Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Heave, lads, heave!” The boatswain’s voice could hardly been heard over the sound of crashing waves. “Heave to!” Cried the boatswain as the crew struggled to slow the ship. They were drawing dangerously close to the shore now, but almost begrudgingly the vessel heeded to her crew’s demands. With her sails drawn, she slowed.

“Stubborn girl, almost like her captain.” The quartermaster muttered. He gave a curt nod to the boatswain who signaled for the anchor to be dropped. The quartermaster's skin was worn from the cold sea air and his foreboding mood was common for a man who had seen too much of the world. He stroked his long beard as he surveyed the crew scrambling along the deck to settle the ship.

“Shall we ready boats for landing, sir?” The boatswain asked, his nervous voice betraying him. The quartermaster had sensed a growing unease amongst the crew once word of their destination had spread. He could hardly blame them. He gazed at the vast shoreline; it was a grim sight. The white sandy beaches were not accompanied by a quaint seaside town, ripe for raiding, but a nefarious place. A place no Gods-fearing, self-respecting person would ever settle. Whatever they had come here to do, he prayed it would be quick.

“We haven’t received our orders yet, now, have we?” The quartermaster answered, brushing off the man. “Tell the lads to wait at their stations while I go tell our captain the good news.” The boatswain began to shout out orders as he made his way towards the captain's quarters. A shiver run down his spine, but it was not from howling winds or the icy sea spray. No man would call Curly Joe was lily-livered, lest they wanted to see their own lily-liver, but this woman made him gutless. He hesitated for a moment to steel his nerves before pounding on the door.  

“Oy, we have arriv– ” He began to shout, but the door swung open rather abruptly, causing him quite a start. He sang a short string of curses as a long golden snout greeted him.

“Yes, sir?” The dragonborn eyed him, looking irritated at his brashness. Curly Joe adjusted his composure, but his scowl remained.

“I was just coming to pass along a message.” He said, squaring his jaw. The smell of the dragonborn’s smoke was an unpleasant one. Smelt of burning woods and carcass.  

“Let him enter.” A woman’s voice said from within. The dragonborn dutifully stepped aside to allow him to pass; he gave the attendant a foul look before walking into the room. The dimly lit room smelled of damp parchment and candle wax. The open window brought fresh air of the sea, full of life and full of death. The smells with the slow lull of the ship made him feel queasy, a feeling only worsened in her presence. His captain was seated at her desk, pouring over her many scrolls and maps. She did not look up to greet him when he entered, rather she merely signaled for him to speak.

“My lady, we have arrived at the destination.” He refused to even say the cursed name.

Still, she said nothing. His innards twisted. The ship swayed. The rancid smells weighed heavily in the sea air. In this wretched moment, he was struck by a boldness. He was a cursed man. What more could be done to him?

“Actually, the crew was wondering how long we’d be anchored here for.”

“As long as it takes.”

“Ay, right.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Liliana asked, her voice as cold as the wind. For the first time since he entered, she looked up at him. Under her cold, piercing stare, Curly Joe flinched.

“I just mean to say that the crew –”

“The crew what?” Her voice was sharp like steel. “Are they afraid? I did not mark you as a superstitious man. I would have thought you casted aside such notions with your undeath.”

“Now about that! Didn’t we have a deal that you would put an end to this curse?” He snarled at the mention of this black subject. It spurred his rage. “We’ve been sailing at your fancy for months. I am starting to think you aren’t ever going to uphold your end of the deal!” His rashness took him too far. Liliana stood suddenly, knocking her chair back. He heard the floorboards creek as the dragonborn moved behind him.  

“Why do you think we came here? Have patience! You will have your end of the bargain once I have mine. I will not hear of this again. Now go, and tell the crew to rouse those below deck, we will make for land in an hour.” With no more to say, he bowed awkwardly and made his leave, the door slamming shut behind him. The crew did little to hide their stares as he returned to the deck. He beckoned the boatswain over to him.

“Ready for land in an hour.” Curly Joe relayed. Grabbing back of the boatswain’s neck, he pulled the man in close. “She also says to bring them up from below deck.” The boatswain swayed a little, he gripped the man’s neck tighter.

“All of them?” He could hear a note of panic the boatswain’s voice. He didn’t envy the men who had to stir the beasts below boards. Unnatural creatures they were.

“Ay, all of them.” He released the man, letting him stumble backwards. He pulled his collar up against the leering stares as he walked the length of the ship. At the bow, Curly Joe stared out at the grim shoreline. The grey skies looming above them threatened a storm to match the broiling waters. At the very top of the cliff stood the manor at Necropolis-on-Sea, a dreadful, cursed place. Perhaps it was for the best that their lady and her army was coming to raid the place, it didn’t look long for this plane. It stood so crooked it looked though it might fall into the sea’s icy depths. A blight on any man who owned it. But he felt no pity for the bastards who lived there. The wind howled over the black rolling waters. Out of habit, Curly Joe pulled his coat in tighter to fend off the cold winds.

As long as it takes… They have waited long enough to bring an end to this miserable curse. He only prayed that whatever the Lady Liliana had planned, it would be fitting for the damned traitor, Corazon de Ballena.

Chapter Text

Dark, inky black waves crashed against the shoreline; the frothing foam lingered as the tide drew back, mixing with the white sands. As he stood at the edge of the beach, his feathered legs were ruffled by the strong ocean gust, but this didn’t bother Vocatus. He continued to watch the water with excited anticipation as a great vessel came to a halt in the bay. From this distance, he could not see aboard the vessel, but he needn’t wait for long before he spied a horde of landing boats drawing close to the shore. At the head of the group, one boat caught his attention. Carried by the rolling waves and the strength of dragonborn rowers, he could see a beautiful drow woman. His breath caught in his throat. This is it.

The boat reached the shore, with those behind landing soon after. A tall dragonborn in plain garbs stepped out of the boat first to aid the drow woman, her expression as dark as the storm swirling above her. She took his clawed hand as she stepped onto the sandy shore. Golden dragonborns in black gilded armour departed their vessels, trudging through shallow waters as they gathered on the shores. They were many in their numbers; they organised themselves into tight lines. She had clearly prepared for a siege, but she was without the foresight to know what fate awaited her.

The drow woman led her soldiers up the boarded path, closely followed by her attendant dragonborn. She approached the gate, and it was only then did she see him. His back stiffened as her curious gaze settled on him. The dragonborn with the plain garbs approached him.

“Sir,” he called in a familiar voice, “you are in the presence of the great Lady of Geth, declare yourself!” Vocatus found it amusing how much of a commanding presence this dragon man had over the paladin with whom he shared his face. Now is your moment! Vocatus thought as he smiled widely, and dipped into a low, grandiose bow.

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Vocatus. I have been awaiting your arrival for sometime now, Lady Liliana.” He said, glancing up at her. He watched as the drow’s eyes narrowed, and how the confusion that adorned her lovely face deepened. He held his pose as the attendant looked to his mistress for instructions. She simply nodded to allow him to approach. “I thank you for granting me this audience. I am here to make you an offer that I think you might find difficult to refuse,” he paused for dramatics, before continuing hurriedly, “but I am sure you are famished and exhausted having travelled such a long way. If you follow me inside, we can discuss my proposal over lunch.” He gestured back at the manor atop the hill. The woman looked at him, incredulously.

“What of the people who own this place, the Oxventurers?” She asked, curiosity slipping into her voice.   

“Oh, they have been dealt with, rather gruesomely I might add!” He said with a small chuckle. “It’s a rather amusing tale! I would be delighted to regale you with the details once we’ve had a bit of wine, my dearest Liliana.”  

“Lady Liliana.” Her attendant corrected rather sharply.

“Yes, of course, Lady Liliana.”

The sound of waves crashing against the shore seemed to echo in the deep basin, accompanied by a howling wind. He saw how she shivered under her black furs.

“Come now, my lady, let us go inside for a rich meal and warmth by the fire.” He said in a voice smooth like merlot. The invitation for such comforts would be too enticing for her to decline.

“If what you say is true, and if the Oxventurers are currently indisposed, then I suppose I could join you.” She concluded, much to his delight.  

“Splendid! It will be quite lovely!” He said, leading them onwards. She followed him up the path. Her dragon men began to march forward in their formation. “Ah, there will be no need for your legions, my lady. You have no reason to fear, I assure you I mean you no harm.” He said. 

She stopped. The army halted. They follow her every move like the loyal dogs they are, he thought.

“I will determine the necessity of my guard, Master Vocatus. I think I will keep them near as my caution warrants me.” Liliana regarded him with a calculating stare. “But rest assured, sir, I consider your words as a hopeful promise.”

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. It would not be wise to protest further, so he gave her a warm smile and ignored his growing irritation. She is mistrustful, which is understandable. She would be foolish to trust a stranger at the house of her enemies. The very enemies he claimed to have vanquished. This was all too perfect, which makes it all too suspicious. He knew that. He had anticipated she would take some time to warm up to him, but this game was tiresome.

Vocatus, we have come this far, we just needed to be a little more patient, he reminded himself. None of this would matter soon enough. Once he had her trust, he could bring her in close… If she truly is as powerful as those foolish Oxventurers implied, her army will be of little consequence to him once he had her magic.

Liliana maintained her distance from him, a behaviour which he very tactfully ignored. Once they approached the manor, she left her army on the foregrounds. Two guards, however, continued to proceed forward, with their hands on the hilts of their swords at the ready. Vocatus swung the doors open to the manor; the heavy oak doors moved with ease. He entered the manor’s foyer with long strides. Liliana, her two guards, and the sharp-tongued attendant, followed him inside.

“Bismuth!” He called out, his voice echoing throughout the grand building. He heard the faint sound of a door creaking at the end of a long hall somewhere deep in the manor, which was closely followed by shuffling footsteps that moved too slowly for his liking. He gave Liliana a small smile as the footsteps grew louder. Finally, the old crone crept into the room; she smelled of musk and bread. That was promising at least.

“Ah, Master Vocatus, you have returned! Everything is prepared in the dining room as you requested. I set the table for two but…” She trailed off, settling her gaze on the dragonborns.

“Splendid, Bismuth, thank you! They will not be joining us, so a table set for two will suffice. Now, if you please come this way Li-” He said, eagerly gesturing to the dining room.

“What about the rest of them?” The crone pestered him. So many questions!

“There is no need for-” He began, but Bismuth again interrupted him.

“You didn’t say how much to make so I made enough for sixty! Will that be enough?” She pressed on. He felt a growing sense of disdain broiled inside him, but before he could respond, Liliana spoke.

“That is quite alright. My men have their rations, and I doubt we will be here for long.” Her tone polite, yet firm.

“Er, very well, I hope you enjoy bisque!” Bismuth glanced up at him for a moment, before shuffling back to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Bismuth!” Vocatus called after her. “So hard to find go help these days. Well, I suppose you have your own solution for that," he said, cheekily. She did not even grace him with a smile. "Now then, Lady Liliana, this way if you please.” He said, swiftly dismissing her cold demeanour, and lead her to the dining room.

He tossed open the large oak doors to the grand room. The curtains had been drawn to darken the room. The flickering candles and warm fireplace lent their light to create an intimate atmosphere. She may not trust him now, but in time, her dulled senses would betray her. Evidently at least one of the Oxventurers had some taste for the room was lavishly decorated, aside from the obscenely large painting of the pirate above the fireplace. Liliana entered the room with her attendant; her two guards posted outside the door. The painting appeared to have caught her attention, as her lips curled into a small sneer. He had tried to take the painting down beforehand, but to no avail. He thought the dim lighting of the room would have diminished its presence, but he supposed the jeering portrait of your enemy would be hard to ignore. But this was not the purpose of her being here.

“My lady.” He said, breaking her focus. He gestured for her to sit, and politely waited as her attendant drew her chair at the opposite end of the table. As she settled, he sat down, lounging across the arms of the chair. He saw how her eyes narrowed at his casual demeanor. He gave her a small smirk in return. She had an army, she had her magic, but she was not in control. He was. She would come to understand this truth. He would make her understand it. Here they are in the home of her enemies, and here he was feeling completely at ease in this place. He flicked his hand and the main doors to the hall closed with a heavy thud. Another door, leading to the kitchen, crashed open as Bismuth crept out balancing a tray with two bowls of lobster bisque. The first course. He grabbed a vine of plump grapes from a bowl nearest to him. Vocatus plucked one and dropped it into his mouth. The grape had a deep sweetness to it, it made his cheek pucker slightly; it was a welcomed taste. He mused how fine a wine they would make, perhaps he will create one with their taste for this lunch. He picked up his filled goblet and imagine a new wine, something subtle, delicate… perhaps aromatic concoction with herbs and rich tobacco. Something to warm the body to its soul after a long day in the biting winds and rain. He gazed passed his goblet and set his sight on Liliana. The dragonborn took a taste of the bisque. A wise move when dining with a stranger. She watched her servant carefully, once she was satisfied there is no evidence of poison, she took the first sip from her bowl. He returned his focus to his goblet just as she cast her eyes upon him. It wasn’t time yet, he had to be patient.

“Quite impressive, I must say.” Vocatus observed, loudly.

“Regarding?” She prompted him.

“Your legions, my dear. I have not seen such devotion before, although their likeness is all too familiar. How did you come across such an army?” He shifted his gaze to her attendant; his comment had done nothing to stir any subtle response. He returned his attention to Liliana.

“I didn’t find them, I formed them.” She replied. A careful response that offered little clarity on the matter. “You speak of familiarity, that is accurate. We share an acquaintance who had some organic potential that I found a way to utilize. After some setbacks, I was finally able to curate my army to my needs.”  

“I am sure they will be a formidable foe on the battlefield. I pity those who find themselves on the opposing side.” He said, taking a sip of his wine. Liliana regarded him with a curious expression.

“So, are you enjoying the bisque?” Vocatus asked her, swiftly changing the topic. She graced him with a small smile in response; she was warming to him now. “Excellent!” He waited for her to ask him in return, but she said nothing. “You know, I think mine could use a little something. My dearest lady, would you please pass the salt?” The muscles in his face shifted forming a wide smile on his lips as he extended his hand out to her.

Liliana paused for a moment, then her attendant strode forward to bring him the salt. The attendant lightly sprinkled salt into his dish, until Vocatus waved him away.

“That’s quite enough.” He said, signaling for him to stop. The attendant bowed ever so slightly and returned to his place at his lady’s side. He continued to sip his now over-salted bisque. “Mm, simply delicious! You know if I was the master of this house, I would not be able to leave this cooking. I don’t know how the crone does it!” He prattled on in Liliana’s silence. She certainly wasn’t the most engaging dinner guest he’d ever entertained. Liliana placed her spoon down rather suddenly. “Is there something wrong, my lady?” Vocatus asked, his voice sweet and gentle.

“Master Vocatus, I think I have entertained this pantomime for long enough. I have travelled a long way to find the Oxventurers, and in their place, I find you.” She said, he could hear the anger in her voice. “You were seemingly well prepared for my arrival. You promised to have something of interest to me only to waste my time with idle conversation. I suggest you make your case, sir, as my patience is running thin for these little games.”

He took another sip of wine before speaking. The rich flavours lingered on his tongue.

“Very well,” he sighed, “I had hoped we would get to dessert before we discussed matters of business, but I understand your plight. It is always such the way with mortals, you can never wait.” He said, eying her over his goblet. He saw the flicker of curiosity in her eyes.

He had her now.

“I have existed in Geth since its beginning, and I have travelled across the lands to find someone worthy of my patronage. However, I found little promise in mortals, they were all so disappointing. Weak, pathetic creatures all of them. That was until I found you.” He said, his voice full of hope and promise. “Whispers of your arcane power came to me, and I decided I must find you to see if your skills were truly worthy of my aid.”

Her eyes widened, she looked as though she might speak, but he raised his hand to bid her silence. She obeyed.

“I must admit I find your trepidation amusing,” he chuckled, “but I understand your mortal wariness. I have not presented myself truthfully at the start, but I hope now you might feel more at ease, and we might proceed in fellowship.” He gave her a warm smile, to which she returned.

“You flatter me, sir. I beseech your forgiveness for my ignorance as I have not heard of you before today.” She said. His smile twitched. The impudence of this one.

“Well, I suppose my stories had not transcended to the Underdark. I am sure much knowledge of the surface lands is lost down there.” He said, still smiling. He had thought maybe he’d keep her as a pet in his court when the deed was done, but now he was looking forward to stripping her of her pride.

“Perhaps.” She replied, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Enlightened me then, what are you the god of?”

“Wine.” He answered, begrudgingly. Her smile was almost mocking now. The bold arrogance.

“So, you say you wish to offer me aid. I do not wish to offend as I would be honoured to receive such a boon from a god. However, I wonder how you might be of assistance to me. I have amassed a great army, I commandeer a grand vessel, and as you said, I possess great arcane abilities. So, what do you have to offer me that I do not already possess?”

 “All that you have can fail, Liliana.” He growled. His growing annoyance at her arrogance slipping into his voice now. “Your armies can be defeated in combat, your grand vessel could be destroyed by a storm, and your magic… well, that can be bested. No mortal is above the rule of chance.” He warned. His muscles in his neck grew tense. No mortal is above him.

“But as a god,” he continued, “we are the masters of chaos. We can control whatever it is we wish at a whim! Nothing is above us! Everything is beneath me!” He slammed his fist on the table. Liliana looked suddenly taken aback by his shift in demeanour. You are right be frightened, mortal. She seemed uncomfortable under his gaze. She casted her eyes downwards, and seemed rather small in her chair. He had control once more.

“Tell me how.” She urged him, quietly. He smoothened his hair and returned to his calm temperament.

“Wine.” He answered, smugly. Liliana looked confused; her brow furrowed. “Allow me to demonstrate.” He gestured to her attendant. He waved his hand to fill an empty goblet on the table with his magical wine. “Take it, boy.” He commanded.

The dragonborn looked to Liliana for permission. She nodded for him to go ahead and watched with apprehension as he took a sip from the goblet. When nothing apparent happened, she sunk back into her chair, looking annoyed. However, Vocatus could feel a tether begin grow between him and the dragonborn. He smiled to himself as the dragonborn took another sip. Then another. Then another.

“That’s enough.” Liliana said, but her attendant ignored her and continued to drink. “That’s enough.” She repeated, her agitation growing, but still her attendant did not heed her. She reached to place her hand over the mouth of the goblet and slammed it down onto the table. The attendant with wide eyes grabbed her wrist to pull her hand away.

“My lady, I-I am sorry…” He uttered before taking another sip. Realization dawned on her face, she looked to Vocatus with the admiration he had been waiting for.

“The wine compels them. Are they enchanted?” She regarded her attendant with an astute curiosity.

“In a word, yes.” He said, enjoying her inquisitiveness. “Consider the possibilities, Liliana! Hundreds – no thousands – all under my sway. Your armies could take over a whole region with no resistance to be had! You could have all of Geth under your command in a month!” He watched her eyes grow wide for a moment, but then shifted to a look of concern.

“But they would be under your sway…” She said quietly. He waved his hand dismissively.

“My sway, but they would be my gift to you.” He urged, but she did not look convinced. “My dearest Liliana, I could have done this centuries ago, sure it would be amusing, but to what ends? There was nothing to be gained! Until I found you. You are my end, Liliana.” Her cheeks darkened at such a declaration, and he smiled, knowing his words made her burn hot. He leaned back into his chair to observe her in contemplation. She seemed a little flustered. Surely, deep down, she knew her efforts were futile – conquering all of Geth would be difficult for any mortal – but now, a god has presented her with the chance to achieve her ambitions. It would be too enticing to say no. No mortal could resist this temptation.

“This is a great boon,” she began, a little breathlessly. “But surely you want something in return? Nothing is without a cost. Even magic has a cost.” She paused for a moment as she produced an arcane flame in her hand. She extinguished the flame as quickly as she made it appear. She looked at him with a hardened expression. “So, what would be your cost?”

“My dear, nothing. I want for nothing.” He began. But when she pursed her lips, he continued. “Except, perhaps a shrine in my honour. The people of Geth have forgotten me, and I should like to remind them of my power. If you accept my aid, I would like a religious order in my name.”

“I will see it done.”

So close now.

“Shall we shake to a deal well struck?” He said, but Liliana didn’t seem to hear him. The attendant suddenly slammed down his goblet. It was empty. “Ah, here.” He gestured absentmindedly to the goblet, and it was filled with enchanted wine once more. The attendant drank eagerly from the goblet.

“How long does it last?” Liliana asked as watched him with a strange expression.

“Hm? Oh, well, it lasts for as long as I wish it.” He smiled, widely. Why was she still asking questions? Liliana pondered his answer for a moment.

“I see.” She said, quietly. The attendant slammed his goblet down once more. The spell was getting stronger now. Her eyes flicked to him. Such cold, calculating eyes. Vocatus waved his hand again, more flippantly this time. His own goblet tipped, spilling his wine all over.

He shouted, standing so suddenly his chair nearly fell backwards. With attendant occupied, Vocatus quickly mopped up the spill and bent down to pick up his fallen goblet from the floor.

“Very sorry, my lady, that does not normally happen. Got a bit careless there.” He said, with a small chuckle. The attendant's goblet had been emptied again. He was shuffling, anxiously. The goon’s gullet was as greedy as he hoped. Vocatus filled the goblet again, and filled his own from the jug on the table. He returned his attention to Liliana. “As I was saying, shall we toast to our arrangement?”

He held up his goblet, as did she.

So very close.

“To a new age in Geth!” He said, triumphantly. She raised her goblet in cheers and brought it to her lips. He took a long drink from his own goblet. The wine was sweet, a perfect compliment to a deal well struck. Now that she trusted him, he could bring her in close and with a single touch, her magic would be his. Such a pity. She was quite smart, but no mortal could outwit a god.

“My dear, shall we depart to the –” The muscles in his neck twitched, cutting himself off. He cleared his throat loudly. A strange sensation. “Sorry, shall we depart to the study and plan your next move?” He asked, beginning to rise from his chair. His collar suddenly felt tight on his throat. He undid the top buttons to make it easier to breath.

“Are you alright?” Liliana asked him. His throat felt so dry.

“One moment, my lady.” He sank back down into his chair, reaching for his goblet. He took a long drink from it. He put the goblet back down, but he did not feel quenched. His fingers twitched towards the stem. All the while, he could feel Liliana’s gaze on him.

No.

He fingers cupped the base of the goblet once more.

How?

He raised it to his lips. The magic wine spilled down his throat as he eagerly drank.

That conniving bitch!

Chapter Text

Liliana watched as a drop of wine trickled from the corner of her attendant’s mouth down his chin. The muscles in his throat twitched frantically to consume all the wine he could. His bulging eyes swiveled in their socket; the skin pulled taut so that she could see the soft, dark muscle beneath. He placed the goblet on the table with quite a show of force. His chest heaved as he gasped for air.

“My lady, please,” he whispered.

“How long does it last?” She asked, ignoring his pleas. She kept her eyes on her attendant as the god filled the goblet with a hapless wave of his hand.

“Hm? Oh, well, it lasts for as long as I wish it.”

That wasn’t an answer. She watched as her attendant pick up the goblet with a trembling hand. With a small grimace, he began to drink greedily. A single-minded compulsion, difficult for someone to overcome, she observed. He’s made his point, so why has not yet dispelled his magic? More wine spilled from the dragonborn’s mouth.

“I see.” She said, quietly. The attendant slammed his goblet down onto the table with great force. She noted the increase in desperation the longer he was under this spell. Evidently, this spell was a powerful enchantment, but what were the limitations? She glanced at Vocatus, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Everything seemed to slow as her mind raced. A handsome god appears before her to offer his aid in her conquest at the home of her enemies. Presenting her with an enchantment allegedly powerful enough to subdue entire towns… It seemed too perfect. There was more to this magic than the god was willing to share. But why the secrecy? Was he trying to poison her as well? Was he working for the Oxventurers? Or perhaps he wished to steal her vast army to conquer Geth for himself? She was beginning to suspect that this trickster god thought her to be a fool. Whatever his purpose was here today, she would learn the truth soon enough.

As he waved his hand to fill the goblet yet again, she cast a spell of her own. Timing her moment carefully, she used a subtle mage hand to knock his goblet over. He cried out in frustration as the contents spilled over the table and nearly onto his finery. As he busied himself with cleaning up the mess, she tipped the tainted wine into the jug nearest to Vocatus, and swiftly returned the emptied goblet to her attendant.

“Very sorry, my lady, that does not normally happen. Got a bit careless there.” Vocatus said, clearly embarrassed. A brief look of surprise flickered across his face as he noticed the emptied goblet, but he filled it, nonetheless. He tended to his own goblet with the jug of wine and presented her with his charlatan smile. “As I was saying, shall we toast to our arrangement?”

In a pantomime of her own, she returned his gesture as he toasted to their future glory. Liliana pressed her lips tightly together as so to not accidentally drink from her goblet. She could not be certain that he had not enchanted her wine unseen. She watched as he took a long sip from his goblet, smacking his lips with a gluttonous satisfaction.

“My dear, shall we depart to the –” He began, but stopped to clear his throat loudly. “Sorry, shall we depart to the study to plan your next move?” He raised his hand to his throat, massaging it gently. She imagined the spell might hinder one’s breathing in its urging for the wine.

“Are you alright?” She asked with feigned concern.

“One moment, my lady.” Confusion adorned his face as his own magic worked against him. She pursed her lips as she watched him, carefully studying his reaction. So, he was not immune to his own enchantment, she observed as he began to feverously drink the poisoned wine.

“No!” He cried. In anguish, he tossed the goblet away. He was gripping the table, the flesh of his knuckles growing white. “What have you done?!” He sputtered between ragged breaths. Her eyebrow twitched at his great dramatics. What a capricious little god he was.

Heeding her telepathic call, her guards burst through the door with their swords at the ready.

“Vocatus,” her voice like a gentle chill, “you can release my attendant from your spell now. I believe you have made your point.”

He muttered something too quietly for her to hear. She glanced over at her attendant who had since abandoned his goblet and was now drinking from the jug. She pursed her lips as annoyance gnawed at her. He did not break the spell. Perhaps she needed to be more persuasive.

“General, could you please.” She needn’t say anything more.

“Of course, my lady.” Her loyal general stepped towards the corrupted dragonborn. Without hesitation, he plunged his sword through the back of his brother-clone. The jug fell from his fingers. He thrust his sword deeper so that it protruded from the chest. The face bore an anguished expression, but she heard the small breath of relief that escaped from him. A stain of wine and blood spread through the tunic’s linen fibers. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Her guard placed his foot firmly on its shoulder and wrenched his sword from the body. Still bloodied, he sheathed it and returned to her side. He smelled of brimstone and iron.

“I wish to speak to the Master Vocatus, but he appears to be rather preoccupied. Can you relieve him?”

The foot solider walked over to him and struck Vocatus with the back of his hand, knocking the goblet he was greedily drinking from out of his hand. He grabbed the god by the neck of his shirt and dragged him from the chair. She watched him squirm, desperately trying for a goblet on the ground or to get away, she couldn’t be certain. His feeble attempts failed, and he grew limp. The foot soldier held his by his arms and forced him to kneel by her chair. He made for a pitifully god. With a fist full of hair, the guard wrenched his head back to bring his eyes to hers.

“Master Vocatus, I think I have been very patient with you, wouldn’t you agree?” She said, quietly. “I think it is only fair then that you explain all to me, and I should warn you, if I find any of your explanations to be unsatisfactory, I will be most displeased.” A small smile toyed at her lips as his eyes widened with fear. “My dear boy, you are right to be afraid, but I promise we will begin with an easy question. Why did you come here today?”

“I-I came to find you,” he stated, weakly. She tapped her fingers along the arm of her chair to display her growing annoyance. She gave a curt nod to her guard, and he began to twist his arm. “I-I wanted to take your magic!” He cried, sputtering at the smallest bit of pain.

“Take my magic? Why? And how?” She demanded, quite alert. She swept her eyes across the room to detect any magic, but there were no spells to find.

“To strengthen my own.” He said, lamely. This admission did much to soothe her worries. “I just need a single touch. I was waiting for the right moment.” Satisfied, she settled back into her chair and resumed her questioning.

“So, your offer was a lie. Am I correct to assume everything in our earlier conversation was a lie too?” She asked, and he nodded. “How then did you come to learn about my existence?”

“The Oxventurers told me about you.”

“Are you working with them?”

“No,” he shook his head wildly. “We had a battle and when I tried to steal their magic, they offered me information about you!”

Liliana paused for a moment. Was this a lie as well? She wouldn’t put it past the Oxventurers to trick their way out of a situation and to gain something in the process, that is very much like them. But why not just steal their magic and hers? Why would he accept a deal with them? Whatever, the details of this mattered little.

“How does your magic work?” She asked, shifting her focus now. When he didn’t answer her quickly enough, she gave a look to her foot soldier to twist his arm some more.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” He cried out. A sneer formed on her lips, and she gave the signaled for the solider to continue. She heard the satisfying sound of a snap and Vocatus’ pained scream. “I am telling the truth! I don’t know!”

Liliana was taken aback by his insistence. She stared down at him with a growing feeling of disgust. So like a god to be willingly ignorant of his own power. She had spent decades studying magic and its potential. With each secret she had uncovered, she yearned for more. To understand the intricacy of a thing is to master it. This gluttonous little swine took for granted his power and now he wantonly wanted more?

“If you have no further information, then I think that will be all. Take him away!” She said, dismissively.

“Wait! Wait! Liliana, I can help! I can help you!” He screamed as he was pulled away. She raised her hand, and the guard halted.

“Yes, I think you can be of help." Liliana said. His eyes grew wide at this one last shred of hope. "You spoke many lies to me this day, but you were right about one thing: I am your end. Together we will let it be known that not even a god can challenge me.” She waved her hand to send him away, and the guard dragged him screaming to his death.

She felt a sudden pain in her stomach. She had become quite hungry now that everything had settled. The lobster bisque had grown cold and unappetizing, and she had no taste for sweet things, like the honey bread presently on the table. She called for the crone from earlier. The old woman crept noisily into the room.

“Bismuth, was it?” She asked, the woman nodded. “I am sure you can hear Master Vocatus is quite indisposed, so I will be taking resident here until the homeowners return. Is that agreeable to you?” Again, Bismuth nodded. “Excellent, then I request the next course.”

“What happened to him?” The crone asked, nudging the dragonborn corpse with her food.

“Insubordination.” Liliana replied, watching the woman carefully, but Bismuth’s wizened face did not betray her.

The crone brought her a fine cut of steak prepared in butter and roasted turnips cooked in herbs and goose fat. Liliana had sent for another foot soldier as a temporary replacement for her attendant. He found a vintage from the manor’s cellar at her request. The wine was a perfect compliment to the rich flavours of the meat.

When she had finished, Liliana decided to wander the manor. She found herself in a grand library, furnished with shelves of black oak. It would appear as though the Oxventurers had not been home in a long time. Everything was coated with a thin layer of dust, and the air smelled stale. The room was still and quiet. Vocatus had long grown silent.

She picked up a book from the low table by the fireplace and flipped absentmindedly through the pages. She was surprised to see it was full of sheet music. Must belong to the bard, Liliana thought. She could summarize the melody well enough, but the lyrics… The writing was inscrutable! Perhaps if she spent some time with it, she could decode the message…

The door swung open with a loud bang.

“My lady!” Liliana dropped the book as a guard rushed to her. “My lady, we found something you should see!” What more strange curiosities could this god bring?

The guard presented her with a crystalline object filled with strange red and black liquids that were moving of their own accord. Could this be the source of the god’s magic? She peered into it. A heaviness settled into her chest as she stared, feeling as though something held her there. Something far beyond seemed to be perceiving her, calling to her. The weight grew as the air around grew thick with the smell of sea. This presence was far greater than the pitiful god dead in the bowels of the manor. It was ancient and knowing. With two hands, she gripped the crystal tightly until it began to crack in her grasp. Tighter, and tighter, the crystal was cutting into her hands, but she felt nothing. She needed to break it free. She felt something sharp cut into her hand as the object gave way. The red liquid seeped into her wounds. Gasping, she felt as though her blood was boiling under her skin as the god’s magic intermixing with her own. So much magic. Magic of a god, and so many others… Wizards, sorcerers, arcane casters with names lost to time. She no longer felt the perceiver’s gaze upon her. Was their magic locked away too? Where did it go?

“My lady!” The guard grabbed her wrists. The crystal shards fell from her hand. Her body felt heavy like she had been awakened from a deep slumber. Blood dripped from deep wounds across her palms. Her guard tore pieces from his cloak to apply to her wounds. He guided her to a plush lounge for her to rest. “My lady, are you alright?”

“Yes, I am fine.” She murmured. The guard called for some water to be brought to her and held the goblet to her lips for her to drink. “I can manage myself fine.” She said, dismissing his worry. She winced slightly as she took the goblet from him. “Where did this object come from? Did you find it on him?” She inquired.

“Not quite, my lady, it appeared when he expired.”

“That did not take long.”

“The druids working on him said he was quite injured when he was brought to them.”

Liliana sipped her water. It appeared that the deal struck with the Oxventurers was one of desperation. “Where is his body now?”

“It-It disappeared, my lady, like it evaporated after he drew his last breath. There’s nothing left of him now but his waist coat.”

So much for her display of power. Except…

The Oxventurers trudged their way towards Necropolis-on-Sea, with Merilwen carefully leading them through the forests nearby to give them some cover. They stopped for a quick rest as they breached the edge of the woods. Merilwen, desperate to get away from the newly engaged Dob and Katie, trekked onwards to scan the area.

They were too late. The Inevitability was sitting in the bay, waves crashing against its hull. In the foregrounds of the manor, an encampment of at least four dozen tents had been pitched with banners and flags that she could only assume were of Liliana’s sigil.

“Guys!” She called back to the group. Denoting her tone of panic, the guild quickly rushed to her. She heard some concerned mutterings and Corazon pulled out his spyglass to get a closer look. Worriedly, he handed it to her, guiding her to a horrifying sight.

A dragonborn that looked far too much like Egbert for her comfort was strung up on a wooden cross like a crop protector. However, he was dressed in Vocatus’ clothes, his legs tarred and covered in feathers… and his body… Liliana had ordered for his torso to be hollowed out. Every organ removed so that the chest became an empty basin. Peering into it made her stomach twist. Merilwen handed the spyglass to Prudence.

“S-So, I guess we don’t need to worry about them teaming up.” She said, trying not to gag.

“If Vocatus is dead, then…” Prudence muttered, her tone slightly gleeful at Liliana’s display. To Merilwen’s relief and slight chagrin, Prudence cast an Eldritch blast on a nearby tree. The smell of charred wood and sea air lingered in the air. “Yes!” Prudence shouted, triumphantly.

“Well, I guess that’s settled then.” Corazon said, admiring the damage.

“Except for the fact that Liliana’s in our home!” Merilwen countered.

“We can’t take on Liliana and her army, Merilwen.” Dob said, quietly. “I think we need to cut our losses and count our wins. Prudence’s magic has returned, and we have a wedding to plan!”

Merilwen rolled her eyes, but she knew Dob was right. They could hardly defeat Liliana on her own, let alone with so many allies with her.

“You’re right, Dob,” she said, firmly squeezing his shoulder, “I am sure Liliana is shifting through our personal belongings as we speak.” Dob looked a little peaky, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the thought of Liliana reading something he'd rather her not, or some poison doing its work. Merilwen smirked as Dob snatched the spyglass to do a quick scan of the manor.

“To next mission, gang, wedding planning!” Corazon cheered; clapping Dob on the back.

“Yes, to wedding planning!” Egbert corralled. The change of topic successfully deterred Egbert from finding the dreadful sight. She caught Dob’s lingering, wistful stare on the manor. As she watched Dob take Katie’s hand, she wondered whose flame did he truly carry in his heart, Katie’s, or Liliana’s?

Merilwen cast once last glance at the manor, and the encampment surrounding it. She supposed in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t really matter. It was foolhardy either way. And she would rather a love lost, than the world.