Endless complaints serve no purpose; one inevitably encounters various troubles. The first step is to accept reality, and the second is to change it—this is what Lynn had learned to do. After all, he was merely a member of a cult, not a sacrifice; the situation had yet to reach its nadir.
He had resolutely determined to seek an opportunity to escape this family. The reason was not that he could not accept evil, but rather, he refused to succumb to it.
The Reani family was beyond redemption.
The sacrificial ceremony had concluded, yet the denizens of the underground chamber remained industriously engaged. For the various spellcasters, the sacrificial offerings were a bountiful boon. The Lord of Death had claimed the offering's blood, the soul reaper had taken its fragments, and the flesh weaver gathered its remains, preparing to stitch them into a new monstrosity.
Observing his bustling siblings from a distance, Lynn felt no stirrings within his heart: among them, few could be deemed respectable. The Lord of Death, the soul reaper, the flesh weaver, the harbingers of death, the dreaded necromancer, not to mention the devoted acolyte of Orcas—his family had an insatiable passion for necromantic sorcery, truly loyal devotees of Orcas.
In contrast, Lynn, an ordinary mage, felt utterly out of place. While others toiled, he could only watch in silence. Yet as he observed their gleeful collection of spell components, he felt not revulsion, but an inexplicable sadness.
For a member of the Reani family, this was indeed a lamentable state. His unknown father would hardly have imagined that his offspring would stoop to the grotesque act of dismembering a corpse.
After all, during his lifetime, he was a ruthless killer, unperturbed by the existence of a single corpse.
Lynn harbored no particular fondness for the Reani family or the deceased Duke of Reani. He had gleaned information about his estranged father only from rumors—upon learning the truth, he could only marvel at the man's sheer ferocity.
While alive, the Duke had been a military noble stationed at the Tumash Mountain Range, defending against incursions by the earth gnomes and other tribes. However, approximately twenty years ago, seizing the opportunity presented by the old king's death, he led his forces southward, seizing control of the political landscape of Imburt, slaying the old king's son, and installing a new monarch in his stead.
From that moment, he was branded a usurper, regarded as a rogue by all the virtuous.
Of course, this was a fact.
Following that, he went on to assassinate the two kings he had previously enthroned, having killed three monarchs in the span of merely five years, treating their lives with the same disregard one might have for quail. As for the rest of the royal family, they fell like weeds at his hands. Had he not met an untimely demise, the fourth king he had installed—Thain IV—might well have met the same fate.
Yet he died, and Thain IV seized the chance to ally with the God of Tears, launching a counter-offensive that expelled the Reani family from Imburt. The Reani family was branded with various labels: usurpers, regicides, brutal warlords, cultists, traitors… an avalanche of accusations rained down upon them, and Thain IV, having nearly eradicated all their kin, made it abundantly clear that he would pursue their family to the ends of the earth.
The Reani family had been forced to leave their homeland for over a decade; during these years, they had been reduced to residing in Santir Castle, lacking power and influence, surviving on meager resources. Santir Castle had taken them in, perhaps seeking the opportunity to intercede in the affairs of Imburt. However, as Thain IV increasingly appeared as a formidable ruler, Santir Castle grew ever more dismissive of their family.
Now, even procuring spell components was a challenge, and they could find joy in the dismemberment of a single corpse. Reduced to this state, what future could the family possibly have?
In a world where evil seemed trivial, the life of a fallen noble devoid of hope instilled in Lynn an overwhelming urge to flee.
"Lynn, the clan leader has instructed that after today's sacrificial rites, the family members are to convene in the hall; he has important matters to discuss."
A flying headman outside the basement door reminded Lynn of this. In Fons Castle, it was commonplace to employ undead as servants, a practice to which Lynn had long since acclimated. He smiled and nodded, courteously bowing to the headman, concealing his disdain for the clan leader.
The priest he had just seen was now the head of the Reani family, their Uncle Robin. Lynn held him in low regard; however, having read the tales of Trehearne, he knew that in this world, even thoughts could be perilous, so he remained cautious. He exited the basement and strode towards the hall; despite his skepticism regarding Uncle Robin's sincerity, he would arrive promptly to attentively listen to the family patriarch's discourse.
Upon entering the hall, Lynn beheld Uncle Robin adorned in elaborate robes. Unlike his ominous blood-stained attire from the basement, he now bore no trace of the Orcas priest, having adorned himself meticulously, embodying the very image of a noble. Though all present were his kin, rendering his pretense futile, he appeared to revel in the airs of nobility and the sensation of issuing commands.
One by one, the members of the Reani family gathered in the hall. Once he deemed the numbers adequate, Uncle Robin cleared his throat and commenced his address.
"My children, there is something I must inform you. Recently, a friend in Santir Castle shared alarming news: the steppes of Rongma have yet to freeze, and even the Painful Lands further north have sprouted sparse wild grasses. The rumors are true: the great glaciers are receding, and temperatures are rising."
Lynn remained silent; such tidings required no relay from Santir Castle—the outside bards had already spread the word far and wide.
"The thawing of the Painful Lands and the steppes of Rongma poses certain dangers. At this time of year, blizzards would typically assail the steppes, and the frost giants and frostblood orcs from the north would raid the south. However, this year, none of that will occur. The barbarians on the plains may enjoy a prosperous winter, leading to a rapid increase in their population."
This was somewhat intriguing, and Lynn began to pay closer attention.
"To prevent the barbarians from threatening the civilized world, the lords are deliberating strategies. A military campaign may be launched to cleanse the barbarians. The long-term solution, however, involves proactive measures to seize the northern territories and make them suitable for habitation."
To avoid being plundered, they intended to plunder others… Santir Castle was indeed the bastion of Bane; their logic was remarkably curious.
"To encourage migration northward, Santir Castle has made a decision: for merely three gold coins—the price of a pig—one can purchase 160 acres of land in the north. Within five years, only the basic agricultural tax is required, and all other revenue will belong entirely to you."
With the land still under barbarian control, Santir Castle had commenced selling it while preparing to levy taxes? Lynn found this rather amusing: what made them think anyone would pay to barter with barbarians?
"The family has resolved to partake in this northern expedition. Each of you will receive funds from the family to purchase a parcel of land; your task will be to cultivate new enterprises there on behalf of the family."
"The steppes of Rongma?" Someone could not contain themselves. "Are we to tend sheep?"
"No, not the steppes of Rongma—it is situated even further afield. I am referring to the Fangyin Mountain Range."
Author's note: These professions are derived from the original D&D lore, with necromancers being particularly diverse in their variations. The Reani family is a custom creation, with the Duke of Reani inspired by historical figures notorious for their malevolence.