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The OP Lich is a Returnee, Chapter 190
🕑 Added 2025-08-20 15:48:15 +0000 UTCChapter 190 – Shadows
“My Queen, we have caught a couple packs of rats.”
I had been enjoying a nice evening in my hotel room, having finished with the day’s meetings. We were scheduled to return to Risen Athelia tomorrow, so it was the last night of our stay. Since no sneaks or assassins had tried anything so far during the stay, I had been expecting something tonight. After all, anyone who wanted to do something would have an easier time making a move while I was in New York than back in my domain.
I turned my attention to the wraith that had risen from the shadows pooling under the sofa I was sitting on. “A couple packs, you say? More than one team, then? Or multiple actors in different areas?”
“Two teams so far, your Majesty, plus a lone actor. The first, and easiest to handle was a group of infiltrators who were attempting to sneak recording devices on the Queen of the Damned. There were six, in total.”
Oh, trying to get spy materials on my ship? That was a nice choice. Relatively simple, which I approved of, and not a direct attack, which would have provoked a more direct response from me. Still, if they thought they could get onto the ship to plant recorders, then that must have meant that they thought they could get through the wards somehow. “Tell me more.”
“The team was in three parts, your Majesty. Two were in boats, playing at recreational games in the waters nearby, though the lookouts noticed that the communications on their boats were far more powerful than a pleasure cruiser should require. It appears that they were distraction and backup for the third team, which attempted to infiltrate the ship from underwater.”
“Attempted? Did they get stopped by the wards?”
“No, your Majesty. But the guards we had posted beneath the waters caught them. The cloaking spell they were using was ineffective against the Zombie Megalodon. After ‘Tiny’ caught them, the two backup teams attempted to rescue, but were blocked by the wards. The wraiths disabled the backup teams and brought them aboard the Queen for interrogation. The survivors are waiting for your judgement.”
“Survivors?”
“Tiny was not gentle with the infiltrators.”
“Ah,” I nodded. Well, a zombified shark stretching 24 meters in length, and coming in at 30.5 metric tons was going to be a bit much for normal humans to handle, even if they were, apparently, thaumaturges. At a certain point, the mass alone would be ‘problematic’ for a human on the wrong end of Tiny’s attentions. Still, that was not the real question, here. “How did they bypass the wards?”
Despite not having a face, I could tell that the wraith was trying to hide embarrassment or unease. “They managed to find a loophole in the warding scheme, your Majesty. The wards were keyed to keep out those who intended harm against Risen Athelia, its citizens, or yourself, as well as those who intended theft against you, those on the ship, or the realm. The initial intruders planned on not harming anyone, and not stealing anything, since they were simply planting devices, not removing anything. Their backup, however, intended harm against the crew, and to ‘steal’ back those captured trying to infiltrate the ship, which was enough to block them from passing the wards.”
“Fascinating,” I said, and I meant it. “And do not worry, I am not upset at someone being clever enough to find a logic gap in my wards. It is impossible to make such things ironclad unless you make it so that only the caster can trave to and from through the wards. But that is also why I ensured that guards were on station, because clever people will always surprise you, so you never rely on only one defense. I would have been cross, however, if I’d found that they had somehow broken the wards without my knowledge, or if one of the crew had allowed them in, since either one of those situations is much more of a persistent threat.”
The wraith visibly relaxed at my words. “As you say, your Majesty.”
“You said that was the first of our packs of rats. What else is there?”
“The second pack attempted to insert themselves into the Embassy staff, or subvert staff members already in place.”
“Problematic,” I nodded. Any embassy needed staff, and just shipping a bunch of people over wouldn’t solve the problem. Anyone who lived off site, even if they were one of your people, risked being turned by a spy. However, most embassies simply didn’t have the space to comfortably house everyone that worked there, and even if they did, there were benefits to having some locals on the payroll, since it gave you a better lay of the land. Countering the vulnerability meant vetting individuals before they were hired, and monitoring their activities, to ensure that they didn’t spread sensitive information.
“Did the vetting process catch them, at least?”
“Yes, your Majesty. The ones who were trying to insert themselves as spies discovered that lies were no good when they were being interviewed in a chamber that compelled truth. The standard questions worked. Their applications were rejected, and they were released, as they had not committed any crimes.”
“And the ones trying to subvert existing staff?”
“They have been identified, as well as the staff involved. However, no action has been taken, as the intelligence staff wished your guidance.”
I nodded slowly. Keeping out all spies was impossible, really, unless you ran the embassy like a police state. Even then, some might flip simply because of how tightly the screws were turned. If keeping all spies out was impractical, at best, then the optimal course of action would be to limit their number, and to identify and control the ones who got in.
“If the subverted can be confirmed as loyal, and have the necessary skills to lie convincingly, use them to feed what information we wish the other side to have. If they are unloyal, ensure that they are working in areas where they cannot cause harm, or access sensitive information. And ensure that their work is checked discretely. Controlling the flow of information will help us more, in the long run, than trying to stamp out every infiltration attempt. But do not lessen security standards, all the same.”
“As you command, your Majesty. There is one last rat to speak of, however.”
“Oh? They already attempted the embassy and my ship. What was this last rat up to?”
“Assassination, your Majesty. Ambassador Malo was the target. It was to look like an accident.”
I sighed, and leaned back against the sofa as I considered that news. I had expected assassination attempts, of course. Not so early, perhaps, but they were expected. And, likewise, I knew that the mortals in my government would be the easiest targets for anyone wishing to chip away at my influence. After all, no mere poison or dagger in the back would kill my undead. The mortals were the ‘weak link’, in a way, but they were also bait. And I had already received my first catch.
“Has the assassin been interrogated?”
“After being turned to a wraith, yes, your Majesty. The body was distributed to the ghouls on security, as is standard, while the newborn wraith has been under compulsions to answer all questions. The assassination attempt was ordered by the American president through the CIA.”
Well, that made things simpler, and more problematic. Simpler, because I would have to make a response, or they would think that they could keep doing this kind of thing. More problematic, because I needed to skirt treaties and the like. Fortunately, I had cards that I could play.
“Are our people in place?”
“Yes, your Majesty. We had to relay a couple times, but the American ambassador to the UN met with the Secretary of State, who met with the President. And the assets you inserted in the CIA have remained in place since you ‘visited’ them.”
“Very good. I believe a demonstration is in order. Leave the asset in the CIA in place, for now. They’re too valuable a source of information to burn easily. We’ll focus on the president for this demonstration, I think.”
“What shall I tell our people, your Majesty?”
I smiled, and I knew it wouldn’t be a pleasant smile. I wasn’t feeling ‘pleasant’ at the moment, after all. “Tell them to initiate Silent Night Protocol.”
(The White House, Washington, DC)
Secret Service Agent John Marshall liked the overnight shifts the best. He had been with the Secret Service for ten years, at this point, and spent most of it as security for the White House itself. Never on the actual presidential detail, but he didn’t care about that. When you were on the presidential detail, you had to travel with the president, after all. He much preferred being part of the permanent detail at the White House, which allowed him to spend more time with his wife, Kayla, and their daughter, Holly.
Pulling the midnight to morning shift in the security office was the best. Spend a few hours watching the cameras, making sure people did their regular check-ins, and dispatching people if an alarm went off. Most nights, nothing happened. He would split duties with whoever was on shift with him in the office, and they’d take turns ‘pulling watches’, as they called it, one of them relaxing or taking a nap while the other kept watch for an hour or two, then they’d switch.
Of course, there were plenty of nights where people came in at all times of night. The world didn’t stop spinning just because it was night in DC. Sometimes the President needed to be briefed right now, because things were going to shit overseas, and they needed to respond on the local timescale.
Those kinds of nights had become more frequent, over the last few years. Ever since Hawai’i and those other islands decided to join Risen Athelia, and the Pacific fleet had been basically booted back to Alaska and California, things had been hectic. Not that other areas were much better, of course. He wasn’t in any classified briefings, but he had eyes. US bases in Europe were increasingly isolated, and the problem with Great Steel Sharks wasn’t limited to the Pacific. Between that, and the growing tensions with the Sovereign Nations Accord and the European Union? The Navy was all back in US waters for the first time in a hundred years.
But that wasn’t his problem. He wasn’t a diplomat, or a soldier. He wasn’t even a bodyguard, really. He was a well-trained and well-paid security guard, and he was fine with that. After all, it was the people who tried to grab for too much that usually ended up getting their hands caught in the cookie jar.
A cold chill fell across John Marshall’s body, spreading from his heart. He tried to speak, but no words came out. Then, there was a pulling sensation, and he saw… himself? His body was there, in his chair, slack-jawed and limp.
“Don’t worry, little guard,” a voice hissed next to him. He turned, and saw a spectral figure there. “You’ve just been recruited to the service of the Lich Queen.”
He tried to scream, to wake his partner, but he had no mouth. He looked down, and saw only black smoke. Just like the specter in front of him.
The first alarms were sounded in the morning, when the shift change was supposed to happen. Guards were found at the gates, slumped over and dead where they had stood. Federal agents arrived on the scene, and what they saw was chilling. A little over four hundred people had been on the grounds that night, including security, staff, and the President. All of them were dead.
To say that investigators were confused would be putting it mildly. No alarms had been sounded, and there was no obvious cause of death. To the best medical knowledge they had, everyone had simply… dropped dead. There was no evidence of what caused the mass death, but examinations of the bodies suggested that everyone had died within a span of thirty minutes.
The media went wild with speculation, but without any kind of evidence (physical or magical), that was all it amounted to. What the media did not know was that, thirty seconds after the Vice President was sworn in as the new President, he received a call from the Lich Queen, offering her condolences on the death of the former President, even though it had not yet been announced on the news. The cheerful tone in which she spoke of hoping that future relations between their countries could be more cordial was, perhaps, the most chilling part of the entire affair.
Comments
Some BS Deity
Let's hope John over there can reclaim his life. It's not his fault he had to die to make a statement. Also holy fuck it's about time that asshat died. Let's hope the fear of external service keeps the vice president inline. Also, I kinda want to see the president at some point. That's gotta be hilarious.
Chris M.
💗 very nice chapter, thank you. 😍💀👍
