Chapter III.VIII (3.8) - Saigo Negai

Quickly composing himself and moving into a fighting stance taught by Arclight, he brought his fists up and lit them on fire. They blazed to life with only the slightest prompting, the strength of the heat startling him. They had never been so powerful before. Was it something to do with the haunted inn? A thought for another time.

He blocked the inn’s entrance, to keep Aoi and Anata behind him. But if any of the dead people in front of them cared, they showed no sign of being intimidated. Then again, most of them were ghosts. And what need did a ghost have to fear fire? Regardless, he kept his fists up and examined the undead in front of him.

Ghosts continued chatting quietly amongst themselves, though a few curiously eyed the newcomers. At a table on the other side of the room, two zombies kept bobbing their heads as if on the verge of sleep. One undead was wrapped up in brown linen bandages, with only slits for his eyes and mouth. He looked to be on a date with a woman with half her skin melted off her skeleton, her normal half appearing completely preserved. She was the only one who showed any real fear at the sight of his flaming fists.

“Snuff out that spell,” a ghost said from behind a counter. She scolded him like he was a school child who’d gotten out the wrong writing utensils.

“Who are you,” Kizu asked, not dropping his spell.

Aoi stepped in front of Kizu and brushed herself off. Then she gave the room of undead her friendliest smile.

“Hello! My name is Aoi, I’m a necromancer. I apologize on behalf of my pigheaded companion. He can be a bit suspicious.”

“A new necromancer,” the ghost behind the counter smiled warmly. “That’s lovely. Welcome to my inn, Saigo Negai.” She gestured at a sign above her counter which had the inn’s name carved into it in gorgeous stylized lettering of the Universal Script. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone as young as yourself learning the art. Are those your thralls beating at my door?”

“Thought you said the term was limiting, what happened to being a soul mage?” Kizu muttered, finally extinguishing his spell. He was trusting Aoi here. Undead were her expertise.

Aoi ignored him. “Not my thralls. Just happened to get in a bit of scrape with one and they all started following after me. Complete misunderstanding” She lifted her arm and showed the ghost the red scratches from the zombie’s nails.

The ghostly innkeeper floated up to her and examined the wound. Then she waved a hand over it. It still looked the same to Kizu, but Aoi blinked in surprise.

“You snapped the connection,” Aoi said.

“I did. A small perk of my existence. I have a limited measure of control over souls.”

Aoi cheered up even more. “That’s a really nice boon, especially if this inn is what I think. If I’m not mistaken, this is a safe room for undead and necromancers? I’ve read about them, but the ones I’ve investigated were destroyed long ago. Did this one pop up recently?”

“You’re correct. My daughter recreated our family’s inn after the disaster took out the town. It’s one of two safe havens near Kyonaka. Many of us are locals. Others are travelers.” The ghost gestured over at a phantom with the left half of his body covered in a silvery blood. “Then there are few like Throumbos who were tourists during the disaster.”

“What happened to him?” Aoi asked, immediately interested in the bizarre looking ghost.

“He had a rare disease that didn’t allow his blood to clot properly. People like him came from far and wide to heal in our baths. Instead, he died bathed in his blood after the incident.”

Throumbos waved.

Aoi continued to chat with the innkeeper about all the different deaths of the undead in the room. Kizu would have thought the topic a bit tactless, but her audience seemed to enjoy her many questions. Apparently, after the disaster the innkeeper’s daughter managed to get on sight and resurrect the ghosts of a score of different villagers. She had been distraught and refused to allow any of the living near the village’s ruins, silently sabotaging their efforts to reestablish the town. Eventually they gave up, and she rebuilt her mother’s inn for the undead residents.

“What happened to her?” Aoi asked, obviously excited about the idea of another necromancer nearby. “Did she advance into lichdom? Is she here?”

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“Warlord Kotoi Zenchi executed her four years ago.”

Color drained from Aoi’s face.

“Kiri?” she asked softly.

“That was her name,” the ghost confirmed sadly. “No mother should live to witness the death of her daughter.”

Kizu did not mention the fact that the woman was not alive. He decided to give the two of them some space while Aoi reminisced with the mother about her mentor.

Anata continued to fade in and out of sight with only her red eye remaining, the real ghosts held their forms permanently. She floated up to one of the ghosts who was drinking from a translucent mug. Kizu decided to keep her within earshot.

“What do you want?” the ghost asked sullenly. He stared at the bottom of his mug.

Anata floated to the side, trying to see inside the phantasmal cup.

“Stop that,” the grumpy ghost snapped, pulling back his mug defensively.

“Relax,” Kizu said, cutting in. “She just wants to know if you actually have liquid.”

“I do. I died right here in this spot, holding this here mug,” he said proudly. “And I won’t give it up for nothing. Nobody else died holding a mug of beer. Got it straight from Edgeland too, one of the first batches after the embargo ended.”

“Kizu, Kizu!” Aoi called out. “Get over here!”

Kizu sighed and motioned for Anata to follow after him.

“There’s a necromancer in town! There’s one here right now! He’s up on that hill near where we just were. I knew going there was a great idea!”

“Is this supposed to be a good thing?” Kizu asked. “It sounds to me like he tried to kill us with a hoard of zombies.”

“Necromancers are always friendly to other necromancers.”

“You’ve only ever met one necromancer. And she was locked behind bars.”

“I read the grimoire of the gnome one too.”

“Yes. You’ve only ever met one necromancer,” Kizu repeated.

“Well, that count is about to double!”

“Do I need to remind you that visiting the cemetery nearly killed us? What about meeting him sounds safe?”

“He didn’t know I was a necromancer. We all watch out for each other.”

“Is this a good idea?” Kizu directed his question at the innkeeper.

She considered it and nodded. “It might be better for you to stay and meet him here when he returns. Ken is a rather jumpy boy. Startling a necromancer in the night is often a recipe for disaster.”

Kizu grunted. They’d already figured that much out. He was not going back up to the cemetery to try his luck a second time.

“We don’t have time for that though,” Aoi complained. “We need to be back at the palace by sunrise.”

“He’s planning to stay until the festival,” one of the other ghosts said helpfully. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to meet him in the next week if you continue to stop by.”

“I’ll get the baths filled for your next visit,” the innkeeper promised. “Right now I only filled the men’s bath for our current living guest.”

“Fine,” Aoi said. “We’ll come back tomorrow night.”

They stayed for a few more hours, chatting with the inn’s patrons. Kizu talked to the bandaged man, and discovered his undead type was from the far, far west, beyond Edgeland. He called himself a mummy lord. His transition into undead involved a grotesque ritual at the end of his life with the intention of preserving the body. It was a powerful ritual that retained nearly the entirety of his soul without any need for necromantic maintenance, but came at the cost of his enchanted bandages. Every minute he spent outside his bandages, his body rotted at an accelerated rate, so he remained concealed in the cloth. About halfway into his conversation, Aoi butted in with a notepad and started drilling the undead with questions.

Aoi obviously held out hope the necromancer might return before sunrise, but in the end they said their goodbyes and departed.

When they exited Saigo Nagai they found the zombies had dispersed, so they didn’t need to fight through the hoard a second time. Kizu let out a sigh of relief.

While disappointed about not meeting the necromancer, Aoi was still smiling as she continued to scribble notes on a piece of parchment while they walked. She refused to let them jump along, since it would be too difficult for her to write, so instead they simply walked along the path exiting the town and leading back to Kyonaka.

“What did the mummy tell you before I came over?” Aoi asked while she wrote. “I missed the explanation before the description of the metal tools used to remove chunks of the brain and their preservation process in jars. For example, did he say anything specific about the frontal lobe? Brains are so complex. I need to make certain I record everything exactly correct. And those jars are vital too. They seem to act a bit like a lich’s phylactery, but to a lesser extent, storing memories and emotions instead of tying to the soul itself. I’ve never even considered the idea before today. Nobody here in the east has even mentioned a process like that. Not as far as any of my readings have hinted at, at least.”

By the time they reached the palace, the sun had begun to rise in the horizon. Kizu jumped back up to his room and collapsed back on his bed.