Elrick's study was smaller than Xavier expected, cluttered floor to ceiling with rune-scrawled scrap plates, half-finished tinkering projects, and stacks of books that looked like they'd never once been organized by any system a sane person would recognize. He was waiting behind his desk when they arrived, all trace of the morning's easy warmth gone, replaced by something Xavier had only seen flickers of before — the version of Elrick that had apparently once been a real Academy graduate with real stakes, rather than just a mocking, overqualified babysitter.
"Sit," he said, and they did. "There's a crypt complex two days southeast of here, sealed under an old battlefield nobody bothered naming properly. Locals call it the Bonevault, for reasons that will become extremely obvious once you're inside. It's old. Older than the school, possibly older than the plateau's current borders. And something's living in it."
"Something," Bruce repeated.
"A lich." Elrick let the word sit in the air a moment before continuing. "Name of Veythar the Eternal, if the old records are to be believed... Though I'd suggest not saying that whole thing to his face. Liches tend to be particular about their titles... Roughly six hundred years old, by most estimates. Nobody currently living has actually seen him and survived to describe him in useful detail."
A familiar chime, yet again, met Xavier's ears.
[Elrick's Third Task: The Bonevault] (Personal Quest)
Description: Investigate the sealed crypt complex known as the Bonevault and deal with the lich Veythar the Eternal, by whatever means prove necessary.
Reward: Completion of Elrick's three tasks, and — per Elrick — "considerably more respect than I currently have for the three of you, assuming you come back."
Failure: Unspecified. Elrick did not elaborate, and his expression suggested he'd prefer not to.
"So how do we know he's even still down there?" Xavier asked.
"Because things keep going missing near the old battlefield. Livestock, at first. Then two separate survey teams the Crown sent to map the ruins, neither of which came back, both of which had considerably more field experience than the three of you." Elrick said it plainly, without softening it, which somehow made it land harder than if he'd tried to scare them on purpose. "This is the real one. I'm not sending you in with training wheels this time, and I'm not going to pretend the risk isn't real."
Stephan, to his credit, didn't flinch. "Why us, then? If it's actually killed people."
"Because I think you're better than the survey teams were, despite the lack of experience. And because I'd rather find that out now, on a task I chose for you, than have you stumble into something worse later, while completely unprepared." Elrick's expression didn't waver. "And because, selfishly, I want to know what's actually down there. Six hundred years is a very long time for something to sit quietly underground without a reason."
"Comforting," Bruce muttered.
"I never promised comforting. I promised the third task would matter." Elrick stood, pulling a rolled map from a shelf and spreading it across the desk — a rough sketch of the crypt's known entrance, corridors trailing off into blank, unmapped space past the first few chambers. "This is everything the last survey team managed to record before they stopped recording anything. Entry room, a descending corridor, then it's guesswork. Move carefully. Don't wake anything you don't have to. And if it becomes clear you can't win... Leave. I would very much like all three of you back here in one piece, ideally still on speaking terms with me."
"What do we actually know about liches?" Bruce asked, leaning over the map, already cataloguing details with the same focus he brought to any piece of unfamiliar machinery. "Weaknesses, patterns, anything useful?"
"Less than you'd hope. They're not mindless. Whatever Veythar was in life, some version of that intelligence persists, which makes him considerably more dangerous than a simple undead brute, and considerably harder to predict." Elrick tapped the edge of the map, thoughtful. "Most liches bind their life force to some kind of anchor. A phylactery, an object, occasionally a place... meaning killing the body alone often isn't enough. I don't know what Veythar's anchor is, if he even has one in the traditional sense. Six hundred years is long enough for old rules to bend."
"Reassuring," Xavier said.
"Again, never promised that. And I did warn you this wasn't warm-up anymore." Elrick almost smiled at that, though it didn't reach his eyes. "For what it's worth, I don't actually think you're walking into a fight you can't survive. I think you're walking into one that'll cost you something to win. Those aren't the same thing, and it's worth knowing the difference between those."
Xavier studied the map, the neat ink trailing off into an ominous blank stretch of parchment, and felt something settle in his chest that wasn't quite fear and wasn't quite excitement either. Something more like a specific, focused quiet.
"One more thing," Elrick added, quieter now, almost reluctant. "If you do find him, and he's willing to talk before things turn violent, listen. I don't know what six hundred years alone does to a person... lich... whatever... but I doubt it's nothing. That doesn't mean drop your guard. It just means don't assume the worst is the only possible outcome before you've actually seen it for yourselves."
Stephan frowned. "You almost sound like you feel bad for him."
"I feel bad for anyone who's been alone that long, hostile or not. That's not the same as trusting him. Pity and trust, two very different words." Elrick shook himself slightly, like he was shaking off a thought he hadn't meant to share out loud. "Go pack. Dawn's early, and I'd rather you all get some real sleep than sit here overthinking a fight you haven't started yet."
Bruce studied the map a moment longer, tracing the blank space past the last recorded chamber with one finger. "You said two survey teams went in. What did they actually find before they stopped reporting?"
"Bones, mostly. A great many bones, arranged in ways that suggested purpose." Elrick's tone stayed level, but something behind his eyes flickered. "The last transmission mentioned a large central chamber and, I quote, 'movement in the walls that shouldn't be there.' Make of that what you will. I have."
"When do we leave?" he asked.
"Dawn tomorrow. Rest tonight. Properly rest, not whatever it is Stephan calls resting." Elrick rolled the map back up and held it out. "And wear the coats. All three of you look considerably more intimidating in them, and against something six hundred years old, I'll take every advantage we can manufacture. Even if it's in our minds."
Bruce took the map and tucked it carefully into his satchel, the same practiced motion he used for anything he considered important enough not to lose. "Six hundred years," he said, half to himself, testing the weight of the number. "That's longer than most kingdoms last."
"It is," Elrick agreed, already turning back toward his desk, though something in the set of his shoulders suggested the number weighed on him more than he was willing to say outright. "Longer than most... anything. Go. Sleep. I'll see the three of you at dawn, and not a minute later."