A Lich's Guide to Dungeon Mastery

The young queen rubbed her head, within which a sharp ache was rebounding against her skull.

Intellectually, she knew that things in Kerenth were good. Similarly, she also knew that recent developments, especially in regards to the eccentric lich from the south, were good for both her and her country.

That didn’t help her headache at all.

Meeting a friendly archmage was always a good thing, but Ambrose’s undead nature was causing trouble. Half of her nobles were up in arms against the idea, demanding that they start a holy crusade against him, whereas the rest had been so consumed by greed that she’d had to order some of them to not head into the Dead Belt immediately, without Ambrose’s Runic Ferries.

Honestly, one moment they were brain dead idiots and the next scheming villains. If she could, she’d have stripped them all of their positions long ago. Sadly, without the support of the nobles the crown’s own weight grew more heavy. Without their aid, she would have far less influence and many more duties.

The issue was that they knew that she needed them, so they overstepped their bounds time and time again in the hopes that their titles would protect them, all the while waiting for each other to slip up so that they could pounce like starving wolves to an injured rabbit.

To sum her life up, politics sucked, and Ambrose was a huge question mark. She never knew what stunt he was going to pull next, and while his antics might normally be a welcome relief from her standard duties, his power and status as a member of the dead were causing trouble.

She couldn’t exactly risk offending the lich, but simultaneously needed him to respect her rule and duties. His acts today had traumatized a common family who had come to seek her blessing, and who knew what rumors would come of that? That would give the crusade faction of her nobility extra ammo, and there was absolutely no way that she was going to give into their requests.

On the other hand, the lich had paid Ishur Goldseal an absolute king’s ransom in exchange for a few minutes of work. The perfectly-crafted gems had been auctioned off to one of the noble houses for an amount far less than they were worth, but even then the Presal family had spent years of savings to ensure that they collected every item. It felt like a waste to the queen, but it was in character for that particular house, so she didn’t question them about it.

Queen Nadiya Sharjiil caught herself biting her nails for the third time in an hour. Her image was important, and showing the common folk that she was stressed would cause them to panic as well.

The worst part of all of this was that she knew her parents would be able to handle this– they always had been. During their rule, the nobles had stayed in line, the peasantry had led good, meaningful lives, and the kingdom had prospered.

Then, they’d gotten sick and died.

The nobles had been clawing their way into her good graces, getting her expensive clothing, holding banquets and balls in her name, and bending to every whim that she’d had. At least, they had until Maskyle had stepped in.

As an old friend of her parents, Nadiya knew she could trust Maskyle, so when he’d told her that they were just trying to get her to choose one of their families to act as regent for the throne and make decisions on her behalf– ones that her parents never would have– she’d believed him. That faith had been confirmed when they’d started making demands, disguised as friendly requests. Since they’d done so much for her, after all– she’d be an awful friend if she did nothing in return.

With Maskyle’s warning, she’d been able to see through the lies– lies that would have likely worked on any other eight year-old girl.

Not knowing what to do, the princess had begged Maskyle to take the throne as her regent, but he’d refused. He was a researcher, not a leader, and he only knew a bit about politics from his short time as the court wizard, and from when her father had used him as an outside opinion to ensure that his judgment wasn’t clouded by emotion.

With no one else to turn to, Nadiya Sharjiil the Seventh had gone through her coronation with no regent to make decisions for her.

Instantly, all the friendly faces had turned hostile, and she’d found herself swimming in a sea of sharks.

The princess had learned to be a queen, but even now she felt like she was tarnishing her parents’ legacy.

Nadiya sighed, pushing the memories back to where they belonged– the past. Reminiscing wouldn’t get her out of her precarious situation.

What would they have done? The question racked her mind, but she could find no answer.

The nobles were at war with one another, and she was caught in the middle with no way out.

Caught in the middle.

An idea, nascent and undeveloped, popped into her mind. It was rough, and would stress some of her relationships, but it would, in theory, solve her problems.

“Shomar,” She commanded, “Go tell the scribes to send some letters out: I will be holding court for the nobility. Any houses who fail to send a representative forfeit their titles– no exceptions. Additionally, personally instruct the Betza family to come and meet me directly. Tell them that it’s regarding their request to be given access to the Runic Ferries.”

Her loyal guard and runner nodded and sprinted off, wordlessly and unflinchingly following her orders, as always.

Queen Nadiya closed her eyes and rested her head against her arm, letting out a long, satisfied sigh.

If the houses were so concerned with Lord Ambrose, they could meet him themselves.