M.J. Markgraf
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Norman the Necromancer Chapter 174
🕑 Added 2023-12-22 13:00:07 +0000 UTCThe wind blew a hot gust of air across Norman’s face, making him squint his eyes to keep the blowing dust out.
“You sure you want to do this alone?” Grobert asked.
“No, but that’s what they requested.”
Grobert didn’t respond to this answer, he simply teleported away. Norman just sighed. He knew his choice to come here alone was frowned upon by both Grobert and Eugene. And he hadn’t told Kalia what he was planning. But he had faith his plan would work.
Before stepping out of the tropical trees, he took one more look at the sprawling city in the distance. Golat, the Golatian capital city was massive. But it wasn’t a sprawling mess like he had imagined, instead, houses were packed tight together and built into multi-story structures.
Most of the houses looked to be built from the same light-colored stone that was used in the Alacala Provence. The only difference between here and there was the more temperate climate. Where Alacala was a blistering desert, Golat was more Mediterranean in feel. A lot of that probably had to do with the massive sea that bordered the Northern section of the Empire though.
While the houses looked familiar, the castle stood out in stark contrast. Although calling it a castle wasn’t doing the sprawling structure justice. The massive white edifice covered nearly half the city and was made from what looked like marble and gleamed brightly in the sun.
The marble was so reflective, it was hard to look at. Which was probably the point. He knew from reports that the ruling elite of this city took great pride in their perceived ‘purity’. White could definitely signify that. And he could easily see the blinding glare as a way to keep unpure eyes from lingering too long on the structure.
If his assumptions were correct, it was powerful symbolism for the rather simple people of the Empire. Unlike humans, the Empire was in a pre-industrial age of technology before the collapse. Despite that, Norman might have been taken in by this symbolism too if he didn’t know just how foul and depraved the ruling class of the Empire was.
He sighed and made his way out of the orchard and onto a cobblestone road that wound its way down the steep hill and toward the capital in the distance. It was strange being all alone. The last time he experienced this was just after the Brotherhood attack on Ashvale. He supposed it was rather poetic that this time he was facing off against yet another part of the Empire.
As he drew nearer to the town, he started to see the stark differences between the Alacala people and those of this region. Unlike the people of the great desert, the people around here wore exposed skin. Most wore something like a toga draped around their bodies, unlike the full-body wraps and headdresses from the desert. The men’s clothing stopped just above their knees, exposing feet outfitted in reed sandals. They also wore no head coverings, but most kept short hair.
The women wore similar attire, only theirs consisted of more delicate-looking material. And they wore the togas down to their calves where it met with a similar style sandal that wrapped up their calf.
Another glaring difference to the desert peoples' whites, yellows, or natural-colored clothing, the clothing here consisted of bright colors that seemed to grow more muted as the wearer got older. He wondered if it was a cultural tradition.
It was an interesting observation, but Norman wasn’t here to learn about their cultural heritage.
Nobody tried to stop him as he entered the city, although the guards did eye him as he entered.
That was to be expected though. Norman stood out. And not just for his slightly grey skin. He was wearing his full Lord regalia, the all-black suit with red piping and gold trim. His choice of colors and clothing alone made him stand out.
Nobody wore black here. And why would they? If he were alive, he would be sweating buckets.
He ignored the curious stares and whispered questions as he made his way through the throng of civilization and toward the ‘White City’ as he had heard the people refer to the noble district.
As he approached an ornate gatehouse, he was finally stopped by four guards.
“Halt, outsider! What business do you have inside the White City?”
Instead of answering, Norman tossed the man the scroll from the First Prince.
Surprised by the action, the guard almost dropped the scroll. He glared at Norman before opening the letter.
There were a few ways he could have gone about this visit. He could have simply killed the guards and strode in. It was doubtful that anyone besides the First or Second Prince would be able to stop him. But that would mean he would have to fight the entire way to the palace. Better to try the ‘diplomatic’ approach first.
The guard finished reading the scroll, his face turning slightly pale before he quickly rolled it up. He motioned for two of the guards. “Bring this man to the palace. He’s been summoned by the First Prince.”
He wanted to correct the guard, but it was technically true. The Prince had summoned him. Whether or not the man knew what that entailed would be revealed shortly.
The two guards took up position in front and behind him, hands on weapons as they 'escorted’ him through the white streets.
He couldn’t understand how anyone could live in such a blindingly bright place. But after a while, he understood how. The only people walking around were guards or what he assumed to be servants. Everyone else was being carried from place to place in small covered palanquins. These people really loved their palanquins. A rickshaw or cart would have been much more sensible. But he supposed they also liked lording their superiority over others by making multiple people simply carry them everywhere.
These weren’t simple litters either, they were festooned with gold, intricate artwork, and jewels, much like the Third Princes’ monstrosity, only on a smaller scale. Norman realized the intricacies and opulence of the palanquins was a status symbol.
Honestly, it was disgusting. The only useful thing about the carts was the kaleidoscope of colors they reflected along the walls as they moved past. It gave a bit of color to the rather prosaic buildings.
After what felt like hours, they finally reached another gate. The guard at the front approached the gate, while the one behind him ordered him to remain where he was. After a heated discussion, the guard finally produced the broken scroll case and handed it to the gate guard.
“You broke an official scroll!” the gate guard screeched, his face going beet red.
“N- no, Sir. This man presented it to us like this,” he gestured back toward Norman, throwing him under the bus.
“You! How dare you defile an official document like this. I should cut you down where you stand and throw myself at the mercy of the First Prince for your insult!”
By now spittle was flying from the man’s mouth as he focused his ire on Norman.
And this was where diplomacy died. He had zero respect for this Empire or its rules and regulators and he wasn’t about to sit here and be lambasted by an idiot who worked for them.
“Alright… That’s enough of that.” Norman pointed to the yelling guard and the one who had escorted him here and released the spells he had been holding.
Both men dropped to the ground, dead as soon as the black beam struck.
To say the other guards didn’t appreciate this was an understatement.
He heard more than felt the sword – from the guard behind him – attempt to cleave his head from his shoulder. Only his armor had already formed around him, protecting him from anything the unenhanced man could bring to bear.
Norman ignored him, instead focusing on the other guard speeding toward him like a cannonball, a sword aimed to pierce through him. He cast Flash Blindness, earning screams of pain from anyone within thirty feet of him. It wasn’t a spell he had ever pictured using, but it was the first thing that came to mind in this situation.
Norman stepped aside, avoiding the sword but he also positioned his arm like a spear. The blinded man attempted to stop, but his momentum carried him right into Norman’s outstretched arm. The impact sent a ripple through his body, but the enhanced strength granted by the armor allowed him to hold his ground. His fingers punched through the leather armor the man was wearing, tearing through his ribcage and into his heart.
The guard let out a surprised grunt and Norman ripped his arm back out, gripping the remains of the heart as he did. As it popped free, he yelled. “Kalimaa!” Nobody laughed at his reference, and he realized nobody had even seen his ‘cool’ move. Norman sighed and quickly finished off the remaining guards before storing the bodies and strolling into the Palace.
Now that he had let his intrusive thoughts win, he wasn’t likely to repeat this maneuver. Feeling your arm punch into a living body was rather gross. He was gonna stick with magic from now on.
As he shook the blood off, he glanced around in confusion. Nobody was rushing toward the gate and he didn’t hear any alarms going off. An armed response should have been forthcoming for his attack, but nobody stopped him as he wandered through the gate and into the castle proper.
Either he had entered the palace in the wrong location, or it was designed as a maze. He wandered the corridors looking for something that stood out. Eventually, he found it.
Turns out, he was wandering around the servant areas for over an hour before one servant was brave enough to point him to the correct hallway.
He tried the thank the man, but the dude scurried away as soon as he had given his directions. “Probably worried about reprisals,” Norman mused aloud.
He exited the door the man had indicated and found himself behind a large hanging tapestry. When he stepped out from behind the gaudy decoration, he found it artfully hid the door to the servants' wing. Out of sight, out of mind, he supposed.
The hallway he had entered was more of what he expected of a Palace. It was lined with artwork, busts, and statues. At the end was a grand doorway flanked by what Norman almost thought were two more statues, but the slight rise and fall of their chests gave them away.
The two guards were wearing ornate full-plate with a gold inlaid starburst pattern on the breastplate portion. He could also make out a slight shimmer in the armor. Neither man seemed surprised to see him appear from nowhere. And neither moved to stop him as he slowly examined the art along the walls and read the plaques below each statue and bust.
There was a slight creak of leather as one of the men gripped his spear tighter, likely in annoyance or agitation, but other than that they left him be. He knew he should just enter the room and get this over with, but he wanted to see what their reactions were. By the guards' annoyed but passive reaction, he could tell that they had been ordered not to interfere with him. Which served Norman just fine.
To be fair, they should be thanking him. He had just extended their remaining lifespan by a few minutes. He wasn’t about to leave two possible threats at his back while he spoke with the princes.
When he completed reading all of the plaques underneath the busts, Norman finished his business in the hall. He took a moment to examine the armor the two guards had been wearing. It wasn’t half bad.
He really wished he could store it and take it back to Ashvale for the Enchanters to disassemble, but it probably wasn’t worth it. The armor hadn’t saved the two guards from Death Fog after all.
With a sigh he stood, and decided to make an entrance. He could have used Orb of Decay, but he decided to go with something a little different this time around. He whipped up a quick spell that used Transmutation and Oscillation to disintegrate the thick wooden door.
It was extremely effective, but he did have to touch the object he wished to affect.
As the door fell apart, the throne room was revealed in all its glory. But Norman’s eyes glided over all the opulence to land squarely on two floating figures on the far side. Well, one was floating, the other was sitting atop a pillar of ever-moving marble. It made it look like he was sitting atop a water fountain. Except all white, so maybe something a bit less PG.
‘What the hell is it with their weirdos and their fixation on flying?’ he asked himself as he strode into the room.
