Chapter 433: A Greater Empire

Angus Watson opened his eyes and hauled himself out of bed.

He rubbed his temples. Unsurprisingly, he was tired. Thinking in the shared dream burned less energy than waking thought, but even so, the sustained high-intensity military exercises had taken their toll. It was like enduring an extraordinarily long dream, and it had seriously disrupted his rest.

He was a paladin, though, and he could manage. A longer midday nap would set him right.

As he sat up, a voice came from beside him, full of concern. "Angus, are you all right?"

Angus Watson immediately dropped to one knee. "Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. I'm simply tired."

Waiting at his bedside was none other than the current Emperor of Lyon, Percival Lyon.

Angus Watson was not with his brothers. The shared dream operated regardless of distance, and he was nowhere near the capital. He was in the small border town where he had been stationed all along.

He had conducted all communication with his siblings through the magic mirror Allen had given him. His younger brother had sought him out for a frank, heartfelt conversation, and Allen had eventually "convinced" him. Angus Watson had expressed his moral support for their cause and agreed to provide assistance at critical moments.

Allen had been pleased enough to give him the mirror on the spot, so they could stay in contact.

What Allen didn't know was that the moment the mirror was in his hands, Angus had quietly reported everything to the capital. He had become one of the emperor's trusted informants.

Since then, the emperor had known about every shared dream exercise and every development in Ambrose's movements. Traveling secretly to Angus Watson's border posting was a first, however.

The timing was unfortunate. Angus was just about to enter the dream when the emperor arrived.

Percival had graciously told Angus to honor his commitment and had simply settled in to wait at Angus's bedside until he woke. After all, they couldn't tip off the lich.

Percival Lyon looked down at Angus kneeling on the floor and said quietly, "None of that. I didn't come here to assert my imperial dignity. There are things we need to discuss face to face."

Angus Watson rose slowly, his bearing respectful.

"I am at Your Majesty's disposal."

Percival gestured for him to sit, then said warmly, "There's no need for ceremony. When you told me about the mirror, I knew where your loyalty lay. The empire is in a precarious position. What it needs right now isn't formal observance, but rather capable and loyal people like you.

"I came today to confirm a few things. Is that lich truly preparing to seize that sea, and help his undead companion ascend to godhood?"

Angus Watson nodded. "Your Majesty, that is precisely what he said. He has never concealed his objectives."

Percival was thoughtful. "That doesn't match what I know of him. For something this significant, wouldn't he fear word getting out?"

By now, everyone had heard the lich's name. In the wake of his remarkable deeds, many had begun digging into his past. Lyon was no exception. Ambrose sat at the very top of Lyon's wanted list.

The investigation had turned up a great deal. Even through multiple aliases, trails of his deeds had been found.

The emperor had confirmed several of the identities Ambrose had used over the years, every one of them names that carried weight. The lich's pattern was clear: he kept an alias until he'd wrung every last use from it.

What the past revealed was a being of consistent caution and an almost preternatural sense of approaching danger.

Someone like that wouldn't share a plan of this magnitude with his enemies, unless he had reasons not to care.

The Unholy Kingdom had been exiled, and he was the only one in contact with them. But what of Lyon, and the elves?

Percival spoke slowly. "If he's simply overconfident and is convinced the plan will succeed regardless, that's one thing. But if he's deliberately spreading this information, then the implications are more troubling."

Angus Watson inclined his head. "Showing weakness to draw the enemy in, or exposing what appears to be the center of operations to invite attack—both are standard tactical plays. But from everything I've seen in the exercises, I can't determine what his real plan is. I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I have failed to relieve your concerns."

Percival waved a hand. "You haven't failed at anything. If you hadn't told me about the mirror, I wouldn't have known the lich's capabilities were this extensive. Truthfully, I'm more worried about you. Your brother and your father are both perceptive men. There's a limit to how long this can be concealed. If they ever discover what you've been reporting, Angus, have you thought about what that means? Could you accept their anger?"

Angus Watson's answer was composed. "You need not worry, Your Majesty. I prepared for that eventuality from the beginning. And I have their blessing to report this intelligence, in a manner of speaking."

Percival blinked, then understood. "You're running as a double agent?"

"Your Majesty, I swear by the Holy Light that my loyalty to you is without question. I'm not a double agent. I simply told Allen I was going to infiltrate the capital as an informant, so Allen knows I'm making reports. He simply has no idea what I've actually told you, or what I've held back."

"And how much have you held back from me?" Percival asked.

The young emperor looked directly into Angus Watson's eyes, as though trying to read what lay beneath.

"Nothing whatsoever, Your Majesty. My loyalty to the Empire is without flaw."

Percival smiled. "I believe you. This is Lyon tradition: we do not approach others with unwarranted suspicion. Arthur Lyon was the same. That was why he always had companions willing to lay down their lives beside him, orcs, tiflings, humans, and undead alike. That is what I need to learn."

Angus Watson glanced at the young emperor with a trace of puzzlement. The sentiment was sound enough, but referring to the Holy King by name without a title seemed a shade disrespectful.

Still, it was none of his business. Family matters within the imperial house were not his concern. He put it aside quickly and asked, "Your Majesty, the lich will begin his offensive before long. If my assessment is correct, his odds of success in that stretch of the ocean are extremely high. Are we to simply watch him achieve his goals?"

Percival tilted his head. "You rate him that highly? With so many powerful factions in the deep sea, what makes you confident he can win?"

"The force he commands is simply too overwhelming. Setting aside the powerful undead of the Elegiac Society, the undead army he has built himself is the natural predator of every ocean race. I have never encountered undead like these. They seem purpose-built for warfare. In my assessment, he doesn't even need the rest of his forces. The Grunt Type Is alone, in sufficient numbers, could sweep that entire sea."

In the exercises, Angus Watson had tried every configuration of marine forces he could think of against the undead assault. Whatever he attempted, he lost far more often than not.

The reason was simple: the Grunt Type I was terrifying.

A torpedo the size of a finger, nearly invisible at low speed, self-targeting and devastating on impact, and capable of releasing lethal poison even on a near miss, contaminating a wide radius in the process.

More alarming still was the sheer quantity—more than ten thousand—that Ambrose deployed in every exercise, as though he genuinely treated them as disposable as arrows.

If he could mass-produce these undead the way an armorer produced arrows, what race in the ocean could stop him?

Not to mention the other two new unit types, which Angus Watson had spent days trying to counter to no avail. The other ocean factions were finished. There was no question about it.

Percival leaned forward. "If these new undead are this powerful, do you have a strategy against the lich if he uses them on Lyon?"

Angus Watson replied without hesitation, "He would lose, Your Majesty. In the deep sea, individuals capable of wielding holy light are vanishingly rare, which is precisely why nothing counters the undead there. But on land, our circumstances are entirely different. Undead this weak would be destroyed in droves by even a basic holy light spell, and the poison they carry would be neutralized by the same power. A surprise attack would accomplish very little."

Holy light was the fundamental counter to undead. Ambrose could rain tens of millions of Grunt Type Is down on Lyon's cities. Some people would certainly die, but the necrotic poison would cause limited lasting harm.

Any priest with access to holy light could purify its effects, and every major city in Lyon had accumulated such a deep reservoir of faith that it could form a holy light barrier over the entire settlement. Any weak undead approaching would simply evaporate.

Even when Black Rose had used the Umbral Depths as a passage to strike at Lyon's capital, pulling away most of Lyon's forces first and attacking when the capital was at its weakest, she had still failed to take it. That was how potent holy light was against the undead.

Percival exhaled. "Good. Our great work cannot be undone by a lich. Angus, stay close to your brother. Allen is one of Lyon's finest, and I don't want is to face him on a battlefield. We should be standing together, building something greater than anything the Holy King ever achieved.

"When Arthur Lyon raised other races up and helped them establish their own kingdoms, it may have seemed to be a gesture of goodwill, but independence only foments hatred. Human greed never disappears. The bonds between nations necessarily erode with time, and what remains in the end is nothing but competition over limited resources."

Percival rose to his feet, fists clenched. "I will build a more perfect empire. Every race, every living creature, will be brought under one rule. There will be no more conflict, no more wars of annihilation. I will accomplish what Arthur Lyon could not, and walk the path of the Holy Light further than he ever dared."

Angus Watson responded with fierce conviction: "Your Majesty, I will follow you to my last breath!"

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