At last, the gates of Valor were in sight and but a few arduous steps away. A warm bed and delicious food, only a short jaunt off. Despite the meeting with The Prince of Life having been arguably a failure in terms of their original goals, the group was in fairly decent spirits. Iris had mostly gotten over her rude awakening to the adventurer lifestyle, and even Anastacia was at least relieved that Spirit’s matters had been taken over by someone who knew what to do.
As per usual, a single guard stood outside of the gate and leaned on his halberd in the warmth of a small campfire. Every now and then, to ward off both boredom and cold, he did what any sane person given a polearm would do and spun it around in his hands. Though he was very much on the young side for guards, over the countless hours of duty, he had gotten very proficient in it – enough so to earn a small round of applauds from the passing party of adventurers and their companions as they tried to enter the city.
“Hold up.” The guard suddenly said and lowered his weapon to partly block the path. “Aren’t you a party of four usually? The girl in blue isn’t one of ours, and I think I recognize the big stone fellow but the other one is new. Gilbert, you know the rules, I’m going to need some explanations here.” He inquired and took a few steps to get a better look at the new arrivals.
“Why do you assume I’m responsible for this?” The old adventurer asked in return.
The guard smirked and went back to leaning on his weapon, this time in the middle of the road. “Why indeed… But if he claims innocence, I’m willing to take explanations or just introductions from anyone willing to give them.” He said in a friendly manner, typical to most of the guild’s guards. Nothing about his presence hinted at there being a problem, but rather just orders that had to be followed or just personal curiosity that had to be sated.
“Very well.” Emilia sighed and stepped forth in the hopes of getting things sorted as quickly as possible. “This is Iris, a necromancer from Mournvalley that I have taken in as my temporary pupil in divine matters-“
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! You didn’t steal a second one, did you?” The guard exclaimed worriedly. “Do you have any idea how stressful it is to try and guard this place when there’s a constant threat of those inquisitors or whatever showing up out of nowhere? You can’t keep doing this to us, I have a family!”
Iris raised her hand. “I am an inquisitor, no one is going to come after me and I’ll leave after I’ve figured out a few things. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Not really appearing any more relieved, the guard rubbed his brow for a while and tried to come to terms with the situation. “Okay then… So, you don’t need the registration forms, but you are a necromancer so there are a few things you need to comply with since you are classified as a health risk. First of all, nothing dead goes into the city – that means no thralls, familiars, whatever you call them. Tools and materials that have parts of dead things either have to be made in here or pass an inspection. If you have come in contact with dead bodies of parts thereof, you are required to visit a guild sanitation establishment. Additionally, you can be ordered to go there by any guild personnel if they even so much as think you might need a rinse. It’s not that we think all necromancers carry a plague, we just don’t want any diseases into the city…” He listed off the same requirements Anastacia had faced back in the day. “The same rules apply to anyone who shows up covered in blood or something… Happens all too often.”
“That’s a bit direct, but I suppose has some valid reasoning behind it. Over a bunch of generations, we have managed to acquire a fair resistance to many of the things you can catch from poorly treated remains, so it’s not impossible that we would carry something and not know of it.” Iris admitted and didn’t seem all too insulted by the special treatment. Being well versed in matters of health, she could appreciate the preventive measures. “But actually, being visibly covered in gore isn’t all that reliable of an indicator. We found out quite a while ago that oftentimes massive physical trauma results in almost microscopic splatters of various liquids that are just as likely to spread disease as any. I’ve actually seen one such case when a couple of students tried to liquefy a badly decayed troll carcass, they managed to cover themselves in a dust of all sorts of nasty stuff. I wouldn’t be all too surprised if-“
“Okay, that’s gross – both of you necromancers are going straight to sanitation.” The guard suddenly decided and took a step back.
Too tired to complain, Anastacia accepted her unjust punishment from being associated with necromancers again. It wasn’t the first time a guard she wasn’t too familiar with had sent her to get cleaned after hearing of her occupation – not to mention the couple of occasions it had happened because of her carrying some noticeable stench from the goblin kingdom with her. And in all fairness, a good long bath was the topmost item on her list anyway so there wasn’t much to be upset about.
“Fine, I’m taking the simulacra with me though.” She said exhaustedly and handed over what little equipment she was carrying to Gilbert.
“That might be a problem.” The guard said and shook his head. “We’re under extremely specific orders from the guild to not let anyone bring new simulacra into the city. They were given a few days ago, so I’m willing to bet the guild knew you’d be trying to do exactly that.”
Anastacia frowned and feigned confusion, as if she had no idea this exact problem would come up. Unfortunately for the guild, there was no way she would just give up and leave Leggy outside. “Well, that’s great and everything, but I’m under similarly strict orders from The Queen of Goblins to bring her inside. So, you know, that’s what I’ll do.” She lied and bet on the guard’s unfamiliarity with her antics. “She would no doubt take it very personally if the guild outright denied her housecarl access to the city. Are you sure political matters like that are for you to decide?”
The guard did some thinking for himself, glanced at Gilbert, whom the guards generally knew and trusted, and took one more look at Anastacia to judge her. “Look, I’m not an idiot – that’s obviously nonsense and you’re a terrible liar.” He sighed tiredly. “I’ve also heard of you from the rest of the guard, Anastacia, which is why I know whatever I say here won’t matter in the end. If I don’t let you take your simulacra inside, you’ll have it climb the wall and just deal with the guild when they find out. From what I’ve also heard, your beef is with the officials and you don’t go out of your way to bring trouble the guard, which is something I can appreciate. So, if Gilbert can vouch for the simulacrum, and you necromancers kindly comply with the sanitation order, I’ll avert my gaze for a moment to look into a suspicious thing over there somewhere.”
“Deal.” Anastacia immediately agreed and walked past the guard with her simulacra.
Careful to not get anywhere near the necromancers, the guard let the group pass and returned to his post by the fire. While he may have gone against the wishes of the guild officials, he did get on the good side of the resident necromancer and received an encouraging pat on the shoulder from one of the most experienced adventurers in the city – so all in all, it didn’t go all too terribly for him.
Once in Valor, the party split in two, with Gilbert and Emilia heading to the inn, where they had people anxiously waiting for their return, and the necromancers heading towards the nearby sanitation establishment with the simulacra.
Still worried that Anastacia would blame her for the detour, Iris meekly followed her down a narrow road that ran directly along the outer wall of the city, immediately right from the gate. With no other ways in or out of it, they were definitely heading away from the areas typically filled with people. “What does this ‘sanitation’ include?” She asked, partly to gauge how mad her fellow necromancer was.
“It’s literally just a really nice bathhouse. I think it’s called that partly to discourage people from going there without a reason.” Anastacia explained.
“Oh, that sounds nice… You know how Mournvalley tends to deal with disease, so I was a bit worried I had managed to get us into trouble.” The inquisitor said and chuckled awkwardly.
“It’s just time consuming, that’s all. The baths at the inn are pretty packed around this time, so I don’t mind. Basically, you go in, leave your stuff and clothes in a box, you move on to the next room, putz around in a bath and wash your hair properly until someone knocks on the door. I don’t know the details, but when you go back, your clothes are clean and warm, and everything you had on you has been laid out neatly on a table. You put your clothes back on and leave. You never see or speak to anyone, it’s pretty neat.” The adventurer continued. “Considerably less fire involved than back in Mournvalley. Maybe, if you really came here to learn anything, you could pick up a trick or two from this place.”
Iris took note of the decent idea. After all, there were quite a few things the new inquisition hadn’t been able to revamp or restructure after their rise to power, and if there was a place that rivaled Mournvalley in strangeness, it was Valor. So, perhaps it was the place the necromancers needed to take a better look at for fresh ideas.
“You’ve been there before, I thought you weren’t into the messy parts of necromancy?” She asked.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Anastacia nodded. “Not every guard knows or believes that, so it happens. Being with goblins tends to get messy too, so it can be a convenient way to get my clothes cleaned.”
Soon enough, they reached the end of the steadily narrowing road and came to what seemed like a simple wooden door with a small metal plaque with the word ‘Sanitation’ engraved to it. There was no doorhandle or a lock to be found, but when approached, it slowly swung open on its own. On the other side was a long, well-lit corridor with nothing much to it. The wall to the left was lined with several identical doors, all of them without handles. Next to each door was an engraved wooden slate that repeated Anastacia’s instructions for the place, though in a much more official manner.
Suddenly the third door down the corridor popped open on its own. Anastacia sauntered inside, closely followed by the simulacra, leaving the inquisitor behind to wonder what she should do.
“Are you not coming?” The adventurer asked from inside the room.
Iris nervously peeked inside. “In the same one?”
Anastacia shrugged, she didn’t really care either way, nor did she know if whatever guild magics operated the establishment would be courteous enough to open up a second room.
As soon as the inquisitor dared to step inside, the door behind her shut on its own.
The room they had been guided into was fairly large, but outside of a pair of identical tables and wooden crates placed by the opposing walls as well as one more door leafing forwards, there was nothing of interest in it. The floor and walls were tiled with large stones that somehow felt warm even in the middle of the winter, and heated the room considerably – almost uncomfortably so to someone who had been traveling outside for days. Neatly placed on each of the tables were two folded up towels that one was supposed to take along with them to the next room.
“This city of yours is a curious place…” Iris remarked while touching the warm walls with her almost frostbitten hands.
Anastacia, who was already wiggling herself free of her gear and tossing everything she had on her into the crate on her side of the room, agreed. “It has its quirks, both positive and negative. Sure, we’ve got the most ancient widgets to heat baths and such, but I can tell you that we were moments away from death by bureaucracy out there – and probably won’t get off all that easy in the end either. As soon as the officials realize there’s a second necromancer and a second simulacrum in the city, they’ll come and find us in a hurry.”
“That sounds worrying. Is it really a good idea for me to be here?” Iris worried and warily placed her satchel into the crate on her side of the room.
“It’s probably a terrible idea on all accounts, but honestly this city is mostly made of people who probably shouldn’t be here by the guild’s standards. There’s four of them in this room alone.” Anastacia shrugged and tossed more of her clothes into the crate. “If you’re asking my opinion on the matter… I think Emilia knows what she’s about and there’s a reason she wanted to have you here. I think that if she thinks there’s a reason for you to follow me, there’s a reason for you to follow me, even if I can’t figure it out.”
The inquisitor awkwardly watched as possibly the most powerful of her kind relied heavily on the help of her two assistants with something as simple as removing clothes, which bordered on farcical in her eyes. Such a complete trust on what may well have been one of the most formidable enemies necromancers had left in the world, and whose kind was responsible of permanently injuring and almost killing one of her closest friends and teammates. Lacking almost all knowledge of their background, Iris had a hard time considering simulacra as people, as Anastacia had suggested them to be. To her they all seemed like cold and emotionless machines, generally purposed for killing as far as she had seen. She had a quiet chuckle over her thoughts, as she knew that was almost exactly what Anastacia thought of necromancers as a whole.
“That’s a lot of tattoos.” Anastacia suddenly pointed out when she noticed the considerable ink coverage on the inquisitor, which continued well under her clothes as repeating patterns and symbols.
“Well, I grew up in Rustgarden, so it’s a cultural thing – and I like them.” Iris explained and showed her back, which had even more odd symbols and images, most prominent of which was a list of blue numbers ranging from one to nine. Each of the numbers had a small symbol by it, but the inquisitor turned around before Anastacia could see them well enough.
The adventurer spent a fraction of a second pondering what she remembered of Mournvalley’s notable locations. “That means nothing to me.” She admitted.
Iris was about to ask if she grew up under a rock, but stopped herself just in time as she realized that it was indeed the case with Anastacia. “Rustgardens are the area in western Mournvalley where all our iron is mined from. The people there have some… unique views when it comes to flesh and tend to decorate their own with memories.” She briefly summed up the reason.
Suddenly the door they had yet to go though opened and steam began to flood into the room from behind it. It immediately filled the room with a strange, almost medicinal scent that left a bitter taste in the mouth, making breathing a bit unpleasant. Iris quickly recognized it as a mixture of herbs and tonics she had used to treat and avoid infection in wounds.
Anastacia didn’t waste much time before grabbing her towels and disappearing into the foggy room with her companions, once again, leaving Iris behind. The inquisitor had a bit more qualms about stripping in front of basically strangers, mechanical or otherwise, and had to catch up to them before the second door sealed itself.
Though the next room was filled with steam and barely lit, it was barely possible to see the dark stone walls in every direction. The steam seemed to be flowing in from several fist-sized holes among the stones, along with warm air that made the room uncomfortably humid to be in. Most of the floor had been replaced with a round pool of waist-high water – or what at least seemed like water. Visibly turquoise, and with a stinging, almost alcohol-like odor, the best way to describe the bathwater was to call it ‘potent’. More of the liquid flowed in along the floor from tiny gaps in the walls and any overflow from the pool drained into a seam by its edges.
Anastacia had already jumped in and now rested against the far edge of the bath while King and Leggy sat down on the edge by her side.
Iris, on the other hand was still suspicious of the whole ordeal, and the brightly shining patterns of light on King’s armor in the mist unnerved her, even if she knew him to not be a threat. She scooped a bit of the liquid from the bath with her hand and touched it with the tip of her tongue.
“I wouldn’t drink it, tastes horrible.” Anastacia said, still trying to covertly see what the inquisitor’s tattoos were about.
Iris immediately spat out the horribly bitter liquid. “I’m not drinking it; I’m just checking what it is. Wait, how do you know it tastes horrible?”
“I’ve drank it.” Admitted the adventurer immediately.
“Of course…” Iris sighed and slowly lowered herself into the pool. To her surprise, the water was only slightly warm and felt almost cool compared to the hot air. “How long do we have to stay here?”
“Couple of hours usually. I’d get comfy if I were you, it’s going to be a while.” Anastacia estimated. “Long enough for us to avoid the spray.”
“The spray?” Inquired the inquisitor.
Anastacia used her hands to squirt some water at Iris. “Emilia, and apparently Gil too, have people waiting for them back home, you don’t want to get caught in between that.”
Iris was reminded of the lamb she and Cobalt slightly drugged on their last visit to the city. Understandably, she chose to omit that and simply nodded understandingly.
For a modest while, they waited in silence while Anastacia scrubbed her simulacra and Iris pondered what it was that the weird necromancer could teach her. She had noticed the circular hole in Anastacia’s shoulder and was definitely curious about it, but seeing how enthusiastic the adventurer was about cleaning simulacra made her think it wasn’t pertinent to ask about it. The longer she kept an eye on the adventurer, the stranger the whole situation started to feel. The only credible rival to The Empress of Mournvalley herself, took time off her day to speak with individual goblins, could be forced to watch over a person she loathes by nothing but a normal priestess, negotiated with common guards, and now polished simulacra for some reason. However, at the same time, this same person shrugged off meetings with literal gods, somehow communicated with ancient machines and made horrors of pure corruption flee.
“Why are you better than us?” The inquisitor finally asked. “You, a person who could look up at the night sky and not have a reason to feel small under the stars, fluently mingle with the some of the lowest creatures this world has to offer. Not only that but they flock around you, goblins, people who have never seen a necromancer, simulacra of all things… We, comparably unremarkable ones, have to fight tooth and nail to have someone to call an ally even on paper, much less a friend. What is it that you do to make yourself accepted by anyone from gods to goblins? I think that is what I must learn and teach to the inquisition.”
Anastacia frowned. “Not everything has to do with how powerful you are, you know? I am an adventurer, a novice mage, the queen of goblins and like ten other things before I even consider myself a powerful necromancer. All of them far more useful when meeting people than the fact that I can turn them to mince with my mind.” She explained. “I get that when two necromancers meet, it’s the first thing they notice about each other, but normal people aren’t like that.”
“I guess… Most places don’t really base their ruling structure on personal prowess, do they?” Iris agreed.
“Most places don’t really give a shit about ruling structures when you first meet people.” The adventurer corrected her student’s thinking. “Do you seriously have no other personality than the number 4 dipshit in the picking order or whatever?”
The inquisitor silently stared at Anastacia, and just as she was about to open her mouth, she was interrupted.
“You know what, don’t even answer.” Anastacia groaned.
While finishing up on cleaning the pointy chunks of stone Leggy had for feet, an idea came to Anastacia’s mind. She stood up in the water, placed one of her hands on her housecarl’s leg, scooped some water up with her other hand and began to slowly pour it out. Using ice magic, she rabidly moved the heat from the water into the simulacrum, causing it to freeze into an icicle the size of a small sword. Grandly stepping closer to the inquisitor, she placed the tip of the icicle on Iris’ head and started to recite a declaration she was coming up on the fly.
“Through the necromancer tradition, as the most powerful necromancer present, I am stripping you of your title, powers and responsibilities as inquisitor for as long as you remain in my realm. You are not allowed to refer to yourself as such, you are not allowed to introduce yourself as such, you are not allowed to think of yourself as such. From now on, you are Iris, a humble devotee of Sylvia, and even humbler court cleric of the goblin kingdom. As we fix up your wings, you will live your life as such and learn how to behave.” She decided on her own.
“I don’t think this is how it works.” Iris whispered.
“Unless Coquelicot herself decides to come and fight me for one of her inquisitors, this is exactly how it works.” The goblin queen grinned. “Consider yourself kidnapped.”