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In the underground chapel of the Black God's cult, where mass was usually held, Hugot and eight necromancers stood in the center, channeling dark energy into the blood-drawn magic circle surrounding the pentagonal stone altar. Watching them, Demphis calmly reviewed his plan.
At this pace, the altar should be complete by tomorrow.
His gaze shifted toward the small stone chamber at the back of the chapel. It had been repurposed as a temporary prison to hold Leven and the other hostages. It wasn't as though they lacked proper prison cells. Rather, he had deliberately gathered the captives in the underground chapel.
Honestly, they weren't easy to capture.
If it hadn't been for him, the Wellad branch wouldn't have had the strength to handle Karnak's group. So instead of leaving it to others, Demphis had chosen to personally guard the prisoners. He arrogantly surveyed both the altar and the makeshift prison from the throne at the center of the chapel. Not that an archlich would get tired from standing, but appearances mattered.
A leader ought to sit on a high throne, gazing down imperiously. It kept the subordinates in check and ensured they performed their...
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