In the end, Anastacia didn’t manage to fall asleep for even a second, she was far too busy being absolutely over the moon over the news of her positive effect on the world.
To her, there was no good to be found in the existence of necromancers, and that was a rule with no exceptions. No matter their intentions, there was some tiny part of their brain or perhaps even their souls that made them morally broken and incapable of not being evil in the end. Though she did her best, she didn’t consider herself much better than the rest of her kind and the only difference between her and other powerful necromancers was that she didn’t want to be one. Because of that, among her greatest fears was that no matter what she did, the total sum of her actions and their consequences would end up being destructive and a hinderance to those who didn’t deserve it.
But a single answer from a couple of weirdos with access to knowledge beyond what was possible had changed that. Things were better because of her; people were happier and the world just a tiny bit brighter thanks to a necromancer of all things. She wouldn’t go as far as assume that to be possible for the rest of Mournvalley though, the country itself was thoroughly rotten to the core and could never be fixed without scorching it until nothing but glass was left.
Still smiling widely, she sat by the kitchen table with King and Leggy while Verna made breakfast for her and Emilia. Even though she hadn’t rested at all, she didn’t feel tired and was fully prepared for the next part of their journey.
The priestess was still getting ready, so that they could leave immediately after eating. She had said she would only take a while to get her armor on, but it had already been almost half an hour.
“Am a bit ashamed that there’s nothing more to offer here…” The cooking cultist admitted and piled something on a plate. “We made the mistake of sending Annie shopping and- Well, she mostly just cares about getting a good deal and less about what exactly it is that she’s buying. The price was amazing but am afraid our diet will be egg-heavy for a week or so.”
“That’s alright, I like eggs – they’re good for you, I think.” The necromancer told the acolyte to not worry her.
Verna placed a cup and a plate in front of the so-called saint. “Am sorry…” She whispered, almost crying.
Anastacia stared at the meal prepared for her and was left speechless. Egg-heavy appeared to be quite an understatement, as her breakfast consisted of an omelet with a pile of scrambled eggs on it, topped with a fried egg and with a side of a couple of soft-boiled eggs. Worriedly, she peeked into the cup.
“Oh, thank fuck it’s just regular coffee.” She sighed in relief and took a sip of what turned out to be above average coffee and certainly much better than anything they could have made while camping. While she would have preferred to have some sugar in it, it was clear that the elven cultist was extremely troubled by the whole ordeal and she didn’t want to bother the poor acolyte any more than needed.
Even though the meal itself turned out to be perfectly fine and only slightly exceeded the limit for eggs Anastacia could eat in one sitting, trying to eat while being intensely stared by someone who thought she was only a step or two down from a god in terms of divinity was very awkward and she had to keep convincing the elf that there was nothing wrong with her cooking.
Luckily, Emilia finally appeared to the kitchen in her snow-white uniform, that had obviously been put far more effort into than she was willing to put on a usual day at the inn. Her curly red hair was brushed more carefully than usual and not a single wrinkle could be found on any of her clothes. Yet the most distinctive change to her usual appearance were the countless wax seals that had been stamped on more or less every piece of armor, clothes and equipment on her.
“I was caught.” She explained and walked over to the table, shedding off seals like feathers on every step.
As Verna meekly placed a similar eggy meal in front of the priestess, Emilia stared at it disappointedly, though not in the food itself. If this mix of eggs was what they could offer to a saint and their high priestess, their own meals must have been tragic at best.
“Is there really nothing but eggs here for you to eat?” She asked, trying to not sound judgmental or rude.
The acolyte fiddled with the chains hanging from her shoulders and stared at the floor, almost deathly ashamed. “It’s just… We bought thirty-five dozen of them for a song, but the budget… Am so, so, so sorry!” She cried and fell prone on the floor.
Emilia sighed and ate a mouthful while trying to find something from under her miraculously oil-free cloak. After going through most of the pockets, she pulled out a small leather pouch that had a distinct metallic jingle to it.
Recognizing the sound of gold, the ex-bandit’s pointy ears flinched, and she glanced up from the floor.
“Take it, go buy some bread, vegetables, meat, sugar, flour, spices, coffee, tea and whatever else a person of any dignity would have in their pantry for yourselves.” The priestess very nearly demanded and let go of the pouch, letting it fall on the cultist’s head and bounce on the floor.
The elf went entirely pale. “There’s no way we could accept this! What if Your Holiness runs out of money because of us?!” She asked, choking on tears.
“That’s is merely what I carry on me in case Anastacia breaks something, our travel funds are plentiful still. Besides, Lady Sylvia will always take care of her own, and part of that is through us.” Emilia calmed the acolyte and ruffled her hair.
Verna looked at Anastacia for a confirmation.
“I’m a financial liability.” The necromancer proudly admitted with her mouth full of egg and tried to not think about the countless ruined roof tiles her nightly outing had caused. There was no way she was going to tell Emilia about the rooftop stroll now.
Uselessly wiping her endlessly flowing tears of gratitude, the elven cultist stood up and tightly grasped her chains for emotional support. “Am… am have to go tell the others!” She realized and dashed away, only to return immediately to offer a quick silent prayer to the high priestess and then ran off once more.
As soon as the cultist was out of the room, Emilia’s warm smile froze over, and she grabbed Anastacia by the shoulders. “This is our out, grab the eggs and run. King, Leggy, take the bags and follow us.” She ordered the party and started leading them out of the building.
Anastacia understood well why they were in a hurry to leave for a second time during the same quest, as the cult would have no doubt made leaving difficult in any case, and after Emilia had given them quite a bit of money, they would have been stuck there for hours, listening to the thankful praises and likely getting a fresh layer of wax on their equipment. So, in a flash, the entire party left the barracks, taking along with them a large pan full of boiled eggs. They ran as fast as they could along the still dark streets, all the way to the gates before looking back to make sure they had escaped successfully.
The guard posted by the gate gave them a curious stare, probably trying to figure out if they were thieves escaping with their prize or what, but ended up thankfully wishing them good morning after Anastacia bought his silence with a warm egg.
They walked a bit further out before stopping to breathe, put on what winter clothes they didn’t wear yet and make sure they hadn’t forgotten or dropped anything. By the looks of it, their escape had been successful, and they were free to heard towards the Garden of the Ancients.
Emilia stared at the map their route had been planned on, and on which she may have asked a bit of advice about it from Gilbert, despite him being strictly barred from knowing the purpose behind their journey. She had figured that Gilbert knew better than to stick his nose into matters he was very obviously being kept out of, so it shouldn’t have been an issue regardless.
According to their mentor, as far as ancient forests went, the Garden was rather pleasant to traverse despite having a bit of a reputation among the adventurers for its residents. After all, ancient places often contained ancient things, and ancient things tended to be troublesome to get on the wrong side of, and trespassing was a prime way to do so.
Briefly glancing at King, the ancient thing Anastacia had dragged from the said forest during her brief tenure as a resident, Emilia understood the warnings and hoped that the simulacrum was on the worse end of things they could possibly run into.
While the priestess tried to figure out if they should follow the road for a while longer or cut through the meadows, Anastacia walked around the nearby field with both of her simulacra.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“This is where Alizarin died, entirely because I was being an ass.” She lamented and started to trace the late inquisitor’s name on the thin layer of snow with her steps. “He wasn’t a good person or anything, not even by a long shot. Some of the stuff he did in the name of research was extremely on-brand for the red inquisition, but he was probably the best that group had to offer – even Coquelicot is just obviously insane if you get to know her, but at least she’s patient and understanding on top of that. I’m probably permanently at the top of her shit list because of what happened here – and I understand that, I’d kill anyone that hurt you, King. The problem with being on that list is that the ‘S’ in the beginning was only added recently and I worry it’ll drop off one day.”
Emilia joined them and grabbed one of the eggs from the pan Anastacia was still holding, she hadn’t had the chance to finish her breakfast and figured that the sisterhood wouldn’t miss a few, which is why she had told her friend to grab them during their escape.
“We can just go through here; we’ll be at the edge of the forest by sunrise.” The priestess said. She noticed the name on the snow as well but didn’t want Anastacia to dwell in the past too much and didn’t say anything, so instead she pressed onwards and started to lead them towards the forest that was just barely beyond the horizon.
With a brisk pace, they traversed over the snowy fields, crossing over a couple of roads and ditches along the way. Luckily, the weather was on their side for once, and the night’s moderate gusts of wind had died down and the temperature was only barely below freezing. Walking in full winter gear was even a bit too hot for Anastacia’s liking, but she knew that she’d only end up regretting it if she started removing layers. Gilbert had pointed out numerous times to her that keeping her body warm was extremely important during winter, and if she got cold even for a while because she removed clothes, it would take a long time to warm back up, even if she put on more clothing again.
While King patiently matched his speed with the necromancer to stay no more than a meter away from her, Leggy would almost run around to climb on anything she could and scout ahead at times. She was supposed to be there as their guide and appeared to take her job very seriously.
Just as they reached the massive wall of trees, higher than any man-made building either of them had ever seen, the sun finally appeared to the eastern horizon and lit the treeline with orange, almost reddish light.
Even the lowest branches of the smallest trees were higher than the treetops of most forests, and apparently, this particular type of tree was far too inconvenient to even topple over, let alone drag anywhere to be used – the Garden of the Ancients had remained untouched by anyone because of that. Attempts had been made to burn it, but even fire wasn’t willing to touch the gargantuan trees and it was said that even a single strike of an axe would cause the forest itself to retaliate – whatever that may have meant.
After marveling at the oversized trees for a bit, the party entered the forest along a path made by the hunters from a nearby elven village. The thick treetops that blocked sunlight from reaching the undergrowth darkened the forest almost immediately upon entering, but fortunately, they also blocked the snow from falling there and it even felt like the temperature got ever so slightly warmer the further they wandered the forest.
Though some ever so slightly glowing moss lined the tree trunks by the ground, the adventurers had to rely on their lanterns to not trip on roots and rocks. Yet, even after the hunter’s path had ended, the way into the forest felt somehow intended or purposeful. While there were no paving or obvious signs of use, the larger roots and ferns had cleared out and only lined the sides of the adventurer’s route.
The animals of the forest seemed to have very little to fear from the visitors as well, and a small herd of deer allowed Anastacia to pat them. Squirrels didn’t bother to scurry away from them, and a couple of birds even landed to rest on King’s head.
The forests name started to suddenly make a lot of sense, as it certainly felt like they had happened upon someone’s overgrown garden. They walked among someone’s fern plantations and were greeted by their countless pets. All that was missing to complete the feeling was a pond and some kind of a shelter with a place for a campfire.
Suddenly the rest of the party was startled by the necromancer letting out a curious yelp.
“What is it?!” Emilia asked and grasped her weapon.
Anastacia pointed at a small pool of water that was barely visible from between the trees and a bundle of sticks and dried leaves by it. “It’s my nest!” She exclaimed and rushed to get a better look.
Worried that the necromancer would get lost again, Emilia followed her over to the pool.
“It’s just like we left it!” Anastacia said excitedly and sat down into the loosely packed cradle of forest debris.
The priestess kneeled by the crystal-clear pool of water that had remained unfrozen. “So this is where you lived, huh?” She asked and touched the surface with her finger.
“Yup. This is where I found King and the goblins. I even considered just staying here.” The necromancer said and leaned against the tree behind her. “Feels like it happened ages ago.”
King took off his heavy backpack and sat down cross-legged in front of Anastacia, like he had done many times during their early days in the forest.
“Well, we might as well take a break here.” Emilia said and stared into the darkness between the trees. There was something bothering her about the forest, and it felt almost like they were being watched.
Though Anastacia and King had remained oblivious to whatever it was thanks to their nostalgic bliss, the priestess could tell that Leggy was similarly agitated, as the nimble simulacrum kept climbing up trees and gazing into the distance, but clearly failed to find whatever she was looking for.
Gilbert sat by his favorite table at the tavern and leaned against the wall with his feet leisurely lifted on another chair. He calmly blew circles with the smoke from his pipe and just enjoyed the quiet calmness that Anastacia’s absence brought with it. The tavern was still packed full of people as usual, but Dammar, Maximillian and other adventurers that would have sat down with him were on quests of their own, so beyond a quick greeting, he hadn’t been bothered by anyone for hours.
It would have definitely become boring even for him, if he didn’t have the privilege of watching Yulia work. The owner of the inn was still in the process of dealing with her newfound loneliness and worry with alcohol and had been sent to her room ages ago to sleep away her drunkenness. This left the lamb alone to man both the counter and the kitchen, which she could do with little trouble, but it kept her too busy to sit down with the adventurer she admired.
Regardless, the old adventurer was perfectly fine with the arrangement, he quite enjoyed watching Yulia hop about the inn, taking orders and delivering them to the table, and ever so often bringing him a new bottle. Especially because working appeared to make the girl happy; Yulia had slowly become cheerier over the months, and her artificial hand had long since stopped bothering her, but Gilbert could tell that whenever she had nothing else to do or think about, she had the tendency to space out and relive the events that had befallen on her previous hometown of Ebonywatch.
He himself had the mental complexity of a walnut, and despite having lived through far more than any one person should have ever been subjected to, it largely bounced off him like water from wax paper. This meant that he had no tools or ability to actually help the girl deal with whatever she was going through.
With Anastacia it hadn’t been that much of an issue, since she was obviously of the walnut-kind as well, and even had Emilia for help. He had thought about taking Yulia to a dreamweaver of some other professional, but even that felt like it was too ‘adventurer-like’ as a solution – sometimes he forgot that not all problems were caused by illusions and magic, and certainly couldn’t be solved with them.
While thinking about this and that, Gilbert noticed that his pipe had gone out and could have used a refill. He reached for the small pouch he usually kept his tobacco in, but sadly found it empty. Just the thought of having to go all the way back upstairs ached his knees so much that he absentmindedly grunted.
Yulia happened to be passing by and the sudden sound made her stop. As usual, she still kept hopping from one hoof to another despite standing still, the clacking noise of which was just one of those things everyone in the tavern had gotten used to. “Is something wrong?” She asked worriedly.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” The old adventurer sighed and tossed the empty pouch on the table. “Just need to pop by my room.”
“If it’s just tobacco, I can go. You keep it in the fancy box, right?” The lamb suggested.
Gilbert smiled. “That would certainly be nice… Rosie needs to pay you more. Go ahead and bring the expensive tin; today’s a good day and I want to celebrate.”
Yulia quickly dropped the tray she was carrying to the table it belonged to and made sure she had the master key to the rooms on her. She gave Gilbert an awkward wave before hopping up the stairs one by one.
Gilbert watched the young lamb bounce and chucked to himself – it was truly a good day.
He leaned back, closed his eyes and searched for the clacking noise among the general racket of the tavern.
Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack… Her steps echoed even from the second floor, followed by the familiar creak of the unoiled hinges of his room’s door. Clack, clack, clack, clack, thump, thump.
“Thump?” Gilbert wondered and opened his eyes. He couldn’t tell if the quiet muffled scream after the thump was his adventurer’s imagination playing a trick on him or if it was real. Regardless, he hopped up and over the table with the spryness of a man third of his age and dashed upstairs. On the way, he half-consciously tapped on the knife hanging from his belt to make sure it was there, just in case.
There was a good chance that Yulia had simply fallen over, which happened more often than one would think, but assuming the best of any given situation was one of those things that got entire parties killed.
The door to his room was closed and the corridor was quiet when he reached the second floor. Trying his best to move swiftly but still step softly, he snuck up to the door. Immediately upon getting there, he could feel the cold air flowing from under it – he had most definitely not left the window open.
Counting to three, the adventurer barged into his room and made a split-second assessment of the situation. The first thing he saw was a wide-open window and Yulia laying on the floor on her side, seemingly out of it. The second thing was an unknown person in dark gray robes with a blue hood and a blue stole around his neck, laying on the floor against the wall, similarly out cold.
He just barely had the time to grab his knife and swing it at a noise somewhere above him, but it failed to connect with anything before he could feel a needle in his neck.
In less than a second his strength was gone, and his legs were giving out, but just as he was about to topple over, he could feel something hard and strong wrap around him, gently tipping him on the floor like it was making sure he didn’t get hurt. Gilbert still tried to fight the loss of consciousness, but it was a battle he quickly lost.
“Shhh… Don’t worry and just sleep for a bit, I qualify as a doctor.” Whispered into his ear was the last thing he heard before the darkness took over.