The OP Lich is a Returnee, Chapter 182

Chapter 182 – New York

WHUMP! SPLASH!

Twelve nautical miles from the US shore, air and water displaced, as a ship teleported into international waters. My ship. Of course, the sound was muffled, since I had taken the time to include those sorts of protection in the spell. No need to rile up the local sea life, after all.

The Athelian Royal Navy ship Queen of the Damned was my personal transport, and the pride of the fleet. Its hull and masts were crafted with wood and bone brought back from the other world with me. The wood came from the woods of Heten-dar, where the Traitor Elves and the dryad who led them tried to halt my advance across the continent. The bones came from the Dragon Graveyard of Alzrudyr. Both had been infused with Death mana to the point they had turned black. Even without further enchantment, one would have needed far better weapons than anything this world yet had to offer in order to scratch its hull. And I had most certainly enchanted every centimeter of my flagship.

This was no corvette, however, like the rest of my fleet. No, it was a true battleship, boasting one hundred and twenty guns on three gundecks. At the bow, it had two more cannons upon the forecastle, and two more on the deck below. This pattern was repeated at the stern, giving the Queen an impressive one hundred and twenty-eight guns, all of them capable of using spells or ammunition. And yet, that wasn’t all the ship was capable of.

The dragon bones adorning its hull were not for show, after all. The ship was, itself, undead. The dragon skeleton was fully animated, and fused to the ship. The figurehead could breathe necromantic flames upon enemies who got too close, or take bites of a ship. The dragon’s tail became the rudder, allowing the ship to steer itself. The dragon’s wings, normally tucked up against the hull, could spread to their full span, and allow the Queen to take to the skies. Perhaps even more frightening to the common person, though, was that the legs allowed the ship to walk upon land, as well, though it was somewhat slower and less maneuverable than a normal dragon would be.

The crew of the flagship, naturally, were all undead. While I had not needed a navy in my march across the continent, that did not mean none of the countries I encountered had them. Six hundred skeletons (formerly sailors of the Merchant Kingdom of Fairharbor) manned the Queen of the Damned, attending to the guns, working the lines of the three masts, or doing the other tasks required of a ship at sea. All of them, and the ship itself, were raised by me, personally, meaning that their loyalty was absolute, for they were all bound to my will, and would answer to none but me.

The only downside to the ship, if one could call it that, was that it had been so thoroughly infused with Death magic in its forming and enchanting that it radiated miasma. Not enough to poison the water or air, but any living being that walked its decks without protection would find themselves growing sick, and weak, before eventually dying, and then rising as a new member of the crew. How long they could last before succumbing would depend on their health, and how much they had cultivated their mana, as well as their element. Those who had Life as their element would succumb faster, while those graced with Death would be functionally immune, once they had passed the Apprentice stage. Of course, it went without saying that the living souls who accompanied me were suitably protected.

Bound wind elementals filled the sails, and the Queen of the Damned turned towards the harbor, quickly reaching a cruising speed of 12 knots. Nothing special, considering that modern battleships had a speed of 30 to 35 knots, but the Queen did not attract the attention of marine monsters like they did. More importantly, I did not need fuel to keep this ship moving.

The journey from where I had teleported the ship to New York’s harbor took a little more than two hours. However, within an hour I had an escort from the US Coast Guard in the patrol boat USCG Swiftrun, since my arrival had most certainly been noticed. The Coast Guard captain was less than thrilled to be escorting a warship from an unallied country, but since I had not run out the guns, and I was on a diplomatic mission to the United Nations, they did not have much choice in the matter. Even without the guns, though, there was nothing their ship could do to mine, except maybe become a speedbump by getting in my way.

The Swiftrun was not the only escort I got, of course. By the time the harbor was in sight, there were a few USMC helicopters circling around. Oh, and at least five news stations had helicopters in the air, as well. Suffice to say, I was being very visible in my approach.

Of course, I hadn’t shown up unannounced. I had filed all the appropriate paperwork, and purchased a spot at the anchorage at Gravesend Bay on the Hudson River for the duration of the General Assembly. It was hardly my fault that people weren’t expecting me to show up quite like this.

To disembark, I did away with the idea of using the launch or any of the smaller boats to get to shore. Why bother with that, when I had options that would leave more of an impression on people? As I had done at the Prime Seal, a platform of shadow formed in the air, and upon it I brought forth the same carriage I had used to visit the King of England, and an escort of twelve death knights in full regalia. Once my companions and I were aboard the carriage, the platform disappeared, and we set off, flying across the brief distance to shore.

At this point, it would not be unfair to say that I had the entire city’s eyes upon me. I had not bothered to arrange a police escort through the city, because anyone foolish enough to try and attack me deserved whatever happened to them. Even so, I had one by the time I reached the Brooklyn Bridge. Most likely, someone decided that it would be in everyone’s best interest if the Lich Queen were not caught in traffic. They probably didn’t want to find out what my version of road rage looked like.

Checking in to the hotel was incredibly easy. The carriage and steeds went back in my storage, while the death knights accompanied me and my new Ambassador to the UN as our bodyguards. Not that I needed bodyguards, of course, but it was expected of foreign heads of state. Bodyguards were symbols, to some degree, even when you were far more powerful than they were. Symbols had meaning, and helped increase one’s authority. More importantly, the show of having guards helped head off problems that someone seemingly walking alone might otherwise have, even if you knew for a fact that they could handle themselves.

Thankfully, the staff at this hotel were used to diplomatic guests. After all, it was the hotel across the street from the UN Headquarters, and the General Assembly started tomorrow, and would last for at least a month or two, depending on how contentious things were. This hotel, being so close to the Headquarters, naturally had a great many diplomats staying here at this time. In that regard, the only difference between them and me was that my entourage and myself were undead, and our clothes were a bit flashier than normal diplomatic wear.

Unfortunately, we barely had time to settle into our suites at the hotel before the tide of visitors began. The representatives from the other powers of the East Asian Alliance were the first to greet me, since they had been in on the ‘joke’ ahead of time. They all knew that I was going to put on a show, wave the flag a little bit, and so on. Pole Malo, an athletic and well-read Hawai’ian woman who would be serving as Risen Athelia’s first Ambassador to the United Nations, sat with me as we entertained the other EAA Ambassadors.

After that, things got interesting. While Malo returned to her suite to meet with a member of the delegation from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, I had my own visitor. Zane Menton was Canada’s Ambassador to the UN. I hadn’t picked them to be so quick to make contact, but then again, the situation in the US had to be more concerning to them than it was to Risen Athelia.

“Your Majesty,” Menton said as he bowed. “A pleasure to meet you at last. Your activities since returning from the other world have truly shown us how far we still have to go in understanding the truth of magic, and our world.”

“Oh, you would have gotten there eventually. All I did was highlight what could be. Just because someone has been to the summit before you and marked the trail doesn’t take away from your own climb. But to what do I owe this pleasure? I’m sure you didn’t come around just to talk about magic?”

“No, though I admit that getting to talk about magic with the foremost expert on the subject is a rare opportunity. There were actually two things I wanted to discuss, before the General Assembly started, one on behalf of my government, and the other a personal matter.”

“Oh?” I said, intrigued. “That sounds intriguing. Start with the personal matter, so we can properly enjoy it, before the official business, then.”

“If you insist,” Menton nodded agreeably. “My daughter is something of a fan of yours, and says that you just recently ‘graduated’ your two disciples. She took the tests from Phantomline, and is a Death Witch, a Spiritualist. She made me promise to ask when I saw you if she could be your disciple.”

This wasn’t the first such request I’d gotten, since declaring my disciples to be Masters of their respective styles. I’d put off any decision about such things by responding to all inquiries that I would make a decision about such things after the General Assembly. Still, I hadn’t expected someone so well-placed to broach the subject.

“How old is your daughter?”

“Lucia is eighteen. Just graduated from high school, in fact. She was tested using Phantomline’s kit four years ago, and has been following their basic training manual for growing one’s mana pool, but she’s been having trouble finding areas with pure enough Death mana to really make progress. My wife and I understand that Witches do their best in areas with purer concentrations of their mana type, but most of the places where Death mana is concentrated tend to not be areas we’d feel comfortable with sending our daughter.”

It was the old problem with Spiritualists, then. While any style of Mage profited more from being around their element when cultivating their power, different styles had different strengths and weaknesses in that regard. An Arcanist focused primarily on their knowledge, and gained more from libraries and samples to study than anything else. Sorcerers, on the other hand, focused on their connection to their element, and drawing it into them from the ambient mana. Witches, meanwhile, were more about living in harmony with their element, and the world around them, which meant that a Druid on the farm or a Shaman in the mountains would grow strong quickly, but a Flamespeaker by the ocean would struggle to improve. Since Spiritualists channeled Death mana, they needed to go to graveyards, mortuaries, battlefields, and so on. Not the sort of places that the child of a prominent politician should be spending her days.

“And an Archlich who surrounds herself with her army of the undead is going to naturally have a concentration of Death mana around her, yes,” I nodded. “I will tell you what I have told the others who asked. I will not make any decisions until after the General Assembly. However, when my part of the Assembly is done, I will return to Risen Athelia, and invite some of those who show true promise to my home, to begin the training. What goals does young Lucia have in being my disciple? What is it she seeks?”

“She was twelve when you returned from the other world. The story of someone being summoned to another world, becoming an all-powerful mage, and so on? It was like a fairytale come to life for her. Naturally, we tried to ease her into the full story, but when she saw you standing up against superpowers, and then the story of how you were going around the world, undoing the seals on magic, transforming people into heroes?” Menton shrugged. “You were officially her idol at that point.”

I chuckled, and said, “Well, there are worse reasons to seek a discipleship with someone, I guess. Very well, you can tell her that I shall at least consider her name, when the time comes. But what of your government’s wishes?”

Menton sighed. “Ah, yes. Well, how much do you know about what is going on here in North America?”