Lich for Hire

The fires in Lavarun took a full three days to extinguish. The alchemical bombs Ambrose had used contained specially formulated accelerants, and the flames they produced were particularly water-resistant.

Roger Ángelo went three days without sleep. It wasn't only the fires; over those three days, several more soldiers in Lavarun had become undead.

Each new transformation was a fresh blow to Lavarun's morale.

For followers of the Holy Light, the sudden undead transformation was devastating in a way that ran deeper than any loss on the battlefield.

To the citizens of Lyon, the undead were known to be the ugliest and most evil race in the world. From childhood, they were taught to consider the undead their lifelong enemies.

When Gareth had cut his way through Lyon, when Black Rose's undead army had besieged the imperial capital—these were the pillars of shame that every Lyon citizen knew by heart.

Nine in ten Lyon children dreamed of slaying the undead, washing away the empire's shame, and becoming heroes.

Most of those young people, unable to get through paladin training, ended up as ordinary soldiers or in other professions.

But even after they gave up their dreams, they would always remember that the undead were Lyon's enemy.

And now they themselves were turning into the undead, with no warning whatsoever.

Many soldiers had been unable to react in time. Their undead transformation triggered Lavarun's defensive systems, and the holy light fell on them and purified them where they stood.

After this had happened a few times, Roger Ángelo had to partially deactivate the defensive arrays.

The soldiers who were turning into the undead could still be saved.

Alfredo, the first to be cursed, had been sent to the imperial capital. The power of the Draconic Armaments had reversed time and restored him to human form.

"The lich was telling the truth. It's a pity. I should have held my temper. At the very least, I could have gotten the truth of the curse out of him."

Roger Ángelo regretted his earlier choice. He shouldn't have launched an attack on Ambrose the moment he discovered the lich had escaped. Not only had it failed to purify the lich's body, it had given the lich the opening to burn down half of Lavarun.

Even now, Roger Ángelo couldn't figure out how Ambrose had flown so fast, nor what he had used to punch through Lavarun's magical shield.

He had suspected at one point that the curse might be linked to the Fountain of Youth elixir he had been taking. The first soldier to turn undead had also taken the elixir, and like Roger Ángelo, had been losing his hair.

When Roger Ángelo had first noticed the bald patches on his own head, he had killed the minor noble in the cells in a rage, certain that the man had been deliberately sabotaging him.

The Fountain of Youth elixir might have been the curse's vector, and everyone who had taken it might be marked for transformation.

That theory had kept Roger Ángelo awake for an entire night, terrified that he might suddenly turn undead himself.

But over the following two days, several of the soldiers, rank-and-file infantry who had never been near the Fountain of Youth, transformed as well. Roger Ángelo didn't know whether to feel relieved. It meant he wasn't more vulnerable than the others, but it also meant his theory was wrong. He hadn't found the source of the curse, nor any pattern in its appearance.

In the end, Roger Ángelo could only issue an order: any soldier who turned undead but retained his sanity was to be moved to a specially prepared holding cell. When the Lyon emperor reached the front lines, he would use the Draconic Armaments to save them.

Knowing they could still be saved settled the nerves of soldiers and civilians in Lavarun alike.

Once the fires were finally snuffed out, Roger Ángelo ordered an inventory of the city's supplies. Most of the warehouses had been completely destroyed. Whatever formula the alchemical bombs had used, the heat they produced had been ferocious. It had melted armor into useless slag and consumed most of everything else in the storerooms.

Roger Ángelo felt the loss keenly. These wartime stockpiles had been prepared in advance for the campaign. They would have to draw replacements from the other border cities.

Even before the start of the war, Lavarun was already in disarray. Roger Ángelo was beginning to feel that this campaign wasn't going to be as smooth as planned.

Still, it was too late to turn back now.

The order had come down from the Lyon emperor himself: deal with the Unholy Kingdom in one stroke, and claim the tifling lands for Lyon.

Roger Ángelo understood the order well enough. Strategically, it might not have been the wisest call. The orcs' defenses were already partially neutered, which made that front easier to attack.

The reason for targeting the Unholy Kingdom was specifically because Lyon had never made progress against it before. Whatever results this campaign achieved would belong entirely to the current emperor.

The young emperor needed a decisive victory to build his prestige.

A war against the orcs wouldn't do. Those campaigns had been started under earlier reigns, and any victory would be regarded as inheriting someone else's success.

The young emperor wanted reform. He wanted to consolidate power in his own hands rather than parceling it out among officials like the High Inquisitor and the Minister of War.

In the past, this would have been a fantasy. The young emperor was nothing more than a breeding machine, a man who couldn't hold a sword steady. How could he gain any prestige?

He couldn't even replace the High Inquisitor, because no one wanted to serve under him.

But things were different now—not only because of a traitor in the High Inquisitor's house, but, more importantly, because the emperor could now wield the Draconic Armaments.

The young emperor had previously known only that the Draconic Armaments were the empire's national treasure, not to be deployed lightly, and that only one who could resonate with them could inherit the throne.

But the Armaments had stayed locked in their underground vault. No one knew what they could actually do.

...Until the day the young emperor finally donned the relic, and understood at last why it was the empire's national treasure.

The power to reverse time was practically divine.

There was no need to study swordsmanship or to train his body.

Once he put on the set of artifacts, he possessed the strength of a dragon and impregnable defenses. With the lightest swipe of his fingers, he could manipulate time at will.

The young emperor concluded that this was invincible power. No one in this world could resist the Draconic Armaments. He didn't have to be mere breeding stock any longer; he could take his place as a true emperor of Lyon.

If he could earn enough prestige, all the empire's authority would return to his hands.

The Lyon royalty had agreed unanimously to the young emperor's plan. The Draconic Armaments demanded a brutal price to use, but they were prepared to pay it.

The royals hidden in the shadows knew that Lyon was beginning to falter. Fanaticism and orthodox doctrine were drifting further apart, and many within the empire had grown uncertain. Even the High Inquisitor was now hedging in his rulings—and that old man's example was undermining the Tribunal's culture.

If this continued, Lyon would be torn apart by an internal schism. The royals had decided it was time to remind their citizens of the emperor's authority. Use the Draconic Armaments to unify the continent, and every voice of doubt would fall silent.

The Unholy Kingdom, a kingdom Lyon had never managed to gain ground against, was the perfect target for the Draconic Armaments' first deployment. A victory would be unambiguous and beyond questioning.

Roger Ángelo was familiar enough with the politics of the imperial capital. He had no fondness for the High Inquisitor either. The old man was rigid to a fault and had criticized Roger Ángelo's massacres more than once. Fortunately, Roger Ángelo had always been meticulous about his work, with enough "evidence" to justify each killing. Otherwise, the old man would have happily had him imprisoned.

Roger Ángelo applauded the emperor's decision to replace the High Inquisitor. He would have happily seen the position abolished entirely.

An early success in the war would lend the emperor more credence.

The fact that Lavarun was already in such a mess even before the invasion officially began made Roger Ángelo worry. This was a campaign that could not afford to fail. No one would survive the consequences of failure.

He was just thinking through how to delegate the rebuilding efforts when an officer approached. "General, we've discovered a few deserters."

Roger Ángelo frowned. "Deserters? Soldiers spooked by the undead transformation?"

"No. Members of the Leonine Legion."

Roger Ángelo rose to his feet. His powerful frame radiated sudden pressure as he demanded, "How could there be deserters within my own personal guard?"

The Leonine Legion was a regiment of paladins Roger Ángelo had personally trained. They were his most elite force. Several of the squad commanders were legendary paladins themselves, and were his most loyal officers.

Roger Ángelo had never doubted the loyalty of this unit, nor worried about their morale. These were veterans who had survived brutal campaigns at his side.

After the undead transformation had begun, the Leonine Legion had regained its composure the fastest. It had maintained its morale, fought the fires, and rescued the wounded throughout.

How could any deserters have come from that unit?

The officer lowered his head, fear clear in his voice. "Alfredo Oras and Lorencos Oras left Lavarun with several other paladins without any exit petitions or records of any kind."

"Alfredo and Lorencos?"

Roger Ángelo froze. Wasn't Alfredo the soldier he had sent to the imperial capital, the one the emperor had restored? And Lorencos was Alfredo's father, one of his most capable officers and a legendary paladin in his own right.

"Impossible. Out of the question!"

He couldn't bring himself to believe these two would desert. There was no reason for it.

Something must have happened. Perhaps it was related to the curse. Perhaps Alfredo had begun to turn undead again. Perhaps Lorencos had also been affected, and they had realized they could no longer trust themselves to remain. They had left of their own accord rather than risk endangering others.

That had to be it. They wouldn't have deserted without cause.

"Find them. Send a pursuit team after them now. Bring them back. If they've turned... whatever the case, bring them back!"

Lavarun was already short on personnel, but Roger Ángelo's order pulled an elite detachment from the city, led by a legendary paladin, and dispatched them after the "deserters."

Roger Ángelo sat back in his chair, kneading his head in pain.

Without his noticing, several more red strands had fallen from his scalp, leaving his head looking even more disheveled, much like Lavarun itself.