Lich for Hire

Ambrose looked at the tall young druid and couldn't help asking, "Aren't you a follower of the Oakfather? How did you end up as Lady Leyla's chosen?"

This wasn't a trivial matter. Even between a primary deity and a subordinate one, switching devotion wasn't something that happened casually.

Sylvanas was accommodating enough, but a devotee of someone like the Lord of Storms, Thanos, would likely have found themselves on the receiving end of a lightning bolt before they could finish converting to another deity's faith.

Leyla explained. "When I was revived, my divine power uncontrollably spilled into some of the druids nearby. The Oakfather has permitted those particular druids to become my faithful. Brandir is one of them."

Ambrose remembered what had happened. He had knocked Brandir out and left him propped against the banyan tree while he got to work digging. He hadn't thought much of it at the time.

Apparently, Brandir had been extraordinarily lucky. For a mortal to absorb divine power directly, even passively, was an extraordinary advantage. Combined with the fact that the man had reached the legendary realm at thirty, he would likely have a glorious future.

That said, Brandir was clearly still nursing his grievance over being knocked unconscious. Bowing his head in Leyla's presence didn't mean he had any genuine interest in taking advice from Ambrose.

That became evident almost immediately when Ambrose asked, "How many shadow druids are there? Do you know where their main settlements are?"

Brandir's response was cool. "Master Megaman, if you don't have a grasp of such basic intelligence, I'm not sure what advice you'd be in a position to offer."

Leyla's brow creased. Even with her reclusive nature, she could hear the resentment soaking into every word. She was about to speak up when Ambrose did so first.

"I understand your grievance, but make sure it's directed at me, not at the goddess you serve. Lady Leyla has only just recovered her strength. Showing her disrespect is the same as provoking me." He let the words settle. "Brandir Sanda, are you looking for another bout?"

"Last time I wasn't ready," Brandir said, unable to stop himself. "This time I—"

Ambrose snapped his fingers.

Brandir felt a cold presence at his back. He turned and found Milena's golden eyes locked onto him, utterly still.

An invisible barrier expanded outward and closed around him.

The moment it did, the magic within him went dead—not suppressed, but simply gone, as if it had never existed.

"An anti-magic field? No, it's more than that! I can't even shapeshift..."

While Brandir was still processing this, Milena already had the tip of her spear at his throat.

A druid stripped of magic was more or less an ordinary person. To Milena, he might as well have been an insect. The only reliable counters to her anti-magic field were either bombardments launched from beyond its range, or a pure physical fighter at least at the peak of the legendary rank. Anything else would simply be rolled over.

Brandir had never encountered a suppression effect this absolute. With a spear tip at his throat, he didn't dare move a finger. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Ambrose waved a hand. Milena lowered the spear.

Before Brandir could exhale, Ambrose had him by the throat. Dark energy began seeping into his skin, a burning, corroding sensation that spread outward from every point of contact.

Milena had refined enough control over her field by now to exclude Ambrose while keeping Brandir fully suppressed. There was nothing the latter could do.

"Don't let youth make you reckless," Ambrose said. "The only reason you're still breathing is Lady Leyla's presence. I have the deepest respect for her, so I'll give you one chance. There won't be a second, because I have no interest in someone this foolish continuing to serve as her faithful."

He released his grip. Brandir doubled over, clutching his throat. Where the dark energy had touched, a layer of skin had been eaten away. Brandir couldn't even speak.

Under ordinary circumstances, Ambrose preferred not to resolve problems this way. He liked to be pleasant on the surface and never to push someone to extremes.

But he didn't have the time to set a careful trap and wait for Brandir to walk into it. With a young man this exceptional, only being thoroughly dominated a second time would actually change his mind.

And it did work. After being crushed again, Brandir finally set his pride down. He could feel that Ambrose was genuinely prepared to kill him, not like last time, where he had gone to pains to leave Brandir alive.

Coming that close to death tended to clarify things.

Brandir wasn't unintelligent. He had simply spent too long being the most talented person in any room, and his arrogance had become a habit. Now, at last, it was time to set it aside.

Once Brandir had healed his throat, he relayed what he knew about the shadow druids in a rasp. Because they were unwelcome in mainstream druid society, most shadow druids didn't live in the Emerald Dreamwood at all. They were scattered across the darker, more dangerous forests of the continent.

Brandir had already located several settlements. The total population came to roughly forty thousand—not enormous, but not insignificant, either.

Ambrose took in the information, thought for a moment, then said, "I have two approaches for you to consider. The first: with the Emerald Dreamwood's resources behind you, wiping out the shadow druid clans outright wouldn't be difficult. Kill the adults, bring the children back, and raise them properly."

"Absolutely not," Brandir said immediately. "The Oakfather would never sanction that kind of massacre in our ranks. Lady Leyla, you wouldn't allow a slaughter like that either, would you?"

Leyla shook her head. "He's right. Excessive killing runs contrary to the natural order. The Oakfather would not permit it."

Ambrose had expected as much. "I thought so," he said equably. "Then the second option. Shadow druids despise alchemy above all else, so we'll use that to set a trap and draw them out. We can capture them alive, bring them back, and work on them gradually. There's no need to kill anyone. We can separate them and re-educate them one by one. I can help build the trap. Milena's anti-magic capability combined with my alchemy should be more than sufficient."

Brandir shook his head again. "I appreciate it, but we don't have the manpower to process them individually. The number of druids the Oakfather has permitted to follow Lady Leyla is limited. We can't complete this task with what few numbers we have."

"There's a cap?" Ambrose said, genuinely surprised. "How many converts do you have?"

Brandir raised one finger, looking uncomfortable.

"Ten thousand? A hundred thousand?"

"Just over a hundred."

Ambrose looked at Leyla. The Emerald Dreamwood had a druid population approaching a million. Sylvanas had allocated her a hundred of them and tasked her with bringing forty thousand shadow druids back into the fold. That was either a joke or a test; neither option was particularly flattering to the Oakfather.

Leyla smiled serenely. "If it were easy, I wouldn't have needed your wisdom."

Ambrose sighed. "Then there's only one path left. Brandir, do you know what acceleration means?"

Brandir looked puzzled. "You mean, a Haste spell? I know it, but what does that have to do with the shadow druids?"

"Not a spell. I mean letting things accelerate on their own. You infiltrate the shadow druids and push their radicalization further along. They want to destroy civilization and reclaim it for the forest? Help them get there faster. While you're at it, point out that the shadow druids themselves are destroying the forest. Their weapons are made of oak, aren't they? And the clothes on their backs are bark and animal hide? How does that not constitute destruction of nature?"

"That's not the same," Brandir said, frowning. "We use the forest responsibly. Our weapons are made from branches that have already fallen naturally. Our clothing comes from hunting that stays within sustainable limits—"

"Says who?" Ambrose cut him off. "If you get to decide what counts as reasonable, why do the shadow druids get to decide what counts as extreme? Your doctrine has always had room for multiple interpretations. What even is nature? The spore druids work with corpses as freely as any undead practitioner. I'm not here to debate theology with you, Brandir. I'm giving you a direction.

"Any system of beliefs, taken to its absolute extreme, will be close to collapse. Your job is to help the shadow druids get there faster. Once they fracture under the weight of their own contradictions, they'll naturally look for help from those closest to them in belief. That's when you step in and bring them back, legitimately, on your own terms.

"The details are yours to work out. You're the youngest legendary druid alive. How to reason about the natural world isn't something you need me to teach you."

Brandir stood in silence for a long moment. Was this actually viable?

It sounded absurd on its face. But the more he turned it over, the more a certain uncomfortable logic revealed itself.

And if the lich were right—that any belief taken to its extreme would eventually break under its own weight—then Lyon, by that measure, was probably not far off either.

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