The Macabre Machinations of Moebius [Inv. Anton Volke]

[Squeeman]

The lands of Serendipity were far less rough and wild than the territory that was ostensibly the domain of Adela's nobility. Serendipity was a land whose forests were sparse, and the flat floodplains that filled the place were full of farms and villages. Still, though, there were places to hide if one knew where to look, groves of old-growth that were left alone out of reverence for the fae ancestors of the Serenians, towns and villages that were abandoned after floods, places that had a high concentration of hematite or magnetite, and, of course, the ruins of fortresses and keeps that were no longer necessary in this peaceful time.

Near the city of Selevea, there was one such fortress situated on the side of a road that had long ago grown over with grass and brambles. The "fortress" such as it was, consisted mostly of a wall that had collapsed in pieces, a handful of stone foundations whose wooden walls and roofs had rotted away, and a stone keep that was three floors high, with crenelations at the very top. The tower was cracked and grown over with ivy that, until recently, had been thick and green and alive. And yet, still, the tower stood.

It was also, apparently, occupied once more. A few hunters and trappers that dared the wild place had claimed to see light flickering in the open, glass-less windows at night. One, who had been particularly desperate during a rainstorm, had tried to shelter himself on the ground floor of the tower, only to find that the old, rotten door had been replaced with a new, simpler one. And the door had been locked. He'd also claimed that he barely escaped arrows and strange, sickly rays and other spells thrown at him from the top of the tower. Villagers at the nearby manor had told their lords that a strange creature that sometimes crawled and sometimes walked like a man had been seen lurking around their graveyards at night, and several of the more shallow graves had been dug up and looted of bodies and coffins and anything else that was buried in the holes. They even claimed that he had an iron shovel and an iron pickaxe with which to dig...

None of the busier nobility had yet bothered to send anyone up to the tower to investigate. After all, no fae creature would have wielded a tool made of iron. And if the only corpses being looted were peasant corpses, and the only animals being stolen were those that belonged to serfs, why bother calling for aid or sending someone? Did they really want to muster up a militia and arm their peasants, or send a knight on a wild goose chase, or even call up a priest or priestess to investigate a haunting? No, it was not yet worth their time. Though a few lords were getting wary and nervous as their friends and neighbors told them of similar stories being spread on their own manors near the tower, and a few loudmouths had even spilled the story out in Selevea...

[MadEmperor]

Volke knew the signs of a necromancer well. And if he could put it together, it wouldn't be long until someone even more unwanted began snooping around in his backyard. He could tolerate the graverobbery, but not making the locals so afraid that it drew the attention of the authorities. His work needed privacy, and he would not have that disturbed.

One night, the darkly dressed man walked right up to the tower door as if not afraid in the least. His approach had been obscured by an entirely too convenient flock of winged creatures. He extended a hand, a silver ring flashing in the moonlight as he knocked. It was time to show this interloper who was to be feared around here.

[Squeeman]

The Magnificent and Mystical Emperor Moebius, First of His Name, had been busy studying his book when Volke approached. He'd been reading the blood-red ink on the parchment by the light of a tallow candle, double-checking a diagram that he had copied upon the stone floor. If he had done it all right, he would be able to summon a dozen of the nameless dead, forgotten by all. They would be little more than whisps of spiritual matter wandering through the fog, but he would be able to make use of the shades in further study and the creation of walking dead...

A whisper came to his ear, mere moments before Volke knocked upon the door,

"Someone approaches."

Moebius grunted as the sound of knuckles and silver rapping upon wood echoed up from the first floor.

"Why was I not alerted earlier?"

"He came under the cover of things that look like birds, but are not. We did not see him until he came close to the keep."

"I see, I see... He's either a powerful mage, or a weak fool full of bluster. GRAH! If only I could master the art of seeing auras... Alert the embodied guards and the other specters, in case we need to defend ourselves!"

The shade departed to obey its master's orders. Meanwhile, Moebius crawled and clambered across the room that made up the third floor toward the open window, taking the candle with him. His book, he left upon a roughly made, but also freshly made, table made of hewn logs and stolen nails. Then, he placed his free hand upon the windowsill and extended his head outwards, showing his hood and the mask he wore, carved in the shape of a human skull.

"Who dares to bang upon the front door of the Magnificent and Mystical Emperor Moebius, First of His Name?! Well?! Identify yourself, fool! Tell me your name, your purpose for coming here! Who sent you?! Was it the Priestesses of the Moon?! The nobility?! Hmmmmm, was it?! Or have the serfs and slaves sent you with all the coppers they hid from the tax man to chase me away?! ANSWER TRUTHFULLY or I shall climb down and steal the breath of life from your lungs!"

As he spoke and babbled, down on the bottom floor of the small keep, a handful of skeletons and rotten corpses clutched at old, bronze tools and daggers, ready to use them. Well, except for the two clutching an iron shovel and an iron pickaxe, respectively. They were waiting on the second floor, in case they needed to reinforce the contingent on the bottom.

[MadEmperor]

Volke looked up at Moebius, unimpressed by his pretentious titles. He looked at necromancer as he looked at everyone else, like an insect to study and dissect. His calculating eyes bore down without fear of death.

"My name is immaterial, necromancer. Your presence is interfering with my research, and I must ask kindly that you leave. You clearly lack the subtlety required to avoid drawing attention."

As he evenly spoke his demand, a hulking shape stomped up behind the mage. Its red eyes cast an eerie glow upon his back as he awaited his answer.

[Squeeman]

"Immaterial?! Who names their child Immaterial?! Only parents that despise a child or wish him gone would give a son a name like that! Did they have a favorite child that wasn't you, perchance?! HA!"

Moebius, of course, knew that the man most likely was not actually named "Immaterial". However, the stranger at the door would definitely be lulled into a false sense of security if he assumed Moebius was too stupid to know any better. It was also a, distant, possibility that if the stranger was sufficiently mocked and riled, he could be angered into revealing his own name.

Such headgames were quickly forgotten when the gigantic thing that Volke had brought with him appeared, seemingly from out of nowhere. Moebius extended himself and leaned out of the window, until it seemed that his hands were gripping vines nearly halfway down the tower to support his slithering, snakelike body and the robes that covered it. The strange creature below him was bulky, broad, big in every way!

"Hmmm... fascinating..."

Moebius knew it would do quite a bit of damage to the newly-installed front door. And that had taken about a week to get done. Each of the various components had been stolen or sourced from nearby forests and the whole thing was built by the dead hands of spirits that only half-remembered their old trades. In other words, it would take some time to replace. And the squadron of undead servants that Moebius commanded would probably be depleted, leaving him unprepared if a real threat should come.

Then again, the strange monster seemed to be fully alive and full of blood. Blood that could feed a grand ritual if Moebius was able to capture it alive...

"Now, as for your kind request... I shall consult with my advisors! One moment..."

Moebius pulled his body back into the window, before turning to the shades that still swirled within the room that he'd turned into his primary quarters and workspace.

"What say you, old kings of forgotten time?"

A shade with a simple circlet of gold around its head spoke first.

"Refuse him and turn him away. If he attacks, we have stone and the strength of iron against his fae-touched blood."

"That is true, I do have the shovel and the pick..."

Another shade, this one with hardly any features aside from a spiky crown piped up.

"No, no, kill him now and steal his beast. Place it in chains and slit its throat with your dagger, and use its blood to raise the soldiers that died around these walls! An army shall be yours!"

"Hmmm. Yes, if I could capture the beast alive, but I don't think we have any chains strong enough. Our ropes are made from vines and wild cordage, they would snap if we tried to contain it."

A third shade, this one bearing an eye-patch and a simple rag over its head, opened a spectral mouth that was missing some teeth.

"Yarr, cap'n. Methinks the best thing ta do would be ta sit down and negotiate. He might have that thing behind him, but if he thought it would be enough on its own, he wouldn't have asked ya ta leave before he had it break down the door. And, he said he don't be wantin' any authorities seein' what he's doin', so perhaps he and ye have somethin' in common."

"AH! Yes, yes... I'm sure he has something he wants that I can provide, and if I could convince him to give me the creature for sacrifice, or just oodles of fresh blood... Thank you, I can always count upon you for decent counsel, Petey!"

The skull-masked face of Moebius poked back out from the window to stare down at Volke.

"Attention, strange mage! I tire of shouting down at you from my window like some codger! And I'd rather not lose half of my forces and drain my magics killing you! Therefore, I propose... negotiations, over a late supper! Do you accept?!"

[MadEmperor]

He smiled. So far, things were going exactly as planned; the necromancer had taken his bodyguard as a sign of weakness. Sure, he wasn't a combat mage, nor could he likely take the other mage one on one, but a few undead servants would be as flies to his life magic.

"Very well. I accept. We shall parlay over a meal. I came to talk after all."

[Squeeman]

"Right then, give me just a moment! I shall be right down!"

With that, Moebius turned and scrambled towards, and then down, the stairs, eshewing his usual shuffle for a knuckle-walk that was much faster. Once on the second floor, which had no windows, Moebius whispered his commands to the various shades and his "embodied" dead. The undead servant with the iron shovel in its hands gave its tool to its master when it arrived upstairs. After that, three quarters of the bakers' dozen of walking corpses on the bottom floor went up to the second story, leaving three skeletons and a "fresh" corpse to guard the downstairs and prepare dinner. Alongside them were five specters, out of Moebius' twenty souls.

There, he had been quiet and neither the bottom nor the second floor of the tower had a window (presumably for reasons of security). When the stranger came in, Moebius knew that the stranger would have no way to know that Moebius had forces in reserve... and also that he had a second tool made of iron, the pickaxe, waiting upstairs.

Once the shuffling of the sleep-walking dead was done, Moebius had a shade remove a board that blocked the door and undo the lock. He had the shade open the door, as well, so that the door slowly and silently swung on well-oiled hinges to reveal the bottom floor of the tower.

The bottom floor of the keep had definitely seen better days. A good portion of the floor had been replaced with fresh beams, but there were still quite a few spots that had only rotten wood covering over the stone and dirt foundations. There was a hearth situated to the side, attached to a bit of a chimney that had once extended up past the third floor, but had crumbled away over years of neglect. Inside of that half-fireplace half-kitchen, a dim fire was burning. There were tallow candles sputtering on the table, as well, with melting fat slowly leaking onto the table.

"Come, friend, sit. I shall offer you food and drink once you do. Then we might discuss terms and such!"

[MadEmperor]

Volke commanded his brute to wait beyond the door and stepped inside. He took great care not to dirty his robes in the grime of the filthy hovel. Necromancers were a thoroughly disgusting lot, but he was sure to keep his disgust off of his face as he survived the accommodations.

"You have quite the home, Your Majesty." He ran his finger along the grimy table and studied it before wiping it on a handkerchief. "Very... rustic."

The man took a seat, showing no fear. "That would be amenable."

[Squeeman]

Once Volke was inside, Moebius spoke in a dead tongue, which did not sound unlike the speech used by southern Adelans, as he pointed at the door. The spirit that had opened the door closed it again, and barred it.

Dust covered Volke's finger when he held it up, but not the white and powdery stuff of places left uncleaned. This was saw dust, wood shavings, soot, and the powdered remains of local herbs. Moebius had been busy, and the table where he ate had also been his workplace. And the single room at the base of the tower had been the workplace of his servants.

The chair, more a stool or short bench, that Volke sat in was simple, crude even. It was also newly made. Just like the rest of the furniture in the room. Well, except for Moebius' seat, which seemed more like a gaudy attempt at making a throne. A chair with a proper back, made of tree limbs, wattle for the seat and back, and the bones of various woodland creatures. It also had a bit of cushioning, in the form of a deer's hide and dried grasses.

"Thank you for your kind words, though they are lies. On the side of truthful things, I hope you shall pardon my mess. I did not expect company and I am still finishing the touches of my little home!"

Moebius chuckled like a hale, hearty peasant before speaking again in that long-dead tongue, pointing at a hole in the floor that had straight edges and was close to the hearth. Invisible hands reached in and plucked a pair of wooden drinking bowls, and a wineskin with a strap. The wineskin and bowls were brought to the pair of seated mages, and the bowls were filled from a wineskin that continued to float and tipped itself.

Then, once the bowls were full, the wineskin seemed to place its strap over a piece of Moebius' throne, where it then hung.

"I think you shall enjoy this. A berry wine that some hunter brought to me by chance, not that it saved him from my making proper use of him!"

Moebius laughed that hearty laugh again and took a sip of his wine. Then he gestured to the hearth, where the three skeletons picked up and chopped wild vegetables and tubers and gutted and cleaned a few river trout. And where a walking corpse that seemed miraculously untouched by rot aided them.

"He actually gathered the fish for this meal, made traps for the river. Quite ingenious things they are, wicker baskets with an entrance toward the flow of the river! The fish swim right in, easy-as-you-please! And then..."

Moebius hushed his voice low, a wicked smile showing in his eyes from behind his mask and sounding in his voice.

"There is no way out!"

He laughed again as he took another sip of his berry wine. Then, Moebius lost all of his charm and cheer and spoke with a tone as cold as the grave.

"But enough talk of such mundane things. Let us be frank and open with each other. I shall not leave my new keep after all the work that I put into making it bearable, not yet. I must remain here, until I gather information that I need. Then I will head into the mountains, near the veins of iron that you Serenians cannot abide! But not before I have the secrets of my enemies, their strengths and weaknesses, and where they keep the treasure I must take!"

[MadEmperor]

Volke, too, dropped the pretense of civility. Still unafraid, he propped his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. "Do you honestly believe that your measly undead minions are remotely a threat to me, just because I do not travel alone? With a few words, I could reduce them to funerary ashes."

"Or perhaps you think your silly door can keep my brute from bashing his way through the crumbling walls to snap your spine. Even if somehow you killed me, he would know."

"You see dear Moebius, I am not trapped here with you, you are trapped in here with me." He stared unwaveringly with the eyes of a man far older than he looked

[Squeeman]

For a moment, Moebius was silent as the stone, or perhaps more like the grave. He felt tempted to reveal his remaining minions, but instead he felt that he should show the lesser cards of his hand. He reached under the table, and pulled out the iron shovel that he had kept hidden from Volke's gaze. He threw it onto the table with a heavy thump and a ringing of metal. It was merely a shovel, but... the iron blade was close to Volke's body, close enough that he could almost touch it for a moment. Close enough that Volke could, undoubtedly, see the strange old script that was embossed upon it. Then, the shovel was pulled away and left to lean against Moebius' seat.

He was silent for a moment, Moebius was... the dead had stopped moving and were staring at him, stuck mid-task. On the floor above, hidden from view, his other embodied minions waited, clutching bits of wood and bronze, while one held an iron pick to its chest. The shades waited, and made themselves known with a chill in the air and faint whispers.

"Well? Go on then, tell me what power you will use to defend yourself from an iron shovel to the back of your skull! Then give me your next threat, you ill-tempered goat in guest's clothing! You miscreant masquerading as a man! I invite you into my home and pour you my wine, and all you do is threaten me! We can indeed kill each other, yes?! We can both do damage to each other, yes?! Neither of us has a clear advantage and we are both hiding tricks up our sleeves, yes? YES?!"

Moebius began to gesture and gesticulate about, spilling some of the wine from his bowl and onto the table and floor.


"Has this not been established?! Or do you wish to skip the showmanship and get to the meat of the matter?! I can remove my rags and get two pieces of string. Then we can both measure our manhoods to see which is longer and which is thicker! That is what you came to do, yes?!"

Moebius stayed seated on his chair, but his bent-over spine cracked and crunched and somewhat straightened out until he loomed over the table, and over Volke's head. An arm stretched with him, poking Volke in the chest to punctuate points.

"Or did you come to parley and negotiate in good faith?! If you came to do that then drink your wine and make me an offer to get what you want from me."

[MadEmperor]

"I..." Volke exhaled his frustration. "... Apologize if I mistook your anecdote for a threat. I am sometimes too proud for my own good."

He sipped his wine and nodded. "A fine wine indeed. Adelan, I believe."

The mage thought for a long moment. He wondered what would be an acceptable compromise; perhaps he could offer his aid in whatever knowledge he was pursuing. Even though he had let those adventurers slip through his fingers, the authorities wouldn't be put together enough cause to search his estate, not with his connections. So he still had something to lose if the necromancer didn't move on soon. That would have to be enough. 

"Perhaps, Zodia willing, I can help you with what you seek. It would be preferable to trying to kill each other." The way he invoked the obscure goddess of knowledge was highly unusual, as if it were common information. 

[Squeeman]

After Volke's apology, the glare fled Moebius' eyes and a warm smile crept into his voice.

"Very good then."

In truth, his anecdote had been a subtle threat, one that he expected would have unsettled Volke. When Volke had proven capable of at least faking bravery, Moebius had simply switched tactics. Shame, frustration, anger, these too were tools one could use to manipulate. So the book had told Moebius.

He pulled his head and his arm back to his chair, once more appearing like a little hunch-backed man or an elder peasant stooped over from years of hard labor. Once more, Moebius tilted his mask with one hand, while the other held up the bowl to his lips for a sip.

"No, no, the wine isn't Adelan. It is local berry wine, taken from some hunter, as I said."

The hearthfire was roaring by then, and the skeletons began to place the wild vegetables and the tubers on the pointy ends of some sharpened sticks. The body of the hunter, meanwhile, brought out a handful of loaves of bread. It also grabbed a long-handled cup and a bucket of water, which it used to drizzle water onto the loaves. The loaves were then placed upon the hearth, left alongside the roasting plant stuff.

The fish had been cleaned, but it seemed that the skeletons were now focused on preparing it with various herbs from the forest after cutting fillets into strips.

"Perhaps you can. As I said, I am here for information. I am told that the Priestesses of the Moon have a tome which I seek, buried in their library. It's the forbidden sort of book, you see, full of dangerous knowledge."

The skeletons had finished preparing the meat, and stopped moving for a second as they stared at the food that was already roasting on the fire. They were waiting.

Moebius kept his mask raised as he took another sip of wine, then grinned... showing off teeth shaped like slate shards, thin, sharp, jagged and gray. The rest of his face was still obscured, however, except his eyes.

"Once I know the details of their defenses, then I shall retreat to a place that I know of, where the iron is plentiful and no Serenian dares to tread. If you could provide me that information, or some way to make the task of gathering it easier, I would be able to move on more quickly."

After he made his offer, Moebius lowered his mask again and dropped his smile. His eyes twisted and twinkled a bit as he mulled over one of Volke's words. "Zodia"... it sounded familiar to him, but distantly. He had never heard it spoken aloud before, but he could have sworn he read it in one of his old books, before he found his guide.

He just had to remember... It hadn't been in the guide, he knew that much... did he?

[MadEmperor]

Volke wondered if Moebius had really thought his plan through. A necromancer had as much chance of stealing from the Order of the Moon as a dragon did of fitting in a coin purse. It was almost funny. 

"Perhaps someone with business being there could acquire it for you. Someone like a healer. Surely that would be simpler. I can't expect you to trust me, so I could leave something as collateral that I am sure to return for."

[Squeeman]

"A tempting offer, but no. I do not doubt that the Priestesses keep the book well-guarded and hidden from prying eyes..."

Moebius reached for the wineskin that was hanging upon his chair, and refilled his bowl, he held the skin out to Volke and waggled it. A silent offer to refill Volk's drinking bowl.

"An amateur thief or mere visitor would never be able to get to it, and a master thief would steal it and sell the tome to the highest bidder, rather than make a deal. However..."

The skeletons placed the pieces of fish meat on another set of sharpened sticks, and put them into the hearth to roast alongside the vegetables and the tubers. The un-rotting hunter's corpse, meanwhile, grabbed a pair of wooden tongs and watched the loaves... The smell that wafted from the fire wasn't unpleasant, though it was perhaps a little nutty and strangely sweet.

"A living agent with a decent reputation could scout out their temple and perhaps learn of the defenses and martial strength of the Priestesses. Along with just what part of their library, or what vault, they hide their more... unsavory texts in."

Long, gnarled fingers tapped long, chipped nails on the wooden surface of the table.

"If I had that knowledge gifted to me, then I would not have to probe with shades and recruit an inside agent and wait for months to move on."

[MadEmperor]

Volke thought for a moment as he took in the smell of the bread. Poison? No, if Moebius was going to poison him, he would have dosed the wine. The deal was a good one. Provided the Hallis' inevitable snooping doesn't spoil his reputation in mage circles, he could have the information in a week. Two, if he had to send a proxy.

"This is most definitely a service I can provide. I just need to know what sort of forbidden text it is you seek. Better yet, the title itself if you are willing to part with it. I won't judge; knowledge itself is neither good nor evil, so long as it is the truth."

[Squeeman]

"Hmmm... I don't know if I can trust you with the title. You have agreed to aid me, yes, but I don't even know your name. Or why you want the authorities to ignore you..."

Moebius took another sip of his wine. He let the question that he had only asked vicariously hang in the air. Then he continued.

"You offered collateral, I know. But for all I know you could give me some worthless trinket and claim it is sacred to your family line, then head back to the village to report my location to some witch-hunter... or to the Priestesses..."

Moebius took a good, long look at Volke. His red eyes stared at the other mage, as if trying to get a good read on him. As he did so, he unconsciously reached into his robes for a hidden pocket. Then, Moebius pulled out his book and simply held it...

To a normal man, the book would have seemed slightly odd, and the most he would have felt would have been a chill running down his spine. But Volke's eyes would have been able to see the book for what it was. A strange tome bound in black leather, with the title "A Guide to the Artes Necromantick"... The book reached forth with old power, feeling and pouring over Volke. It read into his soul, scoured his essence for examination. Then, it found him lacking. The book pulled back its power, and Moebius flipped it open and checked a random page. Then he put it back, nodding to himself as he confirmed the design that he had painted upstairs.

"No, no, you can't be some sort of agent for the priestesses. That beast you brought with you would never be tolerated by their order, and I doubt the local nobility would let you have such a mighty thing at your beck and call."

Moebius smiled... Then glanced to his servants. Plates had been procured, as had two-tined forks and knives made of bronze. The roasted vegetables and tubers were placed upon the plates, as were the revived loaves of once-stale bread. The meat followed, and all was brought to the table for the pair of mages to eat. A bowl of salt was also set out, so the pair could season their meals.

"Forgive the lack of sauce and spice, I am afraid that I have had no time to take my taxes from the merchants in the form of their goods. Nor have I had the chance to properly pillage this land of its wares!"

Moebius laughed and picked up his fork. Then, he skewered a piece of roast fish on its tines and lifted the morsel to his mouth. He chomped and chewed upon it, seeming to savor the meat. Then he washed it down with a sip of wine.

"Ah, much as I despise the green stuff of life, I do so love meat! I prefer it raw and wriggling in my hands, with fresh blood on my tongue... but I find my guests are often disturbed by such habits!"

He cackled like the mad man that he was before stuffing his mouth with some of the bread. It wasn't poisoned, it seemed... It was, however, made with acorn flour and bird's eggs. Another stiff swig of wine chased this round of mashing and munching, and then Moebius spoke again.

"NOW! As for the title, I shall trust it to you... though I hope you'll give me a name in return, my charming guest. I seek The Keys to the Gates... Perhaps you have heard of this text and its ten thousand names?"

[MadEmperor]

Volke watched him use the book, and he was both intrigued and displeased. Had it told the necromancer his real name? But that paled in comparison to the prize Moebius sought. With such a book, the life mage could take Serendipity for himself. Perhaps he should return to destroy this creature once he'd acquired the book and take it for himself. Or perhaps have him join the society so we may keep an eye on him.

After eating a little of the surprisingly good food, he loosened up just a little. "Very well, in light of your hospitality, you may have my name. I am known as Anton Volke. Publicly, I am a healer, both magical and apothecarial. But in truth, that is only a front for my personal research into the forbidden corners of life magic and alchemy."

"So... it's that book you seek. Let me guess, you wish to summon forth an army of demons to carve yourself an unholy empire? I can't exactly blame you for wanting to see the world burn, but even The Magnificent and Mystical Emperor Moebius, First of His Name cannot expect to have the will to control so many demons."

[Squeeman]

Moebius was completely unaware of the way in which his book had looked over Anton, having pulled it out on what he thought was one of his own whims. Later, the knowledge would come, over a period of study, entering his head until he had a burst of insight that would seem to come from his own genius. For the moment, however, Moebius was unaware of any of Anton Volke's secrets, least of all his true name.

"Forbidden, eh? Yes, yes, that explains it. It does, it does!"

Moebius scarfed down a bit more of his food, taking bites out of his acorn bread and his meat, saving the remaining vegetables and tubers for the end. He washed down his feast with wine, pouring the last of what was in the wineskin out into his own cup (or bowl). A barked order brought a cask of something alcoholic and sweet to the table, mostly so Moebius could have more drink. But, it had the added benefit of giving Anton the chance to refill his bowl with this other wine.

Once he'd fed on the more delicious morsels from his dinner, Moebius belched and spoke.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that, no... An army of ten-thousand demons would be a mighty force and difficult to stop! But it would have disadvantages, wouldn't it. Unruly servants, a balance of bindings, weakness to the holy magics of faithful sheep..."

Moebius grunted and scratched under his chin.

"Still, there are powerful and old names in that book. Kings of Hells most foul and awful, with armies and courts of their own! If I were to bind them to my will, to my service I would have all of their power at my command!  Their kingdoms in Hell... and their cults here! There are old demons in the book, as well. Old demons with ancient and lost wisdom, and lore of places and magic that no mortal has yet seen in Le'raana. And great warriors and generals, who could lead living armies, and armies of dead men to victory! Those, those are my prizes, you see!"

Moebius might have been swept up in his vision of his future with The Keys at his fingertips, but he was not blind. He saw the glint in Anton's eye, the greed and hunger that showed for a moment. Perhaps giving him the title of the tome was a mistake, for what would stop Anton from stealing the book for himself? Or letting Moebius take the risk, and attacking him when he had depleted himself attaining it? Yes, the Magnificent Emperor Moebius would need a quick escape plan, or some way to get Anton Volke into his service and beholden to him. Somehow, somehow...

And who was Zodia? What was Zodia? Moebius recalled the days when he was still Samuel the shepherd, and he had read a book about magical theory and practices. Most of the information had gone over Samuel's head, but... there had been a page or two of text, with an illustration of a figure with four arms and eyes made of stars.

[MadEmperor]

For the first time that evening, Volke felt a twinge of unease. Just what had he inadvertently revealed? He refilled his wine casually, refusing to let the necromancer see him uneasy.

When Moebius moved on to discussing his plans, he became more and more convinced of the potential threat the man posed. He would have to be eliminated before the Society could be threatened, or perhaps made part of it. They were lacking in experts on necromancy.

"Perhaps I should be making a different deal with you. I would rather survive such a future. Unless, of course, you are all talk." It would have sounded like a challenge from anyone else, but from him it was merely analytical. Men of learning needed proof.