A Bored Lich

Author's Note: On second thought, an army being able to march halfway across the continent in a single week does not sound realistic! Therefore, please treat it as if Doevm said the group had three weeks to train instead of one. This change also makes more sense for Kilot's timetable because he's armoring, weaponizing, and enhancing each member of the group, which realistically should take much longer than a week. The same logic applies for the group in regards to acquiring new skills. Plot-wise, one week turning into three does not alter any course of events. It's just a superficial change which I hope makes the book a little more immersive, despite this interruption... Here's the link to the map if you're curious: https://tinyurl.com/MapOfVilbar. Now back to the story!

…

An arcane light flashed underneath the largest tree in the forest which bordered Vilbar and Acrin and out stepped fifty four members of the church. The blue-haired hero of legend Wilhelm welcomed them with a smile despite gripping the notice in his pocket: "Praise the goddess."

The closest War Monks bowed their bald heads slightly out of courtesy. "Praise the goddess."

'Brown robes. They actually sent some of their best,' Wilhelm thought as a bit of tension left his shoulders. He quickly spotted his three friends amongst them, but he chose not to acknowledge them yet so as not to openly favor them. He cleared his throat. "Which of you are to be my aid?"

"None," the source of the familiar voice strolled out of the crowd. He was just as bald as the rest of them, yet he stood head and shoulders taller with a frame to match. The half-giant Ver Dilen (pronounced v-her Dee-len) hardly finished a conversation without flourishing his deformities and scars such as his gnarled ears, his missing teeth, and the deep gash across the side of his neck, or so Wilhelm had heard.

Wilhelm had only ever met three Cardinals, Ver Dilen being the third. His grip around the notice tightened - only the words "participate in the fight" at its top weren't crinkled. Meanwhile, a quiet reverence spread throughout Wilhelm's men, who had been waiting behind him since dawn.

Wilhelm swallowed his bitterness and welcomed him all the same: "Praise the-"

Cardinal Ver Dilen walked right past him and, with golden life essence carefully enhancing his voice, yelled his intentions to Wilhelm's men: "The enemies of god wait for us! They cower in the depths of the Polyglint Mines!"

Wanted posters depicting the "enemies of god" fluttered out of Cardinal Ver Dilen's red sleeve as he continued, "...This holy battle will be bloody and righteous, but our goddess is merciful! She declared that we must spare those ignorant people who unknowingly shelter her enemies. We will seek to work with the Dwarves in exterminating the pests! Praise be to the goddess's name, and may our enemies burn in hell! We march at dawn!"

His voice faded into a silence in which Wilhelm could only hear the ringing in his ears, until the cheers of War Monks replaced it.

"Praise the goddess!"

"She is merciful!"

"Destroy her enemies!"

"Ridiculous," a whisper brushed Wilhelm's left ear.

"Hey guys," Wilhelm, deep in thought, still greeted them out of habit. He couldn't even bring himself to face them after the Cardinal's stunt. "Nice to see all of you again."

"At least the congregation revealed their true colors," another whisper came from Wilhelm's right.

"Sorry Wilhelm. I had no choice but to teleport them all here. I'm too tired so I'm gonna lay down."

Wilhelm nodded. "Sure."

Cardinal Ver Dilen, who overheard them, slowly turned around. The gash across his upper lip seemed to naturally deepen his frown. "Sindre, Dag, and Merlin. You outsiders are permitted to stand here because of Wilhelm's pull, but you will be removed if you interfere. Is that understood?"

Two standing beside Wilhelm all nodded that they understood. The third, Dag, merely scoffed at him. With Dag being shorter than average and Ver Dilen's massive height, Dag looked like a complacent child. However, in the little time Wilhelm knew Dag, he confirmed him as anything but.

Ver Dilen crossed his arms and huffed. "And you, Wilhelm, are you going to voice any complaints?"

"I have none," Wilhelm said. It wasn't a lie. Seeing someone else take over and quickly processing the pain of being unofficially tossed aside left him oddly numb. The only thing left was the "enemy of god" Doevm. He had appeared like a brief dream yet never left his mind, like a faded memory he couldn't quite remember.

"A new god will rise," the memory of the Mumbling Prophet's words echoed in the back of his head.

"I wish you luck, Cardinal Ver Dilen," Wilhelm said. "Fate is a hard thing to change." He turned around and began to walk back to his tent.

"Where are you going?" Sindre skipped up to him and asked.

"Training," Wilhelm said.

…

Whether or not the army of War Monks has other plans, I have yet to discover them. As for why the army has not teleported directly to the Polyglint Mines, I can only speculate. If I may be so presumptuous, my lord, I think the War Monks' crusade is too hasty. As it is to the outside eye, they are a religious army unapproved by both the Vilbarian government and the Dwarven colony. In addition, their destination was recently weakened by a natural disaster. Considering the War Monks are trying to keep any and all knowledge of this "god's game" from humans, they have no absolutely no justification to march into the Polyglint Mines. It would shatter their public image.

The army does seem to be moving, however, under the direction of the Cardinal Ver Dilen. It is a slow march. Each day their mage, Merlin, teleports fifty more reinforcements. Their actions seem consistent, but I will keep a close eye, sir. No mention of Acrin, Draken capital, nor the Acrin Magic Academy reached my ears.

I apologize for only being able to observe to this extent. I am sure to be detected if I move any closer. The dark-clothed human Dag is so quiet that I even lose track of him at times. The mage Merlin appears weak but he seems to see more than most people. As for Wilhelm's lover, she has demonstrated no talents as of yet. Lastly, I have already mentioned the hero and the Cardinal. I have no idea how strong our shared enemy is but, even if they were strong enough to seal Zolgon, they cannot win against such numbers and strength. That is assuming that they are foolish enough to remain in the Polyglint Mines.

The servant finished reading the note and chuckled. "Let us hope they are fools, Demon General Zoorin, sir." She glanced at the guest who was casually sitting in the fluffy reading chair in the corner with his legs and arms crossed, but the man made no motion nor indication of listening.

Demon General Zoorin had his servant read the letter aloud several times before ordering it to be tossed into the study's fireplace. The fire burned as red as his skin. "Leave us," he said.

"As you wish, sir." The servant bowed her scaled head and promptly slithered out of the study, glanced over her shoulder at the guest, who still sat in the general's favorite spot under the Wyvern bone chandelier and by the painting of Zolgon, and she slowly shut the doors behind her.

General Zoorin's demonic form stood at the window of his study, his slitted, yellow eyes peering out at the wastes around his castle. As soon as his servant's presence vanished, his fanged smile reflected in the glass. "What did you say your name was again?" he asked.

"Citrus," the black-robed guest introduced himself without any added flamboyance. Zoorin liked simplicity, but such behavior didn't suit Elves.

The General didn't judge Citrus any differently despite this. Strangeness had become the norm ever since Zolgon got himself sealed away by humans: Roots of evil withering away, the Fracture, pillars of light shooting up into the sky, and now an Elf, a descendent of a hero at that, offering to help them for free.

Zoorin wanted to send him away, but he didn't have the luxury to do so, not with both the Grand Shaman and the demon king gone. "I guess there is some truth to what this Mumbling Prophet says: the goddess's focus is on Doevm. While you've proved his worth, what does he want out of this?"

"Nothing more than the objective at hand," Citrus assured him.

Zoorin frowned. "Meaning he doesn't want to show his hand."

"We believe in the balance," Citrus explained. "Everything he does is towards that purpose."

Despite receiving his answer, Zoorin's frown deepened. "So you're neither an enemy nor our ally. Still, this fellow sounds about as useful as our late Grand Shaman. Should I make him my subordinate?"

Two gold flashes exploded in the study. Zoorin found himself next to a gaping hole in the wall, his sword held to Citrus's throat. He narrowed his eyes. "Strange. Why don't I sense any hatred from you?"

Citrus had another arrow nocked and at the ready as he explained, "My apologies. That was a conditioned response. It will likely happen again."

Zoorin let out a shrill cackle. "Usually people say it won't! At least tell me, what kind of being is he?"

"I have no idea," Citrus said as he lowered his bow.

Zoorin sheathed his sword. "I see. Is anyone else going to join us?"

Citrus shook his head. "No. I alone was assigned here."

'I would have liked to know if they're all that strong.' a terrifying thought ran through Zoorin's head.

"Shall we?" Citrus asked.

"I haven't agreed yet," the general maintained.

"You will, eventually," Citrus said.

Zoorin chuckled for a second time. He quickly grew fond of the elf. "Does this prophet foretell our success?"

"With the two of us, I do not believe he needs to," Citrus said.

Zoorin stole a glance at his broken horn - reflected on the small hand mirror on his desk. "That's because you've never fought Alexander Finlish before. Let's go."

Citrus nodded. "I will keep it in mind."

Two gold flashes streaked out of the study. At the same time General Zoorin's guards finally burst into the study, having overheard their "scuffle". They discovered a gaping hole in the empty room. A ray of light reached through it and touched Zolgon's lifeless portrait.

…

The black-robed Dogma appeared in a burst of golden life essence not far from a small, nameless pond within the Strange Mountain range. He found a good spot to meditate and there his metallic body found rest while he waited for the prophesied one to appear. He hadn't been told how long to wait nor had he asked. He, like Citrus, simply did as the Mumbling Prophet ordered.