Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 22

“Gifts?”

“Yes,” Ludmila replied. “Gifts. A diplomatic gesture. The message it conveys is more important than its material value. Since you are representing the residents here, it would be something like a sign of the relationship that you desire between your people and the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Captain Iškur’s foot tapped rhythmically on the deck, his claws playing over the wooden boards. The ship’s glow intensified, and he raised his foot.

“Oh, sorry.”

The glow of the boards dimmed, and Ludmila studied the ship. Every part of it was imbued with negative energy. Rather than being an inanimate object, the Ghost Ship was an Undead being in its own right – one that she sensed was at least as powerful as a Death Knight. How a Ghost Ship fought or what capabilities one possessed were entirely unknown to her.

“Ruin’s Wake seems quite sensitive to some things.”

“A finicky one, she is,” Captain Iškur nodded. “She’s the only Ghost Ship around here, so I’m not sure if it’s just her that acts like that or if it’s all of them.”

Ruin’s Wake didn’t take well to being scratched, yet there was a huge hole in the side of her hull and her sails were worn into strips of tattered cloth. Did she not mind because it was supposed to be a part of her appearance? Perhaps a Ghost Ship’s existence was similar to Ludmila’s own in the way that she maintained her previous form.

“How does a Ghost Ship manifest?” Ludmila asked, “Most of the Undead around here appear to be ordered as an echo of the civilization that once stood here. Up until this point, however, what we’ve seen have been Undead versions of living things.”

“I guess she just took a liking to this ship.”

“That’s quite novel,” Ludmila traced her fingers over the railing. “Is she a form of spectral Undead that possessed the ship, or did her pre-manifested ‘presence’ animate the wreck itself?”

“The latter,” Captain Iškur said. “Something like animating a corpse? If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I’ll be heading down into the hold to see if there’s anything that might be appropriate for this ‘gesture’.”

“Of course, captain,” Ludmila smiled. “Please don’t restrain yourself on my account.”

The Elder Lich turned and walked away, heading into some sort of structure in the rear of the Ruin’s Wake. Ludmila’s gaze returned to study the ship. Her knarr was the largest vessel that she knew of, and much of the Ghost Ship’s construction was strange to her. Piecing together the ship’s various details, she tried to imagine the resplendent image that such a vessel would have presented when it was crewed by the living. In its heyday, it must have travelled from the river to the seas and the world beyond.

“What sights have you seen, I wonder?” Ludmila murmured as she slowly walked along the railing.

She continued to study the details of the ship, then suddenly realized how strange it was for the ship to have certain details at all. They were mostly rotted away, but it was unlike what they had seen before where all identifying elements had been thoroughly destroyed.

Curious, she activated her hairpin and flew slowly around the hull, looking for any external markings or embellishments that might convey the ship’s former identity. The sides of the vessel were lined by what appeared to be ports with rusted metal hinges. Ludmila floated closer to one of them.

“Can this be opened?”

With a metallic squeak, the cover swung open on its own. The frame of the port was lined with the same metal, which also appeared to rib the sides of the ship. She stuck her head in to look at the hold’s interior, noting what appeared to be metal plates on each side of the port. A quick glance showed the same scheme all along the deck.

Her first thought was that it was similar to how brigandine armour was fashioned, with metal plates spaced in the suit. Instead of protecting its wearer, however, these plates probably protected the archers or mages that manned each port. Though she had never seen its like, the ship’s construction suggested that it was a vessel made for war.

A thought occurred to her, and she flew to the aft of the ship. She found Captain Iškur a deck lower than where he had entered. He opened the window – which was nothing but a window frame – to speak to her.

“Is something the matter, my lady?”

“I was just studying the exterior of Ruin’s Wake,” Ludmila replied. “Was there anything like an emblem or a name on the hull somewhere?”

“Right down here.”

Captain Iškur pointed to a spot below the window. Bare traces of lettering were carved into what was once a proud wooden placard. Ludmila narrowed her eyes, trying to make out what it said. Strangely, some of it was familiar – enough to guess at what was displayed.

“Does this say ‘Ruin’s Wake’?”

“I was born knowing all sorts of things,” the Elder Lich said, “but the local language wasn’t one of them. Since you were formerly of the local living population, you’ve got the advantage over me there. That aside, Ruin’s Wake knew her name when she came into existence as a Ghost Ship without knowing the local language either.”

“If that’s the case, what language do you use to record your research?”

“The one I was born knowing,” Captain Iškur replied. “Seems every Elder Lich knows it as well, no matter where they’re from. Since you’re uh…turned? Reconstituted?”

“Reconstituted, I think?”

“Interesting…anyway, the results of being turned varies on the strength of the Undead, but since you’re reconstituted, you’re who you were before. You get to keep what you knew, but at the same time, you don’t have the same inborn knowledge that the rest of us do. Not that I hold anything against you, of course – you’re obviously a fine and proper lady.”

The corner of Ludmila’s mouth twitched.

“Out of curiosity,” she said, “do the rest of your colleagues convey themselves as you do? I’ve interacted with other Elder Liches before, and they’re…”

“Boring?”

“They’re all interesting in their own way, but they all have a rather…flat delivery.”

“Sounds about right,” Captain Iškur said. “I guess we’re all born that way, and shutting oneself away to do research for decades doesn’t help much in changing that. As you can see, however, I do get around.”

The Elder Lich captain swept his arm out broadly, cocking his head in what Ludmila thought should be a roguish expression if he possessed the features to show it.

“Have you had interactions with the living before?”

“That didn’t involve running, screaming and Electrospheres?” He replied, “Maybe one. The living organise themselves in an annoying way: it’s easy to reach the ones that aren’t worth keeping alive, but anywhere with anyone worth your while tends to be protected by soldiers and the like.”

“It should be rare for most places to have personnel who can stand up to an Elder Lich of your strength.”

“I was a wee Elder Lich when I first tried over a century ago,” Captain Iškur chuckled at some memory, “which may or may not have been the best of ideas. That being said, all sorts of things still come flying out at me now, no matter how well I polish up my diction.”

“Well, I for one appreciate your efforts,” Ludmila said. “You make a good impression.”

Captain Iškur seemed taken aback.

“Er…really?” He scratched his cheek, “Thank you for saying so, my lady. It’s nice to know that all that wasn’t for nothing.”

The Elder Lich withdrew from the window, reappearing again to hold out a box in the palm of his clawed hand. Some effort had gone into brushing away the mud caked upon it.

“What’s this?”

“I figured it’d make for a decent gift,” he said. “The ‘gesture’ that you mentioned.”

“Ah, I meant ‘what’s inside’.”

“Nothing, but it’s the best box I have. Finding an intact container out here is next to impossible, never mind whatever’s left of their contents.”

Ludmila’s gaze travelled from the box and up the Elder Lich’s skeletal arm, eyeing the frayed sleeve of his tattered robe. Her lips turned down as she considered his circumstances. Captain Iškur seemed to wilt under her scrutiny.

“I-if it’s not good enough…”

“It’s perfect,” Ludmila told him. “Come with me, captain.”

She flew around over the deck, waiting for Captain Iškur to join her. She led him down to the aft of her vessel, landing near the Death Warrior captain. The Elder Lich eyed it up and down.

“I like your hat,” he said.

“Please wait here, Captain Iškur.”

He nodded at Ludmila in response, and she turned to walk towards the hold, the pleasant expression wiped from her face. Chagrin rose within her as she reviewed her behaviour around the Elder Lich.

It wasn’t something most would consider, but it was possible for the Undead to be impoverished. In fact, most Undead were poor: possessing nothing but what they manifested with.

Ludmila had taken his comments about the Corpus Merchants in the wrong way. It probably wasn’t that their goods were exorbitantly expensive or he was being exploited in some manner: it was because he was literally destitute. Born in the ruins of a civilization scoured from the face of the land, Captain Iškur had only burned-out ruins and sunken wreckage to work with. It was likely that his research was similarly meagre, as magical research required extensive funding for materials and labour.

If he raided the neighbouring lands, it didn’t show – his efforts to interact with his living neighbours lent to the idea that he was aware that securing a stable supply of what he wanted was better than driving everyone away for temporary gains. Captain Iškur was probably imitating the Corpus Merchants he interacted with, except he was attempting to ply the markets of the living or at least learn how to access resources and wealth.

As he had mentioned, naturally manifested Undead were born knowing many things, but ultimately only knew what they knew. Matters of industry and production were far from the ‘starting point’ of an Elder Lich’s existence. She doubted that the Elder Lich even had paper or writing instruments to record the research she had mentioned so offhandedly.

An old, worn container was the best gift he could offer, and his tattered robes were probably what he had manifested with. By comparison, Ludmila must have looked like she lived in the lap of luxury.

She stepped down into the hold, kneeling at one of the low tables set up there. Even as a being vulnerable to fire, she felt that they emanated an inviting magical warmth. The Vampire Brides seated at the table were playing some sort of card game. Occasionally, one would take a sip from the glass of blood in front of her.

“May we help you with something, Lady Zahradnik?”

“Captain Iškur of the Ruin’s Wake is awaiting an audience with His Majesty,” she said. “He is of modest means, so I was wondering if we have something presentable for him to wear.”

The Vampire Bride she was speaking with leaned back from the table, craning her pale neck to look past His Majesty’s seat.

“There should be something appropriate available,” she said after several moments, “have him come up here if you please, my lady.”

Several of the Vampire Brides stood up and started searching through the closets and drawers that they had installed in the hold. Ludmila led Captain Iškur over, and another set of Vampire Brides came around to scrutinise his figure. The crimson points of the Elder Lich’s eyes went back and forth between them. He jumped when one of the Vampire Brides poked a finger through a hole in his robe.

“Erm…what’s going on?” He asked.

“We’re preparing you for an audience with the Sorcerer King.”

“K-King?!”

“The Sorcerer King,” Ludmila corrected him. “His Majesty is heading this excursion. You’ll be dealing with him directly, so while the Vampire Brides take care of your appearance there are some matters of etiquette that you and I must review…”

As the Vampire Brides had him try on two dozen different outfits, Ludmila went over an essential list of behaviours and expectations that one should observe when attending an audience with a sovereign. The crimson points of the Elder Lich’s eyes seemed to swim in their empty sockets as she hammered out each topic.

Captain Iškur tapped the tips of his claws together as he listened. The Vampire Brides went on matching fabrics and accessories to his skeletal frame. In the end, they settled on a myrtle jacket with flared cuffs over a white shirt with loose pants tucked into black leather boots. A sea-green mantle adorned his shoulders, and a black tricorne with a feather plume topped it all off.

One of the Vampire Brides came over to speak with her, lowering her head apologetically.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have an eyepatch, my lady.”

“He needs an eyepatch?”

Ludmila couldn’t imagine what the point of an eyepatch would be. Captain Iškur’s ‘eyes’ seemed perfectly fine.

The Elder Lich’s clawed hands hovered over the rich felt material of his garb, as if afraid to damage it. Then he brought out his gift. His gaze slowly went back and forth between the worn box and his borrowed outfit.

“Is…is this really alright? I’m just a humble Elder Lich from the middle of nowhere – I must be in way over my head.”

“Just remember what I said,” Ludmila told him. “The Sorcerer King holds audience with all manner of peoples, so do not dwell on the material value of your gift. It is the meaning conveyed in your gesture that matters.”

Captain Iškur seemed to swallow.

“Oh, and if you commit any grave breaches in decorum,” Ludmila said, “Lady Shalltear will likely obliterate you.”

“Oblit–”

“If my lady does not,” she added, “I will at least give you a good whack.”

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