Lorellia (Everlasting Legends, Book 1)

Ch. 18 - Cruel Offerings

Ardaik 8th - La'Trest, Lorellia

The bright, mid-day sun made visible far more than the remaining sailors wished they could see. Some of them were so very close to home, mere blocks away, but after the dragon had eaten one man in front of the rest, they retained very little hope that they wouldn't soon meet the same fate.

"Please," the warrant officer whimpered. "Either let us leave or grant us a swifter death. I beg of you."

Obtoxicullous plopped down into one of the fine armchairs that he'd had his undead minions drag out of one of the nearby estates. There he sat, on the charred remains of the stage where musicians had entertained the night of the festival, with the black dragon perched at the side of it.

"But of course. I, too, wish for you all to scurry back along to your insignificant lives. Truly, I do. But you see, I have these few nagging questions that cause me great anguish," the necromancer explained. "See them resolved adequately, and you'll be freed to plot your revenge in peace! However, fail to answer quickly or satisfactorily and, well..." His gaze slid up towards Auganull, who held the same presence as that of a bored feline, with half-lidded eyes and the end of his tail slowly flicking out its annoyance.

"Alright, you there, on the end. You look a smart fellow; tell me where your ship hailed from and why it was coming to port in La'Trest?"

"We're a Lorellian ship! The Royal Navy!" the sailor at the end of their quivering line snapped as if that should've been obvious enough from any number of things. "La'Trest is our home berth."

A few gazes darted side to side from the men, sweat trickling down the sides of their temples and collecting on their upper lips in tiny beads. But the necromancer's eyes had lost interest all too quickly; his head lulled to the side, resting on his knuckles as he listened.

"How...uninteresting..." He motioned to the dragon, and the man was snapped up, crunched, and swallowed. "I do hope the rest of you can do better than that."

"S-stop! N-no more!" the warrant officer pleaded as another man promptly fainted, meeting the ground with a dull, damp thud.

"The...the-the-the-the PRINCE!" the gangliest sailor blurted. "The prince! We had the prince! Well—w-we didn't. We were eh-s-s-scorting him! We were escorting him back h-here!" As he finished, the warrant officer greyed, his eyes taking on a new shade of regret and hopelessness.

At the mention of the prince, Obi's head lifted, and his body soon followed. "Now, that is fascinating." The necromancer moved to lay a hand on the sailor's narrow shoulder.

The moment he did, Auganull started in on devouring the rest of the men while Obi took his time cutting his new toy free. "Come, friend, and never mind the undead. They never bite without my order," he said softly as he draped an arm around the sailor's shoulder and led him down the street through the crowd of ghouls and shamblers. "It is so troublesome to find worthy company. As you can imagine, most of my retainers aren't much in the way of conversation."

The sailor's eyes couldn't possibly get any wider, and he trembled visibly as he went where the necromancer directed him. A weak "O-Oh," was all he could manage.

Their short walk brought them to one of the manors on the edge of the town square, which Obi had claimed for himself. Aside from the servants being replaced with soulless undead, it was still quite nice, at least on the lower level. Rays of sunlight streamed in from somewhere on the upper level where part of the roof had collapsed or been torn away—it was hard to tell which from where they stood. Once they'd moved on to the dining room, however, it was impossible to tell the damage to the rest of the grand home.