There were many reasons for why Luke chose the career field he did, and one of them was his lack of people skills. He could just look at facts, numbers, and figures, then compile that into information. Could he present it? Sure. Could he land an interview? Absolutely. Had he been on the witness stand in front of judges? Of course.
But this? Despite the warmth of the morning sun on his skin, he felt a bitter chill. Not like Gravefrost, which when manifested felt soothing like sinking into a wonderful pool on a hot summer day. No, this was a spine chilling trace of fear: if he fucked up, or people made a decision about him based upon prejudices he had tried to combat, he would be fighting his way out and possibly dying.
Well, he thought, I’ve done everything I could to make people think better of me. Time to see if it worked.
Captain Amara led him into the already-open temple, which was surrounded by people who were hoping to witness the interrogation. Well, at least that is what Luke assumed. He saw both Garran and Thorm in the crowd, and both men gave him a wave. Garran, breaking the mutterings of the crowd, loudly said, “Good luck!”
Luke returned the wave and entered the temple. It didn’t feel like the warmth from before, as the god of Life’s presence seemed…muted. Instead, he felt like he was under a microscope, being watched, and judged before a word had been said.
The mayor was sitting on one of the pews up front, along with the priestess, and up next to the altar were two people. One was an older man, with grey hair and a beard to match, wearing a pristine set of armor that had been polished, with a tabard equally as clean, bearing the symbol of the Dawnbringer. A golden sun, half-risen over a white field, and beneath it, he had a series of three crimson stripes.
To his left, on the other side of the altar, was a woman, who was probably in her early thirties, with bright, red hair, freckles, and equally as flawless armor. But, below the symbol, she had two crimson stripes.
Luke was escorted to the front rows of the pews, and Amara reached around his waist and drew his sword. “I’ll be holding onto this for now,” she bluntly said, then took a seat next to the mayor.
Luke looked around the room and saw other Dawnbringers, holding crossbows at the ready, trained on him, and he brought his gaze back to the front. “Well…hello.”
The older man hiked a thumb back at his chest. “I am Andros, Commander of the Dawnbringers garrisoned at Woundmere.” He gestured to his female companion. “Stephanie here is the Captain who will be taking command of Fort Greywatch.”
“Luke Rivers,” Luke replied with a curt nod of his head. “So…when do we start?”
“We already have,” Andros replied. “Witness testimony has been given, accounts have been tallied, and the truth has been discerned. What is left is to subject you to some questions. Once that is done…we decide what to do with you.”
“Then let’s do this,” Luke replied as he stay put. But, the woman gestured for him to approach, and he did so.
She set a cylinder on the altar: a tube with a handle on the side, made of some type of crystal. Her voice was cool and collected, but tired, as she said, “This is a lens of truth. All who hold it are compelled to honesty, or they suffer the wrath of The Radiant Tribunal. Grip and hold it.”
Luke did, and the moment his fingers touched the device, he felt a white-hot, searing pain. Letting out a grunt, he set it back down. “It burns to touch,” he muttered.
“Not surprising,” Andros replied. “Undead have a vulnerability to Holy Power. Instead, we shall do this: ask the question, you pick that up and answer, then put it back down. Say nothing in response to the question until you pick it up.”
At least they’re not torturers, Luke thought as he nodded curtly.
“Good,” Stephanie replied. “First question: is the sky purple?”
Luke grabbed the handle. The burn hit him, and he quickly said, “No.” The tube then flickered a dark crimson, and he set it back down.
“That was a baseline test,” Andros said.
“Next question,” the commander continued. “Who are you?”
“Luke Rivers.”
“Where are you from?”
“Fort Greywatch.” Surprisingly enough, the cylinder didn’t respond, and Luke felt relieved that the priestess’ words were accurate—he could get away with partial truths.
“Do you know the body of the man you inhabit?”
“I do know the body.”
The woman grimaced. “I phrased that question poorly. Do you know the name of the prior inhabitant, and if yes, name them.”
“William Whitemane.”
“How did you come to be?”
Luke shrugged as he held the searing magical item. “I was raised by a Necromancer in a botched ritual. I am bound to The Last Warden, not the evil version of the god of Death. The Necromancer worshipped that one, and I slew him.”
“What are your intentions?”
Luke smiled despite the gritted teeth as he spoke through the pain, though the pain was obvious in his words. “I…I want to use my power to make the dead serve the living.”
Andros’ eyes widened, though not in total shock and more in confirmed astonishment, and he gestured for Luke to keep talking.
“My plan is to make places where the Undead—corpses with no more use—do the work that is too dangerous, dirty, or otherwise unsavory on behalf of the living.”
“How do you plan to keep them in check?” Andros asked.
“I have an Art which allows me to tether a…command beacon. I can travel to a place, raise the dead to serve, give them purpose, and then leave to repeat the feat.” Luke put the thing down and shook his hand. He had suffered actual Health damage, and quickly used a Pale Flame Bolt to heal himself.
At that, crossbows were raised, and the Captain put her hand to the sword at her hip, but Andros held up his hand for them to stop. “It was just him healing himself. Pale Flame is capable of mending the Undead.” He lowered his hand and continued. “Take a moment to compose yourself. The questions will continue.”
Luke nodded and after a few moments the throbbing of post-burn pain faded, and he put his hand around the handle but did not grip it. “Ready.”
“Would you be open to a joint-occupation?”
“Perhaps.” Luke was not expecting that in the slightest. But, as he thought about it, that made sense. Their initial expedition was meant to take the fort and hold it to support the township. They would want to reclaim it, naturally. He continued, “I would want to learn more about the overarching plans, but I am not in any way opposed to it.”
The Captain nodded and looked to her superior. “I have no more questions.”
“I do,” Andros replied as he looked back at Luke. “Your intention seems pure, and your actions speak for the positivity you are trying to create. But, we must discuss matters of the soul. Did you destroy a soul to get this body?”
“No,” Luke replied. “I was brought into it.”
“Have you ever dabbled or meddled in the matters of the Soul?”
“Aside from research and reading through the Necromancer’s notes? No.”
“Notes?” the man asked, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Where?”
“At Fort Greywatch,” Luke replied. “I left them there when I escorted Garran, an injured trapper, back here.”
The man pulled on his short beard in thought. “Ah…hmm…” He shook his head. “Very well. I have no questions.”
Luke was relieved that the inquisition was over, and looked at the three figures seated on the bench. Captain Amara was glaring at him, the mayor Travis seemed enthused, and Melkin looked away sheepishly.
Stephanie walked over to Luke, drawing his attention. “Then let us discuss this joint occupation. I would be the new Commander of the Fort. Your Undead, what can they do?”
Luke looked at the tube thing. “Do you want me to—”
“Please,” Andros replied.
Luke sighed and grabbed the searing-hot object once more. “They can follow semi-complex commands, like ‘clean the Fort’ or ‘patrol and report’, but not intricate commands. I haven’t done a ton of experimenting, and planned to do more when I returned to fix up the fort.” He put the device down and manifested another Pale Flame Bolt to mend himself.
Stephanie curtly nodded and looked at the mayor. “We depart this afternoon. Half of us will go to the fort—Luke here included. The rest will escort the supplies we discussed on the morrow.”
Commander Andros took a few steps forward, staying a few feet away from Luke. “I think your plan is novel, and look forward to seeing what comes of it. But, know this: The Radiant Tribunal judges those who do evil, and the moment you stray, we will end you.”
“Stray from what?” Luke asked, crossing his arms. “Your plan?”
Andros frowned. “Stray from the path of the lawful. Follow the agreement that will be made upon investigation of the Fort, and you will find no quarrel with the Dawnbringers. For our task is to enforce the laws of the land: and what is more lawful than protecting the innocent from Mindless Undead who seek to destroy them?”
Maybe stopping the Necromancer who made them in the first place, Luke thought. I doubt that a good sized group of you all were taken out by a single magic user, unless he had some, like, instant-death zap.
Luke nodded curtly. “I’ll do my best to hold up my end of the deal.”
Andros stepped past him and headed out of the building, but he stopped at the open doors, filled with watching eyes. “Oh,” he turned around to Luke and their eyes locked. “If you do manage to affix this command beacon, and end up traveling, ensure that you find me in Woundmere. Provided Captain Stephanie gives you a writ, that is. Otherwise? Stick to the outlands. Don’t go near population centers.” He left, the crowd parting to make a path.
Luke looked at Stephanie. “Well, shall we prepare to travel?”
She nodded curtly, and he couldn’t get a read on her. He had no clue if she was against his presence, or if she was fine with him.
Travis, the mayor, stood up and clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Ah, all’s well that ends well. We’ll get supplies gathered up tonight and deliver it on the morrow, per your orders.” He bowed to the Captain, and then, surprisingly to Luke, before standing up again. “And you, Luke, for rescuing not just Garran, but helping in Thorm and Amara’s recovery.” He looked at the Captain. “Go on, give it back to him.”
Amara, scowl still etched on her face, stood up and offered Luke the sword, blade-first. He took it, flipped it, and sheathed it, ignoring the insult of presenting it in such a fashion. “Know this,” she said, voice low in an effort to be intimidating, “if you return to our city, and cause any mischief, I will personally hunt you down and execute you.”
“Noted,” Luke replied as he turned to the double doors. “I don’t plan on sticking around anyways.” He looked back at the Captain. “Shall we?”
The woman gestured to the doors. “No mount for you. You’ll have to walk.”
“Fine by me,” Luke replied.
***
As they traveled along the road in the simmering sunlight, Luke reflected upon his experiences in Mistbrook. They were mixed, sure, but he learned a lot: both about the world and its people. He was confident that his plan, his goals, were good and supported by the deities who ruled over and claimed people’s souls.
The mounts that these people rode were akin to deer, with six legs instead of four, a long tail that looked like a horse’s tail, and a mane that ran up to a set of antlers. The antlers had been shaved down as to not impede vision, and instead of bridles, the mounts had the reins looped around those stubs on their heads.
But as he walked, and saw the hands near weapons amongst the twelve out of twenty-four Dawnbringers who would be stationed at the fort, he felt unease.
What happened to the Undead I left behind who I thought would remain?
As they got closer, and Luke saw the fort, he could also see thorny vines and other bits and pieces of fores detritus plastered to the walls. “Fog Creepers,” Luke said aloud.
The Dawnbringers drew weapons and Stephanie, their Captain, dismounted her steed and walked up next to Luke. “Where did you leave your minions?”
“Guarding the basement,” Luke replied as grabbed the mask on his face, pulled it down to dangle around his neck, he drew his blade, and spent the requisite Mana and Stamina to both activate and sustain Black Guard, and layer an application of Marrowsteel Plate onto his armor. The white bone oozing red blood grew across the green scales in a cascade, and the black shield formed on his left arm.
[Health: 125 / 125]
[Mana: 96 / 96 {126}]
[Stamina: 99 / 99 {119}]
He could hear sounds of disgust and muttered prayers from the people around him. Captain Stephanie said, “Your Arts are disturbing.”
“Never seen Marrowsteel?” Luke asked as he took cautious steps into the fort proper, passing under the exterior defensive walls.
“Not,” she replied. “In fact, you’re the first Undead I’ve seen.”
Luke inhaled and forced a chuckle at that, wanting to make a good impression as someone who was affable. “Well, I suppose if you knew the prior owner of this body, you wouldn’t be shocked.”
“I didn’t know William,” she replied curtly. “He graduated before me.”
Makes sense that they train up their Captains and then send them off to do tasks, Luke thought. The older guy, that Commander, he must be up there in seniority and only sent out on special missions, but otherwise stationed in a permanent base.
Luke kept walking forward, scanning the area before the front entrance, but saw nothing. The main doors to the fort were damaged, and covered in thorny vines. Luke had the sinking feeling that the Fog Creepers had taken over the fort in his and the Necromancer’s absence. His suspicions were proved correct, as he could hear sounds of movement inside.
The Captain must have noticed them too, as she ran a hand along her blade. She spoke words, and Luke felt like he should know them, but they were gibberish. He assumed because it was for an Art, one that he could not access, and thus was prevented from learning about. She flourished the blade with a twirl, and then it exploded into a gold-hued fire that blazed with fury and crackled.
Luke felt terror take him, a primal fear of something antithetical to his being, and he took a few steps away.
She looked at him. “I should’ve figured that Sunwrath would scare you.” She looked back to the fort as her men spread around her. “Not sorry. Fog Creepers hate flame, from all I learned.”
Good to know, Luke thought as he manifested a Pale Flame Bolt and held it in his sword-hand. Would be nice if I could imbue my weapon with my power.
[Quest Available.]
[Title: Reclaim your ground.]
[Source: The Last Warden.]
[Trigger: You returned to a place once claimed as yours.]
[Objective: Clear out the fort of any who oppose your Grave Node plans.]
[Reward: Martial Art.]
[Accept or Reject?]
“Yes,” Luke muttered. He recalled from that primer on magic that Power Types came in three categories: Martial, Elemental, and Spiritual. Blunt, Pierce, and Slash were covered under Martial, while Cold and Heat were Elemental, and more esoteric types like Death and Life were Spiritual. The implication in his eyes was that whatever Art was promised to him if he completed the Quest would be useable on any weapon. He assumed it was some type of weapon imbuement ability, as that is what he had just thought about and asked for, and just like with the recently acquired Grim Harvest Art, it came in response to his desires.
Thanks for looking out, god of Death.
As expected, no response. Luke was nudged from behind, a hand on his back, as the Captain pushed him forward ever-so-slightly. “You go first,” she said.
Figures, Luke thought. But, he did as he was asked, and began walking toward the doors, shield raised, ready for a fight.