Brand just finished etching the last words onto his arm when someone snapped at him to gain his fading attention. “Pay attention! This ritual is sacred beyond your understanding.”

Brand looked at the woman speaking to him, his eyes drawn to her elongated needle-sharp canines. They were more pronounced than beast kin fangs and could grow longer and shorter when needed. He wondered if they were mana constructs or in this vampire’s case, ani-mana constructs. They could also have been forced grown in that shape through magic. There was no way to know from just looking. Maybe this cult would betray him giving Brand an opportunity to dissect one of their vampires.

“My eyes are up here,” the vampire said. She then gestured to the circle of black-robed necromancers chanting reverently around ten bound and gagged men and women. “It has begun.”

“About time,” Brand thought. “Did you all really have to bathe those baby teeth in moonlight or.” Brand struggled not to laugh. “Soak virgin bones in blood and mistletoe. They’re not magically reactive. Hells, the Lich Lords don’t use bones at all. At least pickled hearts can be played with magically.”

“The liches are inferior undead. You were wise to come to us to speak with the goddess.”

Brand mentally shrugged. “Plus the Lich Lords wanted to sacrifice children along with powerful magi so fuck them. And the Bone Legion just sounded silly so the Vampire Knights were the only real choice.”

It turns out the spy Brand found in his ranks worked for one of many necromancy cults all dedicated to Hel. Most were just jötunn lead groups spreading a friendly image of their goddess, but most were very weak and just as useless. What Brand needed was a quick and easy way to come face to face with Hel. Luckily she was a deity that allowed shortcuts. One such short cut was being performed now.

The necromancer leading the ritual, another beast kin vampire with bloodshot eyes, rose a silver fang shaped dagger in the air over the first of his victims. His chanting grew louder as a mixture of virgin bones, mistletoe, crushed baby teeth, and blood was poured on his soon to be victims. After a few minutes, he paused, taking a deep breath then plunged the dagger into the closest man’s heart.

As the last vestiges of life left the helpless man the tell tail dark mist of death magic appeared in a swirling motion around the dagger. Brand now focused all his attention on the ceremonial weapon. With every life the dagger ended more death magic filled the room never spreading beyond a few feet from the curved blade. No mana shield kept the power in check. In fact, the dagger wasn't enchanted with any kind of spell. How it converted its victim’s mana to death magic so quickly was a mystery.

“Wait, something is not right here.” Brand measured the death magic in the area. “There’s too much,” he concluded. “It’s not a one to three ratio!” he exclaimed.

“So you noticed?” the vampire next to Brand smirked. “Normally converting mana to ani-mani increases its potency by a factor of three but by the will of Hel, it can be increased. I, for example, had nine times the available magic before becoming undead.”

“So why even become a vampire? Undead only product ani-mana and your body’s pool wouldn’t increase after you turned. You’d be back to being only three times as strong?” Brand looked the youthful-looking woman up and down knowingly. “How old are you?”

“Old enough for the silent death to have claimed me,” she answered. “Oh. He’s on the last one.”

The dagger came down on the last of Brand’s tribute. They were all chosen by Uhtred for breaking their rules. Instead of killing them, Brand used them along with what bodies were recovered from Thane’s fortress as payment to the Vampire Knights.

The swirling mass of death was now dense enough to produce red lightning that struck the dagger endlessly, scorching it black. Then the darkness condensed and flowed into the blade, not held in place not by a tightly wound enneagram, but by something unseen. It was a force Brand couldn’t detect even as the blade was handed to him.

He inspected it thoroughly, realizing the death magic stored within was gone as far as he could tell. There was also a rectangular piece of glass in the hilt. He’d been told it was a gauge of some sort filling slightly with each use and now was the perfect time to test it.

Brand turned to the last bound captive, one not part of the ritual. He was a beast kin that thought being told don’t rape and or harm the prostitutes under Brand’s employ was a suggestion. Unlike in Vellia, such women had no respect or protection so it would take some time to bend the behavior of clients and the workers. Until then, Brand had an unfortunately regular supply of unwilling participants in his plan.

Brand placed the tip of the dagger to the screaming man’s heart slowly pushing it inward making sure to observe what happened next and recording it with perfect precision for later observation. After a long moment of screaming the man died then in an instant, all the mana within his corpse disappeared right after converting to death magic. It happened without a spell of any kind just like what Uhtred had done with shadows.

“Effect without a cause. An answer without a question. God magic doesn't make any fucking sense.”

Brand looked the blade over, seeing a hair length black line now on the bottom of the glass gauge. “It works,” he sighed with relief.

“You doubted us,” that the vampire a bit offended

Brand waved away her concerns. “No. I knew the dagger would work. I just doubted if I could use it.”

“Faithless,” the vampire cooded. “No need to worry Phantom. Devine artifacts such as this work all on their own. Besides, payment is Hel’s greatest concern. As long as the take lives of powerful magi with that dagger she will appear before you one day.”

“How far away is one day?”

“It took me around 40 years to fill my own dagger. If a war breaks out you could meet the goddess within one or two decades.”

Brand deposited the dagger beneath his hooded cloak. “I’ll be seeing her within a month.” He continued past the vampire’s surprised expression. “And don't send spies into my ranks again or they’ll be killed. You too,” Brand added offhandedly even though he wasn't sure how strong a century-old vampire was.

The vampire collected herself seeming not to take the threat seriously. “No need to worry. We just wanted to know who you were. But why don't you join us? With your resources and strength, you could receive Hel’s blessing within a month even if you’re faithless.” A black aura of death magic appeared around the vampire. “Imagine having three times the power you already hold. With less than what you sacrificed today you could gain the power to convert your mana to death instantly.”

Brand raised a hand while powering several of his runic tattoos enveloping it in the same aura of death giving a prideful grin. “What makes you think I already can’t?”

********

As Gorm entered one of the king's most private chambers his skin began to itch like he was bundled within a thistle bush. The ambient mana in the room caused his irritation. Even with a mana shield protesting him, the pressure was too much for him to completely defend against. He quickly floated over several rare flowers and trees determined to keep this visit as short as possible.

A few of the exotic plants reached out with green tentacles trying to ensnare him. In such a mana dense environment many plants became monsters after a few weeks but most turned into valuable resources like ironbark or ghost wood. The former was a viable replacement for average metals like steel while being less resistant to magic and the latter drew in mana like a sponge making it great for carving wands and baculous’s from. Both were excellent resources to have but paled in comparison to what Gorm found Ragnar working on.

“He can't possibly be mortal,” Gorm thought coming into view of a cloud of mana so dense it might as well be solid.

Ragnar was at the garden's center channeling his power into a neatly stacked pile of ingots. Further from his position were several other mounds of metal, each far different than the mundane metals the king now worked on. He’d turned iron, gold, and so much more into metals only found near rifts into Mithril, Orichalcum, Adamantite and more by forcing his own mana into them. There were stories of gods creating such marvels but never had there been one of mortals doing so.

When Gorm got close to the mana cloud it parted allowing him to close the distance with the king without dying from his overwhelming strength. He still placed a lightning shield over himself before speaking. With so much magic in the air, a bolt could appear at any moment.

“My king, you called for me.”

Ragnar nodded his head not taking his eyes off the pile of metals in front of him. “Yes. I heard the shipment south has been delayed.”

“Indeed it has Sier,” Gorm agreed. “There’s been an upset in the organized crime, new leadership of some sort. I decided to delay the shipment in order to find out who exactly we’re dealing with.”

Ragnar relaxed control on his power just enough to make Gorm’s foxy tail stiffen in fright, though his face stayed as calm as before. “Gorm, please don't tell me this is some kind of power play. A, let me remind you who’s in charge, kind of thing.”

“No Sier,” Gorm quickly said. “I am simply showing this hooligan who’s in-” Gorm paused trying to find the right words. “That they need us more than we need them.”

Ragnar’s tail smacked to ground like an anvil as the unmistakable growl of a lion escaped him. “I don't care who leads the underworld. I only care that Fenrir has what it needs by the harvest festival.” Ragnar’s gaze finally left his work stopping on Gorm with eyes that shone like mage lights. “Can you do that for me?”

Gorm of course nodded and practically ran from the conversation when he could. He headed right for his private wing in the palace when small figure flew out from the shadows. It was a fey woman he employed to gather information from places city guards and the military just couldn't be relied upon. River town was one such place and her returning meant she had the information he wanted.

Gorm continued walking having the fey fellow as he spoke. “So what have you learned?”

“I learned the Phantoms aren't to be fucked with,” she said crudely. “Only one of them was responsible for the massacre in that fortress but I don't know what happened to the bodies. Necromancers I’d guess. Either they took the opportunity to get some high-quality corpses or the phantoms gave them away for something.”

Gorm was quite impressed. Ignoring the ramble that made up most criminal organizations he'd found out two high ranking officers were involved in the battle. Them still being missing most likely meant they were dead meaning the Phantoms were not without skill.

“What of Phantom Lord?” Gorm asked. “How does he run things and can he be trusted?”

“No one in this line of business can be trusted,” the fey said. “But the Phantoms are better than most. They’re certainly better than Thane. In the last month, River Town has gotten better thanks to them.” Gorm looked unconvinced but the fey continued. “They don’t run protection rackets on every busyness. Some they outright buy and invest in. It doesn't make a lick of sense but some of the worst shops and buildings have been torn down and replaced making everything at least look better”

“You might not understand it but I do,” Gorm said. “In the long run, they’ll make more profit. But that’s something I wouldn't expect from criminals. Merchants yes, but your type aren't that resourceful or have that much foresight.”

“If you think that’s strange you'll lose your mind when I tell you how they’ve been changing the way whoring is done.”

Gorm’s most powerful mana shield suddenly surrounded him when he spotted his private study’s door was left ajar. “Guards!” he shouted with a spell echoing his voice to make sure it was heard.

“Hold on. I’m not here to fight, or steal, or spy.” said a voice from inside the study. “You know what, bring as many guards as you like. Whatever makes you feel safe enough to enter. You’ll need them to carry all the boxes anyway.”

Gorm did just that. He waited for a dozen guards along with four support and two war magi before ordering them to storm into the oversized room. When he entered behind them, he found his men surrounding a blue-skinned jötunn wrapped in a dark hooded coat who seemed short for his kind. He sat on one of many wooden chests in the room that weren't there when Gorm left, just a few minutes ago.

Gorm was momentarily studded not knowing which part of this absurd situation to demand answers for. “Who, wa, what are these? How do you get in here?”

“That's not really important,” the jötunn said without a hint of hostility. “What is important is the shipment of demon root you promised the River Men, Iron Bloods, and Little dusters.”

“How?” was all Gorm could think. No one was supposed to know of his involvement in supplying Fenrir. He had trusted attendants carry out his orders keeping his name out of everything.

The jötunn continued even as the guards closed in with swords and spear pointed his way. “Not even sending a priest of Modi got you moving so I had no choice but to visit. And seeing as I was coming, why not deliver my shipment of goods.” He tapped on the chest beneath him knowingly. “Trust me when I say these are better than the product you're used to.”

“Seize him!” Gorm shouted. He knew who this man had to be but would deal with him when he was properly subdued.

“If anyone comes near me, they die,” the jötunn said in a ton more cautioning someone from danger than threatening. “Whoever comes within a step of me is really going to die. So if you want to fast travel to Tir Na Nog, try arresting me.”

Many of the guards look to Gorm shaken by the intruders threat or warning. “I said seize him!” Gorm insisted.

One guard acted before the rest with a hand glowing with magic presumably to defend himself. As soon as he reached the jötunn who’s hand stayed knitted together his magic winked out and he fell to the ground motionless.

“What was that!?” Gorm demanded.

The jötunn shrugged. “Death magic, of the instant variety. So now that you know how fucked you all are, how about we just talk?”

“You killed him,” Gorm whispered. “You’re not going anywhere!”

“Yeah, I agree.”

“You're under arrest.”

The jötunn frowned. “So we don't agree.”

“On what?” Gorm said starting to get confused

“We agree that I'm not going anywhere because I'm not leaving until we talk but we don't agree that I'm getting arrested because you've seen what happens when you try.” The jötunn gestured at the dead man on the ground.

Gorm took several steps back. This man had to be Phantom Lord and even if he wasn't he was too powerful to handle alone. Gorm had to find a few more nobles or the king, not average guards.

“If you’re thinking of leaving, don’t,” Phantom Lord warned. “Trying to leave will end just as bad as trying to arrest me. But you can try it if you want. You have more than enough guards to see if I'm telling the truth. Losing a few won’t change this situation anyway.”

“That settles it,” Gorm decided. He thrust his palm forward with a spell circle floating above it. The rest of the guards followed his lead and fired spells at Phantom as he shouted.

Gorm didn’t hear what the jötunn said over the explosion that sent him crashing into the stone wall behind him. At the same time, he felt a wave of intense heat no doubt from the fireball he foolishly used in an enclosed space. But at least Phantom was dead. At least that what Gorm thought until he raised his head.

Gorm’s study was drenched in blood and corpses from and at the center was phantom, still sitting on his chest without a scratch on him. The jötunn was shaking his head as if disappointed by the carnage.

“Wow, you’re stupid,” Phantom Lord said. He finally stood opening the chest and tossing what he pulled out at Gorm’s feet. It was a decently made wand not military-grade but better than most contraband. “It holds 5 C-ranked fireballs that recharge after an hour. You can use all five spells at once for one mid-B-ranked attack. The spells aren’t interchangeable though.” Phantom threw two more wands at Gorm’s feet. “That one can freeze, the other can disintegrate. There are some that fire regular mage bolt and arrows but I’m not searching all these boxes to demonstrate.”

Phantom then freed a bag from under his hood emptying its contents on the ground sending rings scattering across the floor. “Check one.”

Gorm picked up a handful of rings searching them with his magical perception. To his surprise, they were all enchanted. Some increased mana throttling speed. Other’s applied weak mana shields while drawing in mana for the wearer to use. Some were even more exotic like applying the Bark Skin spell or Haste to its wearer.

Gorm collected himself looking back at Phantom. “Where did you get these?”

“All you need to know is that you can have them as long as they end up with Fenrir and I get my demon root.”

“This is really about the root?” Gorm questioned as the heavy scent of iron in the air made him want to gag.

“I just came here to talk and deliver the goods,” Phantom said. “You're the one that ignored me and then attacked. And I'm not doing business with your underlings. Defeating Vellia is my number one concern so I want a seat at the table so to speak. That's why I'm not requiring an increase in demon root for these weapons and money. I need it to keep my workers paid and production going, but that's all. What I really want is to join in the coming war without fighting my way up military ranks or whatever ridiculous social ladder you nobles have.”

“But, but you're a jötunn and a criminal,” Gorm said. “If you want to fight for the north just join the military.”

Phantom gestured to the chest in the room. “You think I could have gotten all this if I was in the military?” He shrugged. “It doesn't matter. You don't need to believe me, you just need to properly arm Fenrir before the Harvest festival. Also, warn them against attacking VIP targets, I'll handle them myself.”

Gorm remembered the destroyed fortress on the outskirts of the city. Even if this man wasn't an apex mage he was strong without a doubt. But proudly stating that he could kill apex magic users made him something else entirely. He could have a particularly devastating focus or be a demi-god whose nature guaranteed victory. Whatever the truth was, Gorm was interested but Phantom didn't give him the time to make more inquiries.

“Have this shipment's demon root ready with the next. And I'll be seeing you after the festival.”

The shadow beneath Phantom Lord suddenly moved like a monster writhing with tentacles. Gorm realized that's exactly what it was when a mouth suddenly appeared at its center. The mouth opened with several sharp teeth revealing a somehow darker world within its depths. Phantom fell into that darkness just as it closed its mouth around him and slithered into the normal shadows leaving Gorm alone with the weapons his king desired and several questions he had no way of answering.

*******

Brand left Uhtred's shadow shivering in displeasure. "I have to admit having your own shadow realm is convenient but it feels fucking gross.”

Out of the everlasting shadow came Uhtred who seemed unbothered which made sense, it was his shadow after all. “I'm just happy to have a way around dimension barriers.” He started emptying his pockets of several jewels, books, and ingots stolen from his time in the palace dropping them into the toothy maw of his shadow. “And a storehouse I can take with me is even better.”

“Well I still don't like riding in it. But now that we are done with that phase of the plan, it's time to move on to the next.”

Brand and Uhtred entered what was probably their most important safe house finding Astrid already inside. She floated in front of several glass screens with moving images playing on them. Behind the glass were several crystal balls linked through a series of relays to unseen recordings spells in North and South bastion.

“Can we see inside the palace?" Brand asked as Astrid wrapped her arms around his neck as if needing him to stay still.

"No,” she answered. “Their defenses are too in-depth. The enneagram gets all scrambled before reaching us.”

Brand mentally changed the image on the screens. "It was a long shot anyway but at least we have eyes in the South." The screens now showed Tanya training hard with Bitarr and her younger siblings.

The image changed again but this time by Astrid. “I saw this while you were out.”

The image now showed inside Vara's new Temple. Only one person spoke in the small gathering but Brand recognized everyone in attendance of this secret meeting. Most notably were the two apex magic users and three demigods.

The archbishop seemed to be in charge as she spoke to the group like a leader. “When Fenrir attacks, ignore them. Your only goal is Tanay Bryer. The rest of her retainers too if possible. No need to worry about the other Bryers. We have their permission as it were.”

The demigod woman with four wings raised her hand like a child with a question. “What happens if we fai-”

“Fail,” the archbishop finished for her. “We won’t fail. It's disgraceful enough to have Bryers as monarchs with their blatant disregard of Vara’s teachings, but a beast kin! Vara will not stand for it!. She is with us. Our victory is assured!”

Brand leaned back in his chair burning each person's face into his mind, wondering the best use for their bodies after he killed them.