Deadtired

"The clasp isn't broken, and the spellwork on this case is still intact. I found it by the throne amongst other baubles. The phylactery itself was being used to empower another one of these... celestial bongs. Which means that someone broke into this case without breaking into it. It seems like there's someone rather clever out there, Alex, and I'm not sure how I feel about that."

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Chapter Thirty-Six — Ideological Idiocy

Chapter Thirty-Six — Ideological Idiocy

I reached into the celestial bong, once again thankful that unlife had bestowed upon me some rather thin and flexible fingers to work with. I gripped my fingertips around the small stone at the centre of the device, then gave it a slight tug.

It came free from the little brackets holding it in place with a satisfying clink.

Pulling it out of the neck of the bottle was a somewhat more difficult task, but I managed it all the same with a bit of finagling, which left me holding onto a small rock some five centinecrometres long by two wide at its centre. It was a very precisely cut stone, hundreds of triangular facets creating an oval that was at once smooth and very jagged.

The stone itself, if memory served, was nothing too special. Some sort of limestone, perhaps? Tough but still workable.

There was a tendency in the magical community to equate the potency of a magical reagent to its value.

This was patently ridiculous. Magic itself generally didn't care about monetary value. How could it? Would it know that upon founding a new diamond mine the value of such had dipped and therefore more would be needed to resurrect a freshly dead companion?

Nonsense.

Still, the rumours and ideology persisted, leading to some quite ridiculous use of reagents. Dragon's spit? You could use water with some crushed red peppers! It was both cleaner and more efficient, not to mention the cost of hiring some gullible adventurers-or worse, a bard-to kill and-or seduce a local dragon for their spit! Exorbitantly expensive.

Now, some reagents were expensive, yes, but that was happenstance. A spell that called for eggshell would be more potent if the egg shell in question belonged to a drake, yes, but that was because the drake was a naturally magical creature.

My point being that value has no direct ties to magical capability. It behoves a mage of any calibre to test their reagents and some alternatives to determine their true magical potency. In this case, I'd long discovered that while gems did generally allow for more powerful magic to be tied to them, they also leaked like metaphorical sieves.

A simple rock had better long-term magical retention than any sort of jewel, and to counteract that loss of potency over time requires specific safeguards tied into the magic.

One doesn't want to wake up one day to discover their ruby-tipped wizard's staff unable to send out sparks, after all.

I tossed the little phylactery up, caught it, then slipped it into a pocket for later. "Well, that's that," I said.

Alex perked up. The maid had sorted the items we found into neat rows, these rows were within sectors, which in turn were sorted into broad categories. This did mean that some rows had singular items within then, but that was fine.

I stood and handed the celestial bong to Alex who took it with a slight bow and darted over to the home appliance category, living room sector, second row.

"That seems well sorted out," I said as I tugged a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped my hands clean. "I wonder what we'll do with all of this."

Alex smiled and gestured to one of the more full rows. "I took the liberty to add another level to the sorting, bone daddy."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yes! They're now also sorted by estimated value. The further left the object the higher the estimated market value."

"Well done, that maid!" I said as I reached over and gave Alex a congratulatory pat between the ears. "In the coming centuries your contributions to the maidly art of loot sorting shall be well-remembered."

Alex swelled with pride. "Thank you!"

"Still, that doesn't quite answer my initial question."

"Oh, yes, I had a solution," Alex proposed.

"I'm listening," I said.

Alex gestured to the items. "Some of these are somewhat dangerous, I suggest that we set those aside into two secondary categories. Sub-categories for dangerous materials, essentially. One for those that are dangerous but not interestingly so." Alex reached down and scooped up a small scepter-like weapon. It was brimming with magical potential. A force spell was woven into it, a severely overpowered one for the container that held it. It was liable to explode at a single blow.

"I see, and the other?"

"Items which are dangerous but might be worth studying." Alex gently placed the sceptre down and picked up a sword. It was a flying sword. It had enchantments woven into it not dissimilar to a witch's flying broom, which was, of course, patently ridiculous. Why put those on a sword? Brooms already had terrible form-factors. A thin rod stuck in one's fork? That was just unkind to the male mage. A sword. Now that was just a joke.

Still, it might be worth studying, the enchantment was somewhat novel.

"I see, and what of the rest?" I asked.

"These valuables should be catalogued and given to the Limpet."

"My test subject? I see... I suppose there might be some value in giving her magical armaments, armour, weapons, and a host of small utility items. Do you think she'd put any of this to good use?"

I tapped the end of an oxford against a sword. This one was merely enchanted to be sharper and more durable, though it was quite pretty. Very... curvy compared to the swords the average fighter tried to chop at me with.

"I think that Miss Limpet will be able to sell, reforge, or use most of these things in due time. She is starting a small kingdom that should quickly expand to an empire. Those sorts of things require significant investments to function."

"Ah, yes," I said. I'd done empire-building a few times. Lots of fun. Empire upkeep, on the other hand? Awful business. No fun at all. Alex was right, though, starting an Empire of any sort, even a tiny humble one, required initial capital. Or, excluding that, it would require a massive ideological push.

My Limpet didn't have the time or the charisma to enact the latter, so any growth would have to be fueled by plain old gold. It was the easiest way to start. It was also the least tenable in the long run.

Oh, an Empire could grow rich and fat on plunder, but eventually it would run out of things to plunder and the bills come in regardless. "How is she handling it so far, by the way?" I asked.

"I overheard her muttering about taxes," Alex said.

"Oh good, she's getting the hang of it." I chuckled darkly. "Taxes are the lifeblood of a nation. And also the number one reason for dissent, rebellion and other ills." Rebellions, contrary to what the common folk raised on pretty stories might believe, never started from the bottom.

It started from the top. Usually a few people with lots of wealth who were losing that wealth in ways they weren't happy with would funnel their earnings into fomenting a rebellion, and then things would take off and become quite chaotic for a while.

I knew, because I'd started my share of those. When one had a nation of the undead whose inner economy was non-existent, one found themselves with ful coffers and plenty of reasons to pay for an annoying neighbour's demise.

"Ah, better times," I sighed.

"I think the Limpet is considering ways to attract more trade and build up her armed forces. She will have to consolidate the region before moving onwards," Alex said.

"Hmm, very true. Actually, while she's up to that... do you recall reports of Death Knights in the region?"

"Yes, Bone Papa," Alex said.

I nodded. "I do as well. And yet... nothing. Strange. Seventeen might have been the cause for reports about necromancers and the like, but Death Knights specifically? What a strange little plot hole."

Alex blinked at me, waiting for elaboration.

"I think, dear Alex, that it's about time we venture northwards. There is one city we've yet to visit within the Flaming Steppes, isn't there?"

"Opalhorn," Alex said. "The seat of the Flame's heart sect."

Yes, the old rivals to the Ashen Forest. They'd been a very mild thorn in our side, hadn't they? And yet... not truly. Their involvement in things was mild, and from a great distance. Now that I was thinking about it, something was off about that.

"Well, time to pay them a quick visit. Toss all those through the portal and let's zip along!"

Alex squirmed. "Toss, Bone Father?"

"Oh, fine, you can gently place it on the other side. Do sort it, and keep it out of the hands of those mantises. But make it snappy! We have a city to burn!"

Opalhorn. A final visit while we were in the region, and then it was back to see how the Limpet was faring with her little kingdom building project.

I hoped she wasn't failing to keep up her practice too!

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Chapter Thirty-Seven — Officious Officers

Chapter Thirty-Seven — Officious Officers

Seventeen, recently promoted Captain of his Very Much Dead Lord Harold the Bone Father, was enjoying his promotion quite a bit.

His position as Captain placed him as the highest ranking officer in the region. Previously, he had been the only officer in the region, and now he could rectify that... in a few minutes.

The position also came with a significant increase in the number of duties he had to attend. A welcome change after centuries of quiet toiling under the sea. Now there wasn't a waking moment in which he didn't have several urgent matters to attend to, and as an undead, he had no sleeping moments to begin with!

"Oh... hoho?" he tried. Had that been a pun? Certainly it wasn't worthy of the attention of his great master, but his fledgeling skill in the magic of wordplay would only ever remain fledgeling if he never found the will and the way to practice!

"S-s-sir?" one of his subordinates asked.

"Ah yes, forgive me," Seventeen said. He stood a little taller then and eyed his troops. His officer corps of officer corpses.

Five members in all, too few for the number of officers he needed, but about as many as he could train on-the-job and expect satisfactory results from. These five had stood out to him by being less stupid than the other undead and some even had a twinkle of ambition in their lifeless eyes.

The one who'd spoken was one of Seventeen's... experiments that had been slightly-less aligned with standard protocol.

One did get somewhat bored when there was nothing but water and the dead around, and Seventeen had decided to test his necromantic mettle by seeing what stuck.

The old 'throw it at the wall and see what sticks' method of science. As long as one took detailed notes for publication and future scientists to repeat the experiments, then it was entirely valid!

Officer Cadet Tine was the result. A human male with the head of a snake. A rather common snake. It... didn't quite fit. The proportions were entirely off, even with his human body being on the smaller side. He did have a rather long neck, but his head, cobra hood and all, was average sized for a snake.

"Forgive me, Officer Cadet Tine," Seventeen replied. "Merely lost in thought. Ah, but speaking of time, heh, we have a limited amount at our disposal, shall we begin the nightly reports?"

The six of them were currently located in the bridge of the formerly more-mobile fortress. At the moment the moving building was sitting pretty on a hilltop near Yu Xiang, serving as a fort between the city proper and the incoming invasion.

"Yesss, ssir!" Officer Cadet Tine said. "Sshall I begin?"

"Please do," Seventeen said with a nod. He could appreciate the initiative. This cadet in particular was always quick to act on such, surprisingly so, even, for a ghoul.

"My scouts, the Serpen Sscouts have made good time approaching the enemy camp. Sso far, I ssusspect that they've gone unnoticed. We've managed to gather a better count of the ssolidiery pressent."

"Go on," Seventeen said. He didn't comment on Cadet Tine naming the scout troop after himself. Such indiscretions were common with the ambitious.

"Sixteen thousand regulars, that iss, consscripted troopsss. Another Sseven thousssand proper sssoldierss. The officer core isss compossed of sssome three hundred officers."

"An unusually high number," Seventeen said. "Or perhaps we're just used to our own methodology." After all, the undead hardly needed a complex chain of command. There was Harold, then the rest. Easy. New officer posts only appeared when delegation was absolutely necessary.

He turned to the next officer waiting to report, then he looked down, then up. Finally, he found her hiding in a shadowy corner of the room. "Officer Cadet Ful, hiding is hardly appropriate at this time," he said gently.

"Sorry, sir!" she squeaked before floating back down. The young banshee-only a century old!-was quite shy. Under different circumstances he might have passed her over for promotion to cadet, but for all of her fear of attention, she was nonetheless a good mind.

"Your report?" Seventeen urged.

"Yes sir!" she said, wafting an arm into a salute. "The ghost core reports mostly good news from the city. We've successfully tracked all of the people linked to the assassin sent after Miss Fenfang. Those still alive are under constant surveillance."

"I see, well done," Seventeen said. Discovering that a local had tried to kill the master's apprentice was quite distressing. He had forgotten what it was like to work with humans. Or rather, he never knew from personal experience and only had testimonials and warnings from his books to go on.

He didn't expect any of them to try to kill the apprentice. It was a moment of short-sightedness on his part.

Officer Cadet Ful was correcting that for him by recruiting from the city's store of local ghosts and apparitions. Yu Xiang had had a few exorcists going around and clearing the nastier ghosts away, and the more obvious, but that didn't mean they got all of them.

Those that remained were equally citizens of the city, and as undead, they were charged with working for him. It was conscription of a sort, but the work mostly involved busy work like some light spying and snooping about.

"Good job, Fret," one of the cadets said to Cadet Ful. Seventeen turned his attention to the mummy in question and he quickly noticed. "Ah, ready to report, sir."

"Go on, Officer Cadet Wrapture," Seventeen said.