Chapter 228 - Letters to a Necromancer

Taking off my fancy coat and undoing a few of the buttons of my shirt to get more comfortable, I stand up off the bed and walk towards Opalina. “So what sort of strange ideas have you been putting in the young Lady’s head while I was busy?”

“Nothing too strange,” Opalina exclaims. “I was actually praising her for reaching out to you. Abigail saved me the trouble of having to orchestrate a meet-cute.” The doctor teases, although I don’t think she’s joking.

“Yes, nothing more romantic than telling our future children how I first saw their mother’s scary undead skeleton bear in grandfather’s creepy library, and the rest was history...” Opalina giggles, apparently finding my sarcasm delightful.

Although she means it in jest, I look into her eyes with a small spark of defiance on my face. “I’m not trying to add her to my Guild, Opalina- or my bedmates. I hardly know Abigail, and I haven’t even what she looks like. You’re developing a habit of getting ahead of yourself regarding my love life. First Snow, now this. You’ve always looked after me, but... just try and reign yourself in a little bit. Please?”

Opalina considers my sentence for an awkwardly long time. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m afraid it’s far too late in this case.” She shifts her eyes to the left to escape my inquisitory gaze. “Just go on and talk to her, alright?”

I try and say something in response to her loaded comment, but it’s no use. The old witch maneuvers behind me and pushes against the flat of my back, ushering me toward the open door. She slams it on me, and I hear it clanking of a metallic lock setting in place. Apparently, I won’t be returning until I’ve spent a long enough time with the noblewoman Opalina wants me to hook up with.

I’m grateful for every last member of my harem, but apart from the ‘destined’ girls hand-picked by Luxy, I don’t want to just keep adding and adding every new girl I meet. I know myself, and I know I will end up with a much greater number than the roster I have right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to rush in just because Opalina is telling me to go for it.

If- and I absolutely mean if- I were to grow interested in Abigail Gloomcrest, I would want it to be natural and not just because the option is available... then again, I can’t help imagining the political benefits I would get for dating a Duke’s daughter... and if she could be convinced to take up an adventurer’s mantle, having a Necromancer would be an invaluable asset.

Damn my over-active mind for business and exploitable opportunities.

However, all this supposition is useless when considering the most significant factor- Abigail’s own feelings. From what little I know about the girl, she’s a troubled recluse with a tragic past. No matter what Opalina has whispered into the girl’s ear, that doesn’t really scream ‘single and looking to mingle’ to me, and I’m not about to push her just because it would be beneficial to me.

Right as I sigh from the stress that thinking about all this gives me and take my seat, the doggy door opens up on the opposite side of the hall. Two skittering creatures of cold, dead bone exit the young lady’s chambers. One is the familiar dog with who I’m well acquainted. The other is undoubtedly a cat. The dog drops its message on the floor and hops up onto the chair in an oddly adorable attempt to lick me with a tongue it no longer has. It doesn’t seem to mind that it can’t actually express its affection, judging by how vigorously the dead beast wags its rattly tail.

The cat, as cats so often do, takes a roundabout way to get attention. It jumps gracefully onto the arm of the chair, walks up along the back so it can rub its body against the back of my head, then settles into the opposite arm and looks at me with a confused stare like it doesn’t understand why I’m not already petting it. I give the cat’s skull a cautious pet, and it begins to purr. I’m getting used to the sensation of touching these things.

Abigail’s dog remembers it was here with a job to do. Scooping up the message and the quill back into its jaw, it stands up on its back legs so I can take them from it.

On a brand new piece of parchment, a new message from the young Lady herself is sitting right there waiting to be read. ‘Hi. I’m happy to hear your meeting with Sully went well. Thanks for coming back to talk more. Sorry if Opal is still being weird about me...’

I never imagined that stony old gargoyle being called by a cute name like Sully, but strangely it fits. ‘No thanks necessary. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Opalina has a habit of trying to play matchmaker for me. Please disregard anything untoward she suggests. I, don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me- I’m not pressuring her to do this.’

‘It’s fine... you’re very nice, you know? Saying you don’t have anything better to do than talking with a weird, creepy, shut-in who can’t even talk to you in person when you could be enjoying Opal’s company is very sweet of you. I know it’s not your fault that she’s pressuring me to... flirt... with you.’

‘Is she really being that forward about it?’

‘Yes. Although that was one of her tamer suggestions... I could never bring myself to repeat the lewder ideas she proposed, not even in writing...’

‘Gods, I’m so sorry.’

‘No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Besides, Opal just assumes you would like me enough for... that sort of thing. I’m not pretty, and I’ve grown to accept that.’

‘Really? Awfully large assumption of you to make. For all you know, my tastes could be vast. Not to mention that you’re a mysterious noblewoman with magic powers locked away in a castle- you’re one Prince Charming short of an Everafterian fairy tale.’ After the dog takes that one away, I notice how flirty it sounds. Too late to fix it.

Her response is shakier. ‘No Prince would ever touch me, but the idea makes me feel warm inside... It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything like this. I guess part of it is just that I’m so excited to actually talk to you.’

‘Why? I’m hardly anything special. I’m just a random guest of your father’s.’

‘I’ve known about you for a lot longer than you might think.’

‘I’m guessing Opalina has a hand in that.’

‘Yes... but we keep circling back to her. I like talking to you, but you still don’t know anything about me. Is there anything you want to know? I’m not good at this, but I’ll try my best.’

‘Where to even begin? You could tell me about your little friends, for one. So far I’ve seen your bear, your dog, and a very presumptuous cat. How many pets are you hiding in that room of yours?’

‘A lot. My mother died when I was only six, and Father tried many ways to make me happy until finding that indulging my love of animals was enough to dull my grief... given that we’re rich, there was no upper limit on how much he could spoil me. My cat is named Misery. She’s very arrogant and uppity, which is rather unbecoming of a lady of her standing. The good boy passing our messages back and forth is Woe. Calling him man’s best friend is an insult to his character- it’s simply not enough. Lastly, in the library, you ran into Sombre. He’s a quiet one, but don’t take his silence as a sign of disinterest. There’s no bear as sweet as my Sombre... oh, dear. I’ve looked back and reread this message and am now starting to think I went on for too long. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t assume you’re interested in all this...’

Woe, Misery and Sombre? Well. She’s got a consistent theme going, at least. From the joyous and playful way she writes about them, it’s obvious Abigail loves her pets beyond measure. It’s pretty cute how the young Lady’s tone changes to reflect this, actually. I just wish that this topic didn’t lead down a road paved with eggshells. It’s only natural to come up with unpleasant questions regarding her beloved companions when all of them are dead. Asking what happened to them straight up would be incredibly rude, and asking indirectly would be nosy.

I end up choosing a safe response. ‘I asked the question, so of course I’m interested, you silly girl. Woe is very sweet, and Misery reminds me of another cat I know. I was shocked by Sombre, to put it mildly. At first, I didn’t even know that he was a bear, and it took me until I saw him walking on all fours to realize. You’re fortunate to have a father who cares so much about you.

‘You’re right. I love my Father. He’s the best one a girl could ever ask for, and I trust him more than anyone. After everything that’s happened to us, it’d be crazy not to.’

‘I’d ask what you mean, but I don’t want to potentially drudge up any rough memories. When did you become a Necromancer? I’d love to hear more about your skills.’

‘Thank you for considering my feelings. I’ve been practicing ever since Opal started teaching me when I was twelve. It took me a long time to move even a single bone and even longer to summon the souls of all my friends so they can reanimate their bodies.’

‘How does it work? As a Guild Master, I know a deal about different sorts of magic, but Necromancy is an unfortunate blind spot in my knowledge. It’s not something you can just go and buy a book on, at any rate.’

‘It’s a tough style to learn. You either have the gift for it, or you don’t, and it requires extremely precise mana control. It’s essentially a constant, continual drain. The more undead you control at once, the more mana is expended. So learning how to do a lot of things at once while spending as little mana as you can get away with is key... I’m not a very good Necromancer, either. I can only control a few skeletons at once... Oh, control is sort of a bad word for it... I don’t want you to get the idea that I’m making my pets follow my commands. That’s tier-one Necromancy, which is just control over bones, kind of like an advanced style of puppetry. My skills go as far as tier-two, infusing a skeleton with its original soul... but only on animals. Humans are a lot harder, and I’m not comfortable with trying. So while I have influence over their actions, my pets act exactly as they would in life. Oh, Goddess... I did it again. I wrote so much! Sorry, I’m so sorry! It’s not often someone asks me about this, and I sort of just... kept explaining on and on.’

‘No, please. Keep going. I would love to learn more about your magical skills. How many tiers are there?’ Apart from being fascinated with her explanation, I can’t deny how cute she sounds when talking about her interests.

‘I didn’t expect you to be interested... I’m a little flustered at getting to talk so much. There are four tiers. Tier-three is recreating the anatomy and musculature. It’s kind of scary... I’ve only tried it once and... and I don’t ever want to see one of my beloved friends like that ever again.’ Although it’s not my place to judge, I find it humorous that skeletons walking around is fine and dandy but muscled monstrosities dripping with blood is just too much. Abigail’s letter continues with, ‘Which is a shame because tier-four is recreating the original likeness. Skin, hair, fur, feathers, and so on. They don’t look indistinguishable by any means, but it hardly matters. What does it matter if they’re glowing green or have paler colors when it means seeing the ones you love again?’

‘I’m amazed to hear you say it like that. I think you have a great point, Abigail. You hear a lot about Necromancy being evil, but from the way you talk about it, it doesn’t sound that way at all.’

‘Just because it’s used by many evil people doesn’t mean it’s evil, or corrupting, or what have you. It’s how you use it. You know, You can’t imagine how happy I am to hear that all this doesn’t scare you... you’re a very weird man, but that’s ok. I’m far from normal myself.’

Without much thought, I send her a teasing response. ‘I haven’t noticed.’ After Woe carries it away, I swear for a split second, I can hear the sounds of a cute, feminine voice giggling awkwardly echoing throughout the castle walls.