Lich for Hire

Lyon was in upheaval, but by the time the news reached Ambrose, he had already crossed out of Lyon's borders and into the Emerald Dreamwood.

Cade Watson had reached out through the magic mirror to report that he had found buyers for the jetpacks, and passed along the news at the same time.

The young emperor of Lyon appeared to be a changed man. He had somehow brought William Garrison around, convincing the old paladin to abandon the pending impeachment. Then, he had consolidated his grip on the rest of the imperial family and reclaimed his throne.

"That boy?" Ambrose said, genuinely puzzled. "Is he really capable of that?"

If Percival Lyon had that kind of ability, how had he managed to embarrass himself so completely on the battlefield?

Something had clearly happened. Unfortunately, Cade Watson was Ambrose's only contact inside Lyon, so all he could do was ask him to keep digging.

It wouldn't be easy. After the aerial defeat, Cade had been demoted again and was now commanding a gate-watching detachment in the capital, hardly a position with access to palace gossip.

What Percival had done, apparently, was win Garrison over before writing a public letter of heartfelt apology to the people of Lyon in which he took full personal responsibility for the military failure.

There was a particular logic to it. While the emperor refused to admit any fault, his opponents had every reason to keep pressing. Before the apology, more than a few Lyon citizens had been ready to revolt on the spot. Afterward, much of that fury simply dissipated.

Percival had not faced any real punishment, but an emperor's apology, sincerely delivered, was enough to stabilize things in the short term. It would be difficult for tensions to flare into open conflict again anytime soon.

Ambrose was mildly curious about who had advised the boy, but it didn't much matter. A single apology couldn't fix a schism as deep as Lyon's.

Once fanaticism met failure, a split into competing factions would always take place. The delay the emperor had bought changed nothing about where the empire was ultimately headed.

And then there was Allen, still operating inside Lyon's borders. Allegedly, he had already secured the support of several influential figures and built up a core force of a hundred elite soldiers.

The chosen one was living up to his name, after all. His influence was growing faster than seemed possible. Sooner or later, he would drive a blade into Lyon's heart.

In the meantime, Ambrose brought the Blacktide to the Emerald Dreamwood. As before, he approached an inconspicuous border of the forest in order to slip in without disturbing the druids.

His plan was to enter the dream directly, bypass the druids entirely, and check in with the Lady of Mists to see how her divine power was recovering.

But the Blacktide had barely touched down when the druids appeared, as if they had been waiting for him.

Ambrose didn't order the ship to open fire. Instead, he brought Milena and the others out of the cabin, because his instincts told him these druids hadn't come looking for a fight.

He was right. The moment he stepped off the ship, he recognized a familiar face: Brandir, the youngest legendary druid.

Brandir's expression was strained, but he inclined his head respectfully. "Master Megaman, welcome."

"Welcome?" Ambrose said. "I hope you don't mean that sarcastically. If you know my name, you probably know I've struck you unconscious twice."

The first time Ambrose had visited the Dreamwood, he had been travelling under the name Monge Greywater.

The second time, he had deployed his mechanical body and given Brandir a thorough beating.

Neither visit had any connection to the name Megaman Tiga—yet Brandir had used it without hesitation, which meant he knew considerably more than he should.

Sure enough, at those words, a vein visibly pulsed at Brandir's temple.

"The misunderstanding has been explained to me by the Lady of Mists," he said through his teeth. "You came into conflict with me in the course of reviving a great deity. I bear no grudge."

He was very clearly bearing a grudge. It had settled somewhere deep in his chest and showed no signs of being dislodged any time soon.

Had Leyla truly told him the truth?

That didn't make sense. The druids had used Leyla's remains to anchor the barrier encasing the Emerald Dreamwood. The only reason Leyla hadn't held that against them was that she wasn't the type to nurse resentments. But why would she share her secrets with them?

And, judging by what he was seeing, the druids had somehow actually accepted that Ambrose had trespassed and injured one of their own.

"Brandir," Ambrose's voice sharpened. "Give me a straight answer. What have you done to the Lady of Mists?"

At the shift in his tone, Milena's right eye blazed gold, casting its light across the forest around them. Through her gaze, the druids who had transformed into small birds and concealed themselves among the branches were rendered completely visible.

Hastin's mechanical frame began to hum, combat-ready. As for Hares, currently a puddle of living mercury, he had tucked himself inside his brother's mechanical body and was waiting for the right moment to give the druids a very unpleasant surprise.

The druids had Ambrose surrounded, but he wasn't concerned.

Milena's anti-magic barrier was a hard counter to everything they could bring to bear, and the Blacktide sitting behind them could reduce the entire forest clearing to rubble. Beyond that, Ambrose himself was no longer the half-baked legendary he had once been. With the Golden Throne augmenting him, no mage alive could match his casting speed or raw mana reserves.

The tension sharpened to a razor's edge. Brandir looked as if he would have given anything to challenge Ambrose to a proper duel then and there, but he held himself back. "Master Megaman," he said carefully, "we are here to convey the Lady of Mists' instructions, not to fight you. Please come with us. You will be able to see the goddess yourself."

Ambrose reached out with his senses. Brandir was telling the truth.

Had Leyla reached some kind of agreement with the druids?

"Very well," Ambrose said. "Lead the way."

Brandir exhaled and turned to walk ahead of them.

Ambrose didn't relax his guard for even a moment. He let Milena continue scanning the forest as they walked, flushing out every druid who had hidden themselves along the path. It embarrassed the druids visibly, but none of them reacted. Something was holding them back.

As they moved deeper into the Emerald Dreamwood, Ambrose noticed something wrong: the Dreamveil Barrier's effect had vanished. There was no longer any way for him to slip into the dream and reach Leyla directly.

Something wasn't right.

They walked on for some time before the great banyan tree came into view. This was where he had beaten Brandir badly enough to end the fight, and where he had later unearthed Leyla's remains and restored her to life through the domain of undeath.

Brandir's expression darkened further as they arrived. He said nothing. He only led Ambrose up to the crown of the tree.

There, the magnificent statue of the Oakfather, Sylvanas, rose above everything: the sacred destination for every druid who made the pilgrimage to this forest.

And standing before that statue, dressed in black, was the Lady of Mists. Leyla had been waiting.

"You're here," she said, smiling not at all like a goddess, and very much like a friend.

"Honored Lady of Mists, what is going on? You and the druids—"

"Sylvanas invited me," Leyla said simply, "to become one of his subordinate deities."

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