Grand Game 367: A Dead Brother (Patreon)

You have killed a level 132 dwarf.

You have killed a level 143 human.

…

…

Your deception has reached rank 15, allowing you to learn tier 4 abilities.

When our gory handiwork was completed, twelve corpses littered the room. A ghostly presence hung above each—the possessed’s shackled spirits.

I studied them in fascination. Ghost’s description of the spirit she had seen all those days ago had been apt, I realized. The possessed’s forms were less dense than hers—as if they were missing parts of themselves. Their eyes, too, were strangely vacant and empty. Lifeless.

“What a goddamn awful mess this is,” Regus muttered.

Tearing my gaze away from the motionless spirits, I surveyed the hacked-up corpses, pooling blood, and drenched couches, and was inclined to agree. “That maul of yours certainly left an impression.”

Regus snorted. “I’m not talking about the room. I’m talking about the situation. The plan has gone to shit.”

I sighed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t disagree with that statement either. “I think it’s time to—”

Another knock sounded on the door.

Regus and I froze.

A split-second later, both our hands dropped to our sheathed weapons. Our reactions were so identical, in another situation it would have been comical.

“You expecting someone?” I asked sharply.

Regus shook his head. “You activated the silence ward, right?”

I nodded.

“Then, no one could have overheard—”

“Open up, Regus, it’s me,” a cultured voice whispered from the other side of the door. But, despite being softly spoken, the words carried clearly into the room.

The red bearded giant next to me relaxed.

“Who is it?”

“Farren.” He paused, then added, as if I needed to be told, “Adriel’s brother.” Exiting the room, he rushed to the door. “I better let him in.”

✵ ✵ ✵

The resemblance between the siblings was unmistakable.

Farren was an older, more aged version of his sister, but the lines on his face were less harsh, giving him a gentler mien. Stepping daintily over the corpses, the lich entered the room. “So,” he remarked as he sized me up, “this is our savior-to-be.”

Despite the gentle mockery behind his words, the lich’ pale eyes glowed warmly. I inclined my head in greeting. “Adriel has told me much about you.”

Farren chuckled. “She has? She must have taken a liking to you then. My sister has never been one to cultivate friends.”

He, on the other hand, had friends aplenty, I could tell. “I like her, actually,” I said with a shrug. “I found her honesty... refreshing.”

Farren placed his hand against his chest. “Duly noted.” Turning his gaze downwards he acknowledged the corpses strewn across the lounge for the first time. “You’ve run into problems, I see,” he said, addressing the remark to Regus.

The big man shrugged. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Farren nodded, still running his gaze across the room. His eyes narrowed as they fell on one particular corpse. No, not on the corpse, I realized, but on the ethereal figure floating above it. “Is that... Avery?”

Regus nodded curtly.

The lich sighed. “I see he beat me here, then.”

Regus frowned, as did I.

Catching sight of our expressions, the lich explained, “The gate guards didn’t just carry the tale of Castor’s return to Avery, they sent a report to the court too. Luckily, I was able to intercept the message before it got to Loskin.” He sighed again. “But it’s only a matter of time before the archlich hears.” His eyes found mine. “We will have to accelerate matters.”

My frown deepened, but before I could address his comment, I let my gaze drift to spirit-Avery. “Is it safe to talk in front of... them?”

Farren’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You can see—” He broke off. “Of course, you can. I forgot about your spirit companion.”

Regus straightened curiously at this, but Farren didn’t enlighten him. “Don’t worry about the dead,” the lich said. “They will not remember anything they see in this form.” He rubbed his forehead. “Still, they are why we will have to move things along.”

The original timetable, as conceived by Adriel and me, only required us to kick off things tonight during the possessed’s sleep cycle, when their guard would be at its lowest. That would have left me with ample time to get a feel for the court’s layout and complete my own preparations. But now, Farren wanted to hurry things along.

“Why?” I asked bluntly.

“Loskin will realize the impossibility of Castor showing up as quickly as Avery did,” Regus said, answering in the lich’s stead. “He will suspect an intruder, or worse, a dungeon party.”

I blinked in surprise. “The archlich is worried about an invasion of players?”

Regus nodded. “Loskin knows you are in the dungeon; Avery made sure of that. And where there is one player there is always the chance of more. The entire court has been placed on high alert.” His lips turned down sourly. “It is why, despite my orders, the gate guards questioned you as they did.” He shook his head. “Anyway, when Loskin finds out ‘Castor’ was brought here—and he will find out—he will launch an investigation.”

“I see,” I muttered.

“It is not only the false Castor that will worry Loskin, though.” Farren glanced at my companion. “When he hears of Regus’ involvement, his concern will grow tenfold.”

“Because Regus is the court’s head of security?” I guessed.

The red bearded man nodded. “I’ve served Loskin faithfully for centuries, acting first as his bodyguard, then as his security chief. I know all the guard routines, every passcode, and all the safeguards.”

“As far as Loskin trusts anyone, he trusts Regus,” Farren said. “Which is why the first thing Loskin will do when he learns of Regus’ betrayal is change everything.” He paused. “He might even move his phylactery to an alternate location.”

I winced. That would be a disaster. I rubbed the side of my face unhappily. There seemed to be no end to the problems created by me wearing Castor’s face, and I regretted the impulse that had spurred the decision.

Farren turned to Regus. "You will have to flee.”

“I agree,” Regus said, no regret showing on his face. “I have a hideout prepped and waiting outside the canyon. I will leave immediately.”

“Not necessary,” Farren said. “One way or the other, this will all end soon. You can take shelter in my mansion.”

Regus hesitated then nodded. “Thank you.”

Farren looked at me. “Are you ready to begin?”

I nodded. “Do you have the stuff Adriel promised?”

The lich waved his hand, and a black leather bag materialized on the floor. Leaning forward, I inspected the contents.

The targets are 6 x piles of raw meat, 1 x set of finely made black robes, a simple shovel, and a steel key.

“You included a shovel, too?” I asked with a lopsided grin.

Farren looked at me strangely, no doubt wondering at my sudden bout of amusement, but he didn’t remark on it. “I thought it might come in handy.”

“It will,” I assured him.

“Is that everything you need?”

I nodded. “What about the protection field? Will you be able to bring it down early?”

Farren tutted unhappily. “I arranged for my people to be posted on duty tonight. Changing the roster at this late stage is not possible.” He sighed. “The mages maintaining the shield at the moment are not friendly to our cause. I’m afraid we’ll have to kill them.” He paused.  “I will do it myself.”

“But that will compromise the rest of the plan!” I protested.

Farren grimaced. “I know. But we don’t have any choice.”

“There must be another way,” I growled. Bowing my head, I began pacing. In order for the plan to work, the court’s defenses had to stay down for at least a few minutes and Loskin had to continue trusting Farren—as much as he did anyway.

Even then, things could get dicey. But to proceed with neither of those things was suicide.

I ground to a stop and faced Farren. “What about Adriel?” She only intended on arriving later tonight, and while we didn’t need her just yet, her presence was essential for the finale.

“I’ve contacted her already,” Farren said. “Adriel will be here when we need her.”

That at least was a relief. I resumed pacing. “What if I kill the mages on duty?” I asked a moment later.

Regus laughed. “Killing the mages is not the problem. The shield’s focus stone is in Loskin’s mansion and is triggered to sound an alert the moment it goes down. The archlich will respond to the alarm. He will kill you without even breaking a sweat. Farren at least has a chance of surviving his wrath long enough to escape.”

“And if the archlich wasn’t there?” I persisted.

“You mean what if we draw him out?” Regus asked. He tugged at his beard, thinking it over. “Loskin almost never leaves his mansion. I don’t think—”

“What if I tell him about the bodies I found,” Farren interjected. He looked around meaningfully. “In this house?”

Regus frowned. “You mean inform him of my ‘treachery’?”

“Yes.” Farren’s eyes twinkled. “It might even allay some of Loskin’s suspicions about me.”

Regus grunted. “It might work. Or it might send Loskin hurrying to the vault to relocate his phylactery.”

My gaze flitted between the two. “I don’t understand why telling the archlich about Avery and Gork’s dead gang would make him come here?”

Regus looked at me. “Interrogating the dead is the quickest way to get answers, and for obvious reasons, Loskin won’t trust Farren to spirit jump them. He’ll come himself.”

It wasn’t obvious to me, and I looked inquiringly at Farren.

The lich smiled wryly. “Ever since Adriel’s exile, I’ve been living under a cloud of suspicion. Loskin would have gotten rid of me long ago if he dared, but he needs me too much to risk that.”

I bit my lip, pondering the information. “So, the only way for Loskin to learn the truth about the dead possessed is to question them himself?”

Regus and Farren nodded.

“But if he suspects Regus is behind the deed,” I continued, thinking aloud, “he might not bother with that and instead see to securing his phylactery.”

Farren grinned wryly. “Oh, he will bother, but only after he resecures his spirit.”

“And we can’t hide my involvement, if that’s what you’re thinking. Too many people saw Castor with me, and by now the news has spread.

I waved aside his suggestion. “What if you don’t flee?”

The big man stared at me blankly.“What, you mean stay here and wait for Loskin?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” I said.

“Are you mad?” he asked, appalled. “I’ve served the archlich for centuries. I know the dark measures he uses to extract information from his victims.” He shuddered. “There’s no way I will voluntarily subject myself to his torture.”

“I’m not asking you to let him torture you,” I replied. Before he could respond, I spun to Farren. “How long does it take to rehome a spirit?”

The lich’s brows creased. “Regus is right. The moment, Loskin sees him here alive; he won’t wait to raise the dead, he will torture Regus for the answers he needs.”

“Just tell me, please,” I said, only a little impatiently.

The lich stared at me impassively for a moment. “Two hours usually,” he said finally. “One hour at best.”

“One hour,” I murmured. “I can work with that.”

“But that still leaves the problem—” Farren began.

“—Of Loskin torturing Regus. I know.” I held the red bearded man’s gaze. “But he can’t do that if Regus is dead.”

Regus’s eyes widened.  “Dead? As in, really dead?”

"Correct,” I said. “If Farren reports you dead alongside Avery and Gork’s men, he won’t have a reason to suspect you of treachery, would he?”

Regus nodded. “Hmm. Yeah, I can see that, but—”

“Of course Loskin will still suspect foul play, but to confirm those suspicions, he will have to raise you from the dead first, won’t he?” I asked.

Regus nodded again. “But still… you want to kill me?” he asked in a half-strangled voice.

I shrugged. “It’s not like you won’t come back. You are possessed, aren’t you?”

The big man had no answer to that.

“And this way we buy the hour we need,” I concluded.

Farren clapped his hands. “I like it,” he laughed.

Regus glared at him. “Of course, you do,” he muttered. “You won’t be the one dying.”

The lich ignored him. “Adriel did say you were a tricky one. I see she was right.”

“So, are we agreed?” I asked.

“We are,” the lich replied.

I turned to Regus.

He sighed. “All right, let’s do it.”