Fortress Al-Mir

As had become standard when opening a portal to a new locale, Arkk performed all the usual tests. Guards stood around the portal, ready to fend off any hostile beings that might come through. Lesser servants went in and out. Some even carried Zullie-developed measuring devices to check ambient magic levels, air quality, and various other things necessary to survival.

The Underworld was the closest plane to Arkk’s world. It was oversaturated with magic to the point where ritual circles would spontaneously activate. The Silence was somewhat distant, according to Vezta, and lacked a significantly increased level of ambient magic. They had unfortunately not been able to take readings of the Anvil before the portal closed on Agnete, but based on a few minor experiments that Arkk had the lesser servant perform, it had elevated magic but something was constantly draining it out of the atmosphere.

Zullie posited that whatever those mechanical beings were, they either required moderate amounts of magic to function or massive amounts to create.

The Necropolis was, again according to Vezta, the next step away from the Underworld. Magic levels within were high enough to, once again, activate ritual circles spontaneously. So they would have to be cautious regarding that.

But other than that, there wasn’t anything apparently hostile. Not in the environment, nor more tangible threats. No hordes of undead had stormed through the portal and overwhelmed the defenders. No skeletal dragons dive-bombed the portal. Not even a little undead rat.

“Are you ready?” Zullie looked at him, frowning slightly. “We performed more tests here than ever before. Everything appears safe. We even had your servants construct some minor fortifications just in case. I’m not sure why you’re dallying.”

“You aren’t sure? Did you forget what happened to Agnete?”

“An anomaly,” Zullie dismissed. “No one here is an avatar of this Laughing Prince.”

“While that’s true—”

“Fine. You don’t want to order someone through who might get stuck? I’ll do it myself.”

Zullie turned away, pushing past the line of shadow-armored orcs defending the portal. Arkk reached out, about to stop her, only to pause. For the briefest moment, in the back of his head, he thought it would be better to send someone else through. Someone less valuable. For all her eccentricity, Zullie was one of the most important people in his service. Her magical knowledge was unparalleled, by anyone, even Savren, and whatever happened between her and Xel’atriss only increased that.

Not to mention whatever ritual she had conducted that she now refused to discuss.

But just because she was valuable, did that make it right to order someone else through? She was volunteering, after all…

No. He had other options…

Just as Zullie reached the portal threshold, Arkk teleported her straight back to his side. She stumbled once then slowly looked at him with mild irritation lining her features.

“Are we going to do this all day?” she asked.

Arkk shook his head. “Just a moment,” he said. “Don’t go through. I’ll be right back.”

With that said, Arkk teleported himself out of the portal room and down into the lower levels of Fortress Al-Mir. He stood in the center of a circular room atop an elevated pedestal. The floor below him and the floor above him had been hollowed out, leaving a large, cavernous chamber. Pockets had been dug into the walls at regular intervals, all of which had been fitted with thick metal bars.

“Sir? Is there a problem?”

Arkk turned with a polite smile as his one and only dryad employee stood from her desk. Her bark-like skin was looking much better than it had after Elmshadow’s recapture, but it still bore heavy scars that Hale hadn’t been able to heal. Because of that, she had to be relocated to a safer job while she mended herself.

It even had a small skylight. A narrow tunnel to the surface that allowed some amount of light to fall on her leaves.

“Not at all, Cray. I just need one of the more cooperative prisoners.”

“Cooperative? Hm.” Cray looked around the large chamber before pointing up to the highest level. “4C and… 7A,” she said, dropping her hand to the lower level. She turned around once more, brushing a leaf out of her face in the process, before finally ending on one of the cells in the middle row. “3B. I would say those three have been the most cooperative. They’ve all helped translate commands, directions, and questions for those who don’t know our language.”

Although they weren’t employees, prisoners under his control and within his territory could be teleported just as well as anything else he held ownership over. So, with a bare thought, all three of the indicated prisoners were in front of him on the pedestal. He made sure he stood between them and the narrow bridge leading out—the only real way to access or escape from the dungeon.

All three looked somewhat thinner than soldiers should, but none looked so thin that Arkk thought they were going without meals. It was probably just the environment, the stress of the situation, and perhaps defiance toward their captors.

“I need one of you to assist me with a small task. Accomplish the task, and you will be set free. Company Al-Mir will not track you, recapture you, or harm you afterward. You’ll even be free to return to your homelands if you wish. Though, you’ll have to make your way there on your own.” He clasped his hands together behind his back and smiled at the three. “Well? Any volunteers?”

The three shifted, glancing at each other. The manacles around their wrists jingled lightly in the ensuing silence.

“How do we know you won’t kill us?” the man on the left asked. The other two shot glances at him, almost as if they were upset he had spoken up.

“You don’t,” Arkk said before giving a pointed look at the man’s chains. “But, if I wanted you dead, there isn’t much you could do about it now, is there?”

All three grumbled under their breaths at that.

The center man frowned behind his scraggly beard for a moment before looking up. “The task is dangerous?”

“It probably won’t kill you, if that is what you’re asking. There is a small chance you may end up trapped inside an environment from which you won’t be able to escape.”

“Not much different than now, is it?”

Arkk just shrugged. “I won’t say anything more about the task until one of you has accepted. There is minor danger, but also freedom. Any takers?”

He waited a long moment, making eye contact with each. When his eyes fell on the shortest of the three, the younger man spoke up.

“I… I’ll do it.”

“Very good,” Arkk said. He immediately teleported the other two back to their cells, not allowing them to put any pressure on the young man. “Keep up the good work, Cray.”

With that, he teleported himself and 4C straight back to the portal room, directly in front of the crystalline archway.

4C shirked away, all but screaming when he saw the row of shadow-armored knights.

Arkk paid him little mind, instead gesturing toward the portal. “All you must do is step through there, walk around for about fifteen minutes, then return and report anything you found, felt, or otherwise experienced. If any kind of danger presents itself, you are encouraged to return early.”

With a firm snap of his fingers, Arkk teleported the manacles off the man’s arms. The snap was unnecessary but, when acting intimidating, he felt theatrics were important.

“If you try to escape, well, I won’t stop you. But you might not like what you find out there on your own.” Arkk leaned in, using his height as an intimidating advantage. “Do you understand?”

4C swung his head back to Arkk, only to finally stare out to the portal. “W… What is this place?”

“That is a secret. All you need to know is how to walk around. You can do that, can’t you?” He gave a firm pat on 4C’s back, shoving him lightly toward the portal.

With a hesitant look over his shoulder, 4C took a step forward.

Beyond the portal, all Arkk could see of the Necropolis was the interior of a massive structure. Made from black stone, it looked like a grand cathedral. The ribbed vaults running across the ceiling certainly gave it the air of a skeleton. Green-hued glass windows let in a small bit of light, but not enough to see the full majesty of the cathedral. There was nobody around. Nothing around. No bodies, no undead, no people. Despite that, the cathedral had avoided falling to ruin as much of the Underworld had. Whether that was because of magic preserving the place, stronger construction in general, or that there were some unseen caretakers elsewhere was something Arkk hoped to find out.

The prisoner stepped onto a blackened flagstone floor. He stood there for a long moment, just on the other side. He shivered slightly but, when nothing unfortunate happened, he took a step forward. Then another. Slowly, he made his way to the oversized doors at the far end of the cathedral. With one look back at the portal, he pushed open the door and stepped through.

“You should have told him to remain in view of the portal,” Zullie said, stepping up to Arkk’s side.

Arkk just shrugged. “If he runs off, then I’ll just say we gave him his reward early.”

Zullie scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. “Freedom? In exchange for being a test subject? Using prisoners now, are we?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“Not at all. I’d like to request a few test subjects for some of my projects.”

Arkk just sighed.

Seven minutes later, the prisoner came sprinting back at full speed. Arms flailing about and legs off the ground more than they were on, he looked like a wild animal desperately fleeing from a ferocious predator. He charged straight through the portal, ran past Arkk, and collapsed on the ground in front of the line of knights guarding the room.

“H… H… Help! Undead!”

Arkk would have said that a ripple of tension ran through the assembled guards, but that would have been a lie. Everyone had been fully briefed on the nature of the realm they were opening. Expecting undead in a place under the dominion of a god of undeath that was called the Necropolis was just common sense.

Because of that, nobody was surprised. Nobody except 4C, that was.

“Get ready to shut down the portal,” Arkk said. “But keep it open for the moment.”

He wanted to see. If it was just one or two undead, his guards could handle them easily. If it was a massive horde that would fill the entire interior of the cathedral and beyond, he might have to call the expedition into the Necropolis a failure.

4C, despite his panicked flight back to the portal, had taken the time to push the cathedral doors shut. When the doors didn’t open right away, Arkk wondered if mindless undead could open doors. For a long moment, he considered sending someone else to open them back up. Or at least try to peer through the tinted windows to see how many undead were outside the cathedral.

The door silently glided open before he could give any orders. A bony hand devoid of flesh curled around the door, grasping hold of it. It pushed just a hint more before withdrawing. A moment after, a skull, held in that same hand, appeared from the gap.

Empty eye sockets stared out. Its jaw unhinged ever so slightly, almost like a regular person finding something surprising. The skull disappeared as quickly as it came and, after a brief delay, a full skeleton stepped through into the cathedral, leaning heavily on a tall walking staff. It looked around once before slowly dragging itself toward the portal.

“Shut it down?” Morvin asked.

“Wait,” Arkk said.

It was just one skeleton. No hordes. From the way it had looked around and the way it now approached, using the staff as a proper tool, Arkk had the feeling that it was a bit more intelligent than the undead he had raised. If it could talk…

If it was hostile, hopefully his army could handle a single skeleton.

The skeleton stopped at the portal’s threshold. With no flesh on its face, it was hard to tell what it was thinking, but its body language gave off an air of uncertainty. Arkk stepped forward, keeping well out of striking distance but moving enough to ensure the skeleton focused on him. Now the center of attention, Arkk gave a welcoming beckon to the skeleton.

The skeleton was somewhat wary, poking at the portal with its staff. Finding nothing wrong, it eventually dragged itself through. It stopped just on his side of the rippling portal membrane, sweeping its head around to take in the room.

“Greetings,” Arkk said, hoping he wasn’t being foolish in trying to talk to a skeleton.

His words brought the skeleton’s attention back to him. The jaw opened with a grinding noise.

Arkk wasn’t quite sure what he expected. No sound at all, perhaps, given the skeleton’s lack of a proper mouth and lungs. Maybe a quiet rasp or harsh shriek if it could make noise.

Arkk did not expect the smooth, deep voice.

“Oh? I trow I hathn’t beheld such a plentitude of flesh in… centuries?” it said with a low chuckle. “The portal hath opened once more. Thou are accountable?”

Arkk, taken aback by an actual talking skeleton and one he could mostly understand no less, didn’t give a prompt response. It took Zullie nudging him in the side to finally clear his throat and say, “Yes. Yes, I did. That isn’t a problem, is it?”

“No skin off my hide,” the skeleton said with another chuckle. He paused, looked around at the silent audience, and added, “For I hath no skin.” Although his skeletal features didn’t change in the slightest, Arkk got the impression that he would have been smiling something fierce if he could have managed it.

Arkk didn’t quite know what to say in response to that. He looked to Zullie, then to the cowering 4C, and finally to Gretchen who had her hand firmly pressed to her forehead.

“That is… good,” Arkk eventually said.

“Indeed. Yet I do marvel at how thou hast accomplished it. Our most esteemed scholars did abandon the quandary of the portals long ago. Ah! How rude of me. I am Matar, grave keeper,” the skeleton said, tapping a hand on his ribcage.

“Arkk,” Arkk said, miming the skeleton’s movements in gesturing to himself. “I managed to garner a boon from the Laughing Prince in the form of a portal keystone. That keystone opened this portal. As for how we breached the Calamity,” he said, glancing at Zullie for a brief look. “I think Xel’atriss did something to puncture it, allowing us to visit other realms. Are there… others like you over there?”

“Like I?”

“Undead? Or even living beings?”

“Ah. I am no scholar myself, merely a humble caretaker of the graveyard, yet even I am aware that no living souls have dwelt within the Necropolis for hundreds of years. Shortly after the portals did falter, ambient magic did surge, and whilst most beings remained unscathed, the same could not be said for crops and livestock.” The skeleton looked almost sad for a moment before turning his head back up to Arkk. “But all is not so sorrowful. The Smiling Crown, perceiving the future as it was, did bestow upon all within His realm His divine gift.”

“Gift meaning the Laughing Prince raised everyone from the dead?”

“Then why need a graveyard?” Zullie asked, butting into the conversation.

“A great many hath elected to slumber away the years. They require a place of repose. Mine task is considered a matter of… grave import.”

Somewhere in the background, Gretchen let out a long, withering sigh.

“Why were there living beings in the necropolis at all?” Zullie asked, completely ignoring everything else.

“Undead cannot reproduce,” Matar said. “The living are honored guests until their more permanent state of being comes around.”

“But can the living even… live there? Obviously not anymore with the crop problem but… It is a place for undead, is it not?”

“Hardly. Once upon a time, it was a paradise for all. Imagine seeking the wisdom of thine ancient ancestors in times of trial or strife, visiting with thine departed lover, knowing that pain and fear of death are merely temporary states. The living and the dead are united in the Necropolis. Or they were. No living anymore…” he said with a despondent sigh. “But if the portals are opened once more, perhaps that fate can change?”

Arkk shifted slightly, shaking his head. “We… aren’t really looking for a new place to live at the moment.”

“And there still aren’t any crops,” Zullie cut in. “So that problem hasn’t been solved.”

“We were looking for… well, anything that would help in a war, first of all, and secondly, a way to fix the Calamity—the cause of the portals failing in the first place—more permanently.”

“A war?” Matar physically shied back. “We are a peaceful people. As the saying goes, no guts, no glory,” the skeleton said, looking down at his chest.

“Ah…”

“Huh…”

“Isn’t there anything that might help? Not necessarily your people, but magical tools, equipment? Any walking fortresses that we might borrow their Hearts?”

The old skeleton tapped the bottom of his jaw, eliciting loud clacking noises with each tap. “I am uncertain of such matters. Perchance it would be prudent to confer with the Great Yoho? The supreme authority over all undead.”

“Is this Yoho nearby? Within a day’s walk?” Arkk asked.

“Oh certainly. The portal hath a ceremonious station in Necrovale, a short jaunt from the Sable Citadel.”

“And Yoho will see us on such short notice?”

“Visitors from afar? I am but a humble graveyard keeper, but I envision an event of such import has already reached the Great Yoho’s ears. I would not find myself surprised if a grand banquet were already being prepared.”

“A grand banquet?” Zullie asked, crossing her arms over her chest with a small huff. “Without livestock or crops? What food would be there?”

“Bone broth? Crypt chips?”

Zullie grimaced. “Ehh…”

“We might pass on the food,” Arkk said, “but I can happily agree to a meeting with your leader. First, however,” Arkk half turned and pointed at the prisoner. “Franna, get 4C over to Savren. He isn’t to remember anything about his time with us. After that, give him a sack of food, a coat and shoes, and get him out of my fortress. Morvin, you are in charge of keeping the portal operational. Any problems, tug on the link immediately. Dakka, you’ll be with me and Zullie along with five others of your choice.”

Orders given, the silent room quickly erupted into a flurry of activity. Arkk looked back to the skeleton before him, but paused, flicking his mental image over to Ilya, who was still in her chambers.

He pursed his lips into a frown. “There are a few more preparations we need to make,” he said, ignoring the questioning look from Zullie. “I’d like to offer you some hospitality, but…”

“Quite alright. I shall grin and bear the wait.”