Chronicles of Espiria Season 1
Episode 9 - Undead Retribution
Written by The Dude
The Bantus Empire. Long ago, it was home to a proud warrior race who had made their lands the envy of the world. After lengthy wars of conquest had taken their toll on the military and financial strength of the empire, their new king, Thoran, began to take measures to bring peace to Bantus. This peace was a welcome change among the common citizens, but was opposed by his brother, Edwin, and many of his noble friends. Their taste for the old ways of glorious conquest eventually led to a bloody coup that ended with the murder of most of the ruling class of the empire, including Thoran and Edwin.
With the future of Bantus in peril, the people turned to an emerging form of magic for any sort of stability: the forbidden art of necromancy. Within a generation, the empire was destroyed forever by necromancers who promised eternal life, but instead brought death. The only shadows left of the old empire were the capital city, known as King's Manse, and the people, who chose an existence of undeath rather than natural life, many surrendering even the basic dignity of free will.
Outside of Bantus, it is commonly believed that the decline of the empire into death and darkness were the doing of King Thoran, who was among the first to be resurrected as a Graveborn, as they call themselves. This belief is not entirely wrong; Thoran, even in death, is still recognized as their king, and rules without any of the love or mercy that he had in life. But even Thoran has his master, and this man, the ancient founder of Necromancy known as Quadam, was the man to whom Thoran had to give account when a Graveborn stepped out of line. On this day, Thoran and his personal bodyguard, Grezhul, were called before the Eldrich Council, the mouthpiece of Quadam, to do just that.
"King Thoran," the council members said as one, "word has reached the ears of Lord Quadam that your rule has been defied."
"I am dealing with the traitor as we speak!" Thoran replied, already agitated.
"How is this being done?" one councilmember asked.
Thoran allowed a cruel grin to cross his face. "I have handed him over to my best interrogator. Lord Quadam is invited to observe his work if it pleases him."
The council was silent for a moment.
"Lord Quadam will consider your invitation."
Meanwhile, the offending Graveborn, Commander Kristoff, found himself chained to a stone table in the middle of a torch lit room. Had he been a living being, his wrists would likely have lost all feeling due to the tightness of his restraints. After hours of solitude, he was joined by a lanky man with long gray hair flowing out of an iron crown. This man was armed with a reaper's scythe, and was followed by the sound of glass clacking together from the vials of green liquid that hung from his belt. In life, this man was named Niru, and was praised across the Lightbearer territories as the greatest doctor of his time. As a Graveborn, he was a personal friend and informal adviser of King Thoran.
Normally, Niru served the king as the administrator of the Whispering Doom, where souls were prepared for resurrection; but today he had another task. His peerless medical knowledge and remarkable understanding of necromancy made him a feared interrogator for Thoran, which was the capacity in which he would work today.
Niru leaned over Kristoff so he could look his victim in the eye and asked in a calm, soothing voice, "You were granted the privilege of free will, were you not, Commander?"
Kristoff nodded. Without warning, Niru stabbed Kristoff in the heart with his scythe, bringing agony to his very soul. Kristoff's cries of torture echoed through Thoran's dungeon and even reverberated through the streets of King's Manse.
"Please, Commander, answer with your voice." Niru chastised Kristoff as he removed his scythe, never breaking his calm demeanor. "Not all Graveborn have the privilege of a voice."
"Yes, exalted Niru, I have free will." Kristoff answered with a shaky voice.
"That's better." Niru continued as he stood and started pacing around Kristoff. "Now, do you know why you have free will?"
"No, I do not." Kristoff answered, fearful that he would be punished again.
"That is correct. None of us knows why Lord Quadam grants free will to some while others are denied; we must simply accept this gracious gift and be thankful for it."
Kristoff relaxed ever so slightly; perhaps Niru would be gracious after all.
"Of course, with free will comes the risk that you can make a poor decision, which may be why only a few are granted the gift. Which brings us to the reason that you are here."
"I do not understand..."
Niru stabbed Kristoff again, this time twisting the scythe a little. Necromantic charms ensured that his Graveborn flesh went unharmed, but he still felt that his soul was being torn apart.
"That is why you are here, Commander; to learn what you did wrong, so that you can avoid repeating your poor decisions."
Niru withdrew the blade and waited until the echoes of Kristoff's screams abated before continuing.
"Let us begin with the basics. Who do you serve?"
"I serve King Thoran."
Niru tapped Kristoff lightly, sending a sharp but manageable pain through him.
"A common mistake. Thoran is the mouthpiece of our true master, and the man we swear fealty to in front of the living, but he is simply an exalted servant. Now try again; who does Thoran serve?"
"Lord Quadam."
"That's better. And what is it that Lord Quadam, through our king, has tasked you with?"
"The collection of new citizens for the empire from among the living."
"On your last mission, who were you meant to harvest?"
"A family on the border of the empire, seeking asylum."
"And did you collect them?"
"Yes, exalted Niru. They await your return in the Whispering Doom."
"I look forward to working on them. Once you had the family that you were sent to retrieve, why did you not return immediately?"
"Villagers had seen us harvesting the family and tried to stop us."
"There was your mistake."
Niru stabbed Kristoff again, leaning into the blade as he explained Kristoff's mistake.
"What was meant to be a simple retrieval turned into a bloodbath that nearly started a war with the living, all because you could not be bothered to conceal your activities, because you could not control your bloodlust."
Niru withdrew the blade, letting Kristoff catch his breath after the intense pain.
"Think on your mistakes, Commander," Niru said as he turned to leave. "If this happens again, Lord Quadam may be forced to rethink your gift of free will."
Niru was nearly to the door when Kristoff foolishly asked, "Lord Quadam does not fear war, does he?"
Niru paused with his hand on the doorknob. He looked back at Kristoff, his eyes flashing in sudden anger. He returned to Kristoff with long strides and drove his scythe through not only Kristoff's heart, but through the table as well. The screams were deafening even in the streets of King's Manse, especially as Niru drew the scythe across Kristoff's chest.
"That is a very dangerous question to ask, Kristoff!" Niru said, struggling to maintain his calm voice through his fury. "No being in Espiria can challenge Lord Quadam; no god in Heaven or Hell can stand against him! If he wished for war with the living, there would be no evidence of their culture left when he finished with them!"
Niru removed the scythe and took several deep breaths to compose himself while Kristoff's lingering screams echoed into silence.
"You are still quite young compared to many Graveborn, so I must forgive your ignorance. The truth is, we are not as immortal as we like to think. Though we live on, our bodies continue to decay, despite all the preservatives and rejuvenative magic we can muster. One day, if left on their own, our bodies will decay to the point of uselessness. That is why we let the living exist. Their life essence can be harnessed to reverse the ravages of decay on our bodies. They are not pests to be exterminated, as you seem to think; they are cattle to be tended, cared for, and harvested when it suits our needs."
Niru looked back at Kristoff; through the searing pain that he was struggling to recover from, Niru could still see a hatred of the living, an inability to understand. Niru summoned the guards, then continued.
"I see you still struggle to understand. No matter; I have developed a few methods that should help you to understand."
At that moment, two guards entered the chamber.
"Take him to the Black Prison."
Kristoff began to panic.
"I swear, I'll do whatever you ask! Just not the Black Prison!"
"Whatever I ask? What I ask is that you let your time in prison mold you into the sort of leader that Lord Quadam and King Thoran can use."
The guards took Kristoff and dragged him, kicking and screaming, down the hall.
"I must remind myself to check on him after a hundred years or so. He should be ready by then. In the meantime, I need to report this to King Thoran, then see to the humans that Kristoff brought to me. Even with immortality, there are never enough hours in the night."
Niru's mind wandered for a moment to his wife and son, whom he had not seen for months; when his mind returned, he made his way to the Court of Terror, Thoran's palace, eventually finding Thoran himself in the throne room, Grezhul at his side.
"Well, my friend?" Thoran asked, not bothering to look up.
"I have determined that our friend Kristoff needs a century in the Black Prison to consider his mistakes." Niru replied with the same calm demeanor he had with Kristoff.
"Make it two centuries!" Thoran shouted. "And he should lose the privilege of free will!"
"I see that you were made to speak to the Council." Niru said with a grimace.
Thoran seethed as he thought about the Eldritch Council. "They have their own tasks to see to; passing laws for me to approve, preaching necromancy among the living, keeping track of our most potent secrets! Why must they also be the mouthpiece of Lord Quadam?! Why can he not speak to me himself?!"
"My liege," Niru began, trying to calm Thoran, "each of us has our own strengths and weaknesses. You are a wise and just leader with centuries of experience in governance; no one knows how the empire should be maintained better than you. But you have lost the skills in diplomacy that you commanded when you still drew breath; now, you are blunt, even insulting at times, in your honesty, and if you are too blunt before Lord Quadam, he could grow angry with you. The Eldrich Council is comprised of those that Lord Quadam called friends when he drew breath; they know how to take your bitter truth and make it sweet in Lord Quadam's ears."
Thoran calmed a little, but still grimaced. "I still do not trust them. I never have, and I doubt I ever will."
"Trust in Lord Quadam." Niru countered. "He can see through the eyes of all Graveborn; nothing can escape his notice. If he ever doubts your loyalty, let him view your deeds himself and see that you would never betray him."
Thoran was about to continue venting his frustrations when a loud wail echoed through the halls of the palace. Thoran's rage seemed to melt away at the sound of the wail, replaced with concern and, Niru thought he saw, heartbreak.
"Where is the traitor now?" Thoran asked, his tone softened.
"He is on his way to the Black Prison." Niru answered.
"Then your work here is finished. Go, spend some time with your family; it has been too long since you have seen them."
"Thank you, my liege." Niru responded, quickly backing out of the throne room before Thoran could change his mind. These brief moments of generosity were exceedingly rare; Niru had learned long ago that they must be taken advantage of while they lasted. He made a mental note to stop by the Whispering Doom to see to the living family that Kristoff had brought in, but he could easily assign the hard work of preparing the family to another.
Once Niru was gone, Thoran rose from his throne and made his way to the west wing of the palace. Thoran was normally a cold, cruel man, easy to anger and difficult to calm; but hidden away in the west wing was the last remaining person who could consistently soften his heart of stone and restore him to the sort of man he was in life, even for a brief time.
"Wait for me outside." Thoran ordered.
"Of course, my king." Grezhul answered.
Thoran entered the chamber, which was furnished and maintained surprisingly well given the barrenness and decay of the rest of the palace, and found the phantom of his sister, Theowyn, seated on a small couch, weeping bitterly into her hands. Thoran sat next to her and rested his gnarled hand on her shoulder.
"Were you dreaming again, sister?"
"It is always the same." she answered, never moving her hands. "We are seated at the banquet table; you, your friends, me, my husband, and Edwin. We are all happy and content. Until Edwin proposes a toast to your health; then his assassins break in and...and..."
Theowyn's sobbing grew worse than ever. "If only I had seen his lust for power! If only I had not spoken in his defense! If only..."
Thoran held her and tried to calm her. His efforts to comfort Theowyn had not worked in centuries, but that never stopped him from trying.
"Theowyn, Edwin is dead and gone, and we are alive. He shall never hurt us again."
"But look at what he has done to us!" Theowyn retorted. "Who besides me do you show tenderness to?"
"No one else is worthy, my sister. Some have my trust, others my respect, but only you have my love, and that cannot be lost. Let that be of some comfort."
Thoran rose, intending to return to his throne. On his way out, Theowyn called out to him.
"My dream was different this time. I still saw your death, but you were undead as you are now. I could not see your murderer, but Grezhul was there, fleeing in terror."
"Then it could be nothing more than a dream." Thoran responded with a smile. "Grezhul would sooner face a thousand deaths than let me die once more."
Thoran left Theowyn to herself. Grezhul could still hear her weeping softly, but it was gentler than before.