Ogre Tyrant

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 37 - Issues with anger - Part Two

Throwing one barrel after another from atop the roof of the cathedral, I took a perverse sense of satisfaction in hearing the horrified screams of the undead as they were burned and dissolved by the holy water within. They deserved it.

Aware that at least some of the undead were relatively intelligent, I made sure to lob a dozen or so barrels past the battlefield and into the pooling water generated by the broken fountains in the parklands. I laughed with grim satisfaction as a small number of undead attempted to retreat from the battle, only to slip and fall into the holy water.

Not nearly as potent as the undiluted source, the diluted holy water was still brutally effective. Less than half a minute was all it took to dissolve any undead that slipped or collapsed into the mire.

Spotting a familiar figure lurking near the gates to the cathedral grounds, I felt a hot surge of rage rising in the forefront of my mind.

The female Vampyr that had played the role of decoy and distraction during the attack on Sanctuary, she was standing at the back of the battlefield silently staring back at me.

Seeing the Vampyr again, the wailing cries of the devastated mothers and fathers and the images of the broken blackened eggs flooded into my mind. The raw pain accompanied by my mounting mental fatigue weakened the barrier I had erected in my mind after witnessing the atrocities of Sunrock. I could feel the weight of it bearing down on me, promises of justice and retribution for the innocent lives lost...

The Vampyr looked away, her attention drawn to a subordinate that had fallen into a patch of muddy holy water. Rather than backing away or offering aid, the Vampyr flung back her head and laughed.

I felt something inside of my mind suddenly begin to give way...

Stepping off the roof, I found myself standing behind the female Vampyr. Bringing the final barrel of holy water crashing down with both hands, I could feel every fibre of my being focused on ending the undead abomination’s existence.

She wasn’t allowed to smile, to laugh, to feel any sense of happiness, not after what they had done...

Sensing my presence, the Vampyr turned her head in a fraction of a second, her lone eye growing wide with surprise. The Vampyr’s eye swivelled upwards and grew wider still as she recognised the barrel now less than a finger's breadth from her head.

With impossible speed, the Vampyr began to duck, maintaining the distance between herself and the barrel.

Enraged, I gathered mana into my arms and hands, driving it into the barrel and willing my muscles to strike faster, the buckets of adrenaline burning in my veins and slowing the passing of each second to a crawl.

The Vampyr began rolling to the side and towards one of her minions currently engaged in a life or death struggle against an Asrusian soldier.

Seeing she was going to escape, an explosion of pain erupted in my mind.

Willing myself to move, my vision momentarily blurred as I occupied two places at once.

The Vampyr’s surprise turned to abject horror as she now found herself looking into my eyes, the barrel now pressing into her skull.

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!*

Chunks of broken flagstone, dirt, shredded pieces of iron and a hail of splinters washed over me as the mana invested into the barrel reached critical instability and exploded.

Barely aware of my own actions, I pulled the maces from my belt and ran off into the waterlogged parklands. I was heavy enough that my feet sheared through the mud and made contact with the rough flagstones beneath. This made it much easier to keep my footing as I followed the largest mass of muddy tracks and charged towards a large manor house across the way.

Streams of kill notifications passed before my eyes, but a primal instinct recognised that the Vampyr’s would not be amongst them.

No kill notification...

Swatting aside or ploughing straight through any of the trees that got in my way, opened my mouth and roared in fury. However, besides the air erupting from my lungs and vibrating through my head, I heard nothing.

Charging through the destroyed outer gate and entering the open grounds surrounding the keep, I continued towards the main building itself. Brick, plaster and mortar went flying as I crashed through the manor’s open doorway. Making it considerably larger in the process.

Forced to a stooped posture, I indiscriminately lashed out at the walls in my search for the Vampyr.

Sections of the manor began to collapse as load-bearing walls were pulverised in my increasingly manic search for the elusive undead. Every fibre of my being insisted that the Vampyr was hiding somewhere in the building. However, my ruptured eardrums were only partially healed, so I couldn’t hear anything besides a muffled crackling sound and the thundering pulse of my own heartbeat.

Crashing through what looked like a dining room, I lost my footing and crashed to the floor as the wooden floor beneath my right leg gave way. Before I had time to react, the floor I was laying on gave out as well.

Landing on cold hard stone, I immediately attempted to climb to my feet. My back, neck and shoulders met minor resistance as I began to tear an even larger hole in the floor.

Although I lacked the ability to see in complete darkness like Lash, my evolution had considerably improved my night vision. It was thanks to this improvement in my physiology, and the partially collapsed roof, that I was able to determine I was not alone.

The pungent aroma of raw sewage dominated my sense of smell, but it wasn't strong enough to mask the scent of freshly spilled blood.

A crowd of small figures were huddled in the far corner, shrinking their bodies back in an obvious display of fear. Those in front desperately attempted to worm their way deeper into the group and to a position of relative safety.

Children...

The thought felt sluggishly slow and confusing, seeming to take an impossibly long time to properly register its meaning in relation to the cowering forms in the corner.

All the same, the tiniest movement spotted from the corner of my eye had my body moving on its own.

The twitching body of a small child...A dirty shift stained with fresh blood...The child’s pale face and terrified half-closed eyes...

The child, a small boy with short raven black hair and pale blue eyes feebly attempted to raise his right hand, trembling lips whispering words I couldn’t hear but echoed in my mind all the same. “Help...”

As the little boy tumbled to the ground, my eyes recognised the true focus of the huddled children’s terror.

ABOMINATION!!!...

Face caked with blood, the Vampyr grinned and shrugged, licking her lips hungrily before leaping backwards and towards a set of stairs.

The child...The boy...

KILL!!!...

Save...

Stunned into momentary inaction, my eyes drifted back to the boy on the floor.

A full third of the flesh on the boy’s neck and shoulder had been torn away, exposing his collarbone and creating a widening pool of blood around his pale body.

The boy’s ashen face stared vacantly up at me, the faintest traces of hope still lingering in his now cold dead eyes.

Kill...

Unable to continue facing the child I had failed to save, I stepped back and used Shadow Step to leave the manor. Searching the darkness for the Vampyr, I issued a quest to the soldiers to retrieve the children and shepherd them to the cathedral.

Brimming with impotent rage I struggled to maintain a semblance of control over my own mind. With adrenaline flooding my system, it only served to fray my nerves even further and left me literally shaking with fury.

The last holdout of my rational thinking mind ‘knew’ that the Vampyr was almost certainly long gone, very likely having fled into the Labyrinth or sewers. Somewhere she could hide and would frustrate any attempts to find her.

Unfortunately, this only served to make me more upset. Making it that much more difficult to maintain control.

Irritated that the soldiers hadn’t arrived yet, I looked back towards the cathedral and found a ragged procession of soldiers limping determinedly in my direction.

“EAT SOMETHING AND THEN SAVE THOSE FUCKING KIDS!!!” I roared impatiently, arms twitching as I suppressed another sudden urge to do violence.

Seemingly obeying the command, the soldiers paused briefly before continuing their way across the parklands.

Every second that passed guaranteed the Vampyr would be that much harder to find again and that much more difficult to run down. She was undead, and assumedly that meant the Vampyr would be able to run near indefinitely without any form of rest.

“FUCK!!!” I backhanded a nearby tree with a mace, sending an arc of splinters streaking across the parklands. Feeling the mildest iota of relief from the violent outburst, I stalked determinedly towards another tree.

In the time it took the soldiers to fully search and rescue the prisoners being held in the fortified buildings of the city centre, I had managed to completely destroy every tree in the waterlogged parklands. My guilt over what Hana would think of my actions was fleeting, offset considerably by the faint sense of relief I found in indulging my need for violence and retribution.

Watching the soldiers carry prisoners, both young and old, from each of the buildings, I tried to calm down, and tried to focus on the lives that had been saved.

Seeing the second wave of soldiers leaving the buildings carrying more prisoners, I was momentarily surprised by how many children we had managed to save. However, as the soldiers began laying the children down in neat rows on the road, that brief flicker of hope was snuffed out.

More bodies...

More dead kids...

As the soldiers continued their grim task, all I could do was watch as new rows were added and those that already existed grew longer.

I had saved practically no one...

As the adrenaline faded my anger and fury webbed alongside it until I was left feeling nothing but a familiar ache in my chest.

“What am I doing?...” I whispered while sliding to my knees and then into an awkward sitting position. “I'm not a soldier...I’m not a hero...I’m just a freak, a monster! I can’t save anyone!” drawing in my knees, hugged them tight and buried my head. Closing my eyes, I could still see the little boy’s face. I watched the desperate hope in his eyes die over and over again as his frail body struck the floor.

If I was a true leader, I would have acted sooner, gone looking for prisoners first...

The Vampyr and the Liche needed to be destroyed. Left to their own devices, it was inevitable that they would commit further atrocities. I just didn’t know if I had it in me to continue the pursuit. The prospect of bearing further witness to their evil deeds repulsed me, and I didn’t think there was any more I could take without collapsing entirely. Assuming I hadn’t already.

When my mum died, it was an entirely different experience. I had felt considerable pain from her sudden absence and a profound sense of loss. However, I had begun grieving for my mum months before she actually died, seen therapists and been coached through the transition in order to lessen the control the pain would have over my life. My mum had insisted on it.

The deaths of these children...

I didn’t...

I couldn’t...

I was intimately familiar with pain, but the children, somehow it changed everything. It bypassed every emotional callus and coping mechanism, striking at the core of my being. I didn’t know why it had such a profound effect on my emotional and mental state, but the pain was enough to ruin me.

The pain had opened a festering wound that could be closed with time but never truly heal, festering silently until the wound could be torn open and inflict fresh waves of cultivated pain against my psyche.

What I had seen at the Sunrock Settlement had broken me. The callous cruelty and violence exacted against those who had been unable to flee their enemies fast enough, there was nothing that could have prepared me for it. That's what I had thought after eventually piecing myself back together again.

I had learned of the holocaust as part of history class in high school, but it only gave a general frame of reference for the capacity for evil required for the crimes. The only other general frame of reference I had known of was the alien derangement of serial killers depicted on television or in movies.

The emotional damage I had experienced from a lifetime of bullying was nothing in comparison to the pain and despair I felt in Sunrock, what I felt now...

I was unsure when I had started crying, but raising my head and looking towards the fortress of the Adventurers Guild, I could feel the cold breeze cool the warm tears running down my face. Stiffly rising to my feet, I was vaguely aware of Shady lurking within the deep shadows of my periphery.

Shady wasn’t the only one. The Colonel and his most senior officers were standing a short distance behind me and were awaiting fresh orders.

Numbly glancing towards the rows of dead bodies lining the road, I winced as I anticipated a fresh assault against my psyche, the final push I needed to escape forever into manic insanity. Yet I felt nothing but a vague sense of sadness.

As something of a depressing epiphany, I realised that I had reached my limit, and in a bid of self-preservation I was now in a state of emotional shutdown. Years of therapy sessions left me painfully aware of the dangerous position I was in, but the effects of the emotional lobotomy made it difficult to care enough to do anything about it.

“Colonel,” I stated coldly, turning my head slightly to bring the man into my peripheral vision. “The target has escaped into the Labyrinth... Have your men scour the city for any other nests of Vampyrs that might remain, and make sure to take prisoners for interrogation.”

“Yes! Majesty!” The Colonel agreed immediately and began turning towards his officers.

“And Colonel,” the breath caught in my throat for a moment as the lingering remnants of my morals desperately fought, and lost, its call for reconsideration against brutal pragmatism. “Make sure to use the collars. I want to know EXACTLY where the ringleaders are hiding...”

The Colonel didn’t hesitate for even a moment, “Yes! Majesty!” he barked confidently, bowing and then marching away alongside his senior officers.

I had just crossed a line that I had never expected to cross. Expecting a wave of revulsion and disgust at my own behaviour, I was again surprised as I felt very little of anything beyond the same vague sense of sadness. On some level, I was disappointed in myself. I had thought myself above such a brutal ends justifying the means philosophy. I had believed I would never, could never, justify or condone slavery.

“I am not the man I thought I was,” I admitted quietly with only Shady close enough to hear my confession. “I am not the man I was raised to become...” Once again, I expected to feel a wave of shame and guilt as I thought of my mum, but I felt nothing.

Somewhat ironically, it was the absence of an emotional response that prompted the stirrings of another emotional response. Anger.

Most of my life had been spent denying my anger at the injustices of day to day life and being ruthlessly tormented on a daily basis at school. Before arriving in the labyrinth I had only thrown a single punch in anger. I was nine when it happened and had snapped when a much older bully had said something vile about my mum. I had thrown my clenched fist into his chest and broken four of his ribs, driving those broken ribs into his right lung and very nearly killing him. The ambulance had barely arrived in time to rush him to the hospital and save his life.

I remembered how vindicated I had felt in that moment of triumph, how the fear of my other tormentors had made me feel powerful, invincible. I remembered my mum’s disappointment, the way she had looked at me after hearing about what I had done...The pain and depression from embracing nonviolence were nothing compared to that profound sense of disappointment from the one person who truly loved me.

But now? Now...I could barely remember my mum’s face without the breathing and feeding tubes, her flesh ravaged and withered by her protracted fight against a terminal prognosis.

“How would you look at me now?” I asked quietly, “I have killed people, and not just in anger or self-defence...I guess I am who I was always bound to become...” I impassively regarded my thickly callused hands before a subtle shift in my stunted emotional state shifted my train of thought. “I found someone...Just like you said I would...I think you would like her, Lash is a fighter too...We’re married, or close enough to it, and she is pregnant...I am going to be a father...”

With only Shady for company, I spent the rest of the night recounting the changes that had taken place in my life, pretending, hoping, that in some way my mum might hear my words.

While I felt a mild sense of shame in resorting to Enslavement to ensure the safety of my family, friends and people, the one-sided conversation with my mother had galvanised my resolve regarding its necessity. If my enemies would stoop to harming the most truly innocent, then the gloves needed to come off. There was nothing I wouldn't do to protect Lash and our unborn child.

Following my command, the Colonel and his men had been scouring the inner city all night and had taken dozens of prisoners. Securing the first Vampyr had dramatically increased the rate with which the soldiers began capturing others. This was almost entirely due to the Sense Living Racial Ability of the Vampyrs allowing the soldiers operating under Racial Synergy to hone in on the buildings containing the prisoners being kept by the Vampyrs

The second reason was the slave-like control Vampyr sires had over their progeny. With none of them powerful enough to put up a fight against my Willpower, a single sire being enslaved could pacify an entire nest of the blood-sucking abominations. However, since only those with pertinent information were being temporarily spared for questioning, most of each nest was put down without a fight and dissolved with holy water to prevent any form of self-healing or regeneration.

Although I wasn’t in much of a mood to truly appreciate it, the soldiers had been turning their leather canteens and wine sacks into improvised water guns to fight the Vampyrs by spraying them with holy water.

I had even overheard one of the Lieutenants actively discussing plans with a pair of engineers on the potential viability of fitting a large barrel to a waggon and attaching a pump and hose to the barrel so they could literally hose down the undead. What surprised me further was when one of the engineers suggested a modified nozzle for the hose to help provide pressure and a wider arc of effect, functionally describing an intent to create a holy water flame-thrower. An idea that the Abbot and militant priests were incredibly excited about seeing deployed in the field.

Adding the materials to the redemption list, I made it clear and in no uncertain terms that I wanted the military engineers to make it their highest priority. I also encouraged them to consider more portable options in case an undead outbreak occurred inside of another city.

Curiously, although the fountain itself had a finite reservoir of water in an underground cistern, an enterprising Ranger had already taken the initiative and decided to conduct a series of tests between deployments into the city. By her account, she left her waterskin full of regular water by the fountain for a short period of time before taking it with her and testing the contents on a downed Crypt Stalker. Although not as potent as the water from the fountain itself, the water from the waterskin had still been strong enough to dissolve the fallen undead’s corpse in what she claimed was about three times the amount of time another Crypt Stalker had taken with water from the fountain.

It was an important discovery and had already resulted in barrels of water being carefully arranged around the fountain, and a grizzled Quartermaster placed in charge of directing soldiers to draw water from the most potent barrels. He was also in charge of refilling the fountain’s cistern and preventing soldiers and civilians from touching it. The intention being in order to maintain a strategic reserve of the most potent holy water for potential special missions and emergencies.

That was actually something I found quite odd. Despite the significant speed and strength advantage possessed by the more powerful Vampyrs, not a single soldier had died, so far. There were a lot of injuries, the worst being deep gashes and broken bones, but it seemed like the combination of their armour and synergies from my Racial Abilities was currently enough to see them through each engagement with an objectively superior species.

With the sun now high in the sky, the soldiers were hitting the city hard and making the most of their advantage. While Vampyrs did not burst into flames in sunlight, they were reported to grow dramatically weaker, the most powerful becoming not much stronger than a regular soldier.

Although I did not personally participate due to my own concerns that I would be somehow goaded into doing something stupid, the Colonel and his Captains spent the better part of the day ruthlessly and stringently interrogating our prisoners.

Even though I was not directly participating, each time a Vampyr attempted to resist a Command to answer a given question, a contest of wills would begin and trigger the Labyrinth key, Pyrrhic Will, and multiply the base level of pain normally inflicted by Command. Just judging by how brief these contests were, I could only assume that the Vampyrs were not used to being on the receiving end of extreme pain. Although the same could be said of humans, they didn’t enjoy the rapid healing and robust durability afforded to even the weakest of the Vampyrs, the Vampyr Thinbloods.

Not strictly a part of the information gleaned through interrogating the Vampyrs, The Colonel had explained to me the unfortunate role a Vampyr Thrall played in the Vampyr hierarchy. Essentially, they were food. However, the reality was even more brutal.

Similar to most vampires from movies and television, Vampyrs did not produce natural offspring but instead formed ‘familial’ bonds and reproduced by feeding their blood to a non-Beast monster. The Elixir that turned regular humans into Adventurers also made Adventurers viable and preferred candidates, due to possessing potentially powerful Classes.

However, most attempts at creating more Vampyrs failed and resulted only in transforming their captive into a Thrall. Possessing nothing but slavish obedience to their sire, the Thrall remained a living being who did not gain the undead ‘template’, meaning they were a loyal and ready food source for the nest of Vampyrs.

What had come as a surprise to the Colonel was that the Thralls were not rendered sterile by their transformation. This was an important detail because apparently the Thralls were not bound to breeding exclusively during the Mothers Moon and an army of them was being marshalled beneath the Liche, Amalda and her Vampyr Pureblood partner, Elizabet.

Invading and overwhelming the city with lesser undead had been intended as a probing strike intended to test defences and the veracity of their allies' claims and assurances of assistance.

“It was confirmed independently by all but one of the captives, Majesty,” The Colonel sounded grim and the features beneath his helm hardened, “The Liche and Confederacy are engaged in a formal alliance intended to divide the lands of Asrus between them and defeat the Empire’s forces in a decisive pincer attack once the truce between the Confederacy and Empire has run its course. Although dressed in the colours of the Empire, the enemy soldiers holding the outer walls of the city are claimed to be Confederacy soldiers belonging to Duke Irving whose grandfather is the High Chancellor of the Confederacy. Majesty, I have sent word to the Lord Regent, and Rangers have been deployed to infiltrate the enemy’s camp outside of the walls. What would you have us do?”

I looked towards the Adventurers Guild building, my eye unerringly homing in on the entrance to the labyrinth hidden behind the walls. “Once all the nests are confirmed to be purged, we will have the survivors escorted to the western cathedral and evacuated from the city. Once the civilians are clear of the city, we will go to war inside of the Mournbrent Labyrinth,” I replied quietly, “Inform the Regent that soldiers will require additional soldiers...”

“As you command, Majesty!” The Colonel replied with a grim sense of satisfaction, the trace of a hard smile on his lips visible beneath his helmet.

“I will be allowing Auxiliaries from Sanctuary”, I added. “An opportunity for vengeance against the ones who have defiled our home...” I had thought it over and was convinced I at least owed them that much. “Have the Regent’s quartermasters revise their lists with the prospective additional forces in mind...”

“Yes, Majesty!” The Colonel dutifully bowed his head before rising to his feet again and purposefully striding away alongside his officers.

“A Goblin might have been able to shank her, preventing her from escaping...” I told Shady absently, “Or a Gnoll's arrow could have pinned her foot to the ground...”

“Rweaor,” Shady yowled irritably before rubbing himself against my legs and giving me a strange look.

“Hrmph?” I vaguely recalled something Tobi had mentioned shortly after we first met one another, “I guess this will be a going home, of sorts, for you hey?” I commented without expecting a reply.

“Reow!” Shady stopped rubbing himself against my legs and nodded his head while making a threatening yowling noise and baring his teeth.

“Do you have family inside?” I asked quietly, not quite sure why I felt the need to ask the question.

Shady’s eyes drooped slightly and he avoided looking me in the eye while making a nearly inaudible whimpering sound.

Lifting Shady up out of the mud, I carried him over to one of the broken fountains before sitting down and laying the black-furred jaguar on my lap. Despite my earlier hypothesis assuming Shady was a Variant, it hadn’t clicked that this would quite possibly entail siblings, parents or even extended family members.

I had never had a pet before, but there had been a wild cat that drank from our birdbath when I was a kid. Sometimes he would let me scratch his ears or chin, but other times he would try and claw my hand.

Absentmindedly alternating between rubbing the fur on Shady’s back and scratching behind his ears, I composed a quest allowing volunteers who met certain conditions to join the auxiliary forces for the Mournbrent Labyrinth invasion.

The auxiliaries would not just be limited to monsters from Sanctuary. It was an open invitation for anyone from any Faction to join the invasion after receiving permission from someone with sufficient authority within their Faction. Naturally, this made the Abbot and his militant priests the first of the official auxiliaries.

To my surprise, large numbers of young Human men and women began signing up as auxiliaries.

“The Regent is offering militia wages in addition to keeping requisitioned supplies, Majesty,” the Colonel explained upon his return, “And with the situation of the war with the Confederacy and Empire, many see this as their opportunity to gain much-needed experience in case they are later required to officially enlist.”

I nodded in understanding. It made sense. With the auxiliary forces being purely voluntary, they would be allowed to leave largely whenever they wanted, barring a few exceptions. Given that this invasion of the Mournbrent Labyrinth was going to push at least to the eighth floor, it also presented the auxiliaries with the opportunity to gain significantly higher levels than was possible on the floor of their home Settlement. It also presented the opportunity for accelerated Evolution from more potent manastones.

While older generations not employed in the military were somewhat leery of consuming manastones, the younger generations had taken to them with zeal. The prospect of earning Evolution Elixirs in exchange for merits had reportedly resulted in huge crowds of young people chasing down their nearest Underlord, Lord or Overseer.

Keenly aware that I would have normally found this quite amusing, my somewhat apathetic interest made me worried that this state of emotional exhaustion would be permanent. The fact that I wasn't more worried about it, was in itself, even more worrying. Or, at least, it should have been...

By nightfall, the military engineers had completed their first proof of concept prototype. Having, ‘appropriated’ three huge barrels from an alehouse that produced its own product in better times, and a number of pumps from the same establishment. Meanwhile, other soldiers serving as their assistants had rounded up a number of different wagons and handcarts from around the city.

It was an interesting prototype visually, but with the weight of the waggon, the current absence of draft animals, and lacking a versatile fire arc because there was no hose, it would be difficult to find instances where it would be useful. The engineers promised that they were working on making a hose, but finding the required materials had been more time consuming than they had intended.

With soldiers scouring the city around the clock for any more undead that might have been hiding, a patrol sent into the sewers returned with interesting news.

“Majesty, my patrol discovered a number of seemingly abandoned nests while patrolling the central sewers. In addition, an attempted ambush by Crypt Stalkers was thwarted by seeming happenstance as they attempted to catch us in a pincer attack only for those fording the open canal to begin crying out in pain and disappear beneath the, herm, effluence,” the Sergeant sounded excited and seemed to be having trouble remaining still while kneeling, “We believe that the diluted runoff from the parklands was sufficient to debilitate and later destroy the Crypt Stalkers in question. Majesty, with your permission, I would like to deliberately flood the sewers in order to purge them of any other undead that may be lurking beneath our feet!”

“How will you flood the sewers?” I asked curiously, doubting that the sewer system was sophisticated enough to have a means of readily doing so.

The Sergeant grinned eagerly and pointed to the north. “Majesty, there are special reserves of water held in water towers in the Northern district for relief during lengthy sieges and assisting, aherm, flow, during hot summers. I believe that by spiking the water towers supply with holy water and releasing the water from the towers at the same time, we can eliminate all the undead attempting to hide inside of the sewers and quite possibly flood the enemy camp outside of the walls with raw sewage! Arm, aherm, I mean-”

“Are you sure the sewage would reach their camp? I asked uncertainly.

“Yes! Majesty!” The Sergeant insisted, “ My father was a custodian of the city’s bowels, erm, I mean sewers. I have already referenced reports by the Rangers against the exterior release ports of the city. While the enemy has avoided the main release passage, they are actually encamped downhill from one of the secondary emergency overflow passages!”

“Do it,” I agreed darkly, “After the horrors they let loose on Mournbrent, it seems only fair that they face horrors of their own in turn.”

The Sergeant’s grin broadened and his eyes twinkled with malicious glee, “A reckoning indeed, Majesty!” With a determined stride and what might have even been a literal spring in his step, the Sergeant led his men towards the Northern district of the city.

The elevation of my mood was short-lived as another group of soldiers began arranging the bodies of the Vampyrs prisoners atop a number of funeral pyres constructed from recycled wood harvested from the nearby buildings. A few of the bodies had been taken away earlier in the day along with the survivors. As near as I could tell, those who had been taken were being returned to still-living relatives so they could perform final rites or other funeral services.

In a perverse sort of way, the number of remaining bodies was a sort of comfort. The bodies of the children who remained had no one still amongst the living that would otherwise be saddened by their passing. And maybe... Maybe they were already reunited alongside their loved ones in the afterlife.

The fact that I was currently experiencing a far from idyllic afterlife myself turned that otherwise positive train of thought into one of irritation and aggravation instead.

I was growing restless and wanted to see progress being made in pursuit of the murderous Liche and Vampyr.

Entering the Adventurers' Guild headquarters, I wandered through the large open halls with Shady padding silently along at my side. The sounds of patrolling soldiers echoed all about as other work teams ransacked the building for anything that might be useful.

Wanting to storm and seize the Foothold to serve as its namesake for our invasion, securing as many homing markers for the first floor as possible was of the highest priority.

While I was confident I could face just about anything that was waiting on the first floor, bringing more allies increased the chances of denying enemies the opportunity to escape.

It was basically guaranteed that the Lich and Vampyr would be holed up in some fortress or secret bolthole on the eighth floor or possibly even the ninth. So despite the fact that I could head to that floor right here and now, I was keenly aware that I would not have the luxury of an army at my back. Even if there were enough tokens, I sincerely doubted my soldiers were high enough to level be of much use besides serving as meat shields.

Furthermore, I had to assume that the Lich’s army of Thralls possessed at least basic combat Classes as a minimum standard and was decently high levelled.

With no concrete numbers on how many tens of thousands of Thralls the Lich commanded, I was reasonably confident that it was far more likely to be more than I would otherwise have cause to expect.

However, the prospect that daunted me most, the true reason I was procrastinating my entry of the Mournbrent Labyrinth, was because all those Thralls would not be able to survive in a vacuum. The fact that they were being bred to form an army meant that they would all have families, and I had no idea what I was going to do in regards to any non-combatants.

The prospect of ordering any children to be put to death made me feel physically ill. All the same, after all I had been told by the Colonel in regards to what to expect from the Thralls, I wasn’t sure if I would have much of a choice.

Just like the genocidal rebel warlords of Africa, there was nothing stopping the Lich and her Vampyr minions from deploying child soldiers. The possibility of facing a child on the battlefield filled me with such dread that I could barely think of anything else, and the feeling only intensified as the same question kept repeating in my mind.

What wouldn’t I do if it was necessary to protect my family?

*****

Sevarj stalked through the human camp with practised ease, making sure to walk in the shadows cast by the rows of tents to minimise the debilitating effects of the rays cast by the waning sun.

Tasked with the important position of spying on the Empress’s allies, Sevarj took his job very seriously. Ever vigilant for any useful gossip or early signs of betrayal, he maintained a state of constant vigilance.

It wasn’t that spying on humans was particularly difficult. They were slow, dull-witted livestock barely more intelligent than Thralls. Sevarj had taken on the identity of their human allies' messenger after draining the original messenger dry and burying his body in a shallow grave. It had been a week since then and still not a single human suspected the deception. Sevarj was beginning to doubt whether a spy was even necessary at all.

All the same, tonight it would be five nights since he last took the opportunity to feed, so Sevarj was not just prowling for information this evening, but the opportunity to sate his thirst as well. While being a messenger gave Sevarj a good excuse for roaming the camp, it could make things difficult whenever he attempted to leave the perimeter during daylight hours. This meant that all his hunts were required to take place at night.

Unfortunately, while darkness renewed Sevarj’s strength, it also made the humans considerably more paranoid. While quite docile during the day, the humans would attack their own shadow with little provocation after listening to the rumours that the deserters hadn’t run away but were actually dead after falling victim to the undead. Despite the rumours being completely true, it still annoyed Sevarj that the humans had so decisively determined the truth. Making things worse, all of Sevarj’s attempts to dissuade the rumour mongers had only made him a particular person of interest during night time patrols. Even though most were only treating it as a joke, there were some who seemed to be taking it quite seriously.

Continuing to pass messages around the camp until nightfall, Sevaj was somewhat relieved when the Commander called him to the command tent. When another soldier was sent to find him by name, it meant orders needed to be dispatched to the soldiers atop the walls of the city. This was good news for Sevaj as it offered both an opportunity to feed and the excuse to be late back to camp.

Entering the Commander's tent, Sevaj straightened his back and saluted the old human sagging under the weight of his largely ineffective armour. “Sir!”

“At ease!” the commander grumbled, barely looking up from a sheaf of papers arranged on his improvised table. “Ah, Goodwin, just who I was looking for,” the Commander relaxed and motioned to a stack of folded papers each bound by string and sealed with wax bearing an imprint of some sort of multi-headed snake-lizard monster. “I know it doesn’t bother you much Goodwin, but I need these dispatches delivered to my Lieutenants atop the wall as soon as possible, do you think you can manage it?”

“Of course, sir!” Sevarj agreed with an enthusiastic smile.

“Good man!” The Commander smiled proudly and beckoned Sevarj closer so he could retrieve the dispatches. “I am glad to have a runner with a spine and stomach such as your Goodwin! These dispatches might not change the course of the war on their own, but they are important all the same. It is crucial to maintain communication channels during an operation, and I have been given cause to believe that our communication network might be compromised by our...allies...within the walls. So keep your head on a swivel Goodwin and make sure to check whether they have any messages for me before coming back.”

‘Sir!” Sevarj repeated, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Collecting the bound and wax stamped pieces of paper, he made a show of carefully stowing them away in his satchel before saluting one final time and leaving the Commander’s tend.

The Commander had good reason to be concerned. Not just because Sevarj was his messenger, but because the Empress had long since compromised their allies' magical communication network. Sevarj wasn’t sure how exactly, but he knew better than to question it either. The Empress did not tolerate doubt from her subjects and had a particular fondness for making examples of anyone who did.

Striding confidently out of the Commander’s tent and towards the edge of the camp, Sevarj was only slightly disappointed that the Commander hadn’t assigned him a soldier or two as escorts. They provided both convenient meals and the opportunity to discourage other soldiers from their dangerous talk of patrolling the actual streets of the city. Nothing put the fear in them more than Sevarj retelling fearful and false accounts of previous escorts being dragged off the wall by starving Crypt Stalkers. It was something that had actually happened on one of Sevarj’s first missions to the wall, but the lesser undead had been incredibly easy to defeat all the same.

Unfortunately, that incident was also the reason some of the soldiers were so insistent upon him not being who he seemed to be. It was absurd. All because two other soldiers had died and he had survived. It was absurd because soldiers rotated from duty on the wall actively and vigorously supported Sevarj’s version of events.

The Crypt Stalker ambush had taken place only a short distance from one of the watch stations, allowing no less than twelve soldiers on duty to see the battle first hand, and another two dozen or so to witness the aftermath.

Sevarj couldn’t help but think the witnesses' retellings of his competence in battle was why the Commander was so confident in sending him alone despite the guarantee that it would be well and truly dark by the time he returned to camp.

Leaving the human camp behind, Sevarj used the dwindling light as an excuse to run to one of the great ladders allowing access to the wall of the city. Although quite capable of climbing the wall with just his claws, Sevarj was familiar with the fact that guards were posted by the ladders and would note his comings and goings.

‘You’re joking?” One of the humans demanded exasperatedly as Sevarj came to a halt by the ladders and pretended to catch his breath, ‘The Commander is sending you up there again?! There has to be less than an hour of daylight left at most!”

Twelve minutes, Sevarj corrected internally, but who was counting.

“Unfortunately so,” Sevarj mimicked a well-practised expression of world-weary exasperation of his own and shrugged, “Orders are orders.”

The human sighed and nodded in return, “Too right,” he agreed, “Just try to be safe alright? I got twelve silver on you lasting at least another week!”

Sevarj knew it was intended as a joke, but he was also aware that the soldiers rotated from duty on the wall were holding some sort of speculative game on when his ‘luck’ would run out.

Sevarj snorted and shook his head, “And yet I am the one that would be doing all the work?”

The soldier grinned, “Tell you what, last three weeks and I’ll give you a cut of the profits, promise!”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Sevarj agreed while hoping he wouldn’t have to remain with the humans nearly so much longer.

After climbing the ladder, Sevarj shared a similar conversation with the soldiers at the top as well before running off in the direction of the guardhouse they were using as shelter.

Delivering messages wasn’t difficult. Fully capable of running indefinitely for days if needed, the primary concern was how expending the energy aggravated his thirst. All the same, completing the task faster at this point would allow him the opportunity to pick off a straggling patrol and blame it on Crypt Stalkers.

With that cheerful thought in mind, Sevarj managed to hold his thirst in check until finishing his circuit of the wall and heading for the ladders again. He had timed his departure from the final guardpost to coincide with a patrol that had left just a few minutes before.

Unfortunately, after leaving the guard post Sevarj was infuriated to find that the trio of soldiers seemed to have similar ideas regarding completing their rounds as fast as possible and were already halfway towards the ladders. Barely suppressing his rage, Sevarj set out from the guardpost at a run. Unlike the soldiers, he had an excuse for doing so and was going to make the most of it.

It wasn’t enough. Forced to carry a torch to maintain his disguise, Sevarj cursed himself for having given the patrol a head start. Not only had they reached the ladders before he could catch up to them, now they were malingering!

Glaring reproachfully at his escaped meal, Sevarj had no choice but to descend the ladder and return to camp.

Attempting to console himself as he stalked down the hill and away from the city walls, Sevarj began planning how he would make his approach to try and snatch away one of the soldiers on guard duty on the camp’s periphery.

Having returned to camp, Sevarj barely kept it together while saluting and depositing the return messages from the officers on the wall. He was growing more thirsty by the minute and needed to feed!

Stalking between the tents, Sevarj’s nose rankled at the foul state of hygiene maintained by the soldiers in the camp. With his heightened sense of smell, it was enough to make him gag when he didn’t actively suppress it. Assuming his concentration had slipped, Sevarj was surprised to discover that his sense of smell had already been reduced past even human levels of sensitivity. Furthermore, he could have sworn he heard the sound of rushing water coming from the direction of the city...