Chapter B3C68 - Beehive

Chapter B3C68 - Beehive

It took Tyron several weeks before he managed to fall into a steady equilibrium. Working on the enchantments necessary to keep his store running, teaching Flynn, reestablishing contacts with his suppliers and generally ensuring every aspect of his life as Lukas Almsfield was once again ticking along smoothly.

It was shocking to him just how quickly the edges began to fray after so short a time out of the city. Then again, his connections here were relatively new. It took years to build trust, especially in an industry like enchanting. Picking up and leaving for an extended period so soon after establishing himself was an extraordinary thing to do in the eyes of the business community, but here he was already planning his second trip.

Over this time, Elsbeth kept in regular contact, keeping him in the loop regarding her fellow underground dark priests and their movements. More and more, they were extracting their people from farming communities, villages and cities around the province. Picking them up and moving them away from civilisation, heading further out west.

It was likely that after another few months had passed, the population of Cragwhistle would double again. Ortan would doubtless be pulling his hair out at the constant influx of new residents, but Tyron took no joy in the thought. He was uncomfortable with how those people looked at him, uncomfortable with how the Old Gods had made them regard him.

He was no saviour and he didnt imagine for one second that he was. If he could achieve his vengeance by throwing those people into the line of fire, then he would. Perhaps that was even what Raven, Rot and Crone wanted, which gave him pause.

The steadier and smoother life as Lukas Almsfield became, the more freedom he had to indulge in his true purpose, and Tyron threw himself into it with wild abandon.

Only the frequent intervention of Elsbeth kept him to anything remotely like a schedule. Thanks to her incessant mothering, he managed to keep himself rested, fed and clean despite spending almost all of the night hours locked in his study, working on his minions.

Interestingly, he found he made better progress when he was actually taking care of himself. Who could have foreseen such a thing?

Tyron looked around the Ossuary, smiling with satisfaction. Twenty skeletons, each a product of his current and most advanced preparation methods, now soaking in pure and concentrated Death Magick. These would be his first skeleton mages, simple undead with the Death Bolt spell engraved on their minds. In preparation, he had gone to great lengths to ensure they were capable of power sharing on a level far beyond his regular minions.

With a final check, he stepped through the door and into a different realm. His study was more spacious now that he no longer needed twenty slabs to lay the remains on, but that room had quickly been usurped by his latest obsession: bone constructs.

Using what hed learned from the Sand People, he was quickly coming to understand that even with his current abilities, he was capable of creating much more than hed imagined. Closing the door behind him, he was quickly surrounded by piles of bones, half-formed, partially moulded skulls, scores of discarded cores and abandoned experimental networks.

I really need to clean up in here, he sighed, looking at the stray materials.

Long nights had been spent crafting, theorising and tinkering. Now that preparing the remains took so much less time, he had much more free time to pursue his avenues of enquiry, and for now, all of that time was sunk into exploring the potential of these constructs.

He looked from one discarded test to the next. This one hadnt drawn power efficiently enough. That one had proven to be too thin to support the power output he needed. He still hadnt discovered all the variables he needed to nail down. How dense should he make the bones? Which bones were best for which purpose? How could ambient mana be safely converted without burning out the channels in his arrays? How many arrays was optimal? Which cores should he use?

These and a dozen other questions thundered through his head, and he was progressing on all of them, but it was slow going. Part of the problem was that he didnt know what was actually possible.

As he sat down at his desk, letting out a long sigh, he pulled his latest notes toward him. On one page, hed written a list of his greatest ambitions for his current enquiries. In the best case scenario, what would be possible?

The list was populated with fanciful, wishful things that likely were impossible.

A mobile engine capable of providing power to a thousand skeletons.

Bone giant.

Bone-spear launcher.

Darkness generator.Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.com for the best novel reading experience

Thank you, Dark Ones. Thank you, Elsbeth!

Had his false-face cracked here, there is no doubt he would be dead in seconds, or worse.

Giving no sign anything had happened, Recillia leaned back in her chair for a moment, letting the pen drop from her hand for the first time since hed entered.

Your reputation continues to grow within the Arcanist community, Master Lukas Almsfield. Master Willhem speaks highly of you, as do all of those for whom youve performed commission work. My own Magisters are pleased with what youve done for us, indeed, they marvel at your expertise.

Tyron bowed low once more.

Many thanks, Lady Erryn. My talents are narrowly focused, but in those areas in which I specialise, I believe I can claim to be exceptional.

Quite, the noblewoman said shortly. She reached out for a page and gathered it smoothly, holding it out to him in one motion. We foresee a significant rise in demand for enchanting work which will outstrip the capacity of our in-house Arcanists. Would you be willing to take on more commissions for the Magisters tower?

A natural smile bloomed across the Necromancer's face.

I would be delighted.

She nodded as he took the page from her. A quick scan revealed what they wanted him to do. Significant sections of the towers defences would be undergoing maintenance, upgrades, or being redone entirely. As a conduit expert, his list of tasks was extensive, having him hop from array to array to ensure they were as efficient and self-contained as possible.

If you agree to undertake this work for us, I will require you to be bound by tighter restrictions than before. If you are willing, I will apply these restrictions now.

Without hesitation, Tyron accepted. Immediately, he was overwhelmed with Divine Authority. His blood pounded in his ears and his vision went fuzzy as the words spoken by the noble before him thundered within his brain.

By my Authority. You will not speak on what you have learned here. You will not share what has been discussed, what you have seen or heard, through any means. You will work to the betterment of the Magisters and the Nobility, completing the commissioned work to the best of your ability. You will not betray this trust. Should you fail to heed this command, your heart will cease to beat, and you shall die. Divines make it so.

The words wrapped around him like invisible chains, tightening and binding him in ways he did not fully understand. When he came back to himself, he had managed to retain his balance, though he had clutched at the Ladys desk to keep himself upright. With a muttered apology, he stepped back and straightened himself.

You may go. Magister Regis Shan will be your point of contact going forward. He will let you know when you are required to attend the Tower, and be responsible for ensuring your commissions are fulfilled.

Just like that, he was dismissed. Tyron bowed low once more, then turned and made his exit. Outside, he found the lordling waiting, looking none too pleased.

You accepted the terms? he asked flatly.

I did. I take it you are to be my associate for the next while.

The young man grunted, making it clear he didnt appreciate the connection. He turned to walk away, remarking over his shoulder as he went, You look happy about this turn of events.

Indeed, it was difficult for Tyron to keep the grin off his face.

Oh. I am always happy to serve.