Marché lingered in the shadow of the city walls.
For a time, he was awed by Tonberg's scope. When the Church scooped him up from the burning remains of his village, there was no end to the splendour that awaited him within those impregnable walls. For the first time, he ate whenever he was hungry and slept whenever he was tired. A great fire of hope was smouldering in his adolescent belly - a hope that would soon be extinguished by the corrupt underbelly of the Church.
"Marché."
Roland's silver-blonde hair glowed in the morning sunlight. He called from beyond the shade, where a small group of cultists were busy packing barrels and sacks into a wagon. Every one of them had changed into the shabby, moth-bitten work clothes emblematic of commoners - their two leaders included.
"We'll be heading off in an hour, so make sure you haven't forgotten anything." Roland said, "You can bring a weapon along if it pleases you, but make it no bigger than a knife or a dagger. We won't make it past the border if someone brings a sword with them."
"I'd be surprised if they let us through at all." Marché replied, "It's been more than a week since the last of Tonberg's civilians fled. Isn't it a little suspicious for a caravan to be passing through after so much time has passed?"
"Leave the particulars to me." He pressed a thumb into his chest, "I'll spin a yarn about how we've been squatting in a nearby village. They can't prove that we're necromancers without treating us unjustly. Refugees are a delicate political subject - we'll have plenty of Dwarves on our side."
"-And plenty of Dwarves opposing us, too…" Marché sighed, "Well, it's not like we're planning to stay for long. All we need to do is gather some information on their defensive capabilities."
Roland scraped his mud-stained boots against the ground, "Have you ever been up north?"
"No." He shook his head, "Never."
"I'm not surprised. It's no place for a human to be." While they spoke, the two of them paced towards the wagon, "Most of those volcanoes are still active, you know. The Dwarves dig straight towards the magma and use it to heat their forges and whatnot."
"What do they make?" Marché asked, "I've only ever heard of Dwarven ale."
"Everything." The word was so nebulous and unbelievable, but Marché could tell that Roland meant no exaggeration by it, "Fortresses and weapons and great engines of war. They spit out new inventions on a daily basis. I've heard they even harness lightning to animate their foul constructs."
"Taking them down might not be possible with our numbers." Marché summarised.
"It would be foolish to even consider the possibility." Roland agreed, "-But with that said, if we were at all worried about whether a task was impossible or not, Tonberg wouldn't be under our control. I want to believe that Lieze's conquests so far haven't been the result of sheer luck."
"Luck? No. But I wouldn't describe her confidence as anything less than suicidal."
"When death is your only objective, chaos becomes your nature." Roland mused, "Remember that. It's saved the lives of more necromancers than you could possibly imagine."
The valiance in his gaze was the real deal. Marché had to remind himself that he wasn't speaking to a man raised in the comfort of Tonberg's walls, but a wild human weaned on fear and discipline. Despite their mutual respect, Marché was still very much an outsider wrapping his head around the madness of the Order's adherents.
Preparations were underway to guarantee that the small group had gathered up everything that was required to survive the month-long journey that would see them to the Dwarven Mountains. With enough clean water, smoked goods, and alcohol to see them safely on their way, all that remained was to vanish into the distance.
Lieze observed the horse-drawn carriages setting off from atop the city battlements. She was reluctant to part with some of her finest lieutenants, but confident in their devotion to the cause. Intelligence would be the deciding factor in the upcoming war, and she intended to have an abundance of it before the Dwarves could make their move.
"Oh…" A spray of tobacco fluttering on the wind was followed by a disappointed grumble from Lüngen, "It's far too windy today…"
What little remained of the archivist's hair sprouted like weeds from his scalp. From the day of Lieze's birth, Lüngen had always been old and wrinkly, and in the years that followed, he only continued to get older and wrinklier. Merely ascending the ladder to the top of the battlement had knocked the wind out of him so fiercely that one would think someone had just punched him in the gut.
"What's your take on the Scions, Lüngen?" Lieze asked, "You understand my true power, but don't seem at all interested in its origins."
"Those who are chosen by- oh, dear…" He ripped a handkerchief out from his collar and dabbed his sweat-studded cheeks, "Those who are chosen by the Gods must serve a greater purpose, and this purpose must stand to benefit all Gods, otherwise your ability to pilfer the abilities of your ilk would be counterintuitive."
"Do you think my rise to power is by design?" She wondered.
"Perhaps. It may be that the Gods seek to identify a 'victor' among those they have chosen."
"You mean, like a contest of sorts?" Lieze tilted her head.
"A contest… yes…" Lüngen stroked his scraggly beard, "And if so, I can't help but wonder what sort of prize could possibly await its champion. What could the Gods hope to accomplish by identifying the most worthy among us mortals?"
"I don't like it." Lieze folded her arms, "I seek no prize. This farce makes me feel like a tool forged to accomplish something greater than myself. It forces me to question our goals."
"Drayya has told me that you've been conducting some rather fearsome research into the matter." Lüngen replied, "Bear in mind, Lieze, that seeking knowledge in everything will only complicate the answer you seek. It's better to focus your attention on a particular subject."
"That's true." She nodded, "But I'm not sure where to begin looking."
"I recall you mentioning a hidden alchemist's laboratory beneath the castle." He continued, "Why not begin there? After all, why would knowledge be hidden from the public if it did not contain something dreadfully truthful?"
The hidden laboratory was scarred by the battle between Lieze's thralls and the Manticore. She couldn't help but smirk as she recalled Drayya's headstrong gambit to slay the beast. Glass shards broke under her heel - remnants of alembics, distillers, and the fluids once trapped within, filling the air with the sharp stench of chemicals.
"Ho-hoh." Lüngen's step had a spring to it, "What a discovery this is. Alchemy was once a forbidden discipline, you know, so perhaps this room is all that remains of an ancient scholar's legacy."
"Most of the tomes in here are for show." Lieze pointed towards a perfectly square passageway carved into the stone, "That hole in the wall over there leads into a hidden study."
At the mention of it, she was reminded of the grimoire on display within the study. She'd stowed the book in her Bag of Holding with the intention of studying it at a later date, but found her attention diverted elsewhere before the chance presented itself.
"Hm?" Lüngen observed her pulling the oversized tome out, "What's that you've got there?"
"I only just remembered that we retrieved this tome from that study." She ran her fingers over the unmarked cover, "If I remember correctly, Marché mentioned that it made direct references to the Scions… but we were distracted by the Manticore before we could examine it in detail."
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Lüngen placed a hand on his waist, "Set it down on a table and let's have a look!"
The tome was enormous, and its contents more schizophrenic than one would think possible. Its pages were peppered not only with scribbled handwriting, but annotated diagrams of symbols used by the Church. Essays melted into poetry and philosophy with ease, creating a thesis of incomprehensible scope expounding the concepts of cosmology, chemistry, and theism.
"Hm… this will take more than a few glances to understand, I fear." Lüngen muttered, "It's fortunate indeed that we've been afforded an abundance of time to waste. I could easily waste away an entire week with nothing but this tome at my side."
His enthusiasm dissolved just as quickly as it manifested when he flipped to the rear end of the book, only to find its pages completely blank.
"That's a shame… is it unfinished?" He wondered, "No wonder. This sort of research wouldn't have been tolerated by the Church. I suppose that's why it was hidden to begin with."
Lieze wasn't paying attention to him. Her eyes skimmed across the supposedly bare pages, symbols and letters glowing into existence as Lüngen flipped through them. What he claimed to be nonexistent couldn't have been any more real to her.
"Wait…" She held out a hand to prevent him from turning any more pages, "What do you mean? There's plenty to see here…"
A tinge of familiarity rose through the fog of her memories. The pillars just beyond the laboratory's entrance - those with words engraved that only Lieze could perceive. A similar sensation was gripping her just then, as if her mind was forcing information into existence by sheer power of will.
Lüngen made a strange sound, "...What do you mean? I can't see anything."
"This has happened before." She replied, "There was a warning on the pillars just outside this chamber, but only I could see it. Maybe this is by design?"
The words inscribed within the tome's latter pages were unrestrained and feverish. She could spot references to the Scions in plain text, free from the prison of interpretation. As she turned the pages, yet more familiar terms began to crop up - 'Mercuria', 'Quicksilver', 'Heavenly Favour'. It was as if she'd stumbled upon a glossary of the terms she'd come to decipher since her awakening in Tonberg.
"This is incredible…" Lieze was enamoured, "It's like this was written by someone who experienced the same trials as me! There's so much information here!"
She was practically salivating at the opportunity to delve into the tome's secrets. The most she could have hoped to gather from the castle's archives were careful references to the Scions hidden within droves of poetry and between the lines of mundane theories. But the book in front of her was restrained by no such forbiddance. It was tact and candid and truthful - a breath of fresh air.
From Lüngen's perspective, she seemed to be poring over a series of completely blank pages. But he knew better than to attribute her behaviour to madness.
"It seems to me like what you were looking for was already in your possession." He chuckled, "Still - I'm certain this laboratory holds a wealth of information that could be useful to us besides. I'd like to spend a few hours here."
"Do whatever you like." Unable to tolerate the sour stench in the air any longer, Lieze stowed the tome in her Bag of Holding, "But remember - I still need a compendium of Dwarven technology and tactics to properly consider our next move."
"Yes, yes…" Lüngen waved his hand, "I'll have something prepared within the week. Until then, make sure you aren't letting that tome eat into your night hours like you were doing not long ago. I'll send Drayya around every so often to make sure you're getting a good night's rest."
Lieze frowned, "I'm not a child anymore, you know…"