In the morning, she still felt exhausted. A long day, many spells cast, and short sleep had left her not in the best condition. Despite this, she went down to the nearby stalls for snacks and some spiced tea, put together a simple breakfast, and sat down to write a letter.
She hoped her master, with his connections at the imperial court, would not only bring awareness to the situation in the north but also present their field of magic—necromancy—in a favorable light. Yes, some crazed cultist from the north, who had certainly not been trained by her master or his circle, was causing some trouble. However, it was his own disciple who was aiding the local authorities in Kardum to resolve the issue. She wanted to ensure that, at least in the eyes of the most powerful nation in the region, this was a crisis that the “good” necromancers not only had nothing to do with but were also actively working to resolve.
She added a few personal notes—how she had been living well until recently in Forest Row and about her newly met companion Ashan. Without divulging the specifics of his awakening, she mentioned that he was now helping her deal with the problem in the north, and though they had known each other only briefly, she enjoyed his company. She added that she was in good health, diligently practicing her magic, and promised to visit her master should she pass through the capital. She closed by expressing respect and wishing him luck in presenting their field in good light and in ensuring the court first heard about the matter from him, which would hopefully earn him favorable opinions.
She sealed the envelope with wax, enchanted it with a spell that would bring a nasty curse upon anyone who tried to open it without being the addressee, and hurried to send it off, paying for the fastest delivery possible. It cost her nearly all she had earned from Captain Darva, but this was no time to hold back. Maintaining her master’s standing at court, and thus the general perception of necromancy in the empire’s eyes, was a top priority. In these times, her community understood well that there was no better protection than the favor of powerful political allies. Unfriendliness from a few churches or orders was inconvenient, sometimes even dangerous, but tolerable. Hostility from the imperial court, backed by the full power of its institutions, would simply be a death sentence.
When she returned, Ashan was already waiting outside the building, seemingly handling all these inconveniences better than she was. He even looked fresh and had shaved, which irked her a bit as a sort of cosmic injustice, though she hid it well. She greeted him warmly with, “Hi, you’re looking good,” and invited him upstairs to talk. On the way, he tried to return the compliment, but her weary, raised-brow gaze stopped him mid-sentence, so he ended with a simple “Hi” instead.
She had nothing to offer him, but he assured her he had already eaten, so they got straight to the point. Captain Darva had informed him that the council, at one member’s request, would hold an urgent intervention meeting in a few hours. They would question the cultist they had captured, with the captain present. Ashan handed her a few neutralized crystals as evidence. If all went well, official letters would be sent to other cities in the alliance by the day’s end.
They had a moment to catch their breath, and Moira suggested they spend it clearing out the last location where the cultist had scattered crystals and where they hadn’t yet intervened. That way, at least the entire Kardum district would be free of the Last Tribe’s cursed initiative. Ashan agreed, and after checking the map and estimating they could make the round trip before dark, he offered to bring the horses around. This gave Moira time to pack a few things and buy food for both of them. He knew exactly which mare she favored and brought her along, with his own supplies packed in his saddlebags. Together, they set off down the trail.
Their last stop was further south. There were no signs of any structure there, so it might have been a battlefield or a mass grave. Despite her dominion spell, several spirits resisted, and she had to restrain each one before they agreed to leave. She destroyed the cursed crystals afterwards. After the ordeal, Moira sat heavily on a nearby rock, eating an apple in the late afternoon sun, hoping the sweet fruit would revive her. Ashan sat beside her, looking slightly worried.
“It’s just been a while since I cast so many spells, and for several days in a row,” she reassured him, seeing his concern. “I’ll be fine.”
Not wanting to press the issue, he changed the subject gently. “So, in your day-to-day life, are you really just a herbalist?”
“For the most part, yes. I still train and study my field, but it’s more theoretical these days,” she replied, biting into the juicy apple and wiping the juice from her cheek with her hand. “Necromancy isn’t exactly in high demand, plus I like traveling and gathering ingredients to make medicines and cosmetics. People really appreciate my products!” she concluded on a more cheerful note.
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Ashan nodded in understanding and then subtly gestured to his own nose, signaling that something was amiss. She pulled out a handkerchief to find she had a mild nosebleed, with a single drop forming. “This happens sometimes—nothing to worry about,” she assured him in a nasal tone, handing him the rest of her apple.
He gave her a gentle pat on the back, comfortingly. She flinched slightly but didn’t push his hand away. Dusk was approaching, and they watched the sun change colors as it filtered through the high clouds. She leaned her head back, while he looked out ahead, finishing the apple. After a long pause, he tossed the core far away and suggested, “Let’s head back.” Moira checked her nose a few times to make sure the bleeding had stopped, then nodded, and they both stood up together. He helped her onto her mare, and this time she didn’t resist. She even muttered a quiet thank you.
They returned slowly, sparing themselves and the horses. With that last site cleared, they had secured the entire Kardum district. Yet the thought weighed on them that matters around other northern trading cities might be turning in a different direction entirely.
Back in town, Captain Darva had good news. The council had unanimously decided to escalate the situation and urgently inform the rest of the Northern Cities Union. All peacekeeping forces were ordered to detain anyone with possible connections to the Last Tribe. They adopted several precautionary measures, ramped up customs inspections, and announced an emergency recruitment drive to bolster the road patrols and city guard. Fortunately, the matter had not been ignored. On the contrary, Captain Darva sensed this wasn’t the first time the council had heard of the Last Tribe; this incident seemed to confirm their worst fears and triggered actions they’d long been considering. It also loosened the treasury’s purse strings for the peacekeepers, so Darva was able to pay Moira for her services, which she did readily.
After a joint meeting with the captain, Ashan escorted the herbalist back to her quarters, joining her upstairs to exchange a few more words. They tried to make a meal of the leftovers from their outing, as it was already late evening. They sat down to their makeshift dinner, trying to make sense of the entire mess.
“The council’s actions are commendable. It seems Kardum, at least, won’t let this cult run rampant,” Ashan mused, biting into a piece of dried venison.
“True, politicians rarely surprise me positively, but this city council should be proud of itself—hopefully, they’ll keep it up,” she agreed, pouring them both some watered-down wine.
Ashan finished his meat, took a sip, and cleared his throat. “If you wanted to step out of this whole mess, now would be a good time—wait!” he stopped her, as she was about to interrupt, and continued in a calm tone. “You investigated the road issues with me, found and neutralized their source in Kardum’s jurisdiction. That’s more than we could have asked for. No one would blame you if you ended your involvement here—especially not me.” He straightened in his chair, assuming a serious expression to reinforce his words.
“What, just because of a nosebleed? I got a bit of blood from my nose out, and you think I can’t handle it?” Moira retorted, setting him in his place as he tried to protest. “The leader of this cult is not only harming your people but also casting unfair suspicion on other practitioners of necromancy. If he succeeds, other nations might seriously fear that necromancers could overthrow legitimate rulers and seize control.” She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “We’re used to the lack of sympathy from ordinary people, but the justified fear of the highest authorities in neighboring countries isn’t something I’m prepared for.” She stood, dusted off her dress, and placed her hands on her hips. “So no, I don’t want to bow out. I want a necromancer to help end this—and for people to know it was a necromancer when all is said and done.”
Ashan listened carefully, and his resistance faded. “Understood,” he replied, scratching his neck. “That makes sense. I’ll do what I can to ensure Darva allows you to continue assisting, though I doubt it’ll be an issue. She already suggested that if possible, the council would like you to keep working with her unit.”
"Perfect," Moira said. "Now take these leftovers," she shoved the rest of the food into a basket, handed it to him and led him to the door, "and I'll see you in the morning - I need some rest."
He didn’t argue, and in a moment she had closed the door behind him. Her cheeks felt warm; she hadn’t expected such a flare-up from herself. The very idea that he might see her as weak had riled her up. To calm her nerves, she opened the window and leaned into the frame, letting the cool wind blow over her.
Ashan descended to the street, feeling halfway relieved that they’d still have her help, but also troubled that, however unintentionally, he’d pulled her into such a risky situation. As he turned to leave the building, he glanced back and caught sight of her, standing in the window. He had to admit to himself that there was something striking about her, especially in the dim glow of the street lamps. Not wanting to make her self-conscious by staring, he turned his back to her just at the right distance when she could spot him, then strode away, basket under his arm, wondering what the future held—and whether it would be kind to them both.