Chapter 12: Duly Employed (2/2)

“Even if I could become a powerful caster, I am no politician. I lack the savviness.”

And the poker face. And the patience. And… the list was long, as her father had once noted.

//You would be amazed how smooth negotiations proceed when the other side knows it can be wiped out.

//And you already acquired the intimidation skill.

//We are well on schedule for the genocidal maniac skill.

“There is no such a thing,” Viv grumbled.

Solfis’ words were a venom coursing through her mind. Pride, greed, the lust for power, the desire to change the world for the better and to leave an impact. It called to all of her most basic elements of her human nature. The worst thing was that she knew it and was still tempted. That particular snake understood her only too well.

A knock on the door, and she lost her focus, the black orb dispersing harmlessly.

“Come on in,” she offered.

Cernit entered, dressed in his armor. He carried a rolled parchment under one arm.

“Hello, miss,” he told her in Old Imperial. He looked pleased when she replied, and turned to Solfis for a quick conversation. Viv used the opportunity to remake the ball.

//Lieutenant Cernit has an intriguing proposal, Your Grace.

“Do tell.”

//As you know, we expect the necromancer to come here to destroy the fort, as it has destroyed the other ones.

//Cernit proposes to take the offensive and deplete them of resources.

“He wants to go out and kill revenants?”

//No, your grace.

//Revenants are inconsequential in the siege to come.

//The necromancer’s strength will come from special undead, like the gut spiller you slew last night.

Wow, it had been less than a day. It felt like longer.

//Lieutenant Cernit has documented the nearby lairs that may harbor special undead.

//Slaying them preemptively will deny the necromancer access to easily obtained, valuable assets.

//In addition, they will be easier to kill when nobody controls them.

//If possible, this unit could use a large ribcage as well.

//If you would be so kind as to acquire one.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea. The killing, I mean. When are we leaving?”

Solfis relayed the question. Cernit seemed a bit taken aback.

//I believe that he expected more resistance on your part, Your Grace.

“I don’t have time for this. Though, we cannot take you with us so we should discuss strategy here and now.”

Solfis translated and Cernit left the parchment unrolled on a table, then rushed off to fetch his mates. Viv decided to have a gander.

Cernit’s drawing skills were, well, the less said, the better. She did recognize the fort at the center and several other landmarks. Three of the closest ones had been circled in red.

“I am no detective, but I bet those are the ones he wants to visit.”

//Your fleshy intellect does you credit, Your Grace.

She rolled her eyes. Soon, Cernit returned with Jor and Benetti and her bedroom smelled of a locker room again. She winced.

As before, Cernit talked and Solfis translated.

//The lieutenant proposes to ride to the first village and set up at the top of a small hill.

“Ride? Only the three of you?” she asked. She had noticed the stable, but she was pretty sure that it did not host eighteen horses.

//The lieutenant says that the soldiers are here to watch and defend the fort.

//Their armors are not enchanted.

//Only knights may safely ride out.

//Even then, they will suffer from mild poisoning before the end of their shift.

“Will the three of us suffice to hold back the population of a village?”

Another discussion, during which Benetti also offered an input.

//He says that they will fight from horseback.

//If the pressure becomes too much, You will all ride out.

//Their horses can outrun most creatures, at least for a short while.

“So they bring me close and keep the revenants away as I prioritize the big ones?”

//Indeed.

//Although, if you can, thin the herd as well.

//Any revenant you kill now will be one less revenant climbing the walls.

//Necromancers always aim for population centers, for efficiency.

“I understand. I do get tired if I cast too much in quick succession.”

//I shall relay this information to them.

//As well as the effective range and casting time of… ‘Yoink’.

His voice conveyed mild disapproval. Her spell names sure wouldn’t increase her intimidation skill any time soon.

They spent a few more minutes to learn a few key words like ‘flee’, ‘left’, ‘right’, ‘help’ at Viv’s insistence, then the men left to grab their weapons. They all gathered in the main court, Viv climbed behind Jor once again and then they were off through the fortress gates and into the deadlands.

Back in Viv’s room, Solfis turned around when the lock clicked and the door unlocked. The bald man Viv had noticed entered with a wild look, followed by another with dirty blond hair and a large scar on his cheek. The blond man pocketed a lockpick and looked around warily.

“Don’t know about that, Hern. Spellcaster business is bad business. I got only one cheek left.”

“Relax. We’re only looking.”

The bald man’s filthy meatbag eyes descended on the perfect and glossy surface of Solfis’ core. The golem had stopped working on his calibration and started to engrave the next arm, but he stopped when he recognized the presence of intruders.

“So that’s the core hey? What do you reckon it could weigh?”

“At least six stones. Maybe more. Would take two strong men to carry over a long distance. Very strong. Power of thirty, at least.”

“Not you then, Rayd you twig. I reckon Parek could use the money. We steal the knight armors, one each, and leg it. They cannot follow if they get poisoned.”

“Still gotta be a lot of money to risk it.”

“It sure is. Those fancy toys always fetch their weight in gold, I tell ya.”

//The question, then, is whether or not you will live to enjoy it.

The two intruders jump and stare wide-eyed at the glistening perfection. It had addressed them in proper Varran.

“Did it speak?”

//Yes, ‘Hern’, this unit spoke to you.

//The deadlands will eat you alive.

//But even assuming you escape it.

//Even assuming you somehow bypass the ones who destroyed Fort Stone.

//Even assuming you find a buyer.

//This unit will make itself valuable to the buyer.

//This unit will wait until it is encased in a mighty frame.

//Then, this unit will leave to find a balding man named Hern and a scarred man named Reyd.

//This unit never tires, never sleeps, and never stops.

//This unit will find you.

//This unit will kill you.

//In the most painful manner it can figure out.

//And it will have ample time to figure it out.

“Alright, fuck. Calm down you bucket of rust. We’re leaving!”

//Not so fast, Hern.

//You would not leave without a suitable punishment, would you?

“And you’re going to punish me?” the fleshbag demanded, though Solfis could spot signs of fear.

//Not me, meat.

//Her.

Hern turned when he heard a screech of rage, but even his dexterity only allowed him to save his eyes. A winged form jumped on him from the separation leading to the bed. Talons dug painfully into his face.

“Aaaaaah get it off! Get it off!”

Rayd had already left, as expected of the wise coward. Hern managed to detach the four claws and maw from his fleshy self and ran through the door, slamming it behind him.

Solfis looked on as Arthur spread her wings and screeched in victory. She licked her chops, fixed the golem with her malevolent crimson eyes, and climbed to her bed. She monched the piece of ear she had successfully glomped and returned to the beatific sleep of the just. The intruder had been defeated. Order had prevailed. It was time for a nap.

Solfis returned to his calibration. He was almost done. Then, the real work could begin.