Zarjania and Jefim tied their horses by the old watchtower. It had been abandoned a long time ago, after being overrun by Tulgarian raiders. Stories said there were ghosts here, so no one dared to go here. Still, other stories told of treasures and items of power hidden inside, and this was worth risking their life for. Made into wanderers and refugees by the war, they needed all the magic they could get their hands on.
Saying a short prayer to Svarog, they took the steps up to the tower gate, pulled it open and stepped inside. It seemed like no one had been here since the night the tower fell. Withering corpses in rusted chainmail were on the floor, while cobwebs filled most of the ground floors ceiling and walls. Lighting a torch and moving slowly through the cobwebs they pressed on, only daring to whisper to each other that they should burry the dead before leaving. It seemed the raiders had buried their dead, but not the Trimanian soldiers, and it would therefore be up to them to lay them to rest. At the top of the tower was a room that was finer than the rest, indicating it could have been the room of the sotnik, the commander of the tower. Amidst the corpses and the broken furniture stood a single wooden chair. Upon it was someone. He was sitting there, with an unsheathed sword in his lap, clearly watching Zarjania and Jefim. They both froze, daring neither enter nor run away.
“Come in, dear guests” they thought they heard said, even though there was no sound but the sound of their own breathing. “What brings you to the tower of Storozhie, this place of death?” Being the bravest, Zarjania was the first to regain her wits. She had heard many stories and fairytales, and decided to speak, so they didn’t appear uncourteous:
“Thank you for your welcome, Elder”. The figure could be as young as her when it lived, but with the attack being long ago, certainly that would be a fitting way to address one of the undead?
“We search for an item of magic to protect our people from the soldiers from the other provinces” she stammered.
“Do you crave the sword that slays all with one blow?” they were asked. There was still no voice, but if there had been, it would have been cold as ice
Jefim started to nod an agreement, but Zarjana elbowed him “No, we seek something to protect, not to attack with” Zarjana felt this to be a better answer. “Very well. Bring me a symbol of Svarog blessed by a sage, and I will give you a bottle with the water of life. The water can keep someone from death, but does not grant life. For that, you must seek the water of death.”
Zarjana and Jefim both nodded their agreement
“Then you will be the guardians of the water, and we can finally have our peace”…