Aily dips a curtesy, then without another moment of hesitation, turns and gathers the other servant. "Lord Geb's invitation was for our lords. We, their servants, were just included so they don't need to instruct us on the particulars."
"Sir Seldeg, can you see us to the nearest suitable town to make our preparations?"
Humerus looks around in confusion. "Who are you talking to, boss?"
Aily raises an eyebrow up at the larger Humerus, then inclines her head to the graveknight still among us.
Huh. I thought Seldeg was in charge, but the boss seems to think he's just a servant. I hope he's not offended.
Humerus stays quiet, waiting to see what Seldeg does.
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Seldeg escorts you to a small town nearby, then rides ahead to Mechitar to tend to his own duties.
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"It looks like we shan't have time to stop at the manor before answering the summons. Aily, could you send messages to Graydirge and the capital to make arrangements? I'd like to have my best things available in the capital."
Smoke gives out a sharp bark.
"Oh yes, and Smoke's gnoll chew toy. He's pulled the innards out of his halfling one."
Caraid spends his time in Mechitar the way he usually does - as a classic man of leisure. His charm is on full as he lounges around, buys drinks and generally seems to be doing very little of anything. He does however end up very well informed about local goings on, and even a certain amount of national news and speculation ends up cataloged in his mind.
Admittedly his appearance would be in no way as dapper if it were not for the impeccable attentions of Aily and her new team of maids. Their service is exemplary and if he receives more of the Head Maid's time than Telvir or Ceceka does... well that's simply coincidence.
And it's his bad habit of being out late at night that means Aily has to be in and out (but mostly in) his room at all hours. Truly she is a most devoted maid.
Smoke gives out a sharp bark.
"Oh yes, and Smoke's gnoll chew toy. He's pulled the innards out of his halfling one."
Humerus flinches.
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"I will see to everything, Mr. Stanton." Aily complies. She starts by booking them rooms in the finest inn in town, making sure one of the lords is properly made comfortable,
before seeing to the task.
For a moment, she considers sending Humerus back to help transport the lord's belongings. Sadly she disregards that plan. The skeleton might get lost, easily, but also the lords attract enough attention they might need to defend themselves again. And Humerus makes an excellent focus for other people's aggression.
So with a sigh, she tasks him with this and that, while she sends for their things and more help.
After Lady Cort had perished so easily, Aily considered purging everyone and everything to start over. Once she decided to not do that, she started recruiting from the local population. A proper household needed multiple maids.
She couldn't do that before, because the fae vampire was like a mosquito, sucking every ounce of blood out of anything tasty. And those she didn't eat, left after from pure annoyance.
Slipping out of one of the blood lord's rooms, after once again making sure he was comfortable, Aily smoothed out her skirts and met her charges, along with the wagon load of luggage (and chew toys). She inspects, compliments and reprimands when needed, then gives out instructions to book two carriages, dress the lords (the other lords, Aily will see to the one), serve breakfast, etc. All to get them ready and out the door as soon as possible.
Ceceka uses what free time he has to seek out business ventures. Since their efforts have made parts of the country safe once again for trade, Ceceka might as well use that opportunity to make some coin. Perhaps some of his companions are interested in chipping in. Trade routes for food and weapons, the means to set up and maintain zombie farms, there are so many possibilities now that they've got titles, coin, and they've rid the lands of the hags and other foes.
---
After a hot bath and some blood ale, Ceceka's dour mood is now merely sour. "I suggest we bring Geb a worthy gift. Yes, I understand that we cannot possibly impress him no matter what we give, but we must at least try. This is our one chance, our one shot, to do so."
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Chapter 4: The Ghouls Hunger
Mechitar, the capital of Geb, is the desiccated but very active beating heart of an undead nation. Approaching the coastline of Geb, Mechitar might look like a colossal festival, with enormous flags resplendent and flapping in the sea wind. The impossibly long banners and curtains hang suspended from the highest points of the city, running from building to building, crossing over and under each other, and holding back the sun like layered bandages wrapped around the metropolis. Ships dock in Ossum Harbor and bring in necromancers, devotees of Urgathoa, diplomats, traders, and any number of the dangerously curious and the suicidally desperate. Sailors walk the thronged docks, gathering ghoulish cargo while their captains negotiate passage for living and undead passengers. The looming, gargantuan gate called Admonition gives passage to caravans bringing their goods from the north.
One must walk Mechitar’s street to know the truth. Throngs of mindless corpses dressed in impenetrable heraldry march down ancient boulevards, holding antediluvian horrors aloft on sun-guarded palanquins. Acolytes of Urgathoa walk in long processions, dragging lines of captives and heretics in their wake; they leave a trail of gore along their tortuous path while they chant liturgies to the goddess of undeath. Battalions of the Bellator Mortus guards parade around the Cinerarium, and in pyramids filled with wealth and magic, necromancers, vampires, liches, mummies, and wraiths reign as Blood Lords and plot against one another.
A river of rot circumscribes the towering black pyramid at the center of Mechitar, an artery of such fetid pollution that its fumes hang along the banks like a green miasma thick enough to nauseate the quick. The shadows hang darkest in a small, cramped region walled in on all sides where buildings seem to jostle for space. Thousands of the quick make their homes there beneath the tattered flags, among overlapping shadows so dense the streets remain dim at all hours.
Groaning living animals march along in chains, cattle raised beyond the city to be slaughtered in the meat markets. Parades of corpses are raised and forced to walk as mindless husks, sold off to the school of necromancy. Living and undead bidders alike compete for flesh and bone molded and given an unholy necromantic resurrection. Teams of skeletons and zombies drag huge wagons of exquisite produce grown alongside the cattle, their bones sun-bleached and worn beyond measure, shoulder blades indented beneath the weight of their yokes from decades of service. In the upper reaches of the city, above the banners and in the wash of moonlight, the noble dead and their favored live in a pantomime of luxury while surrounded by horror.
Beneath all of these ostentatious displays of undead power, the ghostfire, towering pyramids and palaces, the colleges and cathedrals, is the very soil of Mechitar—the dirt that its founder first touched 5,000 years ago to make his home. It’s this soil that drank his blood when he died by ritual suicide, and the same that returned him as a ghost, containing him within its boundary. They say Geb broods in the Cinerarium, delegating when he should be leading. And yet, in bazaars, in squares, in every tomb and temple, every palace and hovel, the undead walk on the very soil that’s Geb’s true home more than the Cinerarium could ever be. Mechitar stands on unholy ground, desecrated by Geb’s blood. Mechitar’s will, as strong as its ruler’s determination, is to outlast all of creation if necessary. Mechitar is the capital of the Ghost King, the centerpiece of his power, the heart of his strength.
***
Once you are ready for your audience, you head to the center of the city. The tallest pyramid in Mechitar, the silent obsidian heart of the city—its top is adorned with a cap of solid gold stretching 20 feet, held to the stone with wide bands of mithral that proclaim the deeds of Geb in divine terms, plainly visible from the ground. Known the world over, this structure is the Cinerarium, thrumming with necromantic energy. Tombs, chapels, morgues, and charnel houses within its walls power the countless wards, diseases, traps, and curses that crisscross like a frenetic spider’s web. The ashen remains of tens of thousands of souls mixed into the mortar holding the stones together ensure Geb alone commands the pyramid—perhaps the most discounted weapon in his arsenal. Most know it only as Geb’s cage, but a bounty of necromantic lore, deathly artifacts, forbidden tomes, funerary treasures, and curse-inflicting weapons rest alongside him, growing dusty, Geb has no use for crutches when facing anyone foolish enough to challenge him.
You aren’t the only ones who seek an audience—the high court is packed with visitors both living and undead. Normally, petitioning Geb’s court requires navigating several layers of bureaucracy, but once you make it clear you received a personal request by means of a sending spell, you're allowed to advance to the front of the line immediately. Geb rarely sits upon the throne at the high court’s heart. Instead, one of his many emissaries, Dizonn Dizuul, receives the petitioners and determines if their concerns warrant Geb’s time, if they can be handled by a lower-ranking member of the ghost king’s court, or if they should be dismissed out of hand. Very few earn the right to speak to Geb personally—most are directed to one of a dozen smaller administrative offices accessible by doorways lining the high court’s walls. Now and then, Dizonn judges a petitioner to be a waste of her time and resources. The lucky who find Dizonn in good spirits tend to be escorted from the Cinerarium harmlessly. The less fortunate are dragged, sometimes kicking and screaming, through bone-gilt doors in the back of the hall to fates best left unspoken.
When it comes time for you to step before Dizonn and request your audience with the ghost king, she asks you to approach and introduce yourselves. The mummified woman strokes a similarly mummified cat on her lap as she peers down at you.
After a hot bath and some blood ale, Ceceka's dour mood is now merely sour. "I suggest we bring Geb a worthy gift. Yes, I understand that we cannot possibly impress him no matter what we give, but we must at least try. This is our one chance, our one shot, to do so."
"Sure, boss, that's a great idea. What do you think he'd like? It's hard to come up with something for a 5,000-year-old ghost ruler of a kingdom, I think, since he probably has everything he really wants. Maybe we could go conquer Nex? I bet he'd like that, but I don't know if we could do that in time. So maybe a fruit plate? Or a bottle of wine? I think I had a brother-in-law when I was alive who hated getting cheese plates and those little knives that aren't really sharp enough to do anything but cut cheese. Or spread cheese. So we probably shouldn't get Geb that. I bet he's gotten a lot of them over the years and probably doesn't need anymore. Oh, maybe a planner? That's always helpful, so you can write things down and not forget them. Oh, writing! What about a quill and a bottle of ink. Along with the planner!"
"Hey, boss lady, I'm Humerus," the skeleton introduces himself. "I heard a voice in my head that said Boss Geb wanted to talk to me. We brought him a nice planner, and a quill and ink."
Aily steps forward quickly, in front of Humerus "This construct lost part of his brain on resurrection, mam, I apologize. We are the servants of Lord Caraid, Ceceka, and Stanton, and present them for their summons for an audience with their ghost king Geb."
"Indeed, my servant told me that his majesty's voice echoed mightily inside his skull."
The comforts of Mechitar are a welcome break from the harsh conditions of the road. The crowd could hide any number of enemies, however.
Humerus looks down at the dog. And flinches.
Ceceka exhales forcefully when Humerus does what Humerus does, and then castigates himself for doing something so mortal in the presence of Dizonn Dizuul. He learned long ago that the undead do not mind the living but only for as long as the living do not remind them of the fact they're undead.
He bites his lip and inclines his head, hoping that Aily's tact and grace can salvage the situation.
After hearing you out, Dizonn inclines her head and makes a wry inquiry to the undead feline resting in her lap. “What say you, Morty? Do they strike you as subjects worthy of his majesty’s consideration for advancement? I expected to be substantially more impressed. No matter!” After a wave of her hand, the guards begin closing down the high court by escorting out frustrated petitioners who must wait yet another day for their chance to be heard. Dizonn bids you accompany her down a hall to the north, leading you to a smaller office where you can meet in private.
Once there, Dizonn wastes no time on pleasantries or small talk. “Look, my schedule is full and I assume the same of yours, if you are to become the nation’s newest Blood Lords. All must prove themselves before receiving an audience with Geb. It is my duty to ensure that subjects who approach the ghost king remain true in their allegiance and admiration for both ruler and nation. And what better way to prove one’s devotion than a processional?” she muses with a leathery smile. Her cat, Mortis, purrs approval.
Dizonn invites you out to the office’s balcony, which affords a glorious view of the Cinerarium plaza. There, no less than four processionals led by revelers who make their way around the open plaza surrounding the central tetrahedron. Each processional is a display orchestrated and performed by citizens of Mechitar who, along with the Celebrants, declare their support of the nation. The processionals exude varying degrees of extravagance, including some combination of elaborate costumes, somber dirges or uplifting paeans, and carefully crafted props. The more impressive a processional, the larger the crowd of delighted onlookers it draws. Processionals that draw the largest crowds tend to be regarded as the greatest successes.
Dizonn demands you organize such a processional in honor of Geb. It’s unlikely he’ll observe it, but word of a triumphant and memorable processional on the streets of Mechitar establishes a skill at pageantry that is expected of a Blood Lord in a way that expertise with combat, politicking, or intrigue can’t demonstrate. Dizonn makes it clear that tradition precludes interference with other processionals—to truly succeed, a processional must outshine the competition on its own merits without resorting to sabotage. She leaves the exact nature of the processional to you to decide, but informs you that once you’ve finished the task, you’ll learn if (and when) you’ve earned an audience with Geb. She then excuses you to go about your preparations, mentioning that she has her own tasks left to perform today that don’t involve playing hostess to “baby Blood Lords.”
To plan their celebration, each character can use the Prepare the Processional Downtime activity. A character can attempt a skill check for each element—themes, exhibits, pageantry, or revelers—that they wish to incorporate into the group’s processional (up to four). A character can attempt only one skill check per element. Depending on the results of each skill check, each character gains 0, 1, or 2 Preparation Points or loses 1 Preparation Point for the party. After the character completes their skill checks for the elements they wish to incorporate, record their Preparation Points and allow the next character to Prepare the Processional. After all characters who wish to participate have done so, determine the total amount of Preparation Points for the group. The number of Preparation Points sets the DC for the Perform the Processional downtime activity, which is then used to determine the celebration’s success.
At your discretion, a character who comes up with a creative way to use magic instead of a skill check, and who is also master in the skill associated with their spellcasting tradition, can instead attempt a spell attack roll in place of a skill check to Prepare the Processional or Perform the Processional.
The characters can also devote their efforts toward bolstering their reputation with a different faction other than the Celebrants if they wish. Dizonn expresses disappointment if the characters do so, but there’s not much she can do about their choice since Geb doesn’t care which faction gains prestige from their hard work.
PREPARE THE PROCESSIONAL
DOWNTIME CONCENTRATE MANIPULATE
You spend four days incorporating the following elements into your processional (up to four). Attempt one DC 28 skill check from the skills listed for each element you choose to incorporate into your processional. The results of these checks determine how many Preparation Points you earn.
Themes: You come up with one theme essential to the processional and determine how to infuse it into every aspect of the celebration. Attempt one of the following skill checks: Lore (if you draw upon knowledge of a thematic topic), Religion (if the theme involves religious inspiration or relies heavily on undead in some way), or Society (if you focus on Geb’s history, politics, and zeitgeist).
Exhibits: You work to create or arrange the physical elements of the processional’s display, such as statues or icons carried aloft, decorated wagons, extravagant puppetry, trained animals, or the like. Attempt one of the following skill checks: Athletics (if you provide manual labor), Crafting (if you create puppets, chisel statues, or decorate vehicles), or Nature (if you train animals to take part in the processional).
Pageantry: You create the costumes and accessories the participants carry or wear during the processional. Attempt one of the following skill checks: Crafting (if you design the outfits or items to be carried), Deception (if you intend the outfits to be recognizable representations of specific individuals in the form of a disguise), or Performance (if you choreograph dances or compose original music).
Revelers: You recruit a large number of locals to take part in your processional. Attempt one of the following skill checks: Diplomacy (to convince people to join your processional), Intimidation (to threaten them with dire consequences if they don’t take part), or Performance (to inspire them to share in your artistic vision).
Critical Success: You gain 2 Preparation Points for the party.
Success: You gain 1 Preparation Point for the party.
Critical Failure: You lose 1 Preparation Point for the party.
"WE should emphasis the inevitable victory of undeath over life. What should the style be, Aily? You demonstrated quite the facility with dance; I trust you to see to it."
Telvir begins putting together some draumaturgical materials for Aily.
"If we emphasis many aspects of transition between mortal and immortal life, we could use some knights on steeds."
"We should represent some of the leaders of the Inner Sea falling into undeath." Telvir pauses for a moment. "Though not...You Know Who...I wouldn't dare imagine his majesty's reaction to him."
"And the populace must take part, of course."
Ceceka stays quiet when Telvir suggests they ought to show the superiority of unlife over life. Urgathoa be damned, without life, there would be no gluttony! With some subtle suggestions, he steers the theme of the domination of undeath towards a broader, all-encompassing approach that will surely please the faithful of Urgathoa.
Caraid, oddly, seems rather uninterested in the whole thing. Melchitar and the Court of Geb might be the center of the world for undying schemers of all sorts but the closer he progresses towards the heart of power in Geb the more Caraid realises that it isn't for him. It simply... well, anyway.
This means that he has very little input on the parade, apart from being entirely in favour of Aily's particular talents being maximised. Otherwise he helps out with some insightful comments and quiet words in the appropriate ears. Even in such a short time he already seems to have found the right ones.
Aily listens to the lord's ideas "Life's explosion into undeath, for commoners and queens alike, joining with the quick to dominate and consume the world." she nods, takes mental notes, and then gets to work, sending her minions out gather and convince, while she starts planning placing and movement.
She draws up a plan for a theme, bringing it to the lords. She works on costumes, not well, she is too distracted with planning. Her plans for movement is combination of grace and chaos. Her maids and her go out performing mini choreography in crowded streets, entrapping and enthralling any that join in and show promise.
After several days of preparation, the processional is ready to perform!
One character must attempt the primary skill check to determine the overall success of the processional. Before that character attempts the primary check, the other characters can each attempt a secondary check to affect the primary check, similar to how secondary checks can bolster a ritual’s primary check. Any number of characters can attempt secondary checks. Any of the following skills can be used to make primary or secondary checks to Perform the Processional: Acrobatics (to perform eye-catching stunts), Intimidation (to appear menacing and memorable), Performance (to entertain the audience), or an appropriate Lore (such as Circus Lore, Mechitar Lore, Theater Lore, or a Lore associated closely to one of the processional’s themes). The DC of all checks is set by the results of the characters’ results from the Prepare the Processional downtime activity.
Critical Success: The processional overwhelms and inspires onlookers, spurring a rumor that Geb took note long enough to observe for a few moments. For the following week, the characters gain a +1 circumstance bonus to Diplomacy and Intimidation checks attempted within Mechitar.
Success: The processional turns many heads, but doesn’t particularly attract significant notice from Geb.
Failure: The processional fails to impress in any way.
Critical Failure: Not only does the processional fail to impress passersby, but the characters’ local reputations suffer. For the following week, they gain a –2 circumstance penalty to Diplomacy and Intimidation checks made within Mechitar unless they are disguised.
Humerus manages to help, as always, because he is very helpful, applying his prodigious strength to the displays of acrobatics.
Telvir takes direct control of some of the problematic "dancers" that were hired for the location. It's hard to raise good help these days.
Aily leads the procession, lovely in her simple black and white, walking in perfect step with the loud drums carried by the giant flesh golems. Her maids fanned out behind her. Until that moment where they all shattering into movement, chaos spreading out from Aily who twirls on her toe, while others move with grace, and others jerky violence, until another thump has them perfectly in step again, slow and steady.
Ceceka puts on his usual dour mask and calmly walks after the procession. Like a glorified bouncer, he keeps track of the crowd and any potential threats, scanning the endless sea of faces for danger.
Citizens and visitors to Mechitar line the streets to gawk and cheer as your processional winds through the streets. The spectacle turns many heads, and you feel like you've attracted the notice of the Celebrants at least, if not necessarily Geb himself.
Once the processional is finished, you don't have to wait long. Within a half hour of its completion, Dizonn contacts you with a sending spell: "Geb will see you an hour after the next sundown—meet me in the high court and I will escort you to him."
***
When you arrive at the Cinerarium at the appointed time, you find Dizonn delighted to see you. "That was a splendid performance yesterday! Now, come along, we shan't keep Geb waiting!"
As you walk through the halls of the pyramid-palace, the mummy remarks, "Geb is busy, but he’s made time to receive you nevertheless. He won’t be alone. Another... visitor... will also be in attendance.” You get the sense that Dizonn doesn’t approve of the visitor, whoever they are.
Eventually, you arrive at a small lecture hall on an underground level of the Cinerarium. Five rings of benches sit empty in the semicircular balcony above the central pulpit, where two figures engage in conversation at a large metal table.
The figures are two of Golarion’s most powerful and most dangerous undead rulers—Kortash Khain, high priest of Kabriri and lord of the underground ghoul city of Nemret Noktoria, and Geb, the ghost king of the nation that bears his name. Each undead lord offers an imposing and frightening presence. Geb drifts in the air just above the ground. Much of his robe-clad body appears to be composed of a sickly blue-green translucent mist, while only his hands and head appear be solid. The lower reaches of his body twist and coil in smoky tendrils and writhing shapes. While his voice remains soft, it carries through the room with an intensity that is difficult to ignore.
Though Kortash Khain stands on his own two feet, he makes no less impressive a sight clad in the regalia of his homeland. His cobalt flesh glistens with the oily sheen of sliced meat that recently expired. Kortash rests his palm atop what appears to be the head and armless torso of a mummy floating in the air at his side. Kortash doesn’t speak. When replying to Geb, he gestures atop the mummy’s leathery scalp, causing his raspy, dry voice to echo from the creature’s jaws. However, none of you understand the ancient Osiriani tongue in which the two leaders are conversing.
When Dizonn announces your arrival, Geb interrupts Kortash to pause discussion. Kortash stands silently as he regards you with a faint-but-curious glance. Geb sweeps forward to greet you. As he approaches, the temperature in the room lowers and a sensation of worry washes over you. Dizonn steps back into the shadows at the edge of the room but does not exit.
"Welcome," Geb says. "My spymaster Seldeg is an old colleague of mine, and he has spoken very highly of you. Please, step forward and introduce yourselves."
Telvir bows deeply to the undead monarch, "Your majesty. I am Telvir Stanton, a loyal subject who came to Geb long ago to escape the prejudice in my native Osirion. I study the necromantic arts, and I was awed by your work at the Field of Maidens, in the south."
Smoke heels silently to the psychic's side.
The hulking skeleton, ignoring Aily's quick, almost imperceptible attempt to grab him, steps forward. "I'm Humerus Fetch, bosses," he replies. "I don't really remember what I was when I was alive, boss, but maybe a half-orc? Or a giant. And I probably worked with my hands. But that's definitely what I did after I was dead. I mean, after someone cleaned up all my flesh and brought me back. I obviously couldn't do anything when I was dead. Then the Shroud sent me to work with some folks, and they brought me here after we all heard a voice in our heads. Which was probably you. I don't think too many of us hear voices otherwise. Maybe one of us."
If he had eyeballs, they might cut toward Ceceka. Fortunately for everyone, probably, he doesn't. He appears ready to continue rambling on until someone else steps forward to interrupt.
Caraid's mere presence in the procession is noticeable for the sheer amount of energy radiating from him. Although he makes no effort to cast spells or to in any way shape the energy which he exudes (and thus remains within the laws of Geb) many upon many of the onlookers find it thoroughly antithetical and the oracle is a focus for much of the crowd - in fear as much as wonder. He makes good use of it though.
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"My name is Caraid." He says simply, stepping forward with a courtly bow and conveniently blocking Humerus from any further babbling. "It is an honor beyond all others to be granted such an audience." Out of respect for the ghost king his aura is now firmly tucked away and he continues to make polite conversation, gesturing his less talkative companions forwards one at a time with somewhat elaborate commentaries on their skills and deeds.
An astute observer would notice that he offers no more details on himself than his name, but it would take an astute observer to do so for the oracle surrounds himself with many words, for all that they say very little.
"Aily Lor, your dark grace." Aily gives her deepest and most precise curtsey, adding only "A servant, like that one." she shoots a deathly look to the hulking skeleton who should have had it ability to speak removed LONG ago.
Ceceka makes a deep bow and submits his body to the thousand chills inflicted on his mortal coil by being in the blessed presence of Geb. The unique pain and fears associated with this moment ensure that Ceceka will never forget it, Zon-Kuthon be praised.
"Ceceka, warrior-merchant of Greydirge."
Whatever more he wants to say, Ceceka knows Geb already knows. It is not his role to take the center of the stage, that, alas, is Geb's role in all of this. Carefully, not wanting to stumble, Ceceka takes a step back after introducing himself to their lord.
Geb inclines his head as you make your introductions. When you are done, he extends an arm toward his other guest. "May I introduce to you Kortash Khain, Sovereign Ruler of the ghoul-depths of Nemret Noktoria. Kortash has come to us today concerned of whispered rumors. Rumors that suggest potential shortfalls of certain trade exports to his domain from our coffers."
Geb then pauses as a smirk curls on his lips. “Tell me, in times as fraught and uncertain as these, is it wise to continue to send exports beyond our borders when we may well need these resources ourselves in the future?”
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Aily has been too distracted by restocking personnel for their household, travelling Geb to destroy its enemies, and trying to curtail a massive tower of uncouth bone, so she hasn't had time to keep up on rumors and the going ons of people in power.
That causes a knife of irritation in her gut. Which she smothers, since any negative emotions could be seen and be misinterpreted. This is not the audience you want getting the wrong idea.
She would much rather that one of the lords answer, but if she delays, she is worried Another will.
The maid looks to her nearest lord, Caraid , and acts like he is giving her leave to answer, a subtle nod is returned by her, a pause as if she is receiving information telepathically, which is common enough in the land of undead between master and servant.
Then she steps forward, just a touch, closer to her master, to make sure He is in Geb's sight when she answers.
"Trade is power, great lord of unlife. If our land stopped exporting, the other lands may see it as 'weakness'. A trait we Never are." her answer is simple and short, offering advice without phrasing it as anything that could be seen as assertive, as the answer from a servant to the king should be. But the steel conviction in her voice says what a thousand words never could.
'The world should fear us'
Humerus doesn't really care much about trade, other than he often was asked to haul it. He's a little confused at Aily talking since she usually seems to think women should be neither seen nor heard, but he won't judge her for that.
Caraid inclines his head towards Aily as she speaks with simple power. A veritable masterclass of diplomacy.
"I could not agree more, Great Lord."
"Trade is well-used to bind our allies close, great one." Telvir bows his head as he answers.
Kortash Khain inclines his head, unexpectedly impressed with your argument in his favor.
Geb smirks at your responses. "Well said. Such eloquence will serve you well as Blood Lords. A title which I now bestow upon you." Those of you hoping for a bit more pomp and circumstance surrounding your promotion may be a bit disappointed.
"I would like you commend you for your aggressive diplomatic efforts along the southern border of my nation. I have arranged accommodations for you within one of the city's alcazars, that you may stay close to the Cinerarium. Dizonn will escort you there."
The ghost king gestures, and Dizonn steps forward from the shadows to fulfill his command. As you are about to leave, though, Geb raises his hand again. "Oh, one more thing. Your first official assignment as Blood Lords is to serve the esteemed Kortash Khain as escort and honor guard for the duration of the high priest's stay in Mechitar."
Geb turns to gauge Kortash's reaction. Kortash stiffens, but says nothing in response, refusing to take the bait. Instead, he turns to you and taps his fingers on the leathery scalp of the partial corpse at his side. The corpse speaks in Common. "Very well. Once you settle into your new accommodations, seek me out at Coffinstone Manor. I wish to get to know my new honor guard and have a few tasks for you."
The warrior bows in answer to Geb's words. Whatever Ceceka might think of them is irrelevant, for they're Geb's command. Only a fool would weigh those words in the presence of the almighty wizard.
Kortash however isn't Geb. The worth of the ghoul lord has yet to be weighed. "We shall. Until then, Lord of Nemret Noktoria."
The delight in Aily's entire being ignites. She doesn't bounce or squeak, or anything so telling, but anyone who has paid attention to her at all these many many days, can see the subtle shifts.
She has done it.
Not all of it of course. Her father's face hasn't been rubbed in what he would refer to as am atrocity, and of course he hasn't been buried deep in sealed tomb for a thousand years.
But those Will happen. His precious half breed of a daughter will make f%$~ing sure of it. Until then she can savor those future moments in her mind.
The restrained giddiness of the maid stays silent behind the new lords, waiting to congratulate them when no longer in the presence of the king.
Lord Stanton raises an eyebrow at the king's pronouncement, but bows deeply in gratitude.
Once outside the Cinerarium, he comments, "It is good that we are practiced at watching our backs. We'll need to guard ourselves as much as that ghoul. I hope we haven't been put on the board to be sacrificial pawns."
"Oh wow, boss, I never thought I'd be a blood lord," Humerus comments.
He follows the others out. "What do you think he's going to want us to do, blood boss? If it's moving stuff, I'm not sure all of you are going to be able to help that much." He tries to avoid looking at Aily, Caraid and Telvir.
"Then it is fortunate that we have you with us, isn't it?" Caraid asks, the sarcasm in his voice well concealed.
He falls back through the group until he is the last one in it (before the maid of course) and turns his head enough to catch her eye, offering a flicker of a wink and a flash of a smile that promises a real celebration in times to come.
"You are not." she points out to Humerus when he declares himself a blood lord, but there is little heat in it. She is simply too over the moon.
The look she gives her newly appointed blood lord, as they trail back behind the others, contains all that her correction lacks.
Dizonn escorts you out of the Cinerarium. Once you're back in the open air, the mummy congratulates you on becoming the newest Blood Lords of Geb. "It is an honor, to be sure. But while your position might afford you additional influence at times, most of Mechitar’s residents won’t be impressed by your titles immediately. Blood Lords come and go.
"All Blood Lords are forbidden from direct conflict with one another. Blood Lords can manipulate and deceive other Blood Lords, but if such machinations become public knowledge these actions could result in disgrace, exile, or even execution. Actual combat between Blood Lords often results in the destruction of both offenders, so it would behoove you to avoid such confrontations at all costs.
"And of course, there is the matter of your bloodclaim!"
***
A residence in one of the city’s alcazars remains one of the greatest honors afforded to a Blood Lord. Massive swaths of silk and cloth billow like sails from lengthy ropes and chains affixed to each alcazar’s immense facades, shielding the structure from the sun. While the uppermost reaches of these buildings are reserved for the elite among the elite, all Blood Lords are granted at least some accommodations in the structures. Geb leaves the choice of residence up to Dizonn, who grants you a small complex in the southeastern alcazar on a lower terrace of its southeastern face. Long abandoned for several years, this suite of chambers is known informally as “the Mortician’s Suite.”
Dizonn tells you that its previous occupant was a necromancer by the name of Xharduun. He never distinguished himself among the other Blood Lords as anything other than a sycophant whose appointment to the aristocracy, many mused, was as much the result of a clerical error than anything else. Certainly, Xharduun did little to nothing to advance society in Geb as a whole, and after securing his position and post in the alcazar, he rarely left his chambers and kept to himself. He claimed to spend his time researching more efficient methods for autopsies and preparations of dead bodies for “bespoke animations” that required a corpse be altered in unusual ways before it was granted the gift of undeath.
Before he made public any results of this supposed research, Xharduun was arrested and executed with no possibility of animation almost a year ago. While evidence emerged that implicated him as a Nexian sympathizer, these reports were confirmed to have been falsified just hours after Xharduun’s death. The necromancer left behind no will, so his suite was repossessed and sealed. Due to clerical errors during government reassignment of the residence, the Mortician’s Suite has remained abandoned and unoccupied for the past 11 months.
As Dizonn explains to you, while she doesn’t know what to expect within the residence, whatever you find within is yours to keep by “right of salvage.” She suggests that if you recover any items of note from the suite, you might be able to redeem them for a reward if presented to interested parties in Mechitar. She leaves it to you to determine who these individuals might be. She gives you a heavy bronze key that should open the locks to any doors to the suite and bids you good luck!
***
You arrive outside the Mortician's Suite. A fifteen-foot-wide terrace wraps around the alcazar’s southeastern corner. The steep slope of the stony structure falls away, while the view beyond affords a sweeping panorama of Mechitar. Two reinforced doors set into the walls at the corner afford entrance to the suite on either side of an alcove containing a mummified sentinel. It seems that these mummies are just inert corpses used for decoration.
"The Mortician's Suite, how fitting." Telvir thinks fondly on his apprenticeship in the embalming chambers of Osirion. "And mummies. I'll be right at home."
Telvir requests a mind's light circlet as his bloodclaim.
"What do you think we'll find inside, blood boss?" Humerus asks as he opens the doors.