--- Roric

During the trip back to Aregat, nobody seemed to be in the mood for talking.

The death of Demios and all the things the young mercenaries had witnessed just a couple of hours before had left deep scars into their hearts. Roric in particular still couldn't believe that one of his first friends in the company was now gone forever.

When they finally reached the town, the three met with commander Lowan in his study and reported their findings, holding back their feelings better that they could. The man listened to the whole tale with his mouth open, in silence, then gave them a gold coin each. As the boys were leaving the room, Roric could clearly hear the fist of the commander slamming on the table.

He must feel responsible. Demios was put in charge by him, after all.

He shook his head and focused, because the worse had yet to come. Meran and Rata in fact weren't that good with words and had left to the youngest among them the daunting task of telling Frauli about the recent events. Understandably, the shieldbearer was devastated by the news.

In the end, all of them spent the entire night at a tavern drinking away the pain.

***

"Dead," said Roric, washing one of Tolwin's flasks in a water bucket. "I can't accept that. One moment he was there, fighting, and then..."

"It's not your fault, Roric. We knew that a necromancer was around, but to think that Lord Stelvan's house was her nest..." stated the priest. "Poor Demios. He wasn't trained for that."

"Wait a moment, you said that the necromancer is a woman? How do you know?"

"Yes, the cultist we captured mentioned it."

"Then the one we met..." said the boy, "Was her nephew? Lord Stelvan's son?"

The question remained unanswered, while the two kept packing up Tolwin's stuff to leave Aregat. Lowan had sent all the trackers they still had to find where the cultists had gone, and it seemed that they had fled towards the forests South-West of there. The town had offered an extra payment for their heads.

"We will catch them, right?" asked Roric. "The others want to avenge Demios. Frauli and Meran are constantly sparring like madmen, and I heard Rata has been riding around for two days straight in search for a trail."

"I've also sent word to the Order. My name has still a weight among those people, even if they don't exactly like me. We need some serious help."

"Will anyone come?"

"They might be on their way in a couple of days, maybe... But it depends on who reads my message. I know there's still an important tribunal in Rayol and they can't just let a necromancer live."

"That's reassuring."

"To me, it's unnerving," said the priest. "Back then, a certain number of people treated me like a criminal because of my choice. I hope they don't hold to that grudge anymore."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Roric finished doing his work and helped the old man to get his wagon ready for the following day.

"There's one thing I can't get out of my mind," observed Tolwin. "Everything you told me proves that you really stumbled into necromantic magic. That creepy fellow had some abilities, right?"

"He could shoot beams of light that made things rot," confirmed the boy. "And that was just the apprentice, according to what we know."

"Exactly. Where was Lord Stelvan's mother, the true mastermind? We know for sure that he was Rickhart, the nephew, but he can't be the head of the cult. The man we interrogated mentioned someone who is clearly the grandmother."

"What if she just died?" guessed Roric. "The diary said she was old and ill. He might have taken her place..."

"If she had an apprentice, he was certainly ready to resurrect her. At this rate, we might have to face two necromancers."

That thought was even more disheartening. If that Rickhart was so powerful, how strong was his grandmother going to be? The boy bit his lip, cursing the fact that every information about their relationship had burned with the mansion and there was no way of discovering how many things the master had taught to her student.

"The powers you have seen are still spirit magic, like mine," explained the priest. "It's an evil, corrupted form. If the need arises I will take the risk and fight those people, but I can't do it alone. If only we had one or two more priests..."

"How dangerous is a necromancer, exactly?"

"Plenty. An expert of the dark arts can inflict wounds that won't heal without an intervention from the Light. He can dominate minds, and raise even more corpses than what you saw."

"But there must be some kind of limit," said Roric. "They can't simply empty every grave and create an army. They are still human... Aren't they?"

Tolwin nodded. "Yes. They wouldn't be able to tap into their spirit if that wasn't the case. Using that kind of abilities rots their bodies and twists their thoughts, however. They can never leave behind their mortal nature. That in itself is the limit of a necromancer. It's the reason why they need a cult of followers, because necromantic rituals require a lot of sacrifices."

"Now that I think about it, how does it work? The reanimation, I mean," asked the boy. "Those corpses didn't feel fear nor pain, but at the same time they acted like they didn't have minds. All they did was... Going forward."

"Don't underestimate their effectiveness. In large numbers, those walking corpses can be an unstoppable force. You managed to take care of a bunch of them only because of the circumstances. Imagine being outside, without a cover, and having to face thirty or more. That's the amount a master can raise."

Thirty? Or more? That's terrifying!

"Still, they moved so slowly," said Roric. "I don't see how-"

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"Who did the summoning? The necromancer's apprentice or his cultists?"

The young mercenary stopped, recalling his memories. Rickhart was there when the bodies started moving, right? Yes, he was. He had talked to them and left right away, leaving his lackeys back... But in the end he couldn't be the one conducting the ritual. He had barely participated.

"You are right. I'm pretty sure the cultists did the job. They traced symbols with blood and did other stuff."

"That's the answer to your question. Had he reanimated them himself, the undead wouldn't have been that weak and would have charged at you at full force," replied Tolwin. "Speaking of which, there's a good chance that we'll have to fight them again. Take these, with the money you already have it should be enough for a proper weapon."

The old man pulled out a small pouch of coins and gave it to Roric, who accepted it skeptically.

"Get a good blade," concluded the priest. "I fear that you'll need it very soon."

***

When he got outside Roric found Meran, who was waiting for him a short distance from the tent.

The boy from Guhrien had a conflicted expression on his face, and strangely didn't even seem aggressive like usual. It was more like he had spent a lot of time thinking and had something to say.

Now that I notice, he hasn't called names or kicked me once since the day Demios died. Have we... Ever talked to each other? Oh, I don't care now. I've got other things to do.

"Hey," said Roric. "Listen, I'm not really in the mood for-"

"I'm sorry," just declared Meran.

The younger boy listened to those words and froze on the spot.

Is he... Really apologizing?

"I've been mean to you since the start," continued the other. "I won't be mad at you in the future, even if I don't know how to do it. It's what Demios wanted, isn't it? We might as well... Respect his final wish."

Roric wasn't sure of what to say. Meran was acting like a real human being, showing doubts and regret for the very first time. He couldn't say to be resentful against him, but ever since he had joined the company that boy had done everything in his power to be a constant annoyance. All because he was alone and couldn't bear it. Yet there he was, ready to start from scratch.

Still, we are companions.

"Don't do it for Demios. Do it for yourself," answered Roric, with a smile. "You know, I could actually use your help, if you have time. Do you know anything about swords? I need to buy a new one."

He knew that Meran loved to fight. That meant he loved weapons too. His excited reaction confirmed the hypothesis.

"I... For real? Sure! Come, I know a good place."

And so they strolled through the streets of Aregat, reaching a shop that sold every instrument of death one could possibly want. There, in the matter of a few minutes, every trace of the tension among the two disappeared and they lost track of time while searching for the right blade. Roric couldn't help but admit that he was having a lot of fun and that Meran was the best person he could have asked to. He was capable.

The boys tried a huge variety of swords. Straight and curved ones, one-handers, two-handers, but finding the correct balance between weight, length and shape wasn't an easy task. That, before even considering the price. There were many weapons Roric simply couldn't afford, despite the shop being relatively small and unimportant. They had spent at least three hours there, when the young mercenary noticed a longsword in a black scabbard, hanging in the middle of some second hand tools.

"What about that one?" he asked.

The shopkeeper grabbed the blade like he was surprised by its very presence. "This one? To be honest, I don't know how it's still here, lad... It's a good sword, belonged to a strange fella, a bounty hunter of some sort. He arrived in this town on the brink of death and left this world a couple of days later. She's been in my shop ever since, for years, but nobody ever bothered to buy it."

The boy reached for the weapon and drew it. Its handle fit his hands perfectly, and even the size was somewhat alright, taking into account that he was still growing. He spun it around, feeling how well balanced it was.

"It's too heavy to use it with a shield, and too light to pack the punch of a real two-hander. The steel looks good, but forget about it," commented Meran, examining the blade. "No wonder it's been left here. This is something a rogue swordsman would use, not a soldier."

"It's good enough for me," declared Roric. "I like it."

And it was true. That weapon was strangely appealing to him and wielding turned out to be very easy if he could use both hands, so he gladly paid the price. The shopkeeper gave him a little discount, to get rid of it, demanding the boy's former sword and most of the money he had in return, and then the two left the building. It was the last light of the day.

"Thanks for the help, Meran. It means a lot to me, really."

Roric held his right hand towards the other boy, who shook it in return after a moment of hesitation.

"Don't... Don't mention it, kid. Come and find me if you want to train together. Me and Frauli are working our asses off to be ready for those cultists."

"You can count on it."

***

--- Lowan

The commander brought his company towards the village of Levya, the settlement where the traces of the necromancer and his followers led. According to the people of Aregat it was supposed to be just a bunch of houses on the edge of the forests. A perfect place to hide.

"Are you sure we want to fight the cultists right away?" asked Tolwin, who was riding at his side. "We could have waited for a couple more days."

"That's out of the question," replied Lowan. "Keeping these lands safe is our priority. Plus, we are being paid for it."

All around the Republic I'm now known as a coward. It's about time I turn my reputation around, and show that I can make a difference. To my men, first of all.

"I know you are doing it for those people. I can read it in your eyes," said the priest. "And I surely want to see this necromancer vanish as much as you do. But you don't have to rush things. We could use some help and-"

"Listen, my friend. Back then, in Sinen... I stopped regretting my decision. It's time to move forward and I intend to."

"I was just saying to be careful."

"The people in Aregat count on me, regardless of my current standing with the nobles or what I did in the past," went on the commander. "And I won't let them down. This is what I want. I know this won't be an easy foe, especially with the company not being as strong as it was, but I have faith."

It wasn't completely true. He wasn't sleeping well lately. Yet, he had to prove his point somehow.

"I'm here to aid you, as always," laughed Tolwin. "Happy to see that you finally managed to leave the past behind, Lowan."

That... Wasn't true either. Lowan, however, had bigger concerns than Sinen at that moment.

"What about the letter you sent the other day? Do you think somebody will come?"

"I just informed them," said the priest. "But the paladins won't just come in forces if a mere priest asks for it."

"That's too bad," stated the commander. "What if the one asking was someone they know? Like another paladin, for example?"

He had made his research, after meeting him. A man named Tolwin existed in the past, in the ranks of the same Order, but he definitely wasn't a mere priest. His old friend never talked much about those days, and that had made his curiosity grow.

Everyone has his own share of problems, it seems. And judging from his face, this topic is something he'd rather forget about.

"They would answer the call, maybe... But don't be so sure of it. They are still a bit pissed towards me, for reasons I won't disclose. They might even come, arrest me and move on."

"It seems a sticky problem... So, I guessed right?" wondered Lowan. "I never cared about your past, you know. But if you are that person, it means that you can greatly be of help against this enemy."

Tolwin sighed. "I'm old, Lowan. I will only fight if it's necessary. I don't know what stories you have heard about me, but know this: now I am a priest."

He then sped up the pace of his horse, rushing ahead.

What a complicated man. Funny how he too is constantly running from a past he'd rather leave behind. Maybe that's why he's always been so concerned for me.

"Can't you simply ask for forgiveness, or something like that?"

The other man stopped, and waited for him.

"Trust me. Most paladins aren't people you can reason with. I'll have to lay low if they get here. I don't want to spend my final years in a cell."

Without saying anything more, the two went on for a couple of minutes. Then Lowan broke the silence with a chuckle.

"What's the matter, Lowan?"

"Nothing, nothing... The Eye of Judgment, in the flesh? Now this is something."

The priest huffed. "Say what you want. I can't wait for this story to end."