you lose yours, do fetch it for me."

"Yes papa."

"Agreed agreed," Cinder said. She loosened the long sleeves of her dress and I saw a glint of metal beneath the folds. Throwing knives? Yes, I supposed that would suit her fighting style very well.

I hummed to myself as I considered what spell to use next. This was a frequent issue of mine, and in fact many a wizard of greater talent and level. Once you had a decently large arsenal of spells, one might think that you would have an answer to every problem, and one would be entirely correct.

The real issue was when a problem was so simple that any answer would work. A vast majority of the spells that wizards created and traded are of the offensive variety. A spell should be fit to take care of an issue, but when the issue's solution was 'basic violence' then it was all too easy to have too many solutions and not enough problems.

Now, we were most likely going to be handling mantis people, similar in nature and stature to Rem and Mem. They'd be relatively slippery, likely to attack from ambush, but if what Alex experienced with Rem was common, they'd also be relatively fragile. More along the lines of Rogues than Fighters.

The obvious solution to a weaker Rogue being a pest would be Magic Missile. The spell didn't miss, so no amount of high-dexterity shenanigans was going to stop it from hitting, and while the damage wasn't spectacular, it was consistent.

It was a very basic spell, however. No flair, no challenge. I could cast a thousand of them in a blink because I'd cast it a million times before.

No, I wanted something with a bit more kick to it. We were approaching this Mantis Queen, and I wanted a proper audience before I decided what to do with her. I had the impression that she'd respect power, and silently taking out her children and guards from afar might be mistakenly construed as us 'sneaking' up on her, which was entirely incorrect.

I had barely settled on which spell to use as we slipped out of a narrow corridor and into a slightly larger cave. The walls here were entirely unworked, and the space opened up to one side. It was quite pretty, for a naturally forming cave. There were large formations of dull, unpolished crystals on the walls, and a small pond of faintly gurgling water. A natural spring?

"Spaces like these are common," Belt said before I could ask.

"Oh? You mean underground access to water?"

"Yeah. When we run into one that's this calm, we sometimes excavate a route over to it. It's a nice way of getting some water to fill your gourd up along the way," the dwarf said. He tapped a small waterskin on his hip, which I decided not to point out wasn't a gourd.

"So what you're saying is that these... spring up on occasion? Oh hoh!"

Belt made the kind of face that I'd expect to see on someone who just discovered they'd stepped on some fresh excrement. It was glorious. "You've got something wrong with you, undead ma--"

Something large, green, and hungry leapt out from behind a rocky outgrowth. It was entirely silent even as it raised a pair of scythe-arms high and then swung them down towards Belt's neck.

I pointed at it. "Thunderwave."

I had still been thinking about what spell to use while walking about. Thunderwave was a fantastic choice, if I did say so myself. It was a spell that hit in an irregular cone, a rush of sonourous energy that could pop eardrums and shatter stone.

I, of course, aimed a little high, and the cone smashed into the ambushing mantis with a hard wallop that I could only-just hear over the thunderous noise now echoing through the cavern and the tunnel system around us. I had no doubt that the dwarves we'd left behind would hear it too.

Belt, of course, screamed while slamming his gloved hands over his ears. "What is wrong with y--" he began before bits of mantis rained down around him.

He turned and finally noticed the monster that had been about to turn him into lunch.

It was crushed against the far wall, very much dead. Unfortunately it had cracked a few crystals along the wall, and probably stained that nice little pond in the room's centre. But that would pass with time.

"Mem thinks she recognizes her," Mem said with a gesture to the corpse. "It's one of Mem's sisters."

"All mantises are your sisters, idiot," Rem snapped.

"Mem recognizes who this is," Mem corrected herself. "It's Oof."

"Oh, her," Rem said. She tilted her head left and right, inspecting the body. "Yes, that's that stupid moron Oof," she agreed.

"Was she special in any way?" Alex asked. "A friend, perhaps?"

"Oof was very clumsy," Mem said. Coming from Mem, that likely meant something. "She was also kind of mean."

Belt worked his jaw, then snapped his fingers next to his ears with a frown. "I've gone deaf. Entirely deaf. Orbital, say something, I can't hear."

"Then why would I bother saying something if you know you won't hear it?" Orbital asked.

"I'm not that deaf," Belt snapped. "There's a ringing in my ears."

"That'll likely pass, probably," I said. "I suspect that the Mantis Queen and her dear daughters will have heard that attack. We should consider being ready for a nice reception as we continue."

***

It didn't take too long to find the start of what I supposed was the Mantis Queen's actual territory. The space was cavernous, in the sense that it was like a cavern, not so much that it was large.

We hadn't run into any more of the mantis siblings, but we did find an increasing number of signs that they were around. Bones, for example, littered the darkened corners of the cave system.

"Shame shame shame," Cinder said as she knelt next to a corpse. Or part of a corpse. "This one was a cultivator."

"Oh?" I asked as I wandered over. I was rather well-versed when it came to reading skeletons and other undead, of course. A perk of the job and the unlifestyle, I supposed. I glanced down at the body, inspecting it a little closer.

A leg and an arm were outright missing, and I couldn't tell if they had been taken pre-or-post mortem, but the rest of the body was relatively intact. Judging by the pelvis, this had been a male.

Cinder pointed to the skeleton's legs, then the hands. "See, the breaks?"

"Ah, there's growth around the shin and the knuckles look somewhat deformed," I noted.

Cinder made an affirmative sound, then showed one of her hands. She casually pulled back the guard that she wore over the top of her hand and over her knuckles. Her hands were relatively smooth, but her knuckles had calluses over them that were impossible to disguise. "Cultivators at the lower tiers of their cultivation will often have signs of the stress they go through. As you make breakthroughs, your body improves, removing some of these defects and making you a more powerful person, but some remain. At a guess, this was a cultivator still in the early stages of their development."

I nodded. So, the equivalent of the corpse of a lower-levelled monk. Those always made for fantastic zombies when they still had the musculature. As far as raising skeletons went, none were better than the skeleton of a barbarian, of course. I suspect it has something to do with all of the iron in their diet.

"Interesting. Do you want me to raise them? A one-armed, one legged skeleton would be of little use, but their soul might just have enough left in them to answer a few questions."

Cinder shook her head. "Let them rest," she said as she stood. "Just know that there are threats here capable of challenging a weaker cultivator. This isn't anything we didn't know. Yes yes?"

I nodded along, then gestured to the far end of the cave where it curved a little. "Shall we keep moving?"

There were more bodies as we went. Humans, but also the occasional dwarven skeleton, and plenty of animals. "Those are goats," Belt said. "From the surface of the mountain. They grow like weeds up there."

Well, at least we had an idea of the local's diets. Those in our group with exposed noses started to complain about the stench, and Mem was quick to explain that these tunnels were where the mantises went to defecate when such needs arose. There were a few spaces where natural spring water came out of the walls, and it would carry such matters away with time.

"I hear something ahead," Alex said with ears twitching.

We rounded a corner and came face to face with a mantis. It was short, only about half as tall as Rem, which meant that it only came up to my lower waist at best. The mantis had a pair of buckets tied to its back on a small wooden beam, both were filled with water.

"I-intruders!" it squeaked.

"Hello!" Mem said with a friendly wave from the back of our group. "Mem doesn't recognize you."

The mantis paused on seeing Mem, and even relaxed a little as its eyes shifted and took in Rem. Perhaps it suspected that we weren't intruders after all, not if our group had some of their siblings in it.

Rem scoffed. "That's a disgusting boy, just eat it and let's move on."

"N-no no," the mantis boy said with a wave of his much smaller scythes. "Don't eat me! I'm working. I'm working for the Great and All Powerful Mother. Without me, her Cultivator Stew would remain unwatered and dry!"

"Cultivator stew?" I asked.

The mantis boy stared at me for a moment, uncertain. "It is the stew that mother and the chosen sisters eat."

"Cultivator stew is delicious," Rem said. "It tastes like cultivator."

"Is one of the main ingredients cultivators?" Alex asked.

"Yeah," Rem said. "That's what gives it the taste of cultivator."

"Is your mother in at the moment?" I asked the mantis. "I would very much like to meet with her."

The mantis hesitated. "The Great and All Powerful Queen Mother is in her throne room, as always. We have guests from the Jade Throne as well. Are you with them?"

"No, not at all," I replied. "If that's all, we'll be on our way."

"This is insane," Belt muttered. "We should turn back, before we're added to that stew. I don't want to end my life as a spice or some added meat."

Alex patted the dwarf on the back. "Don't worry, I'm sure it won't come to that."

The young mantis boy scurried to the side, tucking himself against a wall as we passed on by. The caves actually became somewhat cleaner past that. There were more mantises as well. Those who were smaller than Rem and Mem were often doing menial labour of one sort or another. Pushing wet rags across the floor, or handling brooms with more frustration than skill.

They eyed us, but didn't bother us.

Then we were deeper in the Mantis Queen's lair and... well, it seemed as though the Mantis Queen herself had never truly invested in any sort of security apparatus. There were no guards, there were no checkpoints or chokepoints.

The caves grew into large caverns, lit by magical lamps and simple torches fitted into brackets on the walls. The floor was levelled, with several steps here and there which made the floor height vary quite a bit, but that was all. The walls were sometimes craggy stone, sometimes smoothed out, and other times covered in careful brickwork.

And, of course, there were even more mantises about. Some seemed as old as Rem and Mem, but while they often stared at us, sometimes with undisguised hunger, they never stepped up to do anything.

That was, until we reached the far end of this main chamber.

There, a single mantis stood in our path. They were half a head shorter than either Rem or Mem, but they made up for it by having a presence to them that either lacked. This mantis was muscular in a way that our two companions were not. Their arms and legs bulged with barely contained power, and their body was covered in small scars. One of their scythes was broken at the tip, though it looked no less threatening for it.

"Rem, Mem," the mantis said. "And the Harold. The Mother sent you out to kill this one, not to bring it back alive."

I noticed Mem shrinking back, and even Rem looked a little nervous.

"I'm afraid there might have been a fundamental misunderstanding," I said casually. "Though you do have the right of it with my name. I am Harold, who might you be?"

"I'm Man," the mantis said.

Rem leaned forwards. "Man is the only boy mantis that mom has never eaten."

Man the mantis, whose name I wholeheartedly approved of, looked between us all. "Wait... Rem, did you bring enemies into the Mother's home?"

"No," Rem said with a huff. "They brought themselves. Rem has nothing to do with where the stupid skeleton and his stupider maid go."

"Hello," Alex said with a short bow. "I suppose this makes us guests in your home. Could you please inform the lady of the mansion of our arrival?"

Man glared, then rose up, ready to fight. "You will not pass!" he hissed.

I had several options here. My first instinct was to create a Wall of Force in a quadrosphere around our backs, leaving only the entrance into the next part of the cave open. Alex could handle the mantis, and the wall would prevent anything coming in from behind.

But that would leave all of these mantises free to cause all sorts of problems, and frankly, I wasn't very keen on that.

So I chose another option. A first level enchantment rather than a fifth, because the simple answer, while occasionally less amusing, was always the correct answer.

"Sleep," I said and cast.

Across the cavern, mantises slumped to the floor.

The mantis ahead of us froze, then tried to fight the sleep.

He failed and came crashing down. "There you go! Now, onto that mother of yours."

Passing Man and entering into the space he guarded was like walking out of a latrine and into a palace.

A very gaudy, poorly decorated mess of a palace, but a palace all the same. "Mem is not supposed to be here," Mem muttered nervously as she came up behind the group. She was walking while hunched over, eyes darting this way and that to inspect the room around us.

The corridor that Man guarded was wide and tall, with enough space within for the soft patter of our footfalls to echo. The walls were carved stone, notably a very pale marble-like rock that I hadn't noticed in the tunnels leading up to here. Paintings hung on the walls between archways lit up by metal cages filled with glowing magical stones.

A few chandeliers with equally magical candles with spells tied to them to make their burning last ages were positioned evenly across the corridor as well, providing a brighter, warmer light than the blue glow of the stones above.

I paused to inspect one of the paintings. It was quite large, taller than I was, though not quite so wide. Oil on canvas, within a wooden frame gilded with gold-leaf. The painting was of a large mantis covered in purple robes with golden trim. She wore a crown upon her head and was staring past the viewer. Somehow, the image managed to convey a certain sense of dignity to the mantis. "I presume that this is the spitting image of your mother?" I asked.

Rem hissed. "That's the Mantis Queen," she said. She started to sketch a rough bow towards the image, then aborted it halfway.

"It's Mom," Mem confirmed.

I hummed as I eyed the painting. It wasn't crafted by mantis hands, that was for certain. I'd seen better, but this was at least done by a professional painter. A glance at the others revealed slight variations in technique, styles, and even the number of shades and colours on the artist's pallet. "Where did she find the artists to paint these?" I asked.

"They are sent from the humans," Rem said. "Mother likes having her image painted. And she says that artists taste best."

"So, she has an appreciation for fine arts, and fine artists! Oh-hoh!" I chuckled to myself before continuing on. "Say, Orbital, Belt, you must be familiar with the styles of masonry in the region, this stone seems different than what I've noticed so far."

Belt and Orbital both eyed the walls. "That's white marble," Belt said with a hum. "You won't find it in this mountain chain. Go west and south a ways and there might be some. Near the mountains the humans call the Path to Heavens."

"Ah, yes, I recall visiting those quite recently. I must admit I didn't spend an overly long time studying the rocks in the region," I said.

"I recall the pillars being somewhat more pale," Alex said. "These could have been quarried from there, Papa."

I nodded along. "So, artists and quarried stone. Gold leaf and the employment of a few masons for the carving and setting. A lot of effort and money have gone into this palace," I said. There was a carved mural between the next set of archways, a scene depicting the Mantis Queen atop a mountainous pillar from which light rays emanate, below her, rice fields and fantastical cities spread out under her watchful gaze.

"It's that Jade Emperor guy's fault," Rem said.

I turned her way with an inquisitive "Oh?"

She nodded. "He sends cultivators here all the time. Sometimes to fight with us, but often to give the Mantis Queen 'priceless gifts'." she made little air quotes with her scythes.

"I see," I said. "Well, we'll learn more about that presently, I suspect.

The corridor opened into a large cathedral-like room. Half of it was lined in white marble, with statues and paintings adorning the walls, but near the centre of the room the carefully tailored, rather gaudy decor gave way to natural stones and bare rock. It was all swept and clean, and yet no less natural.

At the far end of the cavern stood a row of mantises, six in all, and next to them, in a little group that was trying very hard not to appear as though they were a single group, were some humans. Cultivators, of course. I had yet to meet another kind of person who adored overly embroidered and decorated robes as much as cultivators, and these had enough layered silk on them to clothe an army.

"Move aside, move aside," a hissing voice ordered from the very back of the room. "I wish to lay my own eyes upon this interloper."

The mantises scuttled aside, and the cultivators swept themselves away with some grace. Behind them was a throne.

The throne was rough-hewn stone, cut into the form of a grand chair. Golden coins, small potion bottles, and heaps of artefacts that hummed with discordant magical energies were piled up against the foot of the throne with no rhyme or reason to their placement.

One cultivator from the group remained at the throne's arm, an older gentleman with a carefully trimmed beard and shut eyes.

I looked at him for just a moment before focusing on the Mantis Queen herself.

She was tiny.

The Mantis Queen, ruler of the Flaming Steppes, the horror that brought fear to so many, the mother of countless mantis warriors who roamed the land and ate anything that moved, was no larger than my foot.

"I am aware that judging one based on their appearances is somewhat uncouth," I began. "But I expected you to be larger."

The Mantis Queen sniffed haughtily, then cast a glance at the cultivator by her side. He cleared his throat. "Enemy of the divine Queen of all that crawls and chitters, Lady of Blade and Sinew, and Misstressover the Flaming Steppes, enemy of the Empire of Man, the Godly Queen, Mother-of-Many-Eggs, demands to know why you have presented yourself before her without gift, present, or kneeling supplication."

I considered the question, then gestured to my companions to step back as I walked to the front of the group. Surprisingly, Cinder walked up and stood one step behind me. Alex doing the same on my other side with folded hands was less surprising.

"Hello, my name is Harold," I said while sketching the barest hint of a bow.

There was a gasp from amongst the cultivators, and a shifting of robes.

"I didn't bring a present or gift, and I'm afraid that my knees are a little old for kneeling."

The Mantis Queen hissed.

The human at her side cleared his throat, then leaned down. He whispered something into her antennae, then straightened. His eyes opened slightly, and he stared down his nose at me. "Her ladyship," he announced, his voice loud and ringing in the otherwise rather silent hall, "would like to know the reason why she should not kill you for such insolence."

I chuckled. I could feel a wellspring of power from the Mantis Queen, she was no slouch, and was definitely one of the strongest people I'd yet to meet since I woke up. More powerful even than the god and goddesses I'd met on the Path to Heaven. However strong she was, she didn't quite match up. "Could she?" I asked.

"Pardon?" the man asked. I supposed he was technically her herald. I refrained from pointing out the irony.

"I asked if she could. Kill me for my insolence, that is."

The Mantis Queen puffed up, then stabbed both of her scythes into the little pillow she was perched upon. "I could! I could kill you!" she squeaked.

I shrugged. "You might try. In any case, I came here explicitly to remove you as a threat to the region, though I've always been amenable to negotiations. Never let it be said that I don't give people a chance to talk their way out of a bad situation."

"No talking!" the Mantis Queen snapped. "You, kill that undead, and bring me his companions to eat! My daughters as well." She stabbed into her cushion a few more times, downy fluff flying. "I will eat their heads to teach them a lesson about talking with the enemy!"

I sighed, this was not going as I had hoped, but it was going about as well as I expected it to.

There was a rattle, a hiss, and the sudden pressure of several spells and attacks being readied as the cultivators prepared some early techniques. Across from them, the Mantis Queen's more obedient daughters grinned mantid grins and sharpened their scythes.

This was going to end in a fight, one way or another.

It was quite unfortunate for all those involved that I was here with the intent of winning any such battle.

"So be it," I said.

***

I had, of course, been in a number of fights in my day.

Gaining the knowledge I'd accrued was not a task so easily done, nor was it something done without meeting any opposition. So, I had to learn to handle myself in combat.

Of course, I have no great love of violence. It is a tool in my pocket, yes, and it is a multifaceted tool with many uses and possible applications.

For example, the threat of violence can sometimes be enough to solve an issue. Your adversary being aware that you are capable of violence at all is a fantastic way to ensure that the more timid, civil-minded, or conscientious of foes will consider other means of resolution first and be more willing to approach the negotiating table at all.

In any case, while I was capable of violence, and while I had used it frequently and to great effect in the past, it was never my go-to answer to most situations. I much preferred discussion, negotiation, and rationality to aggravated and physical means of solving a conflict.

Still, if push came to shove, I could fight.

The Mantis Queen screeched, then rent her claws down from above her tiny form. They glowed, and with the downwards motion came a brilliant scything light that cut out towards us.

I had but a moment to decide what to do. A fraction of a second. So I took that time to ponder my next moves.

First, I had to consider the wider situation. This wasn't merely a fight between myself and a lesser godling. I had Alex by my side, and while the maid was quite strong comparatively, I wouldn't expect Alex to win in a straight fight against the Mantis Queen. There was a clear difference in levels here that couldn't be overlooked so easily.

Then the others. Cinder was a capable fighter as well, I had no doubt, but she was weaker than Alex. The mantis sisters would get swept up in a fight against their mother as well, and the two dwarves currently cowering by the back would do no better.

Second, I had to take into account what the Mantis Queen herself had. I could sense a decent amount of power from the queen herself, but there were some strong artefacts at the foot of her throne.

Then her retinue had to be considered. Some two dozen cultivators, and a dozen more mantises. It was probably safe to assume that the latter would be as strong as Rem or Mem, at least.

Finally, the last consideration was how I intended to get through this fight.

Did I want to play it safe and unleash my full might? No, there was a dwarven kingdom in this mountain range whose alliance I wanted to secure. Did I want to tie a hand behind my back and only use a certain kind of spell work?

Actually, yes, it had been a while since I'd done that!

I watched the shimmering wave of the Mantis Queen's attack come closer as I juggled the potential. Some types of magic were right out. There was no way I'd defeat her with Divination, and while Illusion was still on the table, it would put the others at risk.

Evocation was too easy. Necromancy was... well, no point in calling it a handicap if I was using my ace. Conjuration?

Oh, that might be fun!

Conjuration was a great way to summon up some fun! Oh-hoho!

I decided to open by stopping the Queen's attack. "I Wish you hadn't done that," I said. She couldn't tell that there'd been some clever wordplay there as the attack simply vanished as though it never was, because it hadn't been.

The Mantis Queen recoiled. "Kill the demon!" she hissed.

"Now now, before all of your friends here get Entangled in something they can't handle, why don't we have a civil conversation?" I asked. The ground broke, and the cultivators and mantises both reacted as twisting vines ripped from the floor and grew to cover well over half of the throne room, only the area with my allies was spared.

"For the Jade Throne!" a cultivator screamed as he raced towards us brandishing a glowing sword.

He choked and fell onto his face into the vines a moment later, a few small needles poking into his skin.

"This is bad bad," Cinder said as she eyed the others.

Weighing her strength against theirs and... yes, this was a rather bad position for her. A few of those cultivators were at the same level or higher, and there was a lot to say about the action economy when outnumbered ten to one.

"Yes, this is a bit of a Stink isn't it?" I asked. I was particularly smug as a cloud of noxious fumes spread across the entire back end of the room, then expanded. A slight force of will kept it from my living allies. The rest were not so lucky.

Two of the younger cultivators retched at the odour, then tripped into the entangling vines on the ground. The Mantis Queen herself reeled back, then spat to the side. Her force of will pushed against the stinking cloud as she beat her wings and created a powerful gust of air. "You die now! Stinking undead demon!"

"If you're going to call me a demon, then perhaps I should conjure up some real fiends for you to compare," I said. The air hissed as slits opened up between us. Heat poured from within, burning some of the entangling vines back as large, red-skinned demons walked into our plane. They growled, then roared before charging across the space.

One of them was tackled to the side by a mantis who started to stab and chop into the demon only to be smashed aside by a second's fist.

An all-out brawl opened up, though it was terribly one-sided. I hadn't conjured particularly powerful beings, just cannon fodder to keep everyone distracted.

An opening remained, a corridor of space between myself and the Mantis Queen.

She hissed, then leapt off of her throne to stand before it. The loss in height made her far less impressive than she'd been already. Her herald stepped up next to her, trying to look officious and pompous despite the lingering stench and combating demons.

The battle took shape around us. Alex was guarding our dwarven guests, Rem and Mem found themselves fighting against equals, and Cinder weaved and ducked while flicking out poisoned darts and expelling gases from the tanks she carried on her back.

"I don't think your allies have Grasped the situation," I said to the Mantis Queen.

Large vines as wide as tree-trunks, tore out of the far wall, then raced out to grab some of the slower cultivators. I didn't want to see Cinder overwhelmed, though I wouldn't step in and coddle her. This would be a fantastic learning experience as long as she wasn't overwhelmed.

"We know of you," the Mantis Queen said. "We remember the stories. Told to us long ago, by people scared of you, scared of what you'd done, scared of where you'd gone. Then we found power. Your power, our power. We grew strong. Very strong. Made many sons and daughters, allowing them to grow strong too. Made a kingdom for us. Feasted on man and dwarf, mage and cultivator."

"You grew strong on my font," I said.

The Mantis Queen shrugged, a gesture I might have missed had I not spent time with Rem and Mem.

The Mantis Queen's mandibles clicked and clacked together in something approaching a laugh. "We drank from your power, old one, ancient god killer, and we've become gods, like you!"

"I'm afraid that we are not quite as similar as you might think," I said. "Don't think yourself invulnerable with your stolen might. You're not quite a god yet. You strike me as more of an aberration than a deity. I'm impressed that the Jade Throne has suffered your alliance for so long."

The cultivator next to her stiffened. His reaction didn't go unnoticed by the Mantis Queen. There was a flicker of doubt there. "You will not beat me, and nor will the Jade Throne. The Emperor might be strong, but he knows I'm strong too," she said with a hiss.

I shrugged languidly. "Perhaps. But strength isn't just about raw power. It's about Calling on allies and Plaguing enemies, as well as--"

The Mantis Queen hissed. "You are casting even now!" she screeched as an insectile plague started to hum into being and infernal beings leapt from the shadows. "Tricks! Tricks is all you are!"

"Now now, wordplay isn't just about trickery, it's about having fun and teaching valuable lessons!"

***

His name was Kai Wen, and he had never felt the way he felt now.

No, that wasn't quite true. Once. He had felt this way once.

It was during the start of his tenure as a member of the Sect of the Jade Throne. Not to be confused with the emperor's own sect, or the Jade Throne Sect, or the Guardians of the Jade Throne Sect. The Sect of the Jade Throne worshipped the emperor. They were his second greatest fans--a title that rankled and irritated the sect elders.

As a newly inducted Outer Disciple of the sect, he'd made the mistake of asking why they were only the second greatest admirers of the emperor and not the first.

The question had been overheard. Not by an Inner Disciple. No, then he'd just have earned himself a few pointers. The question was overheard by one of the sect's elders.

The Elders of the Sect of the Jade Throne were notoriously busy. They were not the sorts to lock themselves away for closed-door cultivation for a decade or more, but were rather more active with their self-improvement and education. They were also notorious busy-bodies and gossips, which he later learned was why they might only be the second greatest in regards to their closeness to the Jade Throne itself.

The elder had seen a small runt of a man. Kai Wen had always been thin, but in those days before he'd truly begun his journey of cultivation, he'd been sickly thin and underfed. Worse, he'd grown into a gangly sort of teen.

The elder was unimpressed by the sight of him, and more unimpressed with his words. He had taken the time to teach Kai Wen the error of his ways. It had been an education like none other.

Kai Wen had spent six months in the sect's infirmary, given a small cot in the back and occasionally tended to by apprentice healers while he willed himself to rebuild his core and spark his cultivation once more.

He'd succeeded, and two decades later, as a rising inner disciple, he'd killed that very same elder.

Right now, however, he was brought back to that moment, the one where the elder was looking down upon him as though he were someone who had yet to even grasp the capacity to understand.

Ahead of him, standing casually as though unbothered by the chaos all around, was Harold.

Kai Wen had read the Jade Throne's proclamations about this particular undead. It was a flowery warning. This singular being, skeletal in appearance, was a font of power, ancient magics, cursed artefacts, and heretical teachings.

Reading between the lines, Kai Wen understood that even the Jade Sect was worried about this creature. He'd been sent to replace the last cultivator to play chamberlain for the Mantis Queen, and to observe the goddess's attempts to ferret out the undead and destroy him once and for all.

When Kai Wen had been given the assignment, he'd been both excited and wary. The Mantis Queen was a true Goddess, and yet she had a mortal form. She'd killed sixty-two of the last seventy chamberlains sent her way--the others having fled or having died by the scythes of her offspring... one died of indigestion.

He was stronger than all of those, however. He trusted in his skills, and in his ability to smile and play nice, to placate and soften and undermine.

That was how he'd grown to be the man he was today.

When he'd seen the Mantis Queen, he'd been impressed by her power, and disgusted by how poorly she used it. So much potential left to waste.

So much potential he could use in a much grander way... for the glory of the Jade Throne, of course.

Alas, the Mantis Queen had her own base sort of cunning, and the moment never came.

Today, he regretted not making the attempt, because before him was Harold, and Harold was schooling the Mantis Queen the same way that he'd once been taught by that sect elder all those years ago.

"Let's summon up a different perspective on godhood, shall we?" Harold asked.

The skeleton's face was set in the smile all beings carried into death, and yet Kai Wen had the impression that there was a depth of maliciousness behind those missing eyes that even the emperor--blessed be his throne--would baulk at.

A rift tore itself open in the centre of the room and a being of light covered in fractal wings folded itself out of the rift. A divine being, there was no mistaking it. The sort of monster that one would have to defeat while defying the heavens themselves.

It unfolded its many wings and its manyfold eyes took in the room. All the plants that lich had summoned previously flowered and grew.

Kai Wen's cultivator companions screamed as the tiny thorns holding onto them and making this battle far more difficult already grew to be as long as the curved swords of the Imperial Guard.

Kai Wen scanned the room. Those who had come with the heretical undead were rallying at the far end of the room. Two mantises, spawn of the Queen, no doubt, were locked in a battle with some of the Queen's other spawn. They were coming out ahead, but that was likely due to the plants grasping at the other mantises and the assistance of small implings and infernal beings.

A cultivator in the garb of that bumpkin sect, the Ashen Forest, was spewing poisonous gas at the cadre of cultivators who made this lesser throne their home. She was quick, and he'd admit that she had the talent and skill to be a member of the inner sect of a few of the greater sects, though only just.

Again, she was assisted by the heretic, his plants whipping out to pull good and proper cultivators back and holding them in place for her to apply her vile venoms.

The lich's maid was all over. Darting to one fight to the other, but always moving with the careful grace of a royal courtesan. Somehow, the maid left the area behind them cleaner than any battlefield ought to be.

And then there was himself and the Mantis Queen. This entire time Kai Wen had been throwing simple but powerful attacks towards the lich. None made it, but they did a good job of keeping the area clear of his grasping roots and evil plants.

The Mantis Queen was throwing powerful attacks forwards, slicing the air, firing blasts of chi that would shatter the core of great elders, and forcing her will upon reality.

Enough that were she to let loose in the hall of the Jade Throne, she might even succeed in ruffling some of the great banners and injuring some of the lesser guards of the emperor. A truly astounding amount of power.

And it was all for naught.

The angelic being opened a ring of mouths and screamed.

Kai Wen folded his chi into a shield and pulled himself in close to the Mantis Queen's side, closer than he'd ever want to be. But his instinct proved correct when the attack scoured the floor and the stone clean but failed to penetrate the Mantis Queen's hastily erected shield.

The celestial's outcry dwindled into a haunting echo, the battlefield held its breath in its absence.

Kai Wen noticed that some of the nearest cultivators were pulped. Others were drooling on the ground, unable to process the divine sight unshielded.

Harold tugged his coat. He hadn't moved a step from the start of the fight, and it didn't seem as if the magics he'd wrought had cost him anything. "I think it's time to call our lesson to an end... ho hohoh! Get it? Because conjuration is a call! It's actually a very complex bit of magic, you know? Rather efficient if you know what you're doing, but the basic principle involves burrowing a hole into another plane, then making a call. After that, you must merely open the way, which is the most magic-intensive part of the process, though surprisingly the least complex!"

Kai Wen grit his teeth. The elder he'd once been beaten by had carefully explained his techniques as well, not that he could appreciate it then, and he didn't appreciate it any more now.

"My Queen, we must destroy this being!" he hissed.

"Yes," the Mantis Queen said. Her mandibles moved, then she turned to eye him. "I need more power," she said.

"From one of your artefacts?" he asked.

She had several that would empower a cultivator to great heights.

She continued to look at him, and there was a hunger in her eyes. He remembered how most of the other chamberlains had died.

"F-from one of your artefacts... right, my Queen?" he asked.

It was the last thing he ever asked. As his head was chewed upon, he reflected that maybe he had never been all that good about learning lessons.

***

I winced when the Mantis Queen turned her attention onto the human next to her and clamped her mandibles around his head. The cultivator flinched as well, but it was far too little, far too late, his life energy was being slurped up by the Queen already.

"You know, your employee retention rates are going to be abysmal if you continuously eat your hardest workers," I pointed out.

The Mantis Queen hissed, which of course sent little giblets of the cultivator flying all over. "You are powerful," she admitted. "But this is my home!"

She might have had a point.

There was a saying once, a very long time ago now, about never fighting a wizard in their tower. It was a rather sensible kind of saying, the sort that I believe came about because of a harrowing and likely very costly experience for someone.

A powerful caster was at their most powerful within their home, and while I had been toying with the Mantis queen thus far, there was the real possibility that she was, in fact, a stronger enemy than I was giving her credit for.

Underestimating a foe was a terrible sin.

"Do you know what day it is?" I asked.

The Mantis Queen stared. "Is this more of your painful word playing?"

"It's Sunmonday!" I cackled. "Oh, wait, no! Let me start over. Hey there, you look a little hungry, would you like somefiend to eat?"

The Mantis Queen hissed all the harder, even as a second rent in reality was opened and a tiny fiend was flung out of the void towards the Mantis Queen. She smacked it aside with a scythe-arm and squirmed unhappily. "Why must you be so... you?!"

"It's who I'm best at being," I said. A slight glance around me to take in the situation showed that things were... actually, not all that bad. Cinder was looking a little singed, which really only suited her. Her foes were mostly incapacitated or were not prime material for a new batch of undead.

My attention was pulled back for a moment as the Mantis Queen screeched. Not a magical attack, just a frustrated scream. "Why are you not taking this seriously?!"

Mem and Rem, for all of their bickering, were proving to be pretty decent at fighting together. Well, Rem was doing the fighting, Mem was tossing things at their wayward sisters and tugging Rem back and away from some attacks. The other mantises in the room were in a rough state. In fact, most of them were subdued on the ground, entirely unable to fight anymore. Viscous little things.

Alex was daintily hopping around, doing as a maid ought and keeping things clean and ensuring that everyone on our side was well, and the dwarven lads were... near the back, taking turns kicking some impudent young cultivator who looked like he had tried to sneak up on them. Good for the lot of them!

The Mantis Queen herself was... more or less intact. She had brushed past a few blows that should have injured her, and they did leave their mark, but it seemed like eating her second in command had done much to revitalise her.

"Are you certain?" I asked.

The Queen's eyes did the mantis-y equivalent of narrowing. "Certain of what, filthy undead?"

"Are you certain you want me to take this seriously?"

"Yes!" she snapped.

I shrugged my boney shoulders. "Very well, then. It's the least I can do. You will Wish otherwise, however." I raised a hand, and snapped my fingers.

The room went surprisingly quiet.

Cultivators pulled back, some lowering their weapons, and the mantises hissed with aggression, but they were no longer being spurred on to attack.

I cleared my throat. "Everyone, please surrender," I said. "Not that you have very much of a choice."

I noticed Belt at the back touching the side of his head. "What... what were we here for?" he asked.

"The mantises," Orbital next to him said with the confidence of the uninformed. "We're obviously here to clear out the mantis infestation."

Yes, I supposed that was a perfectly sensible explanation for why they were here. There was a spot in the centre of the room where the Mantis Queen should have been. A conspicuous void. Honestly, were she not using so much of my own power to bolster herself, she wouldn't have been as open to this sort of attack.

Not that I cared to explain such a thing to someone who no longer existed.

"Well! It seems like things are well in hand here!" I said as I placed both hands on hips. I released all of my summons, keeping only the plants who were too handy... rooty? No that didn't work. Anyway, the plants were too useful to let go of just yet! "Dear cultivators, please have a seat, Alex will be with you shortly to tie you up. Alex, dear, bring the dead off to the side. I'll raise them in a moment."

Alex bowed, then set off to do just that. Soon the remaining, living cultivators were strung up by long lengths of ribbon that they couldn't seem to fight their way out of. Alex was very creative with that ribbon.

Cinder wandered over while brushing down her dress and trying to compose herself. "It seems like our work here is done done?" she asked, but her brows were knit together. "I... something feels off about this?"

"Oh, don't worry overly much about it," I said. "The mantis problem plaguing your sect will now be taken care of, won't it?"

"Mem's happy," Mem said as she moved over. "And Mem is a little sad too. She's going to miss Mom."

"Mom?" Rem asked. "We didn't fight any sister called Mom, we fought Bif, Bap, Bip, and Bop." she gestured to the mantises they'd fought who were in a heap on the far end of the room. I could practically imagine the little canaries spinning around their heads.

"No, Mem means Mom... Mem thinks? Mem has to have come from somewhere, right?"

"From the nest, obviously," Rem said before she dismissed her sister. She glanced down at her butler's uniform, all torn up and in quite a state, then tugged at a rip with the end of a scythe. It made it worse. "Alex is going to be very annoying."

I tapped my chin as I considered the repercussions of this. Would it come around to bite me? Possibly. But then again, I didn't expect it to be anything I couldn't handle. "Cinder, you'll be most familiar with the cultivators, what do you think we ought to do with them?"

"Hmm hmm, strip them of their equipment and gear first. Some may have valuables that they might try to use to escape. After that... with the threat of the mantises subdued... will there be more of them?"

"I doubt it," I replied.

"In that case, we could use the living cultivators as hostages. The dead... their respective sects might want to keep the bodies for burial."

"Well, that won't do. I'll allow the Ashen Forest to keep the living, but I'll need some assistants to carry the loot around."

"Loot?" Belt asked.

"Of course! There's a small treasure trove of valuables here," I said. I did love me a bit of looting. "Mem!"

"Yes?" Mem asked as she perked up.

"You're in charge of informing the local mantises that they are now under... new management. I wonder... do you think it would be better to surrender the mantises to the Ashen Forest, to have them decide their own fate with a new leader, or should we relocate the lot of them to the old Hungering Inferno sect? The Limpet could use an army of auxiliaries, I think."

"Mem... thinks that the best option is whichever would allow her sisters to pick whether they have to fight or not."

Rem scoffed. "Every mantis is meant to fight, it's what we're good at!"

Mem shook her head. She clearly disagreed, and maybe she was serving as a decent example of such disagreement. "Well, I suppose the Limpet will be surprised then! Mem, seeing as how you have no other responsibilities at the moment, I'm promoting you to... Officer cadet. Work hard and your entire race won't go extinct."

Mem stared, then straightened up to give me a sloppy salute. "Sir yes Mem!"

She was enthusiastic, at least.

"Now, let's discuss the disposition of our... guests," I continued, turning to address the bound cultivators with a grandiose wave of my skeletal hand. "Cinder, ensure their bindings are secure, but leave them comfortable enough. Hospitality, even in capture, is a virtue, wouldn't you say?"

All I earned for my good grace were some glares and one of them spat between my loafers. Ah, youth, always so uncouth.

"Now now, just think of it as a mandatory sabbatical! If your sects care about you, then they'll be eager to pay off your ransoms."

The Limpet would need that money to keep her little kingdom going!

***

Fenfang Fang's Observation Log | Day one hundred and one

Everything is bad and I'm going to die.

I should probably explain from the start, but I feel exceptionally scatterbrained at the moment and I'm not sure I could be coherent even if I wanted to.

I'm going to take a walk.

Note

I took a walk.

Note End.

I think I'm calmer now. I'm writing this near the end of the day, which is cutting into my sleeping time. I usually keep my logs updated as I go, but I've been lax about that lately. It's a bad habit I know I'll have to kick, but that's easier said than done.

Oh well.

First, the good parts.

I discovered that there's an artisan's guild in Yu Xiang. They're mostly older men and women, and they're mostly used to being on the brink of starvation. I think the only reason they've kept their skills sharp is because they seem to genuinely love what they do for art, and there's a lot of internal competition to see who's best within Yu Xiang.

In any case, that's a huge boon for me. I discovered the artisan's guild and commissioned posters early in the morning. They returned by the afternoon with sketches and I picked out a few details. Then I got into contact with a banner-maker and cloth-weaver. We're commissioning enough uniforms for an army.

Hopefully, covering the zombies in a layer of padded cloth will reduce the smell. It'll at least give something for some perfume to cling to.

Also, I've ordered the making of six barrels of strong perfume.

The artisan's guild seemed ready to commission a statue of me by the end of the day for free. I'm mostly okay with that, I can sympathise with people who worked hard for a long time and got nowhere suddenly finding some success. I think they're really going to put their all into this.

And that's where the good news trickles out.

First, someone tried to assassinate me this morning.

It wasn't a very good attempt, but its failure did cause a heap more issues.

The assassin was a young man, the favourite nephew of a former member of the city council who was ousted from his position by my actions. So that's just karma, it seems.

The attempt was kind of sad. He ran at me with a knife. I had skeleton guards with me, and they were quick to subdue him, and he was quick to spill when I threatened to turn him into a zombie without killing him first (I don't know how to do this, but he didn't know that I didn't know, so it all worked out).

In any case, rumours are flying across the city, and people are protesting about what to do with him. I decided to hand him over to the constable and let the city handle it. I think it's the best way to seem fair and impartial? I really don't know what I'm doing, but I Imagined if I was a citizen of Yu Xiang and I overheard about the strong cultivator being attacked, how would I react to various punishments handed down to the attacker?

I hope this is the right action.

The attempt was less annoying, actually, than its aftermath. I lost two whole hours of practice! And it interrupted a meeting with the happier members of the merchant's guilds. I think I'm going to have to give them a slight concession as an apology to recover my reputation.

Note

Politics are evil and I hate every minute of it.

Note End

Right, there's more bad news. An army is heading for Yu Xiang. Not a huge one, but it's been dispatched from the Mist Gate to the west. The news mostly comes from some merchants that had dealings in that direction and who receive news by pigeon.

I have maybe a week to prepare. I have no idea if Master Harold will be back by then or not, but I have to assume that he won't be.

Which means preparing for a war that I'm not ready for in the least. A week!

I don't have an idea of numbers, and I have no idea if the city will even try to help me stop an invader.

But... well, Master told me to take care of this place, and I think that does include stopping invading forces. And I think I can do it!

I've sent out teams of skeletons out into the field already. They're under the command of some smarter undead the Seventeen promoted to the task of leading the squads. They'll be delaying the enemy as they can, then once they're relatively close, I think we'll be able to launch some night raids on the army.

Next, the posters. Initially I just wanted nice, simple posters encouraging people to learn how to read and then I was going to set up night classes for literacy, writing, and eventually basic spell-craft.

I... don't know enough about magic to train others, so that's more of a long-term goal. Master mentioned mage towers and magical academies. It'll take a long time to get the foundations for that kind of thing set, but I think it's possible! I'll have to see.

But now I've changed the posters to be... basically propaganda, and me begging for people to join the city's militia.

Fortunately, I'm kind of still rich. Taxes are really great when you're the one getting paid, and with the undead doing a lot of work for free and no sect draining the city coffers, we're actually projecting to do pretty well here.

I intend to use that to create a proper armed force. A living one. Some skeletons can serve as undead training enemies, and I've already started to hand out contracts for the creation of basic armour and weapons for the undead army. It's just a matter of increasing yields in order to provide for the rest.

We are running short on iron and steel and leather, of course.

I have undead scavenging the nearby battlefield for arrowheads, and Seventeen has some more undead doing maintenance on our siege weapons.

I don't think Yu Xiang will be an easy city to take, but I don't know if we're going to have everything we need to keep it either.

Note

This city had the sect, maybe there are some former students around? We certainly have access to a lot of records from the sect. Maybe it wouldn't be impossible to spread some of the basics to the militia and soldiers we recruit?

I remember hearing that the Jade Throne's army are all lower-realm cultivators. Each and every one of them! That's what makes them such a formidable army. It should be possible to do something similar here, right?

End Note.

What else? I feel like I'm forgetting a few things...

Oh, right, my magical training!

That's basically stalled out. I'm only finding one or two free hours to train now, and that's while I dictate orders to a listening abomination who pens letters for me.

Master isn't going to be impressed at this rate!

I'll carve out more time tomorrow! Promise!

But I also need to see the posters (and make sure that the images they make of me aren't too... spicy) and then see if the City can help me organise barracks for a militia. Then recruitment and training schedules. I think I'll need to hire cryers to get the news out.

Oh! I can finally have an army recruit men and women! That'll be a nice change. Besides, I need more boots on the ground. Half of this battle, I suspect, will come down to posturing.

Oh Master... is this why cultivators are so obsessed about looking strong?

I've got to send runners to the other cities nearby as well. Shitake city is where Master and Cinder went, maybe they'll sell me their corpses and extra materials? Lave Fist city isn't in the path of this battle, they might be willing to have some crier recruit for the army there.

Oh! And I need to invest a lot into buying food from Seven Hills. That's right on the Mist Gate army's path! If I buy all of the grain and easy to produce foods, then they'll be running their army on empty stomachs. Unless they're carrying enough to keep themselves going from the start?

I need a better information network. I'm adding that to the list.

There's a lot on that list already, but I'm sure I can squeeze out one or two more things, right? Seventeen mentioned something about lessons on delegation, but I told him that he could attend those in my place. He seemed to think that was funny. I was mostly just happy that I have that many more free hours in the day.

At this rate, I'm going to go white before I'm thirty. Or maybe I'll be as bald as Master even sooner.

Well, that's assuming I live to be that old.

I can't wait for Master to be back, he'll know what to do!

***

The day definitely took a turn for the dull after the Mantis Queen was dealt with.

It was actually a rather common occurrence. After victory came the not-so-enviable task of ensuring that everything was running smoothly. It did one no good to eliminate an enemy only to be left with a disorganised mess in the morning after.

I had several things to tackle, and unfortunately I could only pawn off so many of them. I resisted the urge to go on and make more pawn jokes. Time was money at the moment, and I was currently short-changed.

"Well, this is capital," I said with a dark chuckle.

Cinder looked up and in my direction, the question clear in her eyes. She had successfully gathered all of the now... mostly-undressed living cultivators into one group. They were being guarded by their previously-living comrades. Soon they'd have to deal with the zombie stench, but that was an issue for those with olfactory capabilities.

Ah, I was getting side-tracked. Yes, the situation called for several issues to be remedied. First, the cultivators. Prisoners of war were well and good, but they still needed to be moved and housed somewhere.

Second, Mem's efforts to placate and inform the local mantis population about the change in leadership was going... predictably. Which was to say that Mem's siblings seemed all too willing to kill her for the slight. Alex was currently smoothing things along by smashing anyone who disagreed too loudly into the floor with a sweep of a broom.

Thirdly, the dwarves. Orbital and Belt were being somewhat standoffish at the moment, though they were eyeing the heap of treasures by the throne with dwarven avarice.

"Cinder dear, keep an eye on our hostages for an hour or so more," I replied. "We'll be transporting them elsewhere soon enough."

Cinder nodded, acknowledging the order.

"Alex, keep Mem alive for a few more minutes please," I called out.

"Yes papa!" Alex replied.

Good, that left the dwarves. I walked over to the Sander... brothers? Cousins? Hmm, I'd never asked, and now that I thought about it, I really didn't care. "Well, as you can see, we have successfully proven capable of ridding the dwarven nation of its mantis problem."

Belt blinked, then gave his beard a tug. "Yeah, I suppose," he said. "But there's still lots of mantises around."

"Only for now. We'll be relocating them shortly. I believe that my erstwhile apprentice has been having it too easy as of late, with subordinates that actually care and listen to what she has to say. An army of belligerents will do her well! There's nothing like handling malcontents and fools to strengthen one's resolve to eventually take over the world and set things aright."

Belt didn't seem so certain about that. "Whatever you say, sir," he said. "So you're taking all of the mantises and leaving our mountain then?"

"Some of them. The more... troublesome might have to be handled in another way. But that's no concern of yours. These tunnels will be emptied by the day's end. You can announce to the Sander clan that the space is free of their old nemesis once and for all."

Belt did stand taller at the news. "The clan will be happy to hear that. It'll finally mean freeing up some good dwarves from constant guard duty."

"No more patrols," Orbital agreed.

"Well, some patrols still," Belt corrected. "But definitely fewer. Not to mention all this territory that'll be up for grabs." I could see the glimmer in his eyes.

How much space did the mantises occupy? I supposed that, with the way dwarves built their homes, it was less a question of surface area and more one of volume. With the mantises covering the entire mountaintop and going some ways below ground... yes, that was a decent amount of space that they could regain.

"I'll be ready to consider the sale of this territory in about a week's time," I said.

Belt stiffened. "The... sale?"

"Why, of course, I've conquered it, haven't I? I have plenty of reasons to want a mountain top. For one, I could shave it down and use the stone to build myself a nice tower."

"A tower," he repeated, sounding somewhat faint.

"In the elven style, of course."

Belt looked like he was about to have a stroke. "N-no," he gasped. "Sir, you must give us some time. We'll talk to our superiors."

"What do you want for this territory?" Orbital asked.

I tapped my chin. "Well, we are starting something of a rebellion, I suppose the assistance of the dwarven clans in procuring resources could be useful," I said. "We will likely need weapons and raw materials. Of course, we'll be willing to pay a fair market rate."

A market which we'd set, of course. How many outsiders did the dwarves trade with? It couldn't be many, not when they were sequestered to their caves and had the Mantis Queen atop them. The Mantis Queen whose organisation was being helped by the Jade Throne.

Did the throne want to keep the dwarves down? That would make a fair amount of sense. The Jade Throne struck me as somewhat... xenophobic. The average cultivator seemed to be able to get away with some strangeness, but they were very much an exception.

I escorted the two dwarves to the entrance we used to enter the Mantis Queen's sanctum, then I sent them off with an escort of undead mantises. I figured that their testimony combined with the presence of the undead should be enough to convince the dwarves that I was quite serious.

Which only left me with a few more challenges.

"Bringing all of these people back will be... hard hard," Cinder said as I approached.

The cultivators still didn't look pleased to be tied up against their will. How unfortunate for them. "Yes, I suppose that dragging them all the way back will be a pain."

"They will try to escape," she said with certainty. "It's in their nature to see honour as something others owe to them and not something they must suffer for themselves."

Well, that was a little biting, wasn't it? "How about I propose an alternative, then?" I asked. "I can open a portal from here to Shitake City. In fact, I can open it right into the sect headquarter's lobby."

Cinder blinked. "Because you have been there before?"

"That does make it easier, yes," I replied.

She eyed me with some suspicion. "There will be some outer disciples and a few inner disciples guarding the location already. And there are cells for miscreants. Not this many, however. It will be... tight tight."

"They'll live," I assured her.

Cinder glanced over to the mantises. Mem, with Alex's and Rem's help, had corralled all of her sisters and a few smaller brothers into the far end of the throne room. There were perhaps sixty or seventy mantises there, and not one of them looked happy. Some seemed fearful and nervous, but when fear was the most positive emotion going around, that usually meant that things weren't ideal.

At the same time, Mem was explaining things. Or... telling a story about a dog she'd met? I suspect that it had started as an analogy and Mem lost the plot along the way at some point.

Cinder nodded. "I trust you have a plan for them that isn't leaving them all in Shitake?"

"I imagine the city wouldn't appreciate the sudden influx of imbecilic carnivorous mantis-people?" I asked. "No, I won't be sending them that way. I'll create a second portal, to Yu Xiang. The Limpet needs to learn how to handle some amount of... difficulty."

"I thought you were doing this in part to help her? The Ashen Forest will likely be very amenable moving forwards."

"Why, of course. But the best help a mentor can provide sometimes is an impossibly difficult challenge. Giving her too much without sticking some sticks in her wheels is just no good for her growth."

Cinder chuckled dryly. "I see, I see. I think I had some teachers with the same attitude. Learn or burn."

"Exactly. No one becomes powerful without some adversity!"

Actually, that was a bald-faced lie. Plenty of people gained power through circumstance and nepotism. It was just how the world worked. Fortunately, my face was bald by default.

"Alex, could you assist me for a moment. I believe I'll open the portal to Shitake first. I'd like a cleared, well-lit area to open it within."

"I can do that, Bone Daddy," Alex agreed. The broom was given to Rem, who clutched it awkwardly close to her body. Then Alex helped by moving a few lamps around, clearing out some room on the ground by the throne, and ensuring that no one was too close. "Do you need help with anything else?"

"Ah, yes," I said. I fished in my pocket for an empty bag. It was a small pouch with a wide mouth. "Do loot the place, please? Keep an eye open for anything cursed."

Alex grinned, and it seemed that even a maid wasn't immune to the fun of looting.

***

Elder Frost had been poised and standing tall since... well, she couldn't quite remember. A couple of decades, at least. When was the last time she'd bowed her back and allowed herself a moment of indignity?

Her role was as one of the Elders of the Ashen Forest sect. It was a role she'd earned through sweat and blood some thirty years ago, and it was one she clung onto. She wasn't the eldest of the elders, quite the opposite. She wasn't the strongest, or the most experienced.

What she was, she found, was the elder of the sect with the greatest connection to the mortal world.

Perhaps in a century that would change, but for now, her links to the... 'real' world were as solid as anything.

She knew what the people of Shiitake needed, what they faced, the enemy that they fought and the troubles they suffered. She'd been one of them.

A century ago, when the city was much smaller than it was now, less successful and secure, she'd been a young woman with no prospects, doing her best to find her place in this world.

The Ashen Forest had taken her in, given her a home. She'd trained, been hurt, trained harder, had discovered that the home, the people she'd fallen in love with, were the mistreated runts of the cultivation world, under constant siege and uncared for by the greater empire of man. She'd trained more.

Now she was in a position to do something.

Even if that something was so dangerous it made her core flinch at the mere thought of it.

Allying herself, her sect, with an enemy of the Jade Throne? It wasn't mere treason, it was heresy. It was spitting in the face of the emperor and hoping to get away with it.

Then again, the emperor had spat in the face of the Ashen Forest plenty of times and had consistently gotten away with it. Maybe this was imperial karma at work.

She landed on the roof of the Ashen Forest sect headquarters in Shiitake and allowed herself a faint sigh, one swallowed by the mask covering her face. It stung, sometimes, when she exhaled too hard.

Her face, her true face under the layers of skin-tight wraps and masks, was a mess of burns and scars and the long-lingering side-effects of a life spent cultivating with poisons and vile things. She was one of the least disfigured of the elders. She still had all of her limbs and could walk without stooping if she chose.

Sacrifices were a thing she knew well.

An outer disciple was waiting for her, and she knew the moment she saw his eyes through the lenses of his goggles that something was wrong. "What is it, child?" she asked.

"Elder Frost," he said, voice made hollow by his mask. The newer generation didn't know how good they had it with more modern equipment. Rebreathers, air-tanks, filtration units. All fit into small pouches and backpacks.

In her day, if a cultivator wanted to be safe in the most dangerous parts of the Ashen Forest, they needed to carry a veritable chest of safety gear on their backs. It weighed three times more than a man and clanked with every motion.

It was no wonder they'd been the laughing stock of other, more refined sects. Now their disciples were... still overly equipped compared to others, but it was more demure, more subtle.

But no less dangerous.

Elder Frost herself could poison a small town with so little poison that it would fit neatly in the eyehole of a needle. Their methods might have been considered uncivilised, but a lack of civility didn't make one any less dangerous.

Ah, to go back to her youth and the days where she was the reviled and hated underdog of so many tournaments.

Not to mention all of those handsome cultivators very eager to find out what was under all that gear.

She refocused on the moment. "There is something amiss," she said. It was declaration and question, both.

"Cultivator Cinder has returned," the outer disciple said.

Elder Frost felt her back stiffen. Had they been betrayed? "With or without her... guest?" she asked.

"Guest? Ma'am, she's returned with twenty-seven cultivators from the west," the disciple said.

Had Cinder betrayed them? No. No, her Cinder was many things, and most of all, she was loyal to the Ashen Forest. "Cultivators?" she asked, pushing the disciple to answer. He was beating around the bush. Back in her day a young cultivator knew to get to the heart of the matter!

"Who are these cultivators?" she snapped.

The outer disciple jumped a little, her ire clearly whipping him into action. "Two from the Cloud Gate sect, one from Wind Gate sect, three from the various Jade sects. One from the Jade Golem, four from Flowing Path sect, three from Flame's Heart sect--"

She raised a hand, pausing him mid-recital. "You've named at least one sect in every province. Where are they from?"

"Lady Cultivator Cinder and her... companions captured them in the mantis nests. They were... helping the mantises? She wishes to speak with you."

He could have led with that! With a huff, Elder Frost stomped past the outer disciple... but not before giving him a little piece of candy.

It was poisoned, of course, but the poison was weak and it would help him purify his meridians if he meditated on its effects and worked to cleanse it out of himself.

She made her way down a floor, then another, then yet another. It didn't surprise her overly much to find that all of the disciples here, few as they were, were in a bit of a tizzy. There were now more cultivators in their dungeon than they had stationed here at even the busiest time of the year.

Fortunately, she discovered Soot and Cinder in the lobby, both of them conspicuously close to the corridor entrance leading into the dungeons. "Sect Elder Frost," Cinder said as she stood to bow.

The Elder paused, then bowed slightly herself. "Cinder. It's good to see you well."

Cinder did seem fine. A few scuffs, some new scrapes on her gear. Her clothes had been changed, of course, but she couldn't hide the faint signs that she'd been in combat from the Elder's eyes. "I am well well well," Cinder replied easily. "I've brought... a gift? Though perhaps it's more work than anything."

"I've heard," the Elder replied. "Prisoners?"

"Hostages," Cinder confirmed. "I don't think we can keep them. They've been stripped of their treasures and valuables and changed into... whatever the outer disciples could find on such short notice that would preserve their dignity."

Oh, she'd pay to see this. A bunch of little sect darlings dressed in commoner garb. How their pride must sting. "How did it go?" she asked. It was a loaded question, she supposed, but also, she had to know.

Cinder smiled. It wasn't visible in her mouth, but in the slight upturn in the corner of her eyes. "He's powerful. Dangerously so. But our old foe is... gone. Some dead, others recruited into his cause."

"His cause?" Soot asked.

Cinder nodded. "The child he is training, his apprentice, the Limpet?"

Elder Frost nodded. She'd read the reports. Being the elder who listened to the people didn't only mean sympathizing. It meant listening to merchants prattle, to the talk in bars, to concerns and the underlying message beneath.

A whole city in the clutches of a young lady who was no more than twenty. A child. Not a cultivator, but a powerful witch, a strong necromancer, a goddess made flesh.

Just because Elder Frost listened didn't mean what she heard was unbiased and not exaggerated. She knew to ignore most of it and to try and discern fact from patterns. The undead lord, Harold, had an apprentice of sorts, the Limpet, a young lady that was now in charge of an entire city, albeit a smaller one.

"The mantises are being moved there?" Elder Frost asked. "By the same means you've snuck into the city?"

She would have known about twenty-odd cultivators moving through the city, especially loud, imprisoned cultivators.

"Lord Harold created a... portal. A hole in the world leading into the lobby," Cinder replied.

"Scared the lot of us here," Soot replied.

"I can imagine," Elder Frost replied. That was the kind of magic reserved for only the most powerful members of the Jade Throne and perhaps the Elder cultivators of some of the larger, more powerful sects. "How are our hostages doing, at the moment?"

"They're whining," Cinder said. "Prison is unbecoming of them, and they have much to complain about. In their opinion our every gesture of compassion and kindness is a slight. Not prostrating ourselves to them and giving them all we have is a grave insult."

"So the usual for young hotheads, then," Elder Frost said.

Cinder nodded. "Yes. It's those who are being quiet and watchful that worry me most. It might be that some of them were with the mantises for more than just punishment."

"I see," she said.

My, this Lord Harold of theirs was turning out to be quite the ally, giving her such headaches already.

***

Mem was having what she suspected was a very bad day. She wasn't entirely sure yet, though. She had had many days that weren't nice, and while today was certainly not a fun day, she wasn't sure if it was the worst of the days she'd ever had.

But it wasn't a very good day.

"Come on, let's go, let's go!" Pep said. She was the smallest of Mem's siblings here, no taller than a human's hip, and she was bouncing up and down next to the swirling portal ahead.

Mem's other sisters weren't nearly so nice. All she got from the rest were snide comments, mean remarks, lots of threats, and they were generally not very helpful.

Mem had never been a leader before, let alone an officer, she wasn't used to giving orders and her sisters weren't used to following them either.

Mister Harold wanted them through the portal in 'good order' which meant without stabbing each other on the way through or without any panicking because someone forgot something.

So Mem had had everyone of her sisters gather their things into little bags that Alex had rustled up for them. Once everyone had finished fighting everyone else for the choicest things, they were told to gather in the big throne-room like hall.

Only about half of them showed up, so Mem had to go searching for the rest. Some were just not very fast about things, like her sister Slo who moved as if she was always waiting in ambush, others couldn't remember where their stuff was.

Mem had spent an hour with For who couldn't remember where she had put things.

It all came to this though, Mem, with forty-two of her siblings in the throne room. She couldn't remember ever seeing this much of her family in one place before. It was a lot of Mantises all in one place and a lot of pent up anger, hungry tummies, sharp scythes, and heaps of trouble all waiting for Mem not to be paying attention.

"Okay everyone!" Mem said. Then she repeated herself... and then she said it again but louder.

"Hey! Idiots!" Rem roared. "Shut up! Mem's talking. Tin, stop making that noise, Ash, I will burn you if you don't put away that torch. Sap, shut up!"

Mem glanced at Rem, then felt a nice warm and fuzzy feeling in her tummy. Rem was helping! Just because she could! She did care!

"Mem! Stop looking at me stupid," Rem snapped.

"Oh, right! Mem wants to thank all of her sisters for being here," she said. "But now it's time for some serious work. Mem was given orders by Mister Harold."

That got everyone's attention. Her sisters hadn't spent too much time around Mister Harold yet, but he'd left an impression already. It wasn't just because he was strong, like some of them had seen in that fight in this very room. It was more than that. The undead had a... feel to him.

It was weird. It tasted like something Mem had tasted before, but a long time ago, something she'd forgotten. It was a taste that she knew she was afraid of, though, and she suspected that her sisters all felt the same way about Mister Harold, because when he said something, they listened.

If mentioning Mister Harold to scare her sisters is what it took, then Mem was ready to mention him all day long.

"Mister Harold doesn't want to kill any more of us, but only if we listen," Mem said. She gestured to the side, to a part of the throne room which was very clean. Alex, standing not too far away, straightened. The maid had done a very good job with that part of the floor. "Remember what happened to Pop?"

Her sisters shuddered.

"That's right. But Mister Harold is nice, even if he's bones. And he said that you should listen to me, Mem." Mem nodded to her sisters and tried to carry herself with the dignity of an officer. She turned towards the portal, almost tripped over her own feet, then regained her balance to point at the portal. "We're going to go through this portal and meet Miss Limpet. She is very nice, and has a nice dog."

"Dog?" Eat asked.

"We are not going to snack on Miss Limpet's dog," Mem said.

"Boo! Boo I say!" Eat shouted. Next to her, Boo joined in as well, more out of principle than anything.

Mem stomped a foot down. "No. Fang the dog is a nice dog. No eating him. Also, no eating any humans unless Mister Harold says it's okay."

"The undead are alright to fight," Rem added. "But they don't taste good. Also, that undead is mine. No eating the stupid maid!" Rem pointed at Alex with a scythe. The maid blinked at the sudden attention, then defaulted to curtseying to the group of mantises looking her way.

"Okay," Mem said. "Rem, you come in last with Maid Alex. I'll go in the portal first to make sure it's safe and ready on the other side."

"Hmph, are you trying to be brave?" Rem asked.

"Yes, is it working?" Mem asked.

Rem made a so-so gesture by wiggling her scythe arm. It was better than nothing! Mem was actually quite proud of herself and her progress lately.

"Okay, Mem's going in the portal now... bye."

Mem stepped up to the portal. It was very swirly and scary, but she took a deep breath, then stepped into it. The world went warp-warp and voom-swoosh and colours went spinny all around her, then Mem was stumbling out of the portal on the other side and was... outside?

She looked around herself, and it only took a moment for her to recognize the pavilions and pretty buildings as that sect they'd taken over in Yu Xiang, she couldn't remember its name. But she did remember the name of the person blinking at her from a few steps away. "Miss Limpet!"

"Mem?" the limpet asked. "Mem! It's nice to see you! Master Harold said that he was sending some people over via portal, but he never explained whom."

"Yes, it's Mem," Mem confirmed.

And then she froze as the Limpet ran up to her and hugged her.

Mem didn't move. If she did, she might cut the Limpet on accident. But that didn't mean that she didn't enjoy the hug anyway. It was very nice and warm and the Limpet's clothes were soft and she smelled like friend and also like Fang the dog.

"Mem is happy to see you," Mem said truthfully.

"And I'm happy to see you too," the Limpet said. She smiled as she backed out of the hug and let her arms drop. "Sorry, that was a little inappropriate, but I've been eagerly awaiting... well, anyone that I know."

Mem looked back and past the Limpet. There were lots of skeletons around, standing in a line along the edges of the courtyard. "Are these your friends?"

"These? No, they're soldiers. We're raising an army here. Or Seventeen is, in any case." The Limpet looked past Mem and to the portal. "Are you the only one coming back?"

"No, Mem is bringing her sisters here too. Mem thinks that maybe Mister Harold wants Mem's sisters to help you with your war?" Mem asked. She really wasn't sure.

"Oh! So Rem and another?" the Limpet asked.

"Yes. And another, and another. And then... forty more others."

"Forty... how many of your sisters are coming?" the Limpet asked sounding a bit faint.

"Forty two, plus Mem and Rem," Mem said. "It's a lot of sisters."

The Limpet's mouth formed a little 'o' and she made a squeaky noise that Mem wasn't sure was a good thing. "I... I don't know if I have accommodations for that many."

"Mem's sisters don't all know much beyond living in the mountains. Any room should be nice as long as there's food. Actually... Mem thinks there should be lots of food, because if her sisters get hungry, then they might go looking for food. There's still living humans around, yes?"

"A city-full," the Limpet said.

Mem winced. "Mem's sisters would like that."

"I can't have your sisters eat the people of Yu Xiang! They're taxpayers!

"Then can Mem's sisters eat the taxes?" Mem asked.

"No!" the Limpet said, horrified. "No, they'll be eating into my revenue, but... look, can you delay their arrival? I prepared some food here, but not enough for forty-plus of you. I need to contact the local butchers... do they have a guild? Oh heavens, this is going to be a lot."

"Mem is sorry!" Mem said.

"No, no, it's fine. We'll figure it out, Mem, we'll figure it out. At the very least, your sisters are pretty good fighters. I'm sure we can convince them to be worth the effort it'll take to feed them all... I hope."

Mem hoped so too.

***

Alex had been given a solemn mission by his boniest of fathers. Go with Mem, and make sure she and her many siblings were settled.

Alex didn't expect this to be anything but hard. Mem herself was kindly and nice, but also sometimes a little slow to understand and a bit... well, it wasn't kind to say, so Alex decided to refrain from even thinking it. Suffice to say that Mem was a nice young woman.

Rem was a troublesome person to work with, but Alex felt like they knew each other well enough now that they could be coworkers. Perhaps not the greatest of coworkers, but there was always an understandable amount of rivalry between a maid and a butler. It was to be expected, and it wasn't necessarily harmful as long as chores got done.

Now, these two served as the baseline for the level of difficulty Alex knew that the other mantises would pose. Alex was unsurprised to learn that Mem and Rem were actually some of the more even-tempered and easy to work with members of their family.

The sect had plenty of rooms to house all of the mantises. Alex numbered the rooms for convenience, and immediately found trouble when Mem's sibling One didn't want to have room seven, and then Six refused room four. Two got the second room, but Two hated the number two with a burning passion and was quite cross about it.

Alex had just finished sorting that out when she discovered a mantis, dead, in the pantry. It was, apparently, a mantis called Ded. This wasn't the first to have that name, confusingly. It was apparently a fairly common one in their family, passed on frequently.

This was, at least, what the three mantises who promised to help her solve the case said. Det, Tec and Tiv turned out to be more trouble than help. They kept making grand statements and accusations, linking random factoids about people they saw with the crime scene.

Det was certain that the murderer had to be a cook, because the death happened in a pantry. She bet her favourite pipe on it.

Tec insisted that Ded's death was natural. Mantises called Ded never made it long and this one was overdue to die.

Tiv wondered aloud whether they had done the murder themselves and just forgot about it. She offered up her deerstalker to anyone who could prove that she hadn't done it.

Alex discovered that Ded had found and eaten an entire package of rat poison they'd found in the pantry. Their face was still covered in powder and the crushed package was in their scythes.

Alex dragged the body in the cellar and left a note to Seventeen about it. The necromancer would be able to do something with that. It wasn't a maid's job to raise the dead, just to ensure that their remains are well tended to.

Once all the mantises were sorted, Alex ensured that they'd be fed and watered, as a good host ought to. Unfortunately, as the only maid in a household with dozens of guests, Alex had to entrust some of the work unto others. That meant hiring catering and cleaning services from the community, and conscripting some of the undead to distribute food to the mantises directly.

Alex was worried that the locals might end up as lunch while delivering lunch, which would be wholly unacceptable. The mantises weren't civilised just yet, though, and so certain concessions had to be made.

Unfortunately, Alex didn't have the time to train them all. It had taken Rem weeks to get where she was now, and Alex suspected it would take years more for Rem to be able to sit down at a table and have a polite meal with someone.

Alex had to go, however. The maid did what could be done, then said goodbye to the Limpet who didn't seem to want to let go when it was time for goodbye hugs. "Do you have to leave?" she asked as she pressed her face into the crook of Alex's neck.

"I'm afraid so, yes," Alex said. "Daddy needs me by his side, and I intend to be there, as a dutiful maid ought. But don't worry, I know that Daddy has been preparing things to make your life easier?"

"By sending me forty-odd mantises with no manners?" the Limpet asked.

"One died!"

The Limpet didn't seem very reassured about it.

"He's also secured the help of some mountain dwarves. If not military aid, then at least they'll likely be open to trade with. I don't know too much about the dwarven economy, but I think they appreciate alcohol."

"Hmm, we do have some of that here, I think. I'll see if I can't buy up a lot of it before the local merchants hear about the trade. We might be able to tax it at the gate if Master Harold is planning on leaving this portal up as a means to trade with them. It can act as a toll. Oh, and we can let it slip to other merchants from towns nearby, and the Lave Fist sect might be keen to get some dwarven-made things. They're good with metallurgy, aren't they?"

"I think so," Alex agreed while hiding a private little smile from the Limpet. She'd do alright if her first instinct on hearing this kind of news was to try and see how to best profit from it.

After another hug, Alex wished the Limpet a good day and stepped back into the portal.

In a blink, Alex was back in the mantis' den. Or former den, as the case might be. It felt a lot more still and quiet without all the mantises present.

The only person here now was Alex's bone daddy. He was sitting on that large throne, right on the very edge of it with an elbow on his knees and a strange object in his other hand which he was carefully inspecting.

Alex approached and stood a respectful distance away, hands folded just-so and skirts settling properly. The Bone Master's eyes glowed slightly brighter for a fraction of a second, acknowledging Alex's presence, but he didn't seem ready to speak just yet.

That was fine. A maid's job was to be available, and so Alex would remain so until the master required otherwise.

It took some five minutes or so before the Osteodaddy changed his sitting position and raised the object up. "What does this look like to you?" he asked.

Alex eyed the thing. It looked like a small wooden case, about a handspan long and wide and half as tall. There was an intricate clasp on the front made of filigreed silver. Tiny skulls were etched into the sides of the case all around the edge of it, and the metal parts were carefully worked to resemble a skull with a closed mouth. The clasp was at the jaws, and Alex supposed that the skull's mouth would open as the lock was undone. "It looks like a small case, maybe for jewellery," Alex said.

"Hmm hmm, that's an accurate enough guess," he said.

Alex leaned forwards slightly. "It's decorated. Skulls and silver over a darker wood. Very much the style Bone Father would employ, I think. Subtle but rich, without being ostentatious."

He nodded. "It's one of mine, yes." Turning the box around, he pulled the skull's mouth open and then inserted the tip of a finger into the keyhole. A twist of his wrist and the clasp clicked satisfyingly.

The box opened.

Within was a velvety cushion, deep red with three groves. One of these, the middlemost, was occupied by an oval device. Brass worked around a central gem with a row of tiny vacuum tubes sticking out of it.

It felt like Alex's dad. "Is that one of your souls?" Alex asked.

"It is indeed," he replied. "And as you can no doubt tell, there's room for more. These are models seven, eight and nine." He tapped the phylactery in the centre, which had an eight engraved onto it.

"Did you sense the seventh and ninth?" Alex asked.

"Not around here, no," he replied before clacking the box shut. "Which of course begs the question; where exactly are they if not here? I sensed that one, at least, was with the Mantis Queen, and her level of strength did indicate years of syphoning off the top. She was supplementing that, of course. A steady diet of cultivators, dwarves, likely her own children."

Alex wasn't sure who the Mantis Queen was, they wished they knew so that they could better keep up with the conversation.

"The clasp isn't broken, and the spellwork on this case is still intact. I found it by the throne amongst other baubles. The phylactery itself was being used to empower another one of these... celestial bongs. Which means that someone broke into this case without breaking into it. It seems like there's someone rather clever out there, Alex, and I'm not sure how I feel about that."

***

I reached into the celestial bong, once again thankful that unlife had bestowed upon me some rather thin and flexible fingers to work with. I gripped my fingertips around the small stone at the centre of the device, then gave it a slight tug.

It came free from the little brackets holding it in place with a satisfying clink.

Pulling it out of the neck of the bottle was a somewhat more difficult task, but I managed it all the same with a bit of finagling, which left me holding onto a small rock some five centinecrometres long by two wide at its centre. It was a very precisely cut stone, hundreds of triangular facets creating an oval that was at once smooth and very jagged.

The stone itself, if memory served, was nothing too special. Some sort of limestone, perhaps? Tough but still workable.

There was a tendency in the magical community to equate the potency of a magical reagent to its value.

This was patently ridiculous. Magic itself generally didn't care about monetary value. How could it? Would it know that upon founding a new diamond mine the value of such had dipped and therefore more would be needed to resurrect a freshly dead companion?

Nonsense.

Still, the rumours and ideology persisted, leading to some quite ridiculous use of reagents. Dragon's spit? You could use water with some crushed red peppers! It was both cleaner and more efficient, not to mention the cost of hiring some gullible adventurers--or worse, a bard--to kill and-or seduce a local dragon for their spit! Exorbitantly expensive.

Now, some reagents were expensive, yes, but that was happenstance. A spell that called for eggshell would be more potent if the egg shell in question belonged to a drake, yes, but that was because the drake was a naturally magical creature.

My point being that value has no direct ties to magical capability. It behoves a mage of any calibre to test their reagents and some alternatives to determine their true magical potency. In this case, I'd long discovered that while gems did generally allow for more powerful magic to be tied to them, they also leaked like metaphorical sieves.

A simple rock had better long-term magical retention than any sort of jewel, and to counteract that loss of potency over time requires specific safeguards tied into the magic.

One doesn't want to wake up one day to discover their ruby-tipped wizard's staff unable to send out sparks, after all.

I tossed the little phylactery up, caught it, then slipped it into a pocket for later. "Well, that's that," I said.

Alex perked up. The maid had sorted the items we found into neat rows, these rows were within sectors, which in turn were sorted into broad categories. This did mean that some rows had singular items within then, but that was fine.

I stood and handed the celestial bong to Alex who took it with a slight bow and darted over to the home appliance category, living room sector, second row.

"That seems well sorted out," I said as I tugged a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped my hands clean. "I wonder what we'll do with all of this."

Alex smiled and gestured to one of the more full rows. "I took the liberty to add another level to the sorting, bone daddy."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yes! They're now also sorted by estimated value. The further left the object the higher the estimated market value."

"Well done, that maid!" I said as I reached over and gave Alex a congratulatory pat between the ears. "In the coming centuries your contributions to the maidly art of loot sorting shall be well-remembered."

Alex swelled with pride. "Thank you!"

"Still, that doesn't quite answer my initial question."

"Oh, yes, I had a solution," Alex proposed.

"I'm listening," I said.

Alex gestured to the items. "Some of these are somewhat dangerous, I suggest that we set those aside into two secondary categories. Sub-categories for dangerous materials, essentially. One for those that are dangerous but not interestingly so." Alex reached down and scooped up a small scepter-like weapon. It was brimming with magical potential. A force spell was woven into it, a severely overpowered one for the container that held it. It was liable to explode at a single blow.

"I see, and the other?"

"Items which are dangerous but might be worth studying." Alex gently placed the sceptre down and picked up a sword. It was a flying sword. It had enchantments woven into it not dissimilar to a witch's flying broom, which was, of course, patently ridiculous. Why put those on a sword? Brooms already had terrible form-factors. A thin rod stuck in one's fork? That was just unkind to the male mage. A sword. Now that was just a joke.

Still, it might be worth studying, the enchantment was somewhat novel.

"I see, and what of the rest?" I asked.

"These valuables should be catalogued and given to the Limpet."

"My test subject? I see... I suppose there might be some value in giving her magical armaments, armour, weapons, and a host of small utility items. Do you think she'd put any of this to good use?"

I tapped the end of an oxford against a sword. This one was merely enchanted to be sharper and more durable, though it was quite pretty. Very... curvy compared to the swords the average fighter tried to chop at me with.

"I think that Miss Limpet will be able to sell, reforge, or use most of these things in due time. She is starting a small kingdom that should quickly expand to an empire. Those sorts of things require significant investments to function."

"Ah, yes," I said. I'd done empire-building a few times. Lots of fun. Empire upkeep, on the other hand? Awful business. No fun at all. Alex was right, though, starting an Empire of any sort, even a tiny humble one, required initial capital. Or, excluding that, it would require a massive ideological push.

My Limpet didn't have the time or the charisma to enact the latter, so any growth would have to be fueled by plain old gold. It was the easiest way to start. It was also the least tenable in the long run.

Oh, an Empire could grow rich and fat on plunder, but eventually it would run out of things to plunder and the bills come in regardless. "How is she handling it so far, by the way?" I asked.

"I overheard her muttering about taxes," Alex said.

"Oh good, she's getting the hang of it." I chuckled darkly. "Taxes are the lifeblood of a nation. And also the number one reason for dissent, rebellion and other ills." Rebellions, contrary to what the common folk raised on pretty stories might believe, never started from the bottom.

It started from the top. Usually a few people with lots of wealth who were losing that wealth in ways they weren't happy with would funnel their earnings into fomenting a rebellion, and then things would take off and become quite chaotic for a while.

I knew, because I'd started my share of those. When one had a nation of the undead whose inner economy was non-existent, one found themselves with ful coffers and plenty of reasons to pay for an annoying neighbour's demise.

"Ah, better times," I sighed.

"I think the Limpet is considering ways to attract more trade and build up her armed forces. She will have to consolidate the region before moving onwards," Alex said.

"Hmm, very true. Actually, while she's up to that... do you recall reports of Death Knights in the region?"

"Yes, Bone Papa," Alex said.

I nodded. "I do as well. And yet... nothing. Strange. Seventeen might have been the cause for reports about necromancers and the like, but Death Knights specifically? What a strange little plot hole."

Alex blinked at me, waiting for elaboration.

"I think, dear Alex, that it's about time we venture northwards. There is one city we've yet to visit within the Flaming Steppes, isn't there?"

"Opalhorn," Alex said. "The seat of the Flame's heart sect."

Yes, the old rivals to the Ashen Forest. They'd been a very mild thorn in our side, hadn't they? And yet... not truly. Their involvement in things was mild, and from a great distance. Now that I was thinking about it, something was off about that.

"Well, time to pay them a quick visit. Toss all those through the portal and let's zip along!"

Alex squirmed. "Toss, Bone Father?"

"Oh, fine, you can gently place it on the other side. Do sort it, and keep it out of the hands of those mantises. But make it snappy! We have a city to burn!"

Opalhorn. A final visit while we were in the region, and then it was back to see how the Limpet was faring with her little kingdom building project.

I hoped she wasn't failing to keep up her practice too!

***

Seventeen, recently promoted Captain of his Very Much Dead Lord Harold the Bone Father, was enjoying his promotion quite a bit.

His position as Captain placed him as the highest ranking officer in the region. Previously, he had been the only officer in the region, and now he could rectify that... in a few minutes.

The position also came with a significant increase in the number of duties he had to attend. A welcome change after centuries of quiet toiling under the sea. Now there wasn't a waking moment in which he didn't have several urgent matters to attend to, and as an undead, he had no sleeping moments to begin with!

"Oh... hoho?" he tried. Had that been a pun? Certainly it wasn't worthy of the attention of his great master, but his fledgeling skill in the magic of wordplay would only ever remain fledgeling if he never found the will and the way to practice!

"S-s-sir?" one of his subordinates asked.

"Ah yes, forgive me," Seventeen said. He stood a little taller then and eyed his troops. His officer corps of officer corpses.

Five members in all, too few for the number of officers he needed, but about as many as he could train on-the-job and expect satisfactory results from. These five had stood out to him by being less stupid than the other undead and some even had a twinkle of ambition in their lifeless eyes.

The one who'd spoken was one of Seventeen's... experiments that had been slightly-less aligned with standard protocol.

One did get somewhat bored when there was nothing but water and the dead around, and Seventeen had decided to test his necromantic mettle by seeing what stuck.

The old 'throw it at the wall and see what sticks' method of science. As long as one took detailed notes for publication and future scientists to repeat the experiments, then it was entirely valid!

Officer Cadet Tine was the result. A human male with the head of a snake. A rather common snake. It... didn't quite fit. The proportions were entirely off, even with his human body being on the smaller side. He did have a rather long neck, but his head, cobra hood and all, was average sized for a snake.

"Forgive me, Officer Cadet Tine," Seventeen replied. "Merely lost in thought. Ah, but speaking of time, heh, we have a limited amount at our disposal, shall we begin the nightly reports?"

The six of them were currently located in the bridge of the formerly more-mobile fortress. At the moment the moving building was sitting pretty on a hilltop near Yu Xiang, serving as a fort between the city proper and the incoming invasion.

"Yesss, ssir!" Officer Cadet Tine said. "Sshall I begin?"

"Please do," Seventeen said with a nod. He could appreciate the initiative. This cadet in particular was always quick to act on such, surprisingly so, even, for a ghoul.

"My scouts, the Serpen Sscouts have made good time approaching the enemy camp. Sso far, I ssusspect that they've gone unnoticed. We've managed to gather a better count of the ssolidiery pressent."

"Go on," Seventeen said. He didn't comment on Cadet Tine naming the scout troop after himself. Such indiscretions were common with the ambitious.

"Sixteen thousand regulars, that iss, consscripted troopsss. Another Sseven thousssand proper sssoldierss. The officer core isss compossed of sssome three hundred officers."

"An unusually high number," Seventeen said. "Or perhaps we're just used to our own methodology." After all, the undead hardly needed a complex chain of command. There was Harold, then the rest. Easy. New officer posts only appeared when delegation was absolutely necessary.

He turned to the next officer waiting to report, then he looked down, then up. Finally, he found her hiding in a shadowy corner of the room. "Officer Cadet Ful, hiding is hardly appropriate at this time," he said gently.

"Sorry, sir!" she squeaked before floating back down. The young banshee--only a century old!--was quite shy. Under different circumstances he might have passed her over for promotion to cadet, but for all of her fear of attention, she was nonetheless a good mind.

"Your report?" Seventeen urged.

"Yes sir!" she said, wafting an arm into a salute. "The ghost core reports mostly good news from the city. We've successfully tracked all of the people linked to the assassin sent after Miss Fenfang. Those still alive are under constant surveillance."

"I see, well done," Seventeen said. Discovering that a local had tried to kill the master's apprentice was quite distressing. He had forgotten what it was like to work with humans. Or rather, he never knew from personal experience and only had testimonials and warnings from his books to go on.

He didn't expect any of them to try to kill the apprentice. It was a moment of short-sightedness on his part.

Officer Cadet Ful was correcting that for him by recruiting from the city's store of local ghosts and apparitions. Yu Xiang had had a few exorcists going around and clearing the nastier ghosts away, and the more obvious, but that didn't mean they got all of them.

Those that remained were equally citizens of the city, and as undead, they were charged with working for him. It was conscription of a sort, but the work mostly involved busy work like some light spying and snooping about.

"Good job, Fret," one of the cadets said to Cadet Ful. Seventeen turned his attention to the mummy in question and he quickly noticed. "Ah, ready to report, sir."

"Go on, Officer Cadet Wrapture," Seventeen said.

Officer Cadet Wrapture saluted smartly. He had stood out to Seventeen, initially, because of his neatness. Mummies often allowed their wrappings to flop and undo themselves somewhat. The cleverer often used these as weapons, but it was nonetheless rather untidy. Officer Cadet Wrapture was neat. His wrappings wrapped just-so, and never dirty or stained. That same tidiness carried on to his demeanour. He was actually quite kind and helpful as well. Not necessary, but welcome all the same.

"Sir! The city militia's training is coming along at a satisfying pace. Within the week I expect them all to know which end of the spear is the sharp one!"

Seventeen nodded. That was about as good as they could expect from highly volatile humans. The unfortunate truth was that the human contingent of their militia was likely no better than the army approaching them.

Actually, they were likely to be even less well-trained and equipped. They did have two advantages. They'd be fighting for their homes at their home, with walls and palisades and the knowledge that failure meant more than just their own death. The other advantage came from tiredness. The army coming towards them would be exhausted from the long march.

The third, secret advantage, came from having necromancers on their side. A fallen soldier now was a risen zombie later.

"Officer Cadet Rotney?" Seventeen asked. Speaking of zombies...

Rotney was as sloppy as Officer Wrapture was neat. "Ah, yes, hmm," he said. His entire being was the personification of slumpedness. Seventeen suspected that even in life, Rotney's posture wasn't ideal. "The troops are as ready as can be. We have them buried where they need to be. The practice has been alright. We're being strict about it, I guess. Don't expect miracles, but we'll manage."

A lackadaisical reply. Seventeen regretted this promotion above all others, but Rotney was a rare zombie whose thirst for brains wasn't merely literal. He was actually smart... sometimes.

"And finally Officer Cadet Appari."

"Please, call me Shawn," the officer said as he shifted on the spot. He was a very emotive, personably, even charismatic wraith. A fantastic leader for their assassination and covert OPs division.

"Report," Seventeen suggested.

"With Serpen's targets marked out amongst the enemy officer core, we are ready to begin our first culling tonight. My wraiths have also noticed a few lower-ranked, weaker cultivators in the enemy formation. Might I have permission to take care of them as well?"

Seventeen considered it. It might anger the cultivators. Then again, they were ill equipped for dealing with them already. "Go ahead," he said. Even a few dead might demoralise the other lower-ranked cultivators, and it might make the slightly stronger ones stay up at night and disrupt their of-so-important meditations. "We might suffer some losses from that."

"It's all in the job, I'm afraid," Officer Cadet Appari said with a languid shrug. "It happens."

"I suppose so," Seventeen replied.

He eyed his officer corps. It wasn't much, but it was a start. A decade or so of constant war and turmoil would sort them out and turn them into a proper corps suitable for the Bone Father's grand return.

Now he just needed to arrange things for that great war to get underway. But all things in due time. First, these interlopers kindly volunteering to test their mettle. Then the rest of the human empire.

"For the Glory of the Bone Father!"

"For the Glory of the Bone Father!" the cadets repeated.

***

She decided that it was about time that she started to exercise some of her 'power' as... whatever her title might be.

Actually, that was something she'd likely need to figure out sooner rather than later, because everything she knew and everything she'd been reading about cultivators shone a new light on certain things that she'd always taken for granted.

As usual, all--night reading sessions had proven to be a fantastic idea. She'd mostly scoured through the journals of a few sect members of the Hungering Inferno sect.

There were some journals that had been copied and reprinted in the library, ostensibly so that members of the sect could read about the exploits of their older peers from a primary source.

She'd read three of these journals overnight, though two of them had been skimmed somewhat. There were a lot of boring passages.

'In the year of the Emperor, blah blah, I spent six seasons in closed door meditation... opened my meridians... blah blah... slightly improved mastery of my basic skills.'

These cultivators were... well, they were patient, she'd give them that. It seemed like the normal pattern was a slow growth at the start, followed by an explosion of growth and improvement which eventually tapered off. Then there would be a very long, very winding road of slight improvements to master some skills. These would eventually lead to another explosion of talent.

At least, that was the pattern that she could discern. It wasn't what was important.

What was important was less about reading the day-to-day of these long-dead cultivators. What was important was seeing the way they thought from their own pen.

Cultivators were grand-standing idiots, but now she was aware that there was a reason for their grand-standing idiocy.

Her master had been right about them this entire time, and while she had disliked cultivators on principle because of a life of being dismissed by them, now she had a far more concrete reason for that very same dislike.

These people she was reading about didn't start off as complete jerks, but they reached that point eventually. She was certain that there was a way to reach their end goal without being a complete ass, but she wasn't seeing it here. Likely because doing so was so much harder than just folding and allowing themselves to be a little evil.

She shook her head and refocused. The thoughts were fresh in her mind, but that same mind hadn't slept very much and she had several meetings to attend today. She was on her way to one of these now.

First, her thoughts, she needed them all figured out or else she'd be a mess at the meeting.

Her reading showed the stories of three young men who were all, in their way, eager to join the Hungering Inferno. They were new recruits first, then outer, and finally inner disciples. One of them went on to be an elder of sorts, the other two's journals cut off quite suddenly, with long flower-y afterwards written in a different style going on about how they lost their lives in the service of the sect.

They started off as... alright men. Not saints, but not awful people either. And the sect didn't turn them evil. It just gave them the tools to turn...

She chewed on her lower lip. Evil wasn't the right term. It was too black and white.

Pragmatic? Yes, that fit a lot better. Their growth as cultivators required that they focus on that growth. To not focus on it was to stagnate, and stagnation meant eventually failing. Because their end goal was one and the same; become the most powerful.

But that was a fallacy, wasn't it? There could only ever be one most powerful.

They weren't all fools. The one who went on to be an elder often wrote about his thoughts on that same issue, initially with quite a bit of empathy and compassion even.

But to cultivate meant to pursue personal power, immortality, enlightenment, all with single-minded focus, and that also meant becoming an egotistical, selfish prick.

She nodded.

There was more to it, of course. To be a cultivator meant disregarding the law. Not just the literal laws, of course but the...

She struggled for a moment more. Her thoughts felt like loose strings caught in a strong wind. Just... there, almost tingling together into coherence, but not. And then two strings wrapped around each other and she had a spark of an idea.

Right! There was a rule, or a set of rules, that every normal person followed.

She'd followed these her entire life, in a way. Don't be a jerkass was number one. Helping others sometimes was another. Be polite, be encouraging, don't give up hope. Respect and listen to your elders, be kind to children and teach them. Little rules that people didn't need to have spelled out to them.

Cultivators had to break these to grow stronger. More, they had to disregard them because if they didn't, then they wouldn't spend more time in meditation. They were aware, generally, that they couldn't ignore all of these rules, so they pushed them onto others.

Inner disciples were tasked by elders to teach the newest recruits. So the inner disciples pushed that task onto the outer, who did the work for them because to do otherwise would invite punishment that might cripple their cultivation and ruin their hopes.

At every stage, the rules that kept society working were a little further away. She imagined it was probably the same for the very rich or the very powerful as well.

... It might have been a little bit the same for her too, now that she thought about it? When was the last time she'd done something to help?

She swallowed past the guilt. Soon. For now, her thoughts turned back to titles, because she had none and that was a problem.

Cultivators measured the value of listening to someone based on their perceived strength, and strength was either measured by deed, or by title.

She had no title. She was Fenfang Fang, and that was it. And it wasn't enough. The Limpet was maybe a title, she wasn't clear on that, but if it was, it didn't have the cultural context to matter.

If she met a nice man on the street and he gave her his title but it was in a foreign tongue, then it wouldn't matter if the title was cobbler or king.

Fenfang arrived in front of a set of double doors. These were held shut by two very large skeletal warriors in some of their only full armour. It was covered in small barnacles, and they stank of seaweed still, but that might help if anything.

She nodded to them, and they opened the door into the main meeting room of the Hungering Inferno sect. The tapestries had been ripped away and the sconces replaced by some which weren't as garish. There was nothing to do about the flame-patterned marble inlaid floor, though someone had placed a deep blue rug over much of it.

There were some three dozen people in the room, including two mantises and several undead. They all turned to stare at her as she entered.

"Good morning," she said. The sudden shock that came from having to be extroverted did more to wake her up than even fine tea could have managed. "We have a lot to go over today. Administrator Fu Yen, a pleasure to see you again."

"A pleasure," the father-bodied man said with a bow from his seat. "I brought the best of the city's administration with me today."

"Good, we're going to need the best. Captain Seventeen, how are you?" Fenfang asked.

"Well enough," the skeletal necromancer replied. "I brought some of my own best today as well."

She nodded, noting the presence of a few well-dressed and cleaned up undead. "Fantastic. It's good to see our army expanding." With that, she'd reached the large chair at the far end of the room and she sat in it. Rem pushed the seat forward suddenly, thrusting her almost into the table. It was... well, almost a nice gesture. She gave Mem a nod, then scanned the room. Lots of sweaty faces amongst the living. Not a bit of nervousness amongst the dead.

Good enough.

"First, I want to talk about our situation with regards to this war. Second, I want to set up a better system to help our fine citizens find work, housing, and gain better access to both medicine and food. Then I need to talk about titles."

"Titles?" Administrator Fu Yen asked.

She hesitated. This would be a big moment. A make or break. And if she did it wrong, it would be her head that would be gone. "Yes. I think, from now on, I will be Empress Limpet."

***

He had to do a good job.

Serpen Tine had been raised from the dead, not once, not twice, but three times. First, he was a fisherman off the eastern coast. His past there was ancient and shrouded and lost to the shifting sands of time.

Then he was a cobra. A simple snake, sneaking across the sands until his inevitable demise.

He remembered his time as a snake most of all. He wasn't reincarnated. No, his body was that of a ghoul, an experiment by now-Captain Seventeen. The necromancer had two servants, a simple cobra who was too small to be of any use and a long-dead fisherman whose head had been chewed on by some large predatory fish.

So he did what necromancers do and combined the two.

Two existences becoming one in death.

Serpen Tine sometimes felt like an abomination. His cobra head was far too small for his human body, and he constantly had to fight the urge to curl up on any warm rocks he passed by. But that ability to fight those urges is what brought him to where he was.

There were plenty of abominations in the undead army. Few of them became anything. He didn't want to be a nothing. He wanted to excel, to do right by the army that had raised him (from the dead).

It brought him genuine joy when he saw the Bone Father for the first time. Not just seeing the man who was an exemplar of undeath, but to see that the man's highest ranked servant was a Death Butler made from the corpses of two creatures just like Serpen Tine was. Of course, Alex the Maid was made by the Father, and was therefore perfect in a way he would never be but... well, it was something.

He came back to the moment as a ghost materialized from shadow nearby. He was currently hidden in the shade of a large stone that hung off the side of a cliff-face some two day's walk from Yu Xiang. This was very much near the centre of the Flamming Steppes. If he were to climb that cliff-face and squint into the distance, he would be able to see the heat-haze rising off of the main road that cut through the province.

"Sir," the ghost said.

"Yesss?" he replied. Serpen knew that he was far from wise or even smart, but sometimes he felt like his subordinates weren't even trying. "Report."

The ghost bobbed on the spot. It was one of the newer recruits from the city, a formless ghost who had forgotten their gender and appearance and who seemed more like a blob with some silken sheets wrapped over it than a proper geist or apparition. That same weakness of form made the ghost almost entirely invisible to the sight of mortals.

"The army rides east."

Serpen stared. "I know thisss," he hissed. Everyone knew this. Sometimes he wondered if Captain Seventeen also felt this kind of uncanny despair when dealing with his own subordinates. "Let me go sssee for mysself," he said.

The army moving towards Yu Xiang was impressive, at least in number. They moved in a column wide enough to cover the entirety of the road, a road that could hold two carriages abreast.

The size of the army was impressive, yes, but his reports painted a different picture.

Serpen snuck out from beneath his rock and slowly trudged over to a rope ladder leading up the steep cliffside, parts of it hidden in the underbrush. At the top of the ladder was a dug-out. This was recently the home of a prairie fox of the flamming steppes, but now it was one of the many hidey-holes of the Serpens Scouts.

The den had been dug out a little, to make just enough room for a dexterous undead to climb in and crawl across it. A zombie, one of the few in his scout group, hid at the far end of the den next to a thin slit of an opening in the dirt.

There was some tough prairie grass shoved into the hole to mask it better, and some loose stonework around it to keep it in place. From the outside it was all but invisible.

Serpen moved up next to the zombie and was handed a long spyglass which he carefully extended.

There were some hundred or so hidey holes like this along the main road, and more along the side roads and in places where they had a clear view of the landscape. Further out, near the edge of the province, was a well-maintained picket of little stations just like this one.

He was still growing the Serpens Scouts into a proper division, and trying to figure out what worked and what didn't. So far they'd settled on a system where every such lookout had one undead like a zombie or ghoul and a pair of ghosts or wraiths.

The apparitions could communicate and carry messages. The ghouls and zombies could keep an eye out day and night. Their stench actually warded away small animals as well, which kept them hidden from even those.

The Empress, soon may she die to join their immortal army, was likely not yet aware that her territory was watched over so carefully.

Serpen finally focused on what was in the spyglass.

The army was laid out like a long train. When they'd entered the Steppes they had been walking in perfect, orderly lines with a pep in their step. Now the lines were raggedy and somewhat crooked, some of the men were trudging along lazily, and it was clear that order only held as long as an officer was nearby to hold it.

Serpen turned his attention to the middle of the line, where the cultivators were moving along. Most of them were within horse-drawn carriages of massive proportions, some were riding in palanquins, and still others, rare though they may be, were walking on foot.

Behind them were the elite troops. Men in matching armour whose firm steps hadn't wavered yet. They were a column of perfectly level glaives poking out into the sky with a panoply of tassels catching the wind.

And then the support troops and engineers, some carrying entire siege engines with them. And finally, the juiciest target of them all. The supply wagons.

There were a few of these between each division in the army. They weren't so foolish as to have all of their supplies in one space. But a lot of them were all gathered by the rear. There was even a train of civilians and merchants following the army.

"Hmm, good," he said. The troop disposition hadn't changed from his last report. Turning, he gestured to the ghost. "Plan Alpha," he said.

The ghost bobbed a bow, then faded away.

Serpen retrieved the spyglass and continued to watch. From up here, the army seemed like ants. Very predictable ants.

At the rate they were advancing, they'd reach their new empire's capital in two days. That was, simply put, unacceptable.

And so it was the task of his scouts to slow the army down.

Plan Alpha took a few minutes to begin, but when it did, Serpen could see its consequences rushing across the army. The front stalled, the unruly mob of conscripts slowing down to a full stop while officers on horseback rode around and tried to discover what had happened.

What had happened was simple. They'd discovered a corpse. A brave volunteer (that he had picked out and who was too brain-dead to refuse) was laying on the road.

The living were rather squeamish, after all. They wouldn't just trample a body, especially not one dressed exactly like one of their men, with the same emblems and gear.

The equipment had been stolen days prior, to examine and study.

A small group moved ahead to inspect the body, then more were called up. The news reached the cultivators, who delegated it to inner disciples, who delegated it down to the outer, and finally some poor fool was sent running up the entire length of the army to inspect a corpse.

The soldiers backed away as the cultivator arrived.

Serpen squinted through the spyglass.

The cultivator knelt over the body...

The body leapt up, claws ripping into the young fool with surprising speed and ferocity.

The soldiers panicked, some running back, others fumbling their weapons. A few were smart enough to run towards the undead, but Serpen's scout was smart. As soon as the cultivator was dead, the undead took off running. After a hundred paces, he started to zig-zag, just in time for the first arrows to miss him.

And then the undead was around a bend in the road where it dipped hard enough that it couldn't be seen any longer. Soon it would be in another tunnel like the one Serpen was in.

A ghost materialised in the room. "Plan Alpha worked," it said.

"Start Alpha Two," Serpen replied.

Plan Alpha stage two through four hundred and twelve were going to make the lives of those soldiers very interesting for the next day or so.

***

Officer Cadet Fret Ful was not made for this.

In fact, she had no idea why Captain Seventeen had chosen her to become an officer and take on that mantle of responsibility.

This was not a role for her. This was a role for someone brave and confident, someone smart, someone who took a hit and got up and kept going.

She sighed wistfully. Someone like Empress Fenfang.

At least this job had one big advantage. She was the one in charge of Yu Xiang's undead spy network, and that meant that she had to keep close--very close--to the centre of power in the city, because that was where all the intrigue and such was centred.

At the moment, that meant that her office was in a quiet, forgotten attic, right above the Empress's bedchamber and office.

It was a nice enough space. A little dusty, and there hadn't been any light in this room for what must have been decades, but that was acceptable. A ghost did not need light to see.

Speaking of which, a ghastly form pressed its way through one of the walls and hovered closer and Fret Ful quickly shifted her veils and made herself ready for a report. She was getting used to these, now.

At first, when she knew that she was waiting for a report, it would make her so anxious that she'd disapperate into nothingness for a while. Later, she'd just fret and be fitful until the report was delivered. What if she said something stupid? No, no, she wouldn't ever say anything stupid, because she imagined every possible scenario, one after the other, a multitude of times before the ghost who was going to report ever appeared.

Now, after a few days, she could sit still and process everything her subordinates said. It was only after that she'd have a minor freak out, especially whenever she made some gaff. What if that ghost remembered? What if they spoke to each other?

They'd call her a failure. They'd question her. They'd report right to Captain Seventeen, and then she'd be fired! They'd hang her... again!

She shook herself and took the ghost's report. It was verbal, of course. That was the best they had at the moment, but it was okay.

Fret Ful might have been bad at people and such when she was in person, but when it came to writing them? Oh, she was very very good at that!

It was one of the leading factors to her inevitable demise!

Being able to carry one of her living passions into undeath was quite nice, actually. She took notes as the ghost spoke, then nodded and gave it instructions to return to its quarry and continue to listen to everything that was said and remember all that was done.

Once the ghost was off, she eyed the page she held with its carefully written text.

Most of the time her reports were moderate and uninteresting. On rare occasions she'd discover that someone important was sleeping with someone, embezzling funds, or generally being a nuisance.

Their spy system was still quite new, so for now all she did was take notes on people's activities. Sometimes she'd open a person's drawer, read all of their activity logs, then compile a summary, just in case Captain Seventeen needed to know something.

So far, her business remained in the realm of spycraft, which suited her just fine.

It meant more time for her hobby.

Fret Ful giggled ghostlily and shifted over to her second desk, this one hidden behind several cabinets and drawers where no one would ever, ever see it. It was where she did her writing. Not reports... well, not real reports. These were fiction. Interesting fiction, about the people her network of ghosts spied on.

It wasn't necessarily the kind of fiction that was... appropriate for public consumption.

Fret Ful giggled to herself as she hopped back into a slightly exaggerated but far more colourful recounting of a meeting between a recently-hired maid and the Empress, an encounter that started with surreptitious eye contact and quickly evolved into something more... physical, and carnal.

Her giggles continued for a very long while, and had she any blood in her ghostly body, it would certainly all have relocated itself to her face by now. Oh, this was one of her spiciest stories yet!

Fret Ful had died because of her art.

Well, no, technically she'd died because she was caught following a noble lady one time too many. So what if some of that lady's clothes were found in her home? And so what if--when the constable had read the fanciful stories she wrote about their would-be trists he had had a fatal heart attack?

Her work was just too... avant-garde for such a plebian mind, that was all!

She set down her quill and sighed contentedly, the thrill of her writing still buzzing through her. The soft murmurs of the ghosts in the attic had become a familiar and comforting background noise. But her peace was shattered when a ghost she recognized as one of her more urgent messengers burst through the wall, its form flickering with distress.

"Officer Fret Ful!" it hissed, its voice carrying a desperate edge. "The Empress is in danger!"

The words hit her like a physical blow, her ectoplasmic form shimmering with shock. "What? How?" she stammered, her mind racing. This was not one of the scenarios she had meticulously prepared for. This was real, and it was happening now.

Fret Ful's first instinct was to disappear into the shadows, to let someone else handle the crisis. But she remembered Captain Seventeen's trust in her, however misplaced she believed it to be. And she thought of the Empress, brave and steadfast and pretty.

She couldn't let her down! Not now!

Although... would the Empress become a ghost if she... No! That was wrong! "Report," she said instead. "Everything you know!"

The report came, and she found herself calming a little. The assassins were disguised as two serving men visiting the compound for repairs to one of the mantis' rooms. They carried carpenter's tools, but beneath that knives and the tools of assassins. It would be some time before they found their way closer to the Empress.

Taking a deep, steadying breath that hissed out of her, she nodded at the ghost. "Stay close and report any changes immediately." The ghost vanished, and Fret Ful gathered her courage. She floated down through the floors of the palace, her form passing through walls and ceilings until she reached the Empress's chambers.

Fret Ful slipped through the walls of the Empress's chambers, her form shimmering as she hovered at the edge of the room. The Limpet, as the Empress was affectionately known among her close circle, was practising her Eldritch Blast against a dummy. Each blast was precise and powerful, leaving scorch marks on the target.

Fret Ful watched in awe for a moment, the sight of the Empress in action both inspiring and intimidating. Finally, she mustered the courage to speak. "E-Empress Fenfang," she called, her voice trembling slightly.

The Empress paused mid-blast, turning to face Fret Ful with a calm, steady gaze. Oh, what pretty eyes! Fret Ful would have to revise so many of her stories! "A ghost?" she asked. "Did Seventeen send you?"

Oh no! Fret Ful's imagination hadn't accounted for this scenario. She fluttered this way and wavered that way. "I... I am officer Fret Ful, the city spy master," she said.

"Oh," the Empress said. "Well, I suppose as a spy it would only make sense that you be discreet. Can I help you with something? I've got twenty-two and a half minutes left to practice time."

Fret Ful floated closer, her form flickering with nervous energy. "Empress, there are intruders in the palace. They're disguised as carpenters, but they carry the tools of assassins. They mean to harm you."

The Empress's eyes narrowed, but she remained composed. "Thank you for informing me, Officer Fret Ful," she said.

Oh, that coldness to her voice, it sent shivers down Fret Ful's back.

"Did you have a way to capture these assassins?" the Empress asked.

"Ah, no? I mean... I could ask some of my spies?"

"No, no, it's fine. Rem! Rem! Where are you now?" the Empress called.

There was a clatter, furniture being thumped, then a mantis stomped into the room. "What do you want, stupid?"

"There are assassins around, could you capture them for me, please?" the Empress asked.

"I don't want to," Rem said.

"Please?"

The mantis squinted, tilting her head to the side. "There's more than one?" The Empress nodded. "Rem will eat half."

"Fine. But only if you mean half of the total number of assassins, don't eat half of each one, that'd just kill them all. And leave the more important, stronger one alive."

"But those are the tastiest!"

The Empress turned back to Fret Ful a small, reassuring smile on her lips. "Thanks, Officer, I appreciate the help."

Fret Ful bowed deeply, her ghostly form shimmering with a newfound resolve. "Yes, Empress." She floated back through the walls, her thoughts racing. She had faced her fear and delivered the news, and now the palace was in capable hands.

As she returned to her attic office, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. Perhaps Captain Seventeen had seen something in her after all. With renewed determination, she settled back at her desk, ready to continue her work... and eagerly awaiting her next break. She was so inspired!

***

His job was two fold, and two fold difficult.

Wrapture--Cadet Officer Wrapture to his subordinates who were smart enough to speak--was the mummy in charge of the militia.

It was a simple and yet thankless job, especially in these times.

In times of peace, his work would be easy. Ridiculously so. In the first days after his appointment as officer in charge of the Yu Xiang militia, he'd met with Captain Seventeen and outlined a manual dictating the needs of the militia.

It was to be an armed force of volunteers. Men and women both. They were to be trained and assessed and pushed into positions where they could assist the city. Some of these were military duties, such as manning and guarding the walls and watch towers around the city, but other parts were less militarised.

The militia included the city fire department. There were, at the moment, three private fire-fighting groups within the city, but the militia was meant to step in regardless. They wouldn't be as fast, or as well-equipped, but they were meant to be trained to carry buckets and save people in case of a fire.

There was more, of course. The militia paid its members, had simple but free housing, and included some community outreach. A homeless person wouldn't remain so in Yu Xiang, not when they could be put to work for the good of the city.

The militia was made up of the living and the undead. The undead being... less helpful sorts. Skeletal warriors that weren't good warriors and who were frequently missing some odds and ends. Undead animals that the army had no use for. Ghosts that weren't quite smart enough to serve as spies and scouts.

He had his pick, but only from the detritus pile.

He had imagined that this would be an honourable role, initially. He'd help young men and women find their place and help their community, and he'd put people's minds at ease about the undead by having some provide necessary and helpful services.

None of these things worked out as he'd imagined.

Well, not quite.

One initiative he took on early in his attempts to get something to work did function. Using undead to clean the streets was a clever idea, if he did say so himself, and the people of Yu Xiang appreciated streets with no litter and a twice daily garbage pick-up.

Otherwise, nothing worked.

The problem was that the people of Yu Xiang saw his skeletons and zombies and ghosts, and they saw monsters. They didn't see people. They didn't see his people.

No one volunteered, despite the benefits.

The people who did join his militia were people who weren't given the choice, which really put a strain on the 'Volunteer' part of his volunteer militia.

He had criminals, vagrants, a few rebellious youngsters, and some old retired soldiers who wanted to relive the glory days without doing any of the work.

The criminals he had weren't the hardened sort either. He had people who evaded taxes, a few petty thieves, one man who'd stabbed a neighbour (nonlethally) in a dispute, and a young woman who was a serial public urinator that the city guard had caught one time too many.

In an ideal world, putting all these people to work would help them sort themselves out. The money they earned could go towards buying amenities, and the lessons they learned would help them be productive, tax-paying, non-public urinating civilians.

Instead, it seemed like filling a pair of large bunkhouses full to the brim with lowly criminals had the reverseeffect.

They were encouraging each other. The tax evaders had formed a small clique and spent more time thinking and plotting ways to evade the taxman than actually doing any of the paperwork he had assigned them. The petty thieves kept nicking things out of the armoury. The neighbour-stabber got into a fist fight with another militiaman on his second day, and Wrapture had crossed at least one suspicious puddle so far.

He suspected that not only was he getting the defective undead, he was ending up with all of the defective humans too.

In any case, he had to do something about this. Or rather, do something with this, because there was an army marching on the city and the militia might very well be called upon to act.

So bright and early in the morning he had them all gathered outside. Half of them were late. More than half weren't wearing their uniforms.

Wrapture almost considered turning around and returning to Captain Seventeen to announce that he was incapable of doing this work after all, but the humiliation of failure weighed too much for him.

He stood there, at the front of the assembly, his arms clasped behind his back, and waited.

And waited.

It was mid-morning before his subordinate officers had managed to assemble the militia and get them all in order. They were finally all in uniform (their uniform being a simple off-white dress shirt with a small sash around the waist over pocketed pants) they had their armour (little more than a cuirass made of thickly padded cloth with some hardened leather that covered the chest and a boiled leather cap) and every member had their weapons in hand (simple short spears with sharpened metal points).

The uniform and gear were utilitarian, simple, and very replaceable. Just like his troops.

He was going to have them practice drills, and then run them through their paces.

It would be simple and easy.

They were the militia. They didn't have to be good.

Just good enough.

It rankled and stung his pride to an impossible degree. He didn't want troops that were barely good enough, he wanted soldiers capable of doing their best.

It wasn't the sort of thing the militia could hope to achieve.

"Soldiers, we will now begin your training," Wrapture said, his voice deep and powerful. He wasn't a loud man, but he'd learned the art of commanding the attention of those around him. "I expect you to take this seriously. This is not a game. Your training may very well be the difference between life and death when the enemy comes."

There was no reply from the assembled troops. They were staring ahead, most of them blank faced. A few were looking around, clearly bored and distracted.

He cleared his throat and repeated himself. "This is not a game, soldiers. You are here to learn and to prepare. Spears up!"

They raised their spears. They weren't all the right way up. Fortunately, his militia was trained enough to know which end was supposed to be up, and so those who'd pointed the wrong end into the sky acted to correct themselves.

Unfortunately, they often did this by twisting their spears around.

He had to put the training to a slight halt when one militia man in the back row almost joined the undead part of the militia.

"Good, soldiers," he said, though he knew it was anything but. "We will now practice marching. Forward march!"

The first two ranks stepped forward, and then the third. Then the fourth. Then the fifth.

By the time the sixth had stepped forward, the first had fallen out of formation, and the others had started to fall apart.

It was a disaster.

He had to have the entire squad march up and down the parade ground five times before they stopped stepping on each other's feet, and another three before they stopped stepping on their own toes.

Once they could march without tripping or stumbling, they began marching in a straight line.

Or, rather, a curved line, as they couldn't quite keep the same distance from the soldier in front of them.

He didn't stop them. If they were marching in a curving line, at least they weren't walking into each other.

He'd give them this: they were trying.

He would try too. That was, he would try very hard to convince Captain Seventeen that the militia could help in the upcoming war in... other ways. Maybe they could dig a trench? It wouldn't be straight, or deep, but it would be a trench. Or they could carry things? Some of them would disappear an item or two, but most of it would get where it was meant to be.

Oh! They could stand still along the wall. Yes. That would work. The least his militia could do was stand still and not look incompetent from afar.

He watched as one of them tripped mid-turn. His spear flicked out, smacking another in the shin, and soon an entire line of militiamen collapsed in an undignified heap.

Wrapture held back the urge to go out there and start strangling some order into his troops.

"Pick yourselves up! We're training until each and every one of you has at least some amount of dignity!"

Maybe they could trade the spears for sticks? The enemy wouldn't be able to tell from afar, and it would be just as impressive looking.

***

His job was easy. That's why he liked it, and it was the only reason he'd accepted Captain Seventeen's promotion

This whole invasion thing?

Not easy. And for that reason, he was very much looking forward to it being done. If the invaders could just... wake up and figure out that this was all a pointless exercise and go back home, then he could go back to lackadaisical days of light training and days spent reading in secret while he was supposed to be working.

Or maybe he could spend another day enticing some of the city strays close enough for him to pet? That had been a nice afternoon.

Rotney yawned, then made a guttural groan as his jaw clunked off his chestplate and thumped onto the sandy ground. He knelt down, picked it up, and slit it back into place. Just as he finished standing back up, an arrow lodged itself into his neck.

Had he been a little slower picking up his jaw off the ground he might have avoided that one, but alas it wasn't to be.

At the moment he was standing on the outer edge of a battlefield.

A small one, admittedly, but a battlefield nonetheless. His forces included three hundred zombies with mixed arms. Poles, a few swords, some shields, and plenty of weapons that they'd cobbled together from what they found laying around.

That meant a lot of shields made from doors and clubs made from table legs.

All in all, his army was far from impressive, but what they lacked in equipment they also lacked in manpower and overall strength.

The living human army clashing ahead of them was ripping through his soldiers with ease. They had long polearms with wicked axeheads on the end, or narrow, pointy spears that could easily punch through their makeshift shields.

Rotney sighed. "Seventy-second rank, pull back," he said. "Seventy-third rank, brace!"

This battle had started at sun-up.

The army had crested a hill, still a day's walk from Yu Xiang, and had discovered a line of a hundred zombies standing in their path.

A cultivator had leapt ahead and decimated them.

Then a second rank of zombies rose from the ground ten necrometres back and charged in. Hidden amongst the zombies were a few surprises, of course. Some wights and skeletal warriors, a few abominations buried in the sandier parts of the ground.

Enough that weaker cultivators turned into dead cultivators.

And so the army had stepped up and took matters into their own well-organised hands. Men with spears formed ranks and poked his undead compatriots to re-death. The bodies were pulled aside and tossed onto fire pits that were quickly dug and lit.

Then the army advanced, took out the next rank, then the next, then the next. Then... the next. It took until mid morning for the army to run out of fuel for their pits. For them to start dismembering the undead instead, then for them to give up on that entirely and just toss the bodies aside.

Laziness.

Rotney had been counting on it, because he had crews of sneakier undead, as well as a few undead sand worms, ferrying zombie remains out from behind the army and all the way around to a field medic tent of sorts where they were reassembled.

For every hundred zombies lost since the early afternoon, they gained enough parts to recreate ninety.

Yes, that meant a great deal of attrition, but zombies were the lesser of all undead. Those that had burned in those firepits? Well, they'd have the good fortune of being raised as skeletons later. Some of those were already being mixed into the ranks.

"Rank Seventy-Three, fall back!" he ordered.

He was some hundred necrometres away from the front line, sitting on the back of a cart pulled by a pair of undead mules. The cart was covered in stray arrows and ever a single spear that had gotten stuck into the wood.

The enemy knew that he was a commander of some sort. They'd sent some outer-disciple cultivators at him already.

They'd joined the ranks of zombie warriors soon after, and he was now waiting for someone to decide that he was worthy of being killed by an innner disciple.

Or maybe they'd leave him alone? So far he was simply giving retreat and regroup orders.

Rotney glanced up. The sky was turning that particular shade of purple that came when the sun was well and truly on its way to setting.

A full day of this and the enemy losses barely added up to the triple digits. Serpen Tine's traps all along the route had cost the enemy army more than his ranks on ranks of zombies. But that was okay.

Rotney's job wasn't to kill the enemy. Just as it wasn't Serpen's job to kill them either.

Serpen's task was to keep them awake and stressed. Rotney's task was to keep them tired.

Those almost-a-hundred losses the enemy had suffered? They'd mostly occurred in the last few hours. The troops at the front stabbing into his zombies were sweaty messes. They were being rotated, of course, but only once an hour or so.

He imagined that those being spears of theirs must be feeling pretty heavy right about now.

It would be so much easier to just not swing as hard, to allow the soldier next to them to do a bit more effort to take care of the monster ahead.

Laziness was the bane of many an army. Rotney knew it, and he counted on it too.

Tonight the army would make camp. They'd post watches, but those same watchmen would be the men who'd spent the entire day fighting an army of the undead that seemed endless.

They weren't going to be given a restful night's sleep. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the road-turned-battlefield. Rotney sighed, then stood up straighter, grabbed the side of his mule-pulled cart, and lifted himself up onto the back of it so that he could see from a slightly better vantage.

Ranks Seventy-Three had pulled back and folded into Rank Seventy-Five. "Seventy-Four, pull back!" he ordered.

This was shifting the tempo of the battle. Rank Seventy-Four had barely been reached by the living army and they were already pulling back.

He waited until his troops had formed a much thicker line than usual. So far they'd been keeping about four ranks going, with a fifth constantly forming from a trickle of undead. Whenever a cultivator deigned to leave the centre of the formation to wipe them out, they'd just reform four more ranks a hundred necrometres away and start it all over.

Now...

"Rank Seventy-Five.... Hold."

The humans were exhausted, and yet they hadn't been ordered to stop for the night just yet. It wouldn't make sense for them to. At the moment, they were at the bottom of a slight dip in the terrain. Their visibility wasn't ideal. But the road rose up just ahead, and from atop that hill they'd be able to see the faint lights of Yu Xiang in the distance and have a commanding view of the area as well. It would be the perfect place to camp out for the night. Had they not been harassed by Rotney, the army would be at the top of that hill already. Trenches dug, latrine pits filling, tents erected before the sun dipped below the horizon.

Now, they were pulling out torches all along the formation to better see the encroaching darkness.

"Yeah, this'll do," Rotney decided. A last hoo-rah before he could finally slink back into the city and say that his part was done. "Rank Seventy-Six... charge!"

A new order, one that hadn't come yet.

The seventy-sixth rank, still a little rag-tag and disorganised, jumped to it. Zombies shambled ahead, the slight incline in the terrain giving them a bit of a boost before they slipped through the Seventy-Fifth rank. By then, they were in an all-out sprint, or as much of a sprint as a zombie could manage.

It was enough. The army saw them coming, barely, and raised spears to skewer the undead, but some slipped past as soldiers struggled to raise heavy spears after a long day of exertion. The Seventy-Sixth rank crashed into the front of the living formation, grinding their slow and constant advance to a halt.

The rows of soldiers behind, unable to see into the dark, ended up bunched together while sergeants and officers shouted for order.

Rotney started to yawn, but this time he held his jaw in place. Oh... he'd forgotten about that arrow lodged in his neck. He tugged it out and tossed it onto the cart.

"Seventy-Seven... retreat," he said simply, and the last rank of his zombies started to shamble away.

The moment his cart crested the hill, he turned and waved ahead. The wave was carried on by a staggered line of wights and ghosts to the city in the distance.

Rotney squinted as the distant crack-choom of trebuchets firing carried out across the empty plains. A boulder larger than he was hummed past overhead then came crashing down. It missed the army by about a hundred necrometres. They were way off.

The next missed by half as much.

The third came crashing down near the front ranks, and soldiers pulled back, screaming.

Yeah, the army wouldn't be resting on the hilltop. Not tonight. In fact, the army wouldn't be resting tonight at all.

***

So far, he and his troops had killed eight enemies.

It would have been a rather pathetic number except for two things.

First, those eight deaths were all ruled to be accidents. The first two were an officer and his second in command. They had died overnight from intestinal issues. The alchemist dragged along on the enemy expedition had discovered the fruit of a poisonous desert plant in their meals.

The next to die was a quartermaster who tripped into a rack of swords. Then an inner disciple whose rival had discovered some of his precious treasures in his tent, obviously stolen. Then one of the few elders in this entire convoy, who choked on a pea.

The next three were done in quick succession. Two men from the officer corp were found dead next to the camp, both smelling of alcohol, both dead to the other's blade as though they'd fought a drunken duel in the night.

And the next morning, the outer disciple in charge of the investigation was found strangled in his room, only hours after suggesting that a particular inner disciple might be to blame.

Cadet Officer Appari might not have racked up the most kills, but he liked to think that his were the most valuable. There was a reason that the higher ups in the army weren't in the front lines from the start, and that was thanks to him.

That was the second reason why the low count wasn't pathetic. The enemy didn't suspect that anyone was to blame for these eight deaths but themselves. They didn't even realise that six of those dead were some of the most competent and intelligent people in their army.

That might change this very night, however.

The sect elders of the Mist Gate, Storm Gate and Wind Gate sects were meeting in a hastily assembled pagoda right in the centre of their new encampment.

This wasn't where they had intended to have their camp--atop a hillside that would have given them a commanding view of Yu Xiang--but was rather a few necrokilometres away from that point. So far, the wider undead army had done a good job of stalling the army's advance and even pushing them back a little.

That was to be one of the topics of discussion as well.

Six elders sat around a low table. There was a seat for a seventh, the member who had passed away, choking on a pea. Two elders for each sect, and a final member from the Jade Throne. This man was the most powerful of the lot, and the only one that Appari actually feared.

"Let us begin," he said. "Mist Gate, tell me about the disposition of the men?"

One of the elders, an older woman in a finely embroidered dress, shifted in her seat. "The disposition is... not the greatest. The mortal army is tired after so many weeks of marching and training. Too little time was given to them to recuperate."

"They should have had time to do so here," another elder said.

"Yes, and yet that will not be the case. The combat on the road--" she paused as two of the elders snorted and sneered, obviously unimpressed by the idea that what their troops had seen so far was actual combat. "--The skirmishing along the route has tired our men more. They need rest."

"Pathetic."

One of the elders from the Storm Gate sect leaned forwards. This was one of those that Appari was most interested in killing, because he tended to be reasonable when the others were not. He was also younger. Not young, of course, he was still an old man by any measure, but he was less of an old man than the other elders. "Let's not measure our brave soldiers with the same staff we'd use to measure our disciples," he said. "They are mortals. We have need of them yet, and that need will be quite complicated if we waste their lives away."

"Do we really need them?" His opposite from the same sect asked. "We can take on the undead ourselves, can we not?"

"We might be able to, yes, but when it comes time to bring law and order to Yu Xiang, would you rather have outer disciples solve every petty crime or would you rather have mortals corralling mortals?" The elder shook his head. "If rest is what they need, then I'd rather give it and not have to wait for reinforcements to arrive from our three gated cities."

That seemed to put the others on the spot, but they quickly acquiesced.

Appari had been listening for some time, and he'd put together that there was much pride on the line here. Calling for additional aid would make these remaining elders seem weak, and not one of them wanted that.

It was why their letters back all spoke of a shining, glorious campaign. Not that those letters ever made it back. This group was cut off from the moment they entered the Steppes. They just didn't know it yet.

"There are other issues," the elder from the Jade Throne said. "The death pall. I can smell the stink of it, even here with our incense burning."

"It is a distracting stench," one elder said. "Perhaps the Wind Gate can assist us? A Thousand Year Wind Cyclone Vortex of lesser power to better circulate the air around the camp?"

One of the elders bowed. "I will see to it that the outer disciples get to work. The stench will be gone soon."

Appari blinked his spectral eyes. Stench? Did they mean the smell left by the undead? It wasn't magical, as far as he knew, just a normal odour that must accompany the dead and undead. Rotting flesh and ripped bowels and such. Mostly it was the zombies. Ghosts were odourless, and skeletal warriors had little that stank about them.

He made note to mention this tactic to the captain. It was maybe something worth exploring. They were, technically, downwind of Yu Xiang, with the undead army between this army and the city itself, so the stink would be hitting the soldiers.

"Tell me of our losses?" the Jade Throne Elder said as he sipped from some tea.

The same elderly woman from Mist Gate nodded. "As you wish. Over the last week of travel, we have lost seventy-seven regular soldiers. Fourteen members of the caravan, and nine disciples."

"That's a large number of disciples to lose," an elder commented.

Another nodded. "The undead are being led. Normal ones would rally against the living like wolves after sheep. Picking off the nearest and weakest. These are smart enough to decide to go after the stronger parts of our army."

"Do we have anything to worry about?" another asked.

"Here? Nonsense. There is nothing the undead have that can threaten us."

Appari was impossibly tempted to spring the trap then and there. The poetic moment would be so tasty, but no, the time wasn't quite right.

"We need to find and eliminate the leader of the undead," the older Storm Gate elder said. "A decisive stroke, and this entire rebellion will fall apart and we can go back to our homes and sects."

"After extracting our just reward," another said.

"Only as much as the throne allows," the Jade Throne elder said with the kind of tone that implied that this wasn't the first time he was reminding them of this. "The Throne will be taking part of the spoils as tax, but the majority will go to you, to be split evenly amongst your sects based on contributions, as discussed. Keep in mind, a minimal amount of loot must be left behind so that enough working people of Yu Xiang do not starve before the next harvest."

So, they intended to pillage the city while they were here? Appari didn't care much either way, but he imagined the Empress might care to know.

"And the necromancer?" the same elder who brought it up repeated. "Should we not focus on them?"

"Their body's weight in gold to the one who brings their head to the throne," the throne elder said. That perked up the others a little.

Appari paused. There was a faint, distant whistle, then the pagoda shook as the ground dropped out from beneath it.

That was as good of a signal as any. "Go," he whispered.

Seven apparitions burst out of the ground, long clawed arms already swinging.

There was motion that happened in the time it would take a man to blink. Swords were drawn, techniques deployed. By the second blink, his seven assassins were ripped apart and deader than they had been.

Two elders slumped to the ground. Appari heard one breathing. So, merely injured.

Oh well. One out of seven wasn't so bad, and his other assassins had launched similar attacks across the camp, aiming at inner disciples. He could hear the shouts and techniques going off still even as he faded away and returned towards the city as so much smoke.

Time to repeat what he'd learned to the Captain and the Empress. He wondered if he'd be deployed again. His unit's kills might have been few, certainly, but he liked to think that they mattered.

***

The Limpet. Empress Limpet--that was still taking some getting used to--stood atop the walls of Yu Xiang and observed her incoming doom.

The army had arrived atop the hills to the south of the city late last night. Her advisor in military matters... and the person in charge of everything military related at the moment, Captain Seventeen had warned her that the enemy wouldn't be attacking during the night. And if they did, then the undead had a clear and powerful advantage.

He was right. The enemy had retreated back and away from the hilltops after being bombarded by their undead trebuchets. A few thundering shots had rang out through the night.

She'd like to blame those for her lack of sleep, but in reality she'd always been a heavy sleeper. The exception was over these past few days, where her nights were filled with tossing and turning and attempts to read herself to sleep.

That had never worked before.

She'd start reading, and get into what she was reading, then by the time she was actually too tired to understand what was on the page, she had to pee, which required getting up and padding over to the washroom. By the time she returned, the act of standing up and walking about had awoken her enough that she wanted to read more, and then the next thing she knew the sun was up.

This was as predictable as it was unavoidable.

It led to moments like these, where she was standing on the walls of a city that was ostensibly hers, watching an entire army unfold itself into a great formation with thousands of soldiers within it, and the entire time all she could think about was going back to bed.

But she could hardly ask for the enemy to come back tomorrow, and it wasn't like she'd be getting any more restful sleep, not until they were all gone.

"Rem, could you get me some tea, please?" she asked over her shoulder.

Rem glared at her. Or that's how Fenfang read the mantis's expression. It wasn't easy to do at the best of times. "Fine. Stupid empress," the butler mantis said before stomping away.

They weren't alone on this section of the wall. There were a couple of under officers from Captain Seventeen's officer corpse, some of the braver members of the city council, and a half dozen of the calmer mantis sisters.

One of them, a scar-covered mantis woman named War, was standing at attention nearby, her gaze scanning over the army laid out in front of them. She was keeping the others in line while Mem was away trying to get her other sisters into position.

"How are you handling things, Apprentice Limpet?" Captain Seventeen said as he walked over. He had switched out his tweed necromancer's uniform for a tweed officer's uniform. It was freshly pressed and adorned with a few subtle medals over his chest and a large tricorn hat stuck through by a few feathers.

"Well enough, I suppose," she said. She gestured closer to the edge of the wall, and he accompanied her there. Then she cast Prestidigitation. The spell created a low hissing noise. Enough to scramble her voice for anyone trying to listen in.

She was sure that her master had spells to keep conversations private, or maybe to create a bubble of where sound wouldn't escape, but she only had a few scant spells to work with and she had to make due.

"Tell me, what are our odds?" she asked.

Looking over the battlefield made things seem... somewhat bleak.

Their forces were arrayed in several box formations out on the fields before Yu Xiang. There were fortifications covering the fields here. Long ditches had been dug out across the hill sides, entire fields had been levelled and hills removed to make the land flatter.

Some farmers were upset, but they'd be more upset if the army ran them through, so Fenfang paid them enough to be quiet about their suffering for the moment.

The battlefield, their side of it at least, was now a maze of ditches. These were twice as deep as she was tall--which really didn't make them that impressive--dug out by tireless undead. The dirt from these was stacked up into low walls behind the ditches themselves.

Now, any enemy force coming to them on foot would have to either find a way to bridge the ditches, or they'd need to jump down into them and climb out of the other side.

The ditchworks were connected together by small tunnels, some too small to allow a grown man to use them, but not so small that a much thinner and more flexible skeleton couldn't use them to ambush and cut off the path of an invader into the tunnels.

There was more. The city's woodworkers had been put to work building ballista and catapults. The city's walls had been reinforced and the long poles of trebuchets on the inner side now poked out over the walls, primed and ready to launch.

"We are prepared to endure a siege," Seventeen said. "Our food reserve for the living should last up to six months. Longer with half rations."

The Limpet nodded. "Will it come to that?"

"I certainly hope so," Seventeen said.

"You do?" she asked.

"Oh yes. We are against a numerically superior foe, with elite units that match or surpass our own elites on an open battlefield. But our army is tireless and requires no food, and every enemy death means one more undead added to our ranks. Every necromancer worth their bowtie knows that siege warfare is one of the stratagems where we can put our greatest advantages to work."

"I guess I see it," she said. "So, all of this will push them to siege?" She gestured to the battlefield-to-be.

"Indeed. The walls of Yu Xiang aren't too impressive, but they are quite thick and well fortified. I am currently having some of our strongest units parade around the inner edge of the battlefield. The enemy cultivators will know that these are a mild threat even to them."

"Why?" she asked. "Wait, no, let me think."

She considered it from a cultivators viewpoint for a moment, then nodded.

"You're trying to play into their self-interest? Their fear of dying?"

"Indeed! Master selects his apprentices well," Seventeen puffed his chest out. It didn't do much. "Warfare is about deception. When you are stronger than your foe, you must appear weaker. When you are weaker, you must appear stronger. We are currently weaker."

"Haven't we killed a number of them already?" she asked.

"We have successfully eliminated approximately two percent of the enemy force so far," he said.

She slumped. That was it? The reports she read painted the constant attacks as super effective actions that were decimating the enemy. Two percent was not decimation! It was... two tenths of a decimation!

She glanced back at the army stretching out below them. A sea of soldiers, their armour glinting in the morning sun, standards flapping in the light breeze. She could almost see the disciplined ranks breathing in unison, a living, cohesive entity ready to crush them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of claws clicking against the stone. Rem returned with a steaming cup of tea hovering before her in the grip of a three-fingered Mage Hand, her expression as sour as ever. She handed it over without a word, and Fenfang accepted it gratefully, feeling the warmth seep into her cold fingers. She stared at the tea. "Rem, where's the tea?"

"In your hands, stupid," Rem snapped.

"This looks like clear water?"

"It's warm, isn't it?"

"We must play a waiting game," Seventeen continued. "The longer they sit out there, the more time we have to strengthen our defences and potentially sway the battle in our favour. Every day we hold out, our position improves, however incrementally."

"And we can attack them by night," she added. "I read the report on last night's assault. It sounds like it went well."

"Indeed. The issue is the testing. Any army of this size led by inexperienced generals will test our defences. We need to repulse the first assault and do so in such a conclusive fashion that they won't dare to try again."

"We need to make them believe that any direct attack on our walls would be their end," Fenfang said, staring out at the army once more. The weight of command pressed heavily on her shoulders, but she straightened, drawing strength from the resolve of those around her.

Seventeen nodded. "Exactly. The initial wave must be met with overwhelming force. We need to break their spirit before it has a chance to solidify. Which is why, Apprentice Limpet, I would like to make a suggestion."

"Go on," she said.

"By my estimates it will be another hour before the enemy is ready to begin their assault. I would like to start a counter-offensive before that time."

"Oh," she said.

Well, that was certainly one way to meet the enemy with overwhelming force. "If you think that's what's best, then you have my go-ahead."

"Fantastic! Let's put the fear of the undead into our foe!"

***

Alex and I were making good time heading north and east. Mostly this was attributable a single spell.

I'd cast a spell early in our travels called Wind Wander. It was a spell of my own devising, though it was heavily inspired by a spell called Wind Walk.

Wind Walk, a transmutation spell of some complexity, allowed a druid to turn themselves and perhaps some willing allies into formless, gaseous entities that could move under their own will. Being druidic magic, however, the spell had some glaring weaknesses. Notably, it required a druid to work.

Being an inferior caster like a druid was, of course, entirely unacceptable.

And so I developed Wind Wander. The spell was quite similar to Wind Walk in many ways, only instead of turning one into a formless mass of wind held together by hopes and dreams and a misunderstanding of magic born from an over-zealous adoration of nature, Wind Wander allowed one to become a windy, ethereal version of themselves capable of travelling great distances with rapid bursts of speed.

It was a preferred method of travelling long distances, second only to any form of teleportation and of course, a brisk morning walk.

The wander part of the name wasn't a misnomer... well, not quite. I did call it that because I wanted to preserve the alliteration, but I also found that travelling from A to B without any detours felt wasteful.

Our travels followed along the banks of a sea whose name I was unfamiliar with. I suspected that some of the changes in the land that I had once been familiar with were due to a fundamental change in the tides.

The sea here was perhaps a little deeper than it might have been back in my day. A necrometre's difference, with a few thousand years of erosion and exploitation, turned a world that ought to have been familiar into one that was distinctly not.

Not that I'd spent any time in our exact location, mind.

"Father," Alex's wispy voice said from right next to me. The maid paused as I did, skirts fluttering out ahead for a moment before Alex grabbed them and wrestled their windy clothes into submission. "I believe we're approaching Opalhorn."

"Oh?" I asked.

Alex nodded, then gestured ahead and to my left. It only took a moment for me to notice what was different.

Out in the sea, not too distant from the coast, was a single square-sailed vessel. A fishing ship, judging by the nets trolling behind it and the small figures onboard.

"Well spotted," I said. "We must indeed, be closer to the city now."

Alex beamed. "How will papa handle this city? Are we going to burn it down?"

"Only if it proves troublesome. I believe we'll use discretion first and violence second."

"Oh, that's good. Burning down a city would be very dirtying."

I grinned a skeleton's grin. "Yes. And it might sully our reputation as well! Oh hoh!"

"I see. Good pun, Father," Alex said.

I nodded and patted Alex on the back. It was nice to have a pun be acknowledged, of course, but half the fun was in seeing someone suffer from having heard it. Positive acknowledgement was... well, it wasn't all that bad, so I'd refrain from complaining.

"Did you happen to learn anything about Opalhorn over these last few weeks?" I asked.

Alex considered it with a tap to the chin. "Not very much. I did listen to a lot of gossip out in the market places I visited, as a good maid does, but while a lot of people spoke about the Flame's Heart sect, not many spoke about Opalhorn itself. The city seems rather distant and isolated."

I nodded along. I'd studied a map of the Jade Empire, of course, and I could safely say that Opalhorn was likely one of the most isolated of the cities in the empire... or it would be, if there wasn't easy access to such a wide expanse of water.

By ship, it was likely possible to reach several northern cities, but the maps painted Opalhorn as being somewhat inland as opposed to right on the coast.

That proved true as Alex and I swept up the side of a hill and reformed from the wind at the top. There was, in fact, a small town by the coast. It was nestled up against a space where the rocky shore naturally gave way to a small beach. Some three dozen homes, a couple of small warehouses, a humble bit of farmland, and several long piers that reached out into the waters where few fishing vessels were moored.

A well-trodden road slipped out of the village and headed eastwards, further inland. There were a few homes along that road, cottages, hunting shacks, a few small farmsteads. It seemed as though the road was a safe-enough route that people had started to live along it.

I imagined that in a century or two, if all went well for Opalhorn, then this little town would become a little city, and this road would grow into a much larger one. But that would depend on whether or not the city would burn.

Humming a jaunty tune, Alex and I made our way down the hillside and eventually came onto the road itself. It wasn't paved, but the road was well-packed and easy to traverse. We even crossed a wagon on our way east.

I, of course, gave the man on the wagon a jaunty wave. He stared, but didn't seem as panicked as some others on seeing an undead. Perhaps it was my suit and bowtie, or Alex's careful, maidly gait? Or perhaps there was something else at play here.

I added a strong tally to the 'something else' field when Alex and I came up another hill and were able to make out the city itself in the distance. By then it was well past midday and the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon.

Opalhorn was, in the grand scheme of things, a rather small city. That was normal, seeing as how it was so far from everything. That didn't bother me. What did, was the city's layout.

It was likely something that wouldn't have been familiar to many people living at the moment, and the layout had... shifted somewhat organically over time. Likely new homes and businesses pushing others aside and the city had expanded past its walls.

The city was surrounded by long wall segments. Not circular walls, as I'd seen in Shitake and Yu Xiang, but straight segments that were layered, a thicker wall on the outside, made of packed earth and carved stoneworks, and a thinner wall just within, close enough that someone athletic might be able to jump from one to the other.

The walls encircled the village, but they also jutted out in thick spikes. I squinted, then tossed up an observational spell, just to confirm my suspicions.

From high above the city, the pattern became a lot clearer. Opalhorn's walls were like a five-pointed star, with several wall segments leaving gaps between them that were plugged further in.

"Interesting," I said.

"Hmm? What's interesting, bone father?" Alex asked.

"The walls are built by our standards," I said. "This could be a garrison fortress that was turned into a city."

"Really? Would a garrison fortress last this long?"

That was a valid question. I suspected that one wouldn't.

This was the kind of construction that I'd found worked best when one had an army of the undead. It required a lot of digging, the laying of many trenches and ditches, as well as the building up of many thick walls and palisades, but a properly sized undead army could construct something like this overnight.

This design allowed those within to make the most of hit and run tactics. The false breaches could lure enemies into the range of particularly powerful undead, and the wide walls allowed some degree of protection from siegeworks and artillery magic.

The undead won wars of attrition, which always put us at a strong advantage when being besieged.

Opalhorn had been designed to my specifications. Its walls, at least. The city was expanding beyond these now, but there seemed to be a gap between the walls and the outer city.

"I can think of a few reasons why a city would be designed this way," I said. "Obviously it's just a decent design, but... I feel a tickle in my bones, dear Alex! I believe a bit of subtlety might serve us well here. Are you ready to play the part of the merchant's maid once more?"

"Oh course, always," Alex said with a curtsy.

"Fantastic! Now, let's go see what's up with Opalhorn."

***

The gates of Opalhorn were defended by an older gentleman with a tight metal cap on his head and a long halberd by his side, the blunt end firmly planted in the ground so that he could use the weapon as a leaning post.

I suspected that he was very nearly asleep. It was mid-day, and the sun was quite warm overhead. A few farmers we had passed closer to the city were taking the opportunity to grab a quick nap in the shade of some trees or on hammocks strung across their porches.

This old guard did start, however, when Alex and I came closer. He stood taller, then adjusted his cap over wispy grey hair. "Ah, hello there," he said as he took us in.

I was disguised, of course. Just a simple older gentleman accompanied by a young maid. Nothing interesting to see. "Hello, sir," Alex replied. "We're travellers to Opalhorn, my master and I. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for us?"

"Oh? Of course, of course," he said before scratching at his chin. "What can I help ya with?"

"We're wondering where the best accommodations in the city might be," Alex said. "And perhaps some additional information, if you don't mind."

"The best place to stay, huh? That ought to depend on how much you're willing to spend. There's a nice inn along the main road, cheap, but the food's filling and they have bunk rooms to spare."

"We are perhaps looking for a more... discerning place," Alex said.

"Ah, in that case, there's a nice place by the centre of the city, just up against the sect's compound. It's called the Seven Levels. It's a large pagoda. You really can't miss it."

"Thank you," Alex said with a small bow. "And who should we ask about the city's history?"

"The city's history?" He shifted. "Well, I don't rightly know about that. Maybe the city council building. They've been running the place since before the sect, even."

"And where might we find that?" Alex asked.

"Far northern end of the city, in one of the arms of the wall. Just look for the graveyard. The council is beneath that."

"The council is under the graveyard?" Alex asked.

"It's not much of a graveyard, that's just what we call it," he said with a shrug. "Just the way it is."

Well well, if that wasn't a hint that something bizarre was going on, then nothing was. I gave the guard a genial smile, and Alex gave him a proper goodbye. We weren't asked to present any papers or anything before being let into the city.

"So, shall we secure our rooms for the night first, or explore this mysterious city council who somehow inhabit the graveyard of all things?" I asked.

Alex hummed with a tap to the chin. "I think the city council would be better. There might be some secrets to uncover that would change how we approach staying in Opalhorn."

"Secrets to uncover... in a graveyard. You could say that the secrets are... buried! Oh hoh!" Alex smiled and nodded along.

It took asking for directions once before we made our way across the city. The locals were all rather kind, and Opalhorn seemed... if not rich, then well-maintained. The roads were clean of any detritus, and the cobbles were well-laid and cared for. A few homes were in need of some minor renovations, but they seemed like the exception rather than the rule.

Even the poorest, smallest home seemed well-made. Either the city prized cheap but quality labour, or something else was at play here. No one seemed especially rich either. The common folk wore cottons and tough woollen clothes, but I noticed no silks or fanciful embroidery.

We slid by a market, and it seemed to be in full swing. A few small stalls sold fruit, but most of the food seemed like an even split between vegetables and fish. Again, nothing luxurious, just simple staple foods. The kinds of things that would keep a population going indefinitely without any major issues.

I noticed a lack of alcohol as well, something that jumped out to me only because I was looking for luxury goods and finding none.

Were the people of Opalhorn puritans, or was something else at play?

Forbidding mind-altering substances was typical in any military encampment I ran, and the more I looked, the more Opanhorn looked like an upjumped fortress turned city. There were proper homes where tents full of undead ought to be, and the centre of the city had clearly morphed into something new over time, but otherwise the bones--heh--were all there.

Eventually, we reached the far northern end of the city, and as the guard had indicated, there was a graveyard tucked into the arms of the walls. This was an area where the protruding walls met at a sharp angle, making for a spot that was likely difficult to split into building lots.

The space should have been, in a proper undead field fortress, a space dedicated to the rising of new undead, a place to cord bodies for temporary storage before a necromancer could see to them, and usually where a laboratory would be placed.

Mostly, the idea for this placement had to do with prevailing winds and the way that this section of walls jutted out. It would mean that the worst of the stench would be carried out and away from the centre of the camp where, on occasion, my armies had been host to living allies who usually had a distinct dislike for the smell of the recently deceased.

The graveyard was... a graveyard. A large open space with several large stone mausoleums. These had the names of families carved above their narrow doorways, each one separated from the next by a small space where wildflowers bloomed.

There were some two hundred mausoleums here, including a few larger ones by the rear. Enough for every family in the city to have one, I imagined. The space was filled.

The city council building, then, couldn't exist in a space that was so thoroughly occupied. Unless it was below, that was.

"Ah," I said as I discovered the entrance.

There was a large circular staircase made of well-tailored stones leading to a stately archway buried into the ground. A sturdy door blocked the entrance, and above it, carved into the stone of the arch, was the name of this place. Opalhorn City Council.

This, too, was familiar.

In times of war, especially against foes with powerful magic backing them, strong beasts, or just plain good siege engineering, it only made sense that the most important locations in a fort be well secured. Often, the easiest way to do that would be to bury them.

A few simple spells to keep the water out, and more to make the earth below and around impervious to simple spells, and you'd have a strong, well-fortified location within a well-fortified fort.

I adjusted my bow-tie. "Well then, Alex, I think it's time we dive into this one."

"Dive?" Alex asked. "Wouldn't a more... ground-based word work better?"

"I considered it, my dear maid, but there's a time for puns and a time for wordplay. And that time is always... you dig?"

Alex's face contorted, only for a moment, into something approaching consternation. Victory!

"Oho! Let's go, Alex," I said, now far more cheerful after springing such a successful trap.

We knocked at the door, but since this seemed like something of a place of commerce, we invited ourselves in. The interior was a spacious but low-ceilinged lobby space, plenty of seating to the side, all unoccupied, a single board with a few announcements pinned to it, and a flat wall at the far end whose only break was a single solid door to one side, and a desk behind an opening made of iron bars.

A bespectacled man sat behind said window, currently with his attention fixed on a small pile of paperwork he was carefully working his way through with the slow patience of the caught-up bureaucrat in no hurry to finish what work they had.

We were also, I immediately sensed, under a thick layer of illusory spells.

In fact, the room was awash with them. Notice-Me-Nots and Not Your Problem spells hung in the air, enough to convince anyone to move along and not make a bother about anything strange they might see or wonder about.

I grinned. "Hello, sir," I said.

"Pick a number," he replied without looking up.

I eyed the man, then tilted my head down to inspect his tie. A fashionable bow-tie, with a few small bones embroidered upon it in almost the same colour as the tie itself. Enough that they were quite difficult to pick out.

"Forgive me, young necromancer, but might I inquire as to who leads the local chapter?"

His head snapped up with a crack like bones clicking in place.

Ah, now I was getting somewhere.

***

The man behind the desk stared at me with narrowing eyes. He spent a long, quiet time scanning my features, though that wasn't all he did. I could sense seeking, curious tendrils of magic coming from the young lad. Not a spell, exactly, but a sense for the arcane refined into something almost physical.

There was a spark of recognition in his eyes, followed by the unmistakable stiffness of someone suddenly alert. His fingers twitched as if ready to reach for something under the desk, but he paused.

"Ah, I see," he replied finally. He rose and bowed slightly, his voice gaining a respectful undertone. "If you'd be so kind as to follow me, sir."

He pushed his chair back with deliberate care, the legs scraping against the stone floor before they settled. It was hard not to notice how he was squaring his shoulders. Alex noticed as well. The maid shifted slightly closer to me, cat ears twitching.

The young necromancer led us to a solid door on the far side of the room which opened with an echoing creak. A bit of dust dislodged itself from the top of it, and Alex sniffed reproachfully. Clearly, the door leading into the business part of this building hadn't been open in some time, which either meant that the necromancers within had another way in and out of the city council, or that they merely never left.

Knowing what I did about necromancers and their... less than extroverted natures, I could well imagine it being the latter.

He gestured to a narrow corridor that stretched out behind the reception space he had occupied. It was lined on one side by drawers and the other wall held a few small torches, all unlit. "Mind the step, sir," he advised as he gestured to a small dip in the floor ahead.

"Thank you, good man," I replied as I took an exaggerated step over the gap. This too, was a good old-fashioned trap I used to employ quite frequently.

With the floor being made of stone tiles, the step was difficult to make out unless one was looking for it. More than one intrepid knight, searching for traps, had lost their footing and subsequently their lives after crashing to the floor.

"I'd hate to take a tumble here," I said. "It would be quite the... grave mistake. Ohoho!"

The necromancer's lips twitched, but he made no comment. Alex, however, stifled a small smile, a hand briefly covering their mouth as they followed me. The corridor twisted and turned, leading us deeper beneath the city. The further we went, the thicker the air became with the unmistakable scent of old earth and lingering magic, a combination I found oddly comforting.

At last, we entered a chamber through a large wrought iron door. It was a circular chamber, not so unlike a council chamber in and of itself.

Rather than many seats, however, this room held standing sarcophagi. There were thirty or so of them, set in a large ring around the centre of the room. One slot was missing, allowing for someone to cross to the centre. A second ring was set behind the first, and a third behind that.

Each sarcophagus was currently occupied. Skeletal figures clad in ancient steel armour. Their empty sockets seemed to follow us as we carefully navigated to the very middle of the room where there was a small step onto a raised dais.

"Hello, everyone," I said before tipping my head down in the semblance of a bow.

"Lord Harold," one of the ancient corpses said. It twitched forwards, detaching itself from the sarcophagus with a shift of dust and a clatter of metal on metal. The man--for I'd long, long since grown used to noticing the slight differences in jaws and hips and such that would indicate a corpse's biological sex--clunked forwards, then fell to one knee.

The next followed, then the next.

"Well well, it seems like you lot have been... dying to see me," I said with a chuckle.

What an interesting find. I recognized these undead. Perhaps not the person, but certainly their type. Death knights.

The swords in their arms and the shields resting at the base of their resting place (hah!) were signs enough to tell that these were no mere skeletal warriors. Moreover, they were not all entirely skeletal. Some had missing limbs replaced by ghostly matter, others still had necrotic flesh clinging to them with tenacity.

To the lay-person, there might not be much difference between these undead and the fodder I used so frequently in my armies.

To an experienced necromancer, the difference was like the sun and moon.

A Death Knight was more than a mere reanimated corpse. They were imbued with enough magic to drown a small town in fireballs. Each knight had as much magic potency as a platoon of ordinary undead.

Better yet, or perhaps worse if they weren't on one's side, Death Knights were lesser spell casters themselves.

In a way, these were my answers to one of the greatest types of ordinary foe I'd had to face in my day. Paladins.

These didn't have the holy, or unholy, abilities of the average paladin, but they had combative magics of their own, the ability to heal themselves, the ability to imbue fear unto their enemies and stand up from nearly nothing.

The figure who'd first moved raised his head and his jaw parted in what might have been a smile. "Your humour remains as sharp as ever."

"I always thought it was a little blunt," I admitted with a chuckle. "Ah, but I don't know if this is a good time to jest. We have much to discuss. I believe introductions are in order?"

The Death Knights exchanged glances in a silent conversation that I wasn't quite part of. He cleared his lack of throat. "My lord, I am Sir Cophagus, leader of this council of Opalhorn. Previously I was the lord knight of the seven hundred and seventy-sixth patrol division of your undead army. Tasked with exploring and guarding this area for future expansion and development."

"Jolly good," I said. "And what have you been doing here? I imagine those orders are quite dated."

He bowed his head. "We have kept to the letter of our orders for millenia, my lord. Even as you rested, and even as other outposts were lost to time and disaster, we stood fast."

That was genuinely quite impressive. I imagined that other such outposts on the continent would have been assaulted by the locals long ago. These kinds of places did hold some things that they'd consider treasures, and Death Knights were certainly a threat.

"You were never discovered?" I asked.

Sir Cophagus shook his head. "We had a detachment of scouts and lesser necromancers with us. They advised me to take the safer, more cautious approach. We accepted some locals into our star fortress and as they grew into a township and now a small city, we continued to advise and counsel them from here. In exchange, we bring peace and prosperity unto the humans and they join us in death."

"I see," I said. "Very well done. I'm legitimately impressed by your subterfuge. However..."

The room tensed. "My lord?" Sir Cophagus asked.

"However, the time for such things has passed. I have an offer for you, good sir. A choice." I raised both hands, illustrating what I meant. "The first is to remain here and keep on keeping on. You may continue to rule Opalhorn from the shadows as you have. Though I would ask that you transfer any taxes from the locals to my own cause, perhaps assist in my apprentice's growth by accepting trade with her little city."

Sir Cophagus nodded. "This is acceptable, my lord," he said. "What of the other option?"

"Join us," I replied. "Put an end to the subterfuge. Raise the levies of the dead and the living. Overthrow the local sect--unless they wish to join in--and march southwards. There's an entire continent out there that really ought to be conquered I think."

The Death Knight trembled. Not in fear. Oh no, this was a proper undead knight whose purpose for existing was warfare and combat, one who had likely been denied the same and drowned in the minutia of logistics for quite a long time. He was trembling with excitement.

"My lord!" He jumped to his feet, and so did all the others in a sudden cacophony of motion and sound that stopped just as suddenly as it started. "We are ready, my lord! What are our orders!"

I grinned. "Well now... let's see about the local sect, yes? I have an inkling that they're not the sorts who'd be friendly to our cause. After that... well, I imagine that by now my dear Limpet must have gotten herself into some bit of trouble. I'm certain she'd appreciate her patron bailing her out. Warlocks are all the same, I think."

***

The conquest of Opalhorn began not with a clash of steel or the roar of spells, but with a quiet acceptance. More of a' 'huh, I guess that makes sense' and perhaps a few 'well, what can you dos?' from the locals.

The people of Opalhorn had long lived under... or over, the shadowy guidance of their unseen undead rulers. I suspect that while the council being made up of necromancers and Death Knights wasn't common knowledge, it was also not exactly the best kept of secrets.

Things like that had a tendency to live in rumour and whispers, stories passed on from one curious child to another and from one old person's retelling into the next generation's rumour mill.

So, the city didn't devolve into full-fledged panic as a cadre of Death Knights and an army of lesser Death Squires marched out of the city council chambers in the northern graveyard.

A few undead were left behind. A single Death Knight, long injured and now more proficient with pen than the sword, a few undead bureaucrats, and a small group of skeletal servants and ghostly apparitions that would rather stay close to their resting place.

The rest moved out in orderly rows.

These were the parents, grandparents, and great grandparents of the citizens of Opalhorn, some stretching back many more generations. They might have been far less recognizable as an army of the undead, but some familiarity remained.

The roads were lined with locals quietly watching the processions march through the town, and I was amused to see some of the dead waving at family members.

From the perspective of a local of Opalhorn, today must have been a strange day indeed.

Fortunately, this army wasn't here to pillage and plunder. Sir Cophagus and his council emerged from the depths of their ancient chambers, the city's leadersвЂ"those who had been carefully groomed by the undead over centuriesвЂ"bowed low, their deference a silent testament to the power that had always lain just beneath the surface.

The common folk whispered among themselves, but there was no fear in their voices. The undead had been their protectors, their silent guardians in times of strife. The revelation that their protectors were not of the living but of the dead seemed to matter little. After all, hadn't the city flourished under their guidance? Hadn't the roads been safe, the harvests plentiful?

At least, I'd hope that people wouldn't cause a fuss, a hope that I'd never seen realized.

Some of the locals were barely local at all. First-generation immigrants from other parts of the Empire, without the cultural backing to understand that this was all a little strange but rather innocent. Merchants from elsewhere packed up their goods in a hurry and skedaddled, and then there was the reaction from the sect.

The bells of the Flame's Heart sect began to toll a warning, deep chimes echoing across the city. I turned my attention up and to the large pagoda tower that dominated the centre of the city.

"Shall we pay them a visit, father?" Alex asked. "Before they cause any trouble?"

I grinned. "I suppose it's warranted. Sir Cophagus, what do you think?"

Sir Cophagus, who had been guiding his undead companions through the city, turned to face me. He adjusted the great helm that rattled a little atop his head. "The sect has always been a thorne in our side," he said. "They have power, but it's granted to them either through the force of their arms or by the will of their distant emperor. We've put up with them because to not do so would risk the legitimacy of Opalhorn, but they have little respect for the city council."

"Ah, a troublesome lot, then?" I asked.

"You can say that," he replied. "They take perfectly good, hard-working citizens and turn them into mind-addled fools hooked to power they barely comprehend with no respect for tradition."

I nodded along. "Quite terrible. Well, no need to let them linger here. If we won't be in Opalhorn to watch over them then we might as well be rid of the lot of them!"

The bells continued to toll as we wandered over to the pavilion. Clearly the cultivators there had noticed the small army marching their way already if they were sounding the alarm, so I wasn't surprised that we arrived at the gates surrounding the building to find a group of them waiting for us.

They were clad in the sect's traditional robes. Red, with flaming patterns embroidered into the silk. They had burning hearts sewn over their chests and many of them carried long poles with lanterns fixed onto the ends where others might have had spearheads.

At their head was a white-haired man, wiry and thin and sharp-eyed. He didn't hold any weapons, but the air around him shimmered in a heat haze of barely contained spiritual energy.

"You dare march into our city!" the sect leader shouted. "The Flame's Heart will not allow this insult!"

"Insult? Because we're out here taking a leisurely stroll? A calming mid-afternoon walk?"

The sect leader's eyes narrowed, and he began to channel his spiritual energy, the air around him growing hot as flames began to flicker into existence around his hands. I could feel the intensity of his cultivation, the deep reservoir of power he had built up over decades.

But it was just that. Power built over mere decades.

Sir Cophagus shifted, a hand resting on the pommel of his ancient sword. Here was a man, dead as he might be, who'd been alive for millenia. "Shall I handle this, my lord?" he asked.

"Hmm, no need. Let's see what kind of heat they can muster?"

The sect leader's hands blazed with fire, and he thrust them forward, sending a wave of scorching heat towards us. The other cultivators followed suit, launching fireballs and streams of flame that lit up the courtyard like a midsummer's bonfire.

I watched the display with mild interest. It was a decent effort, the kind that might have sent a lesser force running. But against the undead, it was little more than a light show.

"Oh, you've forgotten," I said, raising a hand as I gathered a dense cloud of necrotic energy. "Fire may burn bright, but it is easily snuffed out."

With a flick of my wrist, I unleashed the necrotic energy, a roiling cloud of darkness that swept through the courtyard, devouring the flames and leaving the air cold and still. The spell was Hunger of Harold, a slight modification of a spell created by a bit of a star of a mage known as Hadar. Dark tendrils burst from the ground, beating the cultivators back.

The sect leader's eyes widened in shock as his flames were extinguished with barely any effort. He took a step back, clearly realising the futility of his resistance.

"Your power is impressive, but limited," I said, my voice echoing through the now-silent courtyard. "And so is your influence. The Flame's Heart is extinguished. Opalhorn belongs to us."

The remaining cultivators, seeing their leader's defeat, hesitated only a moment before they began to retreat. Some fled back into the pagoda, while others took to the streets, their confidence shattered.

"Sir Cophagus?" I asked.

"Yes, my lord?" he replied.

"See to it that the pagoda is secured. I think we'll be putting an end to this sect's influence over your fine city."

He bowed deeply. "As you command, my lord."

Death Knights were impressively powerful warriors at the best of times. Against fledgling cultivators whose tricks mostly relied on lighting things on fire... well, it wasn't much of a contest. Alex and I continued our walk through the city, heading towards the southern walls while Death Knights roamed the city as black blurs seeking out any traces of the Flame's Heart sect.

Surprisingly, the sect proved very flammable.

It was a little disappointing, but this was how a coup had to work if it was to succeed. Of course, their treasures would be preserved. I trusted the Death Knights to have that much common sense. We were entering a new period of governance, which would mean a tightening of belts for a short period while things were set back up.

It would be an easy transition for Opalhorn which was already ruled by the undead. Now it was merely more obvious than it had once been.

With the last of the resistance in Opalhorn crumbling, the city was firmly under our control. The Flame's Heart sect was broken, their influence over the city reduced to ashes. Now, with the city secured, my thoughts turned to the southвЂ"to the Limpet, my wayward apprentice.

"Alex," I said, turning to my ever-faithful companion. "We march at dawn."

Alex smiled, their cat ears twitching in excitement. "The south won't know what hit them."

And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Opalhorn settled into its new role as the heart of an undead empire. The conquest had been... mostly bloodless, the transition smoothвЂ"but the true test lay ahead, in the lands to the south, where war and glory and the Limpet awaited.

***

Whoever had ever told her that war was glorious was a big fat liar.

Actually, now that she thought about it, it was unlikely that anyone had ever actually said that to her directly, but she was certain she'd read it somewhere.

She was back on the wall, which was impressive. It meant that they still had a wall to be back on.

The wall was currently pitted with holes and massive dents. One of the towers had crumpled like a stack of books being shoved over, and even now there was a small fire raging within Yu Xiang that the locals were working to cover in sand and their precious water.

Fortunately, it was mostly contained to one of the residential areas. She wasn't sure what she'd do if the fire had been in the artisan quarters.

Wait, no, this was worse because people lived there. It was just hard to think that way when arrows were currently worth as much as civilians. Fenfang rubbed at her face until a press on her shoulder reminded her that she wasn't alone. "Thanks, Mem," she said.

"Mem thinks you're doing very goodly," Mem said.

"Mhm. Thanks Mem," she said. At least she had one friend around here. Even if that friend was a giant mantis woman of questionable intelligence, she was at least loyal.

The Battle of Yu Xiang, which was what she was going to name this in her auto-biography (assuming she lived long enough to write one) was going... well, it was going. She'd make sure to skip some of the less entertaining parts in that biography.

The ditches and long trenches dug in front of the city had collapsed in a few areas, but Seventeen and his cadet-officers had undead redigging them at the moment. Some siegeworks from the enemy remained scattered on the field as well, broken and discarded after their last advance had failed.

The first major battle had taken place the morning prior, and it had been a bloodbath.

First, the enemy marched up to the ridge and reformed their lines. That had taken a surprisingly long time, but they did so right on the outer edge of where her own army could reach with bows and ballista. The trebuchets in the city could fling rocks that far without issue, but the rate of fire wasn't all that great, and the enemy had cultivators.

Cultivators were more than capable of knocking a rock out of the air if they wanted to, and that's what they ended up doing.

Then the lines advanced.

She'd been on the wall then, chewing her nails into nubs as she watched row after row of troops marching to kill her. If they weren't under siege, she might have considered a speedy escape, but since that wasn't an option...

She had stood resolute, far enough from anyone important so that they couldn't see the way her knees were knocking together.

Then the first set of traps was sprung, and the battle turned messy.

It was impossible for her to follow everything while it was going on, even though each move on the battlefield did look like it was taking ages to occur from way back on the walls.

First, a false tunnel was collapsed under the feet of the frontmost line of enemy troops. It created a small ditch that they tripped into, one lined with jagged rocks and filled with a few scrambling undead.

The entire battleline juttered to a stop, and even from the wall she could hear sergeants screaming for order.

Then their undead had rushed out over their first wall and across the battlefield. They were intercepted, of course. Thousands of arrows rained down on the charge and the enemy cultivators unleashed dangerous techniques to wipe the charge out. Some of it still reached though, and they carved a dent into the enemy formation.

After that, the enemy pulled back and tried again.

This time, they approached in large rectangles. A few cultivators stationed with each formation to deter the rocks still being flung at them. This formation did better, crossing the field and reaching their first palisade wall.

The wall had gaps.

Fenfang hadn't been sure why Seventeen had left those, but she assumed the undead knew what he was doing, and it seemed like he did, because behind those gaps were a maze of walled off passages that split the enemy apart and pushed some deeper into their side and others away from any allies that could assist them.

The battle started anew, this time fought in much tighter quarters where the undead weren't going to be picked off by arrows from afar and where the long spears the enemy carried weren't nearly as useful.

Behind the first line of trenches and short palisade walls was another open space, then a second set.

The soldiers that eventually made it through tried to regroup in that open space, but they were prime targets for the undead archers who had moved back.

Fenfang wasn't sure where Seventeen had acquired explosives, but he had, and they were going off with regularity within the defences even as more soldiers were being pushed into the meat grinder.

The next row of defences were mostly made up of ditches with platforms and short towers above them and walls of dirt. Crossing these was basically impossible. The ditches were three times as deep as she was tall, and they crawled with undead at the bottom.

And so the army had pulled back for the moment to prepare.

She was reluctantly impressed by how quickly they took apart their first set of walls and built temporary bridges and ladders to cross the ditches, all while being pelted with arrows and stones larger than a grown man.

Her impressedness wore thin when the army pushed to try and cross the second line of defence.

The bridges weren't very sturdy. Any sort of ghostly undead could take them down from below, pitching the soldiers on the improvised siegeworks into the ditch where they never returned.

It was about this time that some cultivators decided to forge ahead. They could leap over the ditches without issue and they charged to strike at the large packs of undead archers arrayed before their final lines of defence.

Which was about when Seventeen sprung another trap. The mantis sisters.

The cultivators were not prepared to have to face dozens of ravenous, kill-hungry mantises that jumped off the walls of Yu Xiang, spread their surprisingly large wings, and came gliding down onto their formations scythe-arms first.

It was, almost a massacre. It would have been perfect if it had been one, but some more senior cultivators showed up, smacked some of the weaker sisters around, and rallied the rest into a fighting retreat just before some of their larger undead abominations reached them.

The cultivators retreating signalled the same for the rest of the soldiers, and there was a mass exodus as men hightailed it back to the ridge, encouraged by volleys of arrows and a few scampering undead who chased the stranglers down.

The battle ended with a field covered in corpses.

It seemed very impressive, and she noted that the people from the city watching it had been proud of the defence.

Seventeen was less so.

He confided in her that it hadn't been nearly enough. They'd barely decimated the enemy, and had lost a third of their weaker undead to do that. As it turned out, the average undead wasn't impressive compared to the average soldier, and even with proper defensive structures giving them a massive advantage, that disparity in strength was quite difficult to overcome.

Fortunately, the decimated enemy had left them with heaps of spare parts. By the time the sun rose again the next morning, their undead army was back to the same numbers it had had the day before, with an additional contingent of undead zombies in the enemy's colours stationed right at the front.

The enemy returned with better siege equipment. They set up their own ballista and catapults, mobile towers, and long bridges with cart wheels on the sides. They were ready this time.

The Second Battle of Yu Xiang was underway even now, and Fenfang was very much worried that she'd become a historical footnote.

Maybe they'd call her the 'week long empress?'

Wait, no, she'd need to last a couple more days for that. Damn.

Things were a little bit dire. Moreso because the enemy wasn't turning tail and running. She suspected that Seventeen was the blame for that. The constant whittling of the enemy's forces on the road, the attacks, had basically told them that if they ran, they'd be hounded the whole time.

Now the soldiers down below knew that they'd either win here, or die trying, and it was really giving them a lot of extra pep.

She looked at her nails, searching for something to chew on, but she found nothing.

"Master... where are you?"

***

Things went from not so great to definitely worse the moment the cultivators leading the enemy army remembered where they were from.

Fenfang was almost ready to start chewing on her knuckles when a rain started from nowhere.

This was the far eastern reach of the Flaming Steppes. It didn't rain here. Not outside of a few seasons every year, and even then, when it rained it was supposed to come down in massive storms from the south.

This rain was a light pitter-patter. Something she would have expected in a more temperate part of the Empire. A quick cast of Detect Magic was enough to let her know that it wasn't natural. She didn't have her Master's ability to tell what kind of spell was cast by the glint of a raindrop in the air, but she knew enough to tell that there was something magical creating this rain.

And then the reason for it became clear, and she was glad for the rain. It hid her desperate tears well.

The ditches that Seventeen had painstakingly laid out as fortifications outside of the city weren't designed to last more than a season. They were definitely not meant to endure any amount of rainfall.

The undead were soon splashing around in ankle-deep water. Not enough to truly slow them down, but it was going to turn into mud and she could already see some parts of the ditch walls threatening to sag as the first hours of constant rainfall continued.

They weren't done, either.

The army pulled up to the first set of exterior walls, then simply... occupied them. A few cultivators sat on the walls and shot down any approaching artillery from their trebuchets, and the army itself gathered into tight formations covered by the wall.

She was starting to wonder what they were up to when a misty fog rolled in. It slowly crept down the hillside towards the valley next to Yu Xiang. Everything it covered disappeared under a thin white veil.

The undead army continued to fling rocks over and at the wall, but Seventeen called a halt and pulled all of the bow-skeletons back to the wall. By the time they'd climbed up, they had mud up to their hip bones.

The undead below were in a worse state. The ground was getting trampled as they moved around, sloshing mud about. Most of the undead didn't have boots on, and their skeletal feet tended to sink into the mud. The undead didn't normally weigh much, but theirs were armed and armoured, and they weren't buoyant.

The army's next push came suddenly. The wall collapsed explosively in a few places, and soldiers rushed through the gaps.

Makeshift bridges were laid out over the ditches, and the undead below could barely react as they were stuck in the mud and muck. The fog rolled forwards as well, somehow hanging above the army without hiding their own feet.

Seventeen barked orders and the undead army shifted and moved. It was quick, the orders were sensible, and they took a hefty toll on the enemy soldiers. But it wasn't enough to stop the full brunt of the push.

The mantises were ordered forwards, and they leapt off the wall and into the fog. She couldn't see how well they were doing, but the surprised screams of men below suggested that the fog turned them into true nightmares to fight.

Still, now they couldn't help each other as readily and they couldn't pick off cultivators.

Seventeen relayed another order, a final one. The ground shook and the air trembled as massive, hulking undead were let loose for the first time since the war began. These were the same massive monsters that had done so much in the battle that let her conquer Yu Xiang to begin with.

They were the equal to an entire platoon of enemies, and could lay waste to lesser cultivators with impunity... if they could find them.

The undead charged forwards and their roars were swallowed by the thickening fog.

Sometimes a cultivator went down. It was obvious by the way the fog cleared in some spaces. That allowed the archers on the wall to fire down with greater accuracy, but the gaps were quickly covered.

"Ma'am," Seventeen said. "It seems as though we may be losing."

"I see that," she said.

"We will have to retreat into the city and invite the enemy within. The streets will give us many avenues, heh, to attack from different angles. And we have a multitude of traps waiting for the adversary to run into." Seventeen adjusted his tie. "We will bleed them for every street they take."

She understood, logically, that the battle wasn't lost until one side was wiped out or the other surrendered. The undead didn't have as many worries about morale as the human army. They'd fight to the last.

She wasn't sure if she'd be the last, however.

"Mem thinks it's time to go? Mem's sisters are having lots of fun, but Mem thinks maybe we won't have as much if we stay up here," Mem said with a wiggle of her scythe arms.

She had a point, Fenfang conceded. "Alright, let's--"

A man landed on the parapet a few necrometres away, then two more appeared next to him. They wore the silky blue robes of Mist Gate cultivators, and the air around them swirled with foggy condensation.

"There you are, heathen," the oldest among them said.

She raised a hand and cast. It came out faster than she'd ever managed it during her practice. First, a quick "Prestidigitation!"

The air between them filled with crackles and sparks, electric snaps that flew towards the cultivators. All three disappeared and reappeared on the wall, avoiding the illusion entirely.

"Eldritch Blast!" she shouted next even as she split her focus three ways.

Three jagged bolts of necrotic-feeling energy zipped out towards the cultivators.

Two sidestepped them with ease. The third lanced into one of the younger cultivator's arms and he hissed.

"Kill her!" their leader snapped before he rushed forwards.

Seventeen stepped up to intercept, but he was just one lone skeleton. The cultivator he faced tried to bat him aside only for his attack to meet a hastily cast shield. Then Seventeen was up close and personal, casting necrotic spells faster than Fenfang could think of their names.

The other was coming right for her.

Mem sliced the air, but the cultivator ducked under her cut, then bounced up, only gaining speed as she shot towards her.

She raised her arms to protect her face, the last thing she saw was a glowing knife being levelled at her heart before her eye squeezed shut.

It stabbed her with a dull gong.

Only... she didn't feel any pain. And on further consideration, she was pretty sure stabbing didn't make gonging noises.

Fenfang carefully opened her eyes to discover a wall of steel held just before her. An arm, fitted through well-tended leather straps, was holding that wall in place. A shield?

She looked up, and into the helmeted face of a knight. A proper knight, one who wore shining armour that was resplendent and glowing. The constant rain washed over polished steel that reflected the cold grey of the skies above.

"Pardon me, young Empress," the knight said with a voice that could have enraptured a crowd by reading a dictionary. "But it seems as though these men have ill-intent towards you."

"Um," she managed to articulate.

Fenfang fell back a little, coincidentally pressing her back into his chestpiece. He was quite tall, she noted.

Another knight stepped around them, then immediately engaged with the cultivator that had almost killed her. In moments, he was fending off both the older cultivator, and the one she'd managed to injure slightly while Seventeen held his own.

She twisted around, then looked down the side of the wall and immediately noted two things.

First, there was a large portal open next to the gate into the city, one from which a small army of undead were pouring. These undead wore uniforms, and were all armed identically.

More impressively, there were several more knights down below, as well as some tall undead in... butler's uniforms? Oftentimes those uniforms had armoured segments to them, as though they couldn't decide what to wear.

These undead moved with grace and finality. They immediately reminded her of Alex, though they didn't quite attack with the same level of acrobaticness and instead relied on brute strength and was looked like devastatingly overpowered necromantic spells.

The tides were turning, hard.

"Who... who are you?" she asked her saviour.

It didn't go amiss to her that this was very much a scene out of some of her more... interesting and romantic reads.

The knight stood tall, then removed his helmet.

She expected long, luxurious hair and a handsome chin.

Instead she received melted flesh and bald spots. "I am Sir Cophagus, my lady, Death Butler. At your service."

***

I was eyeing the battlefield when I heard a familiar voice call out to me. "Master!"

Turning, I found myself bracing for an impact that never arrived as the Limpet charged my way. She managed to stop herself before colliding into me, fortunately. I did note that she was wearing sensible shoes beneath the hem of her skirt. "Ah, hello, Limpet," I said. "Fine morning, isn't it?"

Behind me was an army in rout. Or perhaps it would be safer to say that it was an army in rout-e to an early grave! I kept my chuckles bottled in for the moment as I took in the scene.

Our arrival seemed to have been quite well-timed. The little army pushing towards Yu Xiang was now caught between the walls of the city which they had failed to breach and the army that was still marching through the portal I'd left open behind them. A second, more discreet portal had allowed myself and a few death butlers, as well as Alex, access to the city's walls.

The cultivator army below was trying to rally to defend themselves, but there was little hope for them. Certainly, a well-armed and trained soldier could take on a number of undead all on their own, but their numerical advantage was squeezing tighter with every stomping undead boot that marched out of the portal.

In warfare, both traditional and wizardly, positioning was often one of the greatest determining factors in deciding who would make it home alive. In this case, I don't think they could have picked a worse position around here, unless they deliberately chose to fight in that swamp made from the refuse leaving Yu Xiang.

The cultivators below were trying to escape, abandoning their lower-levelled soldiers to their fates.

Trying being the operative term there, because Sir Cophagus' fellow Death Butlers had several centuries of pent up frustration to work out and these cultivators were proving to be adequate punching bags.

Necrotic spells were being flung as though mana was cheaper than salt water in the ocean. The average Death Butler knew a few handy spells, of course. Necrotic Smite, Lesser Curse Terrain, Death Knells, Desecrate... oh, was that a Excruciation Deformation I saw? Poor former-cultivator, that was a painful way to go. It was a great way to demoralise, however.

A Screaming Flames lit up the air with both fire and noise, beating back the fog in a large area and ensuring that everyone around knew that things weren't working out so well for our antagonistic guests.

I returned my focus on the Limpet, who was staring up at me with eyes that practically glowed with the reflection of the burning men below. "Master?" she asked. "I, uh, we were invaded."

"I noticed," I replied. "It seems as if my arrival was fortuitous."

She winced. "I think we were about to have to deal with this whole thing in the city itself, which wouldn't be, ah, good."

"No, I imagine it wouldn't be. Morale tends to suffer when soldiers barge into homes and sack a city. On the other hand, morale tends to improve considerably post-victory. Ah, which reminds me." I turned towards the knightly figure walking up behind the Limpet. Sir Coughagus bowed. "Might I impose on you to ask your compatriots to perhaps tone down their enthusiasm a little?"

Someone's arm flew out above us and came tumbling back down on the far side of the wall.

"I believe we'll need as many intact bodies as we can obtain if we're to secure our holdings in the Flaming Steps."

"Yes, my lord," Sir Coughagus said. He bowed once more, then stepped off the side of the wall and into the battlefield below. I trusted that he would communicate what needed to be communicated in time.

"It's good to see you again, Master," the Limpet said, much the way I'd expect a limpet to say it. That is, she sounded like a dog whose master had returned for a short jaunt out of their line of sight. "A lot has been happening."

"I can see that. I imagine that there's even more that isn't so terribly obvious."

"Ah, yes," she said. "Mem told me some of what happened out west, but it was... Mem who communicated it, so I'm not entirely sure I trust it all. Alex wrote me a fine letter explaining things, but that also left some gaps."

"We can go over my own adventures soon enough," I said. "Tell me, have things been productive here?"

She blinked big eyes behind her spectacles, then nodded. "Yup. Very, ah, productive. I think I've settled things with the city very well, Master."

"Oh? That's impressive." It was, genuinely. It was one thing to blunt the offensive of an army, it was a whole other kind of ordeal to handle civil servants. "How did you manage that, I wonder?" Did she had some heretofore unnoticed ability to handle that sort of person? Had her charisma grown while I wasn't around?"

The Limpet looked to the side, no longer meeting my sockets. She mumbled something.

"Hmm? What was that?" I asked.

"I may have declared myself Empress," she said.

"Ah," I said. "You are aware that that is wrong."

She winced. "I'm sorry!"

"Being emperor or empress implies that your rule extends beyond a single city. In fact, it implies ownership and control over multiple countries. At best you're a queen."

"Oh," the Limpet said. "Should I change the title, then? We already sent out letters about it across the city. A retraction now might make me look silly, though I guess now would be the best time for that. Um, you approve of my choice?"

"Dear Limpet, you could not imagine how little I care," I said. "Have you been practising your magic?"

"I have!" she hastened to say. "Every day. I've taken detailed notes as well, and Seventeen has coached me when he had the time to spare. I think I'm improving, though I'm not sure if my rate of improvement is good or not."

"I'll be the judge of that," I said. "Though later. Let's first see about organising all of these fresh supplies." I gestured to the armies clashing below. The tide had definitely turned now.

The Limpet looked at the battlefield, went a little green, then swallowed past her revulsion and looked back up to me. "I'm happy you're back, Master. Um, but what's our next step?"

"Why, if you're going to call yourself an empress we might as well make it real. I suspect that it's exactly the kind of thing you need to properly advance as a warlock."

"Huh?" she asked.

"It's one of those rather disgusting charisma-based classes. Were you a fighter I'd have you bash a sword against some enemies of greater and greater power. Were you bard, I'd have you put on shows and plays and possibly encourage you to seduce the local nobility or perhaps the nearest monster of some power. Were you a barbarian... I'd dispose of you quietly. Each class demands a certain approach to improve themselves."

"I think I'm following," she said.

"Good. A warlock is a charisma class. What do you think that means?"

She blinked while considering it. "It's a class that improves by being charismatic?"

"Not quite," I said. "Unlike a wizard who grows with knowledge, warlocks grow by doing their master's bidding, but also by becoming more influential. A wizard might quest for more esoteric knowledge in order to fuel their growth, but a warlock will quest for power itself, whether magical or political."

"Ah! I get it. So being an empress is good for me?"

"It's exactly the kind of narcissistic, self-loving thing I'd expect from a warlock."

She looked flummoxed for a moment. "That didn't sound very complimentary," she said.

"So your comprehension skills still function, then," I noted. I turned back to the battlefield, dismissing her confusion. "Compliments are for those who need them. I suspect you'll get plenty from sycophants and the like in the coming days."

"I don't know if those will matter to me as much as Master's compliments," she said.

That... made me feel a little strange, so I squashed the feeling. "You'll have to start acting like an empress. See to it that the city is ready to recover from all of this."

"It actually didn't hurt the city that much," the Limpet said.

"Yes, but the people of the city won't be under that impression, so it's a good time to capitalise before they start complaining once more."

"Oh! Master is smart when it comes to dealing with people, huh?"

"Your Master has had to do it for far too long. If there's truly one thing that led me down a morally... utilitarian path, it's having to deal with idiots. Now you get to experience that joy all for yourself."

"I feel like I've just been handed a punishment."

Oh yes, she'd come to rue the day, I was certain.

***

The Jade Throne was an edifice that seared itself into the memory and souls of anyone who laid eyes upon it. Just being near it had sent men to their knees, praying for repentance, it made the injured stand tall, it made the just feel the glory of the empire in their hearts.

Many a cultivator had had a great revelation, unlocking more of their potential just by seeing the Jade Throne.

Of course, the throne wasn't so easy to see. It was deep within the palace, within a grand hall guarded at all times by cultivators at the heavenly stage and a myriad of servants who were themselves fifth step cultivators.

The palace was the gem of the Jade Empire. The Throne was the glinting lustre of that gem, something ephemeral made real, made solid.

At the moment, the Emperor himself was seated upon the throne with one leg hooked over one of the arms of the grand edifice. Next to him was a large board with alternating squares of black and white upon which small stones of the same alternating colours sat.

He reached over, the pooling sleeves of his robes shifting with the motion, and with a light touch, he picked one such stone and moved it forwards with a faint click.

"Hmm," his opponent said. He was an elderly-seeming man, though he was no less muscular and fit for all that he appeared aged and sagely with his long beard and flowing robes. The older man sat upon a cushion that hovered a handspan over the floor, so as to not risk any impertinence by touching the throne's edge. "Good move," he muttered.

In the far end of the room, a very pretty young lady strummed a complex stringed instrument, filling the hall with a lilting melody that calmed and bathed the listeners in an aura of peace.

The sage chuckled, then moved a piece of his own.

The Emperor tsked, then shifted in the Jade Throne to better see the board's state. "Wise old man," he muttered. It was both an insult and a compliment, delivered with simple affection.

"One is a perk of the other," the sage replied.

"Oh? So being wise is a perk of being old, that much I can understand, but how is being old a perk of being wise?" the Emperor asked.

"Ah, but you see, without wisdom, one does not live to be old."

The Emperor considered the words for some time. Then he made a move, and the game continued.

A man stepped into the grand hall and immediately dropped to his knees and pressed his head against the floor. After a breath, he stood, took a small pair of shuffling steps forwards, then dropped down once more.

Again and again he did this until he had successfully crossed the entire room. One hundred kowtows from the entrance to the foot of the throne. "Yes?" the Emperor asked after the man had remained with his forehead pressed to the ground for some minutes. Enough time for the Emperor to consider a move and place a stone.

"My liege, lord emperor most high of the Jade Throne, master of the Empire of the East ,West, South and North--"

"You have news?" the Emperor asked, interrupting what would be a litany of titles that could last well into the night. "Deliver it, and be done with the formality."

The man who had entered bowed at the waist, his hands folding together by his chest. This was a man adorned in silks and bedecked in subtle but fine jewels, each enchanted and glimmering with potential. In any other place, he would seem to be a king, or the opulent grandmaster of a sect. Here he was the humble messenger to the Emperor. The cut of his robes and the set of shoulders hinted that his news was ill, however.

"My lord Emperor," the man said. "As you wish it, so shall it be. I do indeed have news, most astute one."

"Go on then, deliver it," the Emperor said.

"Dire news from the Flaming Steppes, my lord," the messenger said.

"That blighted wasteland?" he asked. "Barely worth more than the Badlands to the south east."

"Indeed, wise Emperor. But the ill-tidings come nonetheless. An alliance of sects was formed to defeat an upstart necromancer that has befouled your majestic empire."

"Ah, yes, I remember that," the Emperor said. He perked up as a lithe young lady swept into the room from behind the throne. She bowed with every step, but kept the platter of fresh fruit and fresher cuts of fine meat even all the same. The Emperor plucked one of these from the tray and tasted it.

Seeing that he was allowed to go on, the messenger continued. "Indeed, my lord. The Five Gate Sects of the Fragrant Plains formed an alliance of their newest, unblooded disciples and sent them to quell this insurrection in the Steppes."

"And they've failed, I take it?"

The Messenger bowed. "Indeed. Forgive this one for bearing such ill news, my lord, but only one cultivator, bloodied and harried from the voyage made it back."

"A coward who ran?" the emperor asked. "Off with his head, then."

The sage across from the board cleared his throat.

The emperor rolled his imperial eyeballs. "Was he ordered to deliver this dire news?"

"Indeed, my lord, but if you wish it..."

"No, he may keep his head upon his shoulders," the Emperor said with a dismissive wave. "What is the cause of this defeat? We hardly sent our best, but there were some potential talents in that lot, no?"

"Indeed," the messenger said. At this point, the word 'indeed' had lost all meaning to him. "They crossed the steppes, encountering little assistance from the locals, and many perils. There are tales of undead ambushes and clever tricks of necromantic magic assailing the advance. Upon reaching the lost city of Yu Xiang, they encountered a great host of undead as well as the necromancer herself."

"Herself?" the emperor asked, perking up.

"Indeed. My lord... she has claimed the title of Empress for herself."

The Emperor paused, then barked out an incredulous laugh. "Truly? Empress of what? Dust and bones?"

The sage chuckled, the messenger laughed, and even the serving woman smiled demurely at the Emperor's mirth.

"Wasn't there a sect in the region... in that very city?" he asked.

"The Hungering Inferno sect, lesser as they were, was snuffed out, my lord."

"Ah," the emperor said. "Then the Ashen Forest sect?"

The messanger swallowed. "Have allied themselves to this Empress."

"The Lava Fist?" the Emperor asked.

"Have declared themselves... neutral in this matter."

"The Flame's Heart Sect?" the Emperor asked next. "Certainly they remain loyal."

"My lord, we have received no communications from them. Moreover, it seems as though the mantises of the mountains that once served the Emperor have allied themselves with this upstart empress as well."

The Emperor slowly moved a leg off the arm of the Jade Throne. "Tell me... what are the chances of an upstart creating a successful enterprise such as this in our glorious Immortal Empire of the Five Paths?"

"None, my lord."

"And yet..." He frowned. "Where is that man, the one we were warned of? This Harold the Necromancer?"

"He was last sighted entering the Flaming Steppes, my lord," the sage said.

"I see. It seems as though I will have to discuss a few matters with the heavenly pantheon," the Emperor said.

"My lord, what of this upstart?"

He sniffed. "Let her reap what she has sown. There is nothing in the steppes but dust. She can eat that while I'm otherwise occupied. We will be rid of her soon enough otherwise. Form a great host, take some disciples of every sect as a sign of loyalty, and station them across the valleys entering the Steppes. Nothing will exit there without facing the steel of our empire!"

***