Every mage laced their territory with magical traps, both lethal and non-lethal, primarily to guard against thieves.
After all, every mage stockpiled vast quantities of valuable magical components, along with precious notes and books. These items were often small but extremely valuable, making them prime targets.
The cat-and-mouse game of setting and disarming traps was a struggle that had lasted for thousands of years, one that no mage or thief could escape. But this intrusion didn't seem to be the work of opportunistic thieves, because they hadn't even managed to bypass the most basic warning traps on the castle's perimeter.
When Ambrose, cloaked in a robe that covered his entire form, appeared outside the castle, he saw only a young man and woman. Both were in ragged clothes. The man was already lying in a pool of blood, his thigh pierced by several sharp spikes, the leg all but useless. The girl was desperately trying to drag him away but couldn't move his body.
At the sight of Ambrose, the girl let out a terrified scream.
Ambrose flicked a finger, and a Sleep spell shot out, silencing her as she collapsed unconscious.
He then slowly approached the man. "Why did you trespass on my estate? Didn't you see the sign at the gate? 'Do Not Climb. Magical Traps Within.'"
The man was trembling with fear. Few commoners could look upon a lich without terror. A Legendary Lich possessed a natural aura of fear. While not as potent as a Nightmare Knight's, it was more than a mortal could bear.
Under Ambrose's questioning, the man forced himself to speak through the searing pain. "I... I can't read."
Ambrose was silent for a moment.
"Even if you can't read, did your lord not tell you that this is the domain of a lich?" Ambrose asked again.
The man, weakened from blood loss, squeezed out his last bit of strength. "Lord Lich, I will offer you my life and soul, but please, spare my sister. We were fleeing for our lives. We had no choice but to enter your estate. We truly meant no offense."
"You're runaway slaves?"
Only fleeing slaves would be so desperate as to trespass on a lich's land. They probably thought the stories of a lich were just tales the lord used to scare people and had planned to hide in the castle.
But the man explained frantically, "No, we're freemen. Our lord suddenly raised our taxes. We'd already paid, but then he doubled them again. When we couldn't pay, he threatened to sell my sister to a brothel!"
"A sudden tax hike? Did you offend the lord?" Ambrose inquired.
The man continued, "It's not just us. The entire county, and even the neighboring ones, are all facing massive tax increases. Many freemen have already been sold into slavery."
Ambrose was surprised. The Alchemists' Council shouldn't have allowed something like this to happen. Unless... they themselves were on the verge of bankruptcy.
It was highly probable. The failure of their new-species creation project had likely cost them a huge portion of the City of Alchemy's accumulated wealth. With the elves of the Silvermoon High Court preying on their weakness by jacking up the prices of raw magical ingredients, the city was probably unable to fulfill many of its daily orders, and the compensation fees would only deepen their losses.
So those alchemists, who spent all day staring at flasks and beakers, had made the brilliant decision to implement a sweeping tax increase, hoping to weather the storm with tax revenue. The minor lords under them would naturally follow the council's lead, passing the burden onto the lower classes.
"So many freemen have already fled?" Ambrose asked.
"Many. I know of more than a dozen myse—" Before he could finish, the man passed out. Massive blood loss had brought him to the brink of death. If left alone, Ambrose would soon have another set of experimental materials.
But the thought that large numbers of freemen were on the run gave Ambrose a new idea.
Magical energy flared from his fingertips, and a Healing spell landed on the man.
The pierced thigh began to mend rapidly. The spikes were pushed out by regenerating flesh and blood, and the lost blood was replenished by the spell's power.
A moment later, the man awoke.
Seeing his fully healed wound, he immediately knelt before Ambrose. "Thank you, merciful Lord Lich."
Ambrose let out a dry, skeletal cackle. "Thanking a lich? It seems your head hasn't cleared yet. Did you think I would just let you go? You dared to invade a lich's domain. You should be prepared to leave your body and soul behind."
"No, my lord, I beg you..." the man pleaded, still on his knees.
Ambrose, annoyed, cast a Silence spell on him, shutting him up completely.
"Don't be so hasty. I will give you a chance to live, but only if you complete a task for me."
Ambrose snapped his fingers, and two bizarre skeletons appeared. They were skeletons in that they were made entirely of bone, but they were bizarre because they were not humanoid at all. They looked like skeletal hounds, but where a skull should have been, a three-fingered arm sprouted instead.
What kind of twisted creature could have left behind such a frame?
The two strange skeletal hounds picked up the unconscious girl, placed her on their backs, and followed Ambrose.
The man watched Ambrose's retreating back and his captured sister, then steeled himself and followed. He had no courage to resist, terrified that he would become a corpse in the next instant. At least the lich had healed him. He seemed... reasonable. Perhaps there was a real chance to survive.
Clinging to this sliver of hope, the man followed Ambrose into the castle.
Ambrose led them directly to his laboratory. "Stand over there," he ordered. "And don't speak unless I ask you a question."
Without another word to the man, he returned to his workbench.
Ambrose took out a Memory Crystal and hung it high in the lab. The device, a common magical tool, could record images and sounds. He activated it with his magic and began to speak. "Undead creature appearance modification experiment, session 176."
"For too long, we have habitually assembled skeletons into an upright, walking form. Two hundred and six bones comprise the complete human skeleton, but without muscles and fascia to connect them, each bone must be held together by the power of the soul.
"A single toe has two joints. To make a skeleton stand on two feet, the soul must expend a massive amount of energy on real-time calculations, constantly maintaining balance. I believe this is an unnecessary burden..."
From the very first bone, the Memory Crystal clearly recorded Ambrose's every move.