Hungry Necromancer - Chapter 87

And so, a day passed.

A second day passed.

And even a third passed by undisturbed, with no news whatsoever. I spent these days with a growling hunger that it soon became difficult to tell when my physical body, my actual stomach, became full.

Periodically, when I began to binge and gorge, I’d get a strange, concerned look from Anselm, that’s the only sign I have now. His concern.

Kaylin chose to spend much of her free time-now that we aren’t doing anything exciting- visiting her family in the underbelly of Aste. I hope she isn’t spilling the beans too freely.

I’ve given her permission to let her mother and sister know that I’m a Necromancer, I mean, with the way she talked when she’s comfortable, it’ll be counterintuitive to have her lips sealed.

I just hope her family isn’t…discriminatory. It’s easy to understand why one living in a world where the dead can be raised wouldn’t be too happy to be next to someone who had such powers.

It’s insulting, manipulative and a sinister form of magic. But as far as I know, these are just reasons why I think Necromancy has been banned.

In contrary, from the sprinkled little from what I’ve heard, Necromancy is banned because of the actions of the last Necromancer.

I’m not sure what exactly he did but it’s likely similar to what I’m doing; brazenly forming a nation. Except his must have likely been made up of undead legions that quickly over ran his enemies.

Given how broken this class is, I wouldn’t put it past the world to come together and fight against it. But again, these are just my thoughts.

While I speculate the true reason why Necromancy is illegal, I grow more impatient with my mouse, Aren. It’s the fourth day and the sun has begun to set, I wonder…should I kill and replace him?

But with who? Who can casually walk about the streets without any sort of immediate suspicion? I can’t show my face too liberally out there with all the snobbish priests of the Synagogue milling in and out of the Mayor’s strata.

Kaylin receives prejudice based on her race and things could get out of hand if she comes across a priest or some nosy believer with a strong enough sensitivity to mana. She could be outed by simply walking past the wrong person.

Anselm? Well, there’s no Anselm without me.

Tiredly, I spill myself onto the large bed in my room and try to distract myself. If Aren doesn’t get his shit together today, I’ll kill him very early in the morning with all the anger I have built up.

I didn’t want to be an active participant in this scheming lest I bring undue suspicion, but I think I may just have to do things myself. I’ll coordinate with Anselm and we can spirit away one of the priests we see around.

Interrogate him and then silence him.

This might have been what we needed to do since the beginning anyway.

The door to my flies open and Anselm come barrelling through. He huffs and puffs and shakes his hand…in his had is a long folded white paper.

“You’ll want to see this.” He says excitedly.

“What is it?”

He lays it over the bed and gets a few objects to act as a paperweight. There are drawings on the paper, symbols and names.

“What do you think it is?”

Looking at it further, reading the names and trying to identify the symbols. I catch the Symbol over Aste, it’s the symbol or insignia of the House the Matron serves.

Then there’s a line that travels down the paper and falls on a drawing that looks like a city; it’s drawn just like Aste. It has a symbol over it as well and it’s a symbol that appears twice on what I’m now sure is a map.

This symbol appears a second time down the map over a much smaller drawing of a city…Carbina.

More importantly though, there are five points drawn around Carbina as x’s, I’m assuming this is the landmark representation of a Cultist.

Whoever he got this from, their information is quite recent. Carbina purposely didn’t receive any help, I knew this but…to see proof of it, it fills me with rage.

I calm myself and look through the map, the next place that had x’s, cultists present was where the symbol over Carbina appeared once again.

Over a city called Frozia.

“I guess Aren came through after all.” I mutter. Frozia has three x’s marked around it. The Cult must be planning something similar to Carbina, if not the same thing.

“Aren? Ah yes, the map came with a note.” Anselm produces a piece of torn paper with some crude scribbling on it.

“This cost me, keep up the end of your deal.”

I snort at the image of Aren drunkenly writing this down, and having it delivered here. I’d given him the address to the house since he couldn’t come through the gates himself and I got tired of stepping out every night to receive excuses.

The map is a bit of a saving grace. Frozia is not the only place marked with x’s, by my count there are at least thirty x’s littered about the crudely drawn map.

They didn’t appear in a straight line though, Frozia is the closest and even then, there’s a village between it and Aste where nothing is happening.

“We’ll be traveling once again, Anselm.”

Anselm chuckles, “I thought so, Kaylin will finally see some combat.”

“Kaylin? No, there’s no need for her to come with us to Frozia there are only three Gamma warriors there, I can handle them.”

Anselm blinks, his mouth parts and I’m sure he’s about to spit out some facts about safety but he petters out, sighing miserably, “Oh, do what you want, so long as you don’t die.”

“What about the boys though?” He asks, this is what he’s more worried about, “Audwin hasn’t brought them by since we arrived. If we leave now, it’ll be some time before we come back.”

That isn’t the only inconvenience borne of Lotar’s curse. My plans will have to be put on hold or left with Kaylin, and I’m not sure she’s competent enough to react as she should under the pressure of hard decisions and dilemmas.

But I can’t afford to lose two-weeks to this. The plan has to at least incubate and grow. For that I may have to speed things up. Although, right now I wish I had more allies, I wish I had Leriva and Mathilda here.

“We’ll send them a message as before we leave. But aside from that, I need to get Kaylin a ring.”

Anselm frowns, “Are you seriously that infatuated with elves?”

I barely stop myself from sputtering.

“Ugh, you. That’s not what I meant. I meant this!” I yell, conveniently flipping Anselm off as I wave the finger my mana ring sits on.

“Oh…” he mutters.

“I’ll have to adapt this one so she can call if she needs help with the plan.”

“Can’t it wait? The plan I mean? We aren’t exactly running out of time.” he shrugs.

“Obviously not us, but if we want to make an impact we’ve got to do so while the blood of the elves and all their allies is filled with rage. And with each passing day they don’t get a victory, that rage is replaced with helplessness.”

I’m not in the business of inspiring the uninspired, I’ve been successful with Kaylin but that’s simply circumstantial. I doubt I’ll be able to achieve that again.

So rather than try to revive the languishing will of the elves, I’d much rather throw oil into the flames of their rebellion.

To do that I need to sprouse Aren up. Looking out the window I find that not much time has passed, some clothing stores should still be open and my short dwarven artificer friend should be up for some extra work.

If it’s me I don’t doubt he’ll be much obliged.

“Where are you going?” Anselm asks as I begin to leave.

He trails behind silently in the air as I walk, “Well, I’ve got to get to my artificer and more importantly, I need to get to Aren. There’s no time to play cautious anymore, I need to meet the elves behind the attack on the Mayor.”

“You don’t have the gift you said you’d bring though.” Anselm argues.

“They’ll just have to take me at face value for now, two Mages should be more than enough inspiration for them.”

“Maybe,” He mutters, “But you’re a human…they hate humans.”

“That’s why Kaylin is going to vouch for me.”

Anselm moans, grumbles and groans. It’s clear he’s not all behind the idea of creating internal strife, he doesn’t mind it so long as it’s a clean plan but the clean plan has left the building now.

“Listen, it’ll be fine, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“The Mayor and the boys find out and you’re executed for practicing Necromancy and attempting to spur a revolt?”

“You didn’t just think of that.”