“By the decree of laws, I demand that you stop.” demanded Mr. Borbus.

“Um no.” I said.

“No? But you’re breaking the law.”

“Nosturdam’s laws. I’m not in Nosturdam.”

The gnome staggered backwards, physically taken aback. It was a statement that was entirely ignorant about the intricacies of law. That was not how laws worked. If the crime was committed in the jurisdiction of the place with laws then it was a crime no matter where you lived. But Mr. Borbus was not a novice, years of experience had taught him that it took more than the knowledge of law to convict ignorant criminals. It took sweet words and creativity.

“Hear me out. While you were prancing about, as your lawyer I did the due diligence to figure out what was making you tick. I know about the blood of Armure. I’ve pieced together the puzzle that you’ve yet to solve. Do you want to know why it was so easy for you to steal it? Why you will be wishing to turn yourselves in for your own safety.”

“What do you mean? We came for the vial and we retrieved the vial. It’s as simple as that.”

“You aren’t working alone, are you?”

“Yes, Azog and Rose were by my side the entire trip.” I stated.

Out of his stylish and manly gnomish hand satchel, Borbus pulled out a black beetle skewered with what looked like a thin toothpick. On closer inspection, you’d realize that it was a small gnomish knife. I wasn’t jealous of that knife. It was too small.

“Aye, you’ve found one of those lucky beetles. So what, we’ve had like two of 'em following us around. We’ve got twice the luck you’ve got. ” Azog piped up.

“What if I told you it was not luck who built these beetles, but a sorcery like no other that hasn’t been seen for hundreds of years. Sorcery is so menavolant, that it twists the very fabric of destiny.”

“So you’re saying they’re lucky?”

“No, I am saying they make luck. Nothing is given in this world. They help you succeed. This is not the first time a beetle infestation has plagued this city. All accounts of darkish bluish black beetles end in a peculiar way.”

“What peculiar way?” I asked.

“Farvros Lepersfoot, a merchant from Cycle 5 Bin 34, was aided by the blue beetles in retrieving the holy sword of very holy and bright light. Vaporized by the sword when he stuck it into the maws of an Eldari Mountain Goat.

Janus Biggleton, a seamstress from Cycle 3 Bin 22, was aided by the darkish blue beetles in navigating the underground sewers of ultimate death, only to be eaten by a Giant Shrew after delivering a package to an Eldritch Terror.

A group of four sailors, Tim Bob Tim and Tim, navigated through the treacherous islands of Nosturdam shore to unplug the bottom of the great artificial sea. Cycle 2 Bin 9. That is why there is no sea shore near Nosturdam anymore. They were sucked into a whirlpool created from the unpluggening to never be seen again.”

“Ok, I get it. Bad things happen to those who follow these beetles. Do you have proof?” I asked.

The gnome tossed the leather bound book. The title read, The Completely Real and Factual Accounts of the Actually Blue shelled Black Crag Beetle.

“Seems kind of wordy, probably propaganda” I mentioned offhandedly.

“It’s also probably why it didn’t sell well. Dropping The Actually Blue shelled part would have done the book wonders,” added Azog.

I disagreed with his suggestion but now was not the time to split hairs.

I opened up the book and began to read. They were very well fleshed out accounts for a fictional book, I thought. It was almost like these were factual accounts that actually happened. I was no fool, though, so I wasn’t immediately fooled.

“Look, how do we know that you didn’t just write this book while we were running around the city?” I asked.

“The ancient leather and fragile bindings, I suppose.” said the gnome.

“Right. Right. That makes perfect sense, too much sense really.”

“It does look old.” Rose chimed in.

“If that isn’t enough to convince you that you’re making a grave error, then I would flip to the last page.”

I flipped to the last page. It read:

An odd quirk of the beetle phenomena is that every time the user is blessed with a conniving of the beetles, there comes a point where the future victim is confronted and warned about their demise. Not one recorded instance has occurred, where they believed the voice of reason. With these accounts, it is my wish that this historic precedent is broken and the world gets to witness what happens if the beetles do not achieve their desired result: the death of the questor.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t believe you.” I said, but I couldn’t keep lying to myself. I knew something was up with those beetles, I knew they were too good to be true. I thought that maybe Druid Urna had been behind the strange beetles, then I had reckoned it was the Adjudicator, then Alric. But if this book was as old as it claimed to be, then only the Dark One could be pulling the strings. He was so benevolent, though. He gave me mana sight, he saw a bright future for dark art users like myself. Maybe this time was different. Maybe everyone who was given a task thought that. Maybe I was going a bit mad.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I, however, had to fulfill my end of the fetch. I did not forget about the curse inflicted onto me.

“I’m sorry. But I’m afraid that I’m unable to comply.”

The gnome paused and tapped his foot.

“I’m afraid you’d say that. It was worth a shot, but if the words in the book are true, I guess this situation was out of my control. Guards seize them.”

Twenty of Nosturdam’s finest guards marched forward, each carrying priceless artifacts definitely gained through legitimate means. The three of us didn’t stand a chance. We turned to run. Scrambling away from the city only got you so far when one of the guards had boots of swiftness. They were actually boots of speed not swiftness but that did not matter as he tackled Azog.

“Go on, Arthur! Don’t let these city guards take you back to the dungeon!” Azog roared defiantly, as he wrestled with the much smaller city guard. Azog would win eventually, but the smaller guard only had to slow Azog down before his fellow guards caught up to us.

It was brave to run, I thought to myself. This was all for a greater purpose, I tried to convince myself. But I didn’t believe it. I knew what would become of Azog if he were brought back into the city and charged for his crimes so even if it meant my death I turned around. I was a fool who sprinted towards the guard with the fancy boots and tackled him.

Oomph. The wind was knocked out of the guard’s lungs. I wrestled with him on the floor.

“What are you doing Arthur! Azog’s sacrifice will be in vain, there is no chance we make it out of here with a fight.” Rose pleaded, stopping as well.

“You can go on ahead, Rose! I’ve got to help, Azog. I owed him that much.” I shouted as the guard recovered and pinned my shoulder to the ground. I struggled to break the pin. Azog slammed his fist into the side of the man, sending him sprawling off of me. By now, the other guards were about 30 feet away, preparing to tackle the three of us.

I braced myself for guards about to tackle me. But that moment never came, instead skeletal hands broke from the ground, as if the bodies and laborers of ancient Nosturdam were being pulled to the surface.

But there was more than just the common skeleton coming from the ground. In the skies, flew spectral aberrations from the nearby forest, diving and sucking the life force from the guards, seeping them of warmth. Ghouls forged from foxes and shrews emerged from the nearby wheat fields, biting at the toes and ankles of the guards.

“A necromancer!” screamed one of the guards, as a skeleton grabbed his ankle. His large hammer of artificially high strength and low velocity, crushed the skeleton into a fine white powder. He coughed as he inhaled the powder, preparing to slowly bring his hammer down on the seemingly endless hoard.

“Is this your doing, Arthur!?” shouted Rose, amazed at the might of me.

“No. But give me a year or two and I’m confident I can get on this level.” I insisted.

Out of the forest, appeared Alric. His eyes were sunken, his body seemingly frailer than it had already been. He masked his emotions, but I could see the anger burning under his facade. His shaking hands and bloodshot eyes made him look miserable.

“Alric! Over here!” I yelled.

He marched towards me. Looking partially relieved, a small smile creeped onto his lips. Alric’s smile quivered as if Alric was not used to smiling, as if he was trying to unstick a perpetual frown.

“My apprentice! You’ve accomplished more than anything I could have ever asked for. My research has gone well with the insights the dark one has provided me. I got your letter. You’ve managed to retrieve the Blood of Armure?”

“Letter?”

“Yes, the one you sent saying your plan was to ambush the guards and church at the gate. What a well-thought out letter. Today, we’ll win and uncover progress for magic that hasn’t been around for eons. As we speak, some of my skeletons are carrying George's remains to us. Here, in the city of Nosturdam, we will do what few have done. We’ll be among the greats.”

“I did not write you a letter. Something is amiss.” I stated.

“A slip in your memory, perhaps? It doesn’t matter, you’ve found the Blood of Armure. With only one day remaining before George’s spirit escapes the mortal realm, we must perform the ritual.”

Alric put his hand on my shoulder, sticking his other hand out to like he was asking for the vial of blood.

“Look, Alric. I’m having my doubts that this vial does what you think it does. Remember when the Dark One gave me mana sight?”

“Yes, I remember. A fortunate boon, from a poorly worded question. You’ll be a great Necromancer some day. Once we finish this kerfuffle, I’ll have enough noteworthiness to get you a scholarship to the Academy of the Dark Arts. We’ll climb the ranks of Necromancy, to teach the world what they’re missing out on.”

“Ok. Well, I’m still not sure what the vial is going to do, what you think it will do. I’m getting a strong subjugation vibe from the mana flowing out of the little cork.”

“Do not have doubt now, you’ve reached the finish line. I need you to push through, and finish your fetch for George.”

“What about this book?” I held up the book the lawyer had thrown to me. I handed it to Alric.

“Lies and Deceit. No written accounts can accurately portray the events of the Dark One,” Alric spat.

Alric tossed the old, leather bound book onto the floor. Again, he reached out with his hand. I couldn’t help but think that he was ignoring the danger that seemed all but certain. A sick feeling was slowly growing inside of me. I had to save my mentor.

The problem was that these circumstances didn’t feel like luck. Not with the beetles and the book, not when the ingredients Alric used to stave off George’s soul would only save him to the day I got the Blood of Armure. It was all orchestrated, and that worried me. For the sake of Azog, Rose, and whatever the hell was going to happen to George, I realized that I needed to stop the Blood of Armure from being used, at least before I understood what it was going to do.

“Is the Blood of Armure really necessary? What would happen if we completed the ritual without it?” I asked.

I backed up a few steps as a spear landed just short of the three of us. The guards were losing for now, but they were getting the better of the undead. Soon, they’d arrest us if we didn’t act.

“Is that a risk you want to take? The foremost expert on Necromancy has given us the recipe, we shouldn’t risk changing it. It could very well be an essential part of the ritual.” said Alric.

“What if that Necromancer didn’t have our best wishes at heart? Let’s think about this like rational folk. A day is more than enough time to think over what the best course of action is. Nothing good is coming from that blood. Perhaps we donate it to the Nosturdam blood bank instead?”

‘Give me the vial. I do not tolerate my apprentices mucking up months of my work,” demanded Alric.

Alric's facial expressions made apparent his impatient anger. I could tell his restraint was faltering when his hands trembled and began reaching for his knife. I bent down and snagged the knife from the fallen guard. I did not want to kill Alric, I wanted him to see reason.