Inch by precious inch, Jeremiah Thorn failed. With a diamond tipped needle, he painstakingly scratched a trough into a specially prepared plate of metal. It needed to be perfect; perfect depth, perfect width, and perfectly in line with the spiderweb of swirling grooves he had already cut into the metal over weeks of work. He could feel the muscles in his back, already tight with stress, begin to throb with the omen of imminent cramps.

He sat up straight, stretching against the back of the wooden chair he had placed in front of his workbench, it didn’t help. Gus the toad held perfectly still nearby, sympathetically focusing as hard as he could.

“Just one more little notch buddy, and we should be all done,” Jeremiah whispered to Gus. The final step was a minuscule fleck of gold that needed to be placed across the line he had just carved, but it required its own tiny resting place. He chose a new needle from the leather case unrolled beside him. Dozens of diamond tipped steel instruments, imperceptibly but critically different from each other. He chose a size 000 rasp pick, and dragged it once across the line. He took his pair of tweezers and gently lifted the tiny golden rod, no thicker than a human hair, and placed it across the whisper of a scratch he had just made. Too shallow. He scratched one more time, and placed the golden rod again. Still too shallow.

This should be easy, he thought. This is easy. It was just a Strengthen rune, very simple, very common. Just a single word on a plate of metal, without any additions. All he had to do was be perfect.

“Patience,” he said to himself, “now is where we use patience. We go extra slow, one scratch at a time, just like we’ve been taught.”

He scratched, he placed, he scratched, he placed. Hundreds of times, maybe thousands, he repeated the action. He felt the rasp wearing away at his patience faster than it wore away the metal. After an hour he felt a stabbing pain in the joints of his finger and stopped. Rubbing the ache away he inspected his work. The notch looked no deeper now than when he had started.

Enchanting was, without a doubt, an incredible pain in the ass. The act of precisely writing magic words, literally the physical symbols that were spoken when magic is cast, required exacting precision. Controlling the magic that flowed through the runes through slivers of material and modifying words only compounded the difficulty.

“Ok, so maybe that was overdoing it. We are still going to be patient, Gus, this is not me being impatient. But we can probably step things up a little bit right?”

Gus did not comment.

Jeremiah looked around the room while he stretched, it had closed in on him even more than when he had first started. Simple wooden walls were obscured by endless tools, metal strips, and chalked out elaborate diagrams. It was endless tools organized in a system so convoluted that anyone would believe it to be pure chaos. But Jeremiah had learned, at least in part, the system. That worried him.

“Patience,” he repeated, “I am patient.”

He scratched, he placed. Too shallow. He scratched twice, he placed. Too deep. Jeremiah held still and stared at the fleck of gold that shifted side to side in its cradle.

“Ok,” was all he said, and placed down his tools. There was a not fully ignorable urge to destroy the room and everything in it. Gus let out a single angry croak.

Before he got to learn where his boiling frustration was taking him, he heard the slightest squeak of the door opening.

His teacher, Thurok, stood in the doorway. Small for an orc, and with grayer rather than greenish skin, he still had the distinctive orcish tusks. Though they were elaborately carved with runes. Thurok was scowling at the hinges of the door, the whisper squeak seemingly capturing his displeasure above all else.

“Thorn,” he said, but didn’t continue. Jeremiah waited, not quite patiently, before giving a cough.

“Hmmm?” Thurok looked up like Jeremiah had just interrupted him, “Show your work.”

Jeremiah carried the square plate of metal across the room and held it out to Thurok like an offering at an altar. Thurok barely looked at it.

“Terrible, nonfunctional, but better,” he said with bored disdain.

“Yes sir,” said Jeremiah. Any sense of disappointment had been burned out of him at this point, Thurok was not delicate with his words, nor encouraging.

Thurok tipped the square of metal into his hand, catching the miniscule golden piece as it fell out.

“Any advice on how to more accurately nest the conduits and nodes?” asked Jeremiah.

“Yes. Do it better,” said Thurok, continuing to inspect the plate. Jeremiah nodded, this was very much in line with Thurok’s usual advice. The fact that he said it was better should have felt like winning a blue ribbon, but it was so couched in an ocean of bland criticism it made no difference.

“Thank you, sir,” said Jeremiah. His eyes were glazing over already.

“Enchantment is as much an art form as it is a magical discipline. It requires absolute, singular focus. Passion is meaningless, inspiration is meaningless, only precision matters. The sooner you understand this, Thorn the sooner you will improve beyond the simplest Enchantments,” Thurok handed the plate back to Jeremiah, who took it listlessly.

“I understand sir, it’s just…some precise specific guidance might help?” Jeremiah said, smiling weakly.

Thurok recoiled at the request, “You want me to do it for you? You will learn nothing. You must trust the process. It is the process that granted me the skills I have, the skills that enchanted your compatriot Allison’s armor, and countless other items wielded by great warriors and heroes.”

“So no?” asked Jeremiah.

“You don’t want my help, your weakness wants my answers. I will give you neither and starve your weakness that much more. One day you will thank me,” Thurok began to leave.

“Am I done for today?” asked Jeremiah. The answer wasn’t a surprise, though the verboseness was.

“No. Clean the workshop. In addition, I want you to write the Strength rune five times, the Adhesion rune five times, the Decay rune five times, the If rune twice, the And rune twice, and the Delay rune twice. Use whatever scrap material is handy. Then you may depart,” Thurok said over his shoulder.

“Yes sir,” said Jeremiah on reflex.

It was another two hours before Jeremiah left Thurok the Enchanter’s workshop. It took up the entire third floor of an expansive commercial building near the center of Dramir. Rain shined on the elaborate marbles that composed the structures here to a nearly reflective sheen. Jeremiah, shouldering his bag of loaned tools, enjoyed the cool water and fresh air on his way home. He gave a nod to the construction crew who were still dismantling the burned out remains of an accountancy office that had been burned down in the last year. A few nodded back, one even graced him with a wave.

As Jeremiah walked the buildings got shorter and closer together. The nods he got became friendlier, there were even some smiles sprinkled in.

“How are you doing, Mr. Thorn?” asked a man walking with his wife. His face was weather worn and dirty, his wife wore the rough whites of a laundress.

“Doing fine, thank you,” said Jeremiah. Jeremiah didn’t recognize the man, but his wife pushed her husband onward with only a curt nod to him.

It was a roll of the dice every evening he walked home. Usually it was friendly nods or hellos, sometimes someone would call him the savior of the city, sometimes they’d just spit ‘Necromancer’ at him on their way by. Jeremiah was glad today was an easy one.

He finally arrived home, and had the place to himself. He threw his bag on the couch and collapsed next to it. No sooner had his weight settled than the front door opened again, and Allison stepped inside. Her normally wild curly hair was only bunching up tighter to her head in defiance of the rain. She shook herself and grinned when she saw him.

“Good, you’re home! Let’s get to your exercises!” she said, kicking off her boots with a flourish.

“Can I just die instead? Work was really rough today,” said Jeremiah. The idea of moving again was torturous.

“Nope, these days are the days it’s most important. You gotta hurt through the pain! Now on your feet soldier!” Allison extended a hand, Jeremiah just stared up at her with pleading eyes.

“That bad huh?” she said. Jeremiah nodded. “Alright, the habit is more important than the work sometimes. I promise we’re just going to do some easy work, ok? Just to loosen you up?” She leaned toward him, her hand getting closer and closer to his face.

Jeremiah felt a day’s worth of frustration boil up again, but Allison’s enthusiasm and warm expression tamped it down. Slowly, reluctantly, Jeremiah reached a hand up to grab hers. Allison bounced with excitement as he got closer, then snatched his hand and yanked him on his feet.

“Attaboy! Proud of you Jay! Let’s do this!” She dragged him out in the rain, back behind the house.

Allison started him with some warm up calisthenics; jumping, hopping, jogging and stretching. As Jeremiah started to breathe heavier he started to feel a little bit better. They geared up and began some light sparring.

“So, work was that bad huh?” she said, letting Jeremiah’s wooden spear tip glance harmlessly off her shield.

“Yeah. Well, I mean no. I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel like he’s teaching me anything anymore,” said Jeremiah. He flicked the end of his short spear in a high feint, then thrust toward Allison’s leg. She swatted it away with a lazy flick of her sword.

“Is he not teaching, or are you not learning?” she asked. She had been training Jeremiah in spear fighting for the better part of a year now, with some physical exercise thrown in for good measure. It also served as a great time to talk to each other.

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“I guess the latter? He just tells me to ‘do better’ but doesn’t tell me what that means, or how to do it,” Jeremiah tried a trio of quick stabs, shoulder hip shoulder. Nothing connected. He was never able to land even a touch on Allison unless she let him.

“Slower,” she said, regarding his attacks, “you’re jabbing. Remember, you poke. It’s funny, that kind of teaching would probably work for me.”

“What’s the difference between jabbing and poking?” asked Jeremiah, though he slowed his attacks down anyways.

“Just means you’re not committing to the attacks, so they’re not dangerous. You ever try talking to him about his teaching style? Asking him to be more like…your other teacher?” Allison avoided Flusoh’s name like it was a taboo. Jeremiah thought her first and only meeting with Flusoh likely spooked her.

“Oh sure, but he’s not interested. He’s an amazing enchanter, and I’ve already learned a lot just by happenstance. But I can’t-“

“Balance your stance,” she quickly interrupted.

“Sorry. But I can’t really break through to the advanced stuff. Especially converting flat runes to curved runes. Like, over a sword blade, or on an armored plate? It’s so difficult!”

They sparred in silence for a time. She pushed him into some basic defense; long loping shots or messy thrusts he had to dodge or deflect.

“Remember to counter. Otherwise, its just free attempts to kill yo-GOOD!” she exclaimed as Jeremiah turned a deflection into a thrust. Suddenly Jeremiah was in a rhythm, defenses turned into offenses seamlessly and back into defenses as Allison herself countered.

“Yes!” she shouted, and picked up the speed, “Keep it up, keep it up!” Jeremiah’s heart started to pound, his mind was almost blank, letting his body and reflexes do the fighting. He realized he was experiencing muscle memory, something zombies could possess. That little thought cracked his concentration, and he began overthinking. He lost his footwork, and overcommitted to a thrust, leaning far out over his lead foot. He couldn’t recover in time, and Allison swatted him with her wooden sword.

The boil of frustration that he had been nursing all day suddenly reinvigorated itself, he gritted his teeth and rubbed the sore spot on his head.

“Excellent! Jay, that was excellent!” said Allison, settling back to a neutral stance. Just like that, she banished the frustration and dragged a smile out of him.

“Gods, she’s such a good teacher,” thought Jeremiah. She seemed to know just when and how to offer praise that kept him eager to keep going.

They took a breather, stretching out their coiled muscles.

“So…,” she started, “been having any nightmares lately?”

Jeremiah thought about lying, to not worry her, but it wanted to come out. “A few, now and then. The uh, the man in the closet dream, sometimes. And that dream where I can feel her…struggling.”

Allison nodded, but didn’t say anything. She knew about the Vivica dreams. It had been nearly a year since he had released the undead from his control, burying Vivica somewhere far away. Hopefully forever. But even though he had never felt her struggling through his rudimentary connection with the undead, he still sometimes dreamed he could. It always woke him up feeling nauseous, as opposed to terrified like the closet dream.

“Getting better though,” said Jeremiah, “less frequent.” She just nodded again, letting him say whatever he needed. Wanting to reassure her, Jeremiah shook himself out and then pointed his spear at her in a challenge, “Wanna do something fun?” he asked with a cocky smirk.

She raised an eyebrow, “Oh? What would that be?” she twirled the sword in a flourish.

“Give me everything you’ve got,” said Jeremiah, “all out.”

“Absolutely not,” Allison laughed, “that is way too dangerous. But if you’re looking to get humbled…”

She tossed her shield and longsword off to the side and picked up a training short sword. She held it in her off hand and tucked her other arm behind her back.

“Seriously?” said Jeremiah.

“Come to momma,” Allison dared.

Jeremiah didn’t hesitate and thrust right for her chest. Allison spun like a dancer, the spear head missing her by a hair’s breadth. Facing away from Jeremiah she bent over backwards into a handspring, closing the distance in a single acrobatic motion. Jeremiah tried to jump away, but Allison was already on top of him, and thrust the sword into his chest.

Jeremiah sprawled backwards, “What the hell was that?!” he yelled. He had never seen her move like that before.

“Improvisation and athletics. You ok?” She offered him a hand up, which he took.

Jeremiah rolled his shoulders and massaged one of his arms

He had to admit, they felt different than they used to. Harder, a little larger, some shapes he didn’t recognize. In a moment of vanity, he took off his shirt and inspected himself, he felt he looked pretty good! The baby pudge he’d carried with him for the longest time was nearly completely gone, and he felt an energy that he realized hadn’t always been with him.

He looked up and realized Allison was present for his moment of vanity and smiling in amusement at him.

“Sorry,” he said embarrassed.

“Don’t be, you’ve worked hard, take some pride in the results,” she slapped him on his bare shoulder, “come on in, we’re done for today.”

They gathered up their gear and went back in the house. Delilah and Bruno had apparently come home during their training. They were sitting at the dinner table together staring into a stack of papers each.

“Welcome home guys,” said Allison. Delilah and Bruno just grunted. “Our dear Jeremiah had a rough day, everyone say nice things to him.” She commanded.

“Who’d you steal those shoulders from Jay?” said Bruno casually.

Delilah glanced up, her eyes flicked once up and down Jeremiah, then went back to the papers.

Jeremiah self consciously blushed and put his shirt back on, but he couldn’t hide his grin, “Yeah, yeah, take it easy on me guys.”

“Boo…” Delilah jeered as he put his shirt back on.

“Gods, it’s good to be home,” thought Jeremiah.

There was a knock on the door. Delilah sighed and answered it. A halfling, smartly dressed in a black suit, stood underneath a black umbrella. He had a bound collection of papers under one arm.

“Lady Delilah Fortune?” he asked.

“Hey, Gillipop,” she held out her hand expectantly.

“Are you Lady Delilah Fortune?” he asked again.

“You know my name Gill.,”

“Rules are rules,” Gill didn’t flinch.

“Yes, I am Lady Delilah Fortune,” Delilah saidadmitted.

“Your presence, or the presence of your attorney, is requested before the Fourth Civil Court of Dramir in three weeks time to answer a charge of grand larceny and conspiracy,” he handed her the bundle of papers.

“Neat,” was all she said, and closed the door in Gill’s face.

Allison threw Jeremiah a towel and sat at the table., Jay went to the fireplace to warm up.

“Another lawsuit?” asked Allison, toweling off her hair.

“Yup,” said Delilah, flipping through the new pack of papers. There had been a steady parade of court summons ever since a vast portion of Dramir’s wealth had disappeared underground. No expense had been spared excavating the point of its disappearance, but the priceless treasures had been dragged along with Vivica to places unknown. Searching for them was now a crime, and even knowledge of the direction the undead had tunneled was a state secret. So, the wealthy and influential had brought their wrath upon them through the legal system.

“Shouldn’t the King be able to protect us from stuff like that?” asked Jeremiah.

“The King has been instrumental in protecting us from everything he has authority over. We’d likely have been hanged long ago without his help,” said Delilah. She reached the end of the pack of papers and shook it as though more pages would fall out and held up her hands as if expecting more. “That’s it? There isn’t even a proper case here. They’re just trying to force us to pay more court fees and waste our time.”

“Is it working?” asked Bruno, comparing two more papers. He had become Delilah’s right hand man where paperwork was concerned. A fact that sparked just the tiniest feeling of jealousy in Jeremiah.

“Yes, dammit!” Delilah slammed the stack of papers onto another stack. “We’re getting picked apart like carrion! Between legal fees, settlements, and cases we actually lose, we’re not exactly running in the black. The money from leasing the desert fortress isn’t keeping up nearly as much as I had hoped.”

“I can’t really pick up any more students,” said Allison. She leaned over and dripped on the papers, Delilah didn’t care.

“Thurok pays what he pays,” said Jeremiah.

“I know, I know!” said Delilah, “I’m not asking you guys to do more, I just…” she sighed, “we just need some way out from under this. Toad me!” She held out her hand expectantly. Jeremiah placed Gus in her open palm and Delilah stroked his head, much to Gus’s delight.

“Don’t hog the toad,” said Allison, and began petting Gus’s back.

“One for you Jay,” said Bruno, tossing a letter up to him.

Jeremiah opened and quickly skimmed the letter, “Necromancer…husband…sick…one last…please…burial…” he threw it into the fire. Those letters still came from time to time.

“What do you mean ‘out from under it?’” Jeremiah asked, watching the letter burn.

“What I mean is that it’s not a matter of money. These…vultures!,” she gestured at the piles, “will just keep coming. They’re probably employing people specifically to make our lives miserable. We need influence, or someone with influence on our side, to make this crap stop,” said Delilah.

“And again, the king?” said Bruno.

“Hector has a lot of constraints being an elected king.” said Allison, “I mean, not a LOT of constraints, but limitations on what he can make people do.” Allison started sifting through the papers herself.

Bruno shot a conspiratorial smirk smile to Jeremiah at Allison’s use of the monarch’s king’s first name.

Jeremiah joined them, sitting in silence together, in defiance of the bureaucratic wrath that threatened to overwhelm them. He felt useless. At least when he was The Necromancer his name could invoke a little fear, or greed as the case may be. Now it felt like Delilah was fighting all their battles all over again, and there was nothing he could do to help.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Allison suddenly stood up, holding a letter close to her face and scanning back and forth. Everyone stared up at her expectantly. “How do we feel about a little adventuring?!” She was still reading the letter, a bright smiling spreading across her face.

“Gods yes!” barked Delilah. Bruno and Jeremiah laughed at her outburst. “No, I’m serious!” she continued, “windfall aside, I am so sick of paperwork. Let's nearly die somewhere! It’ll be a damn vacation.”

“Well, you’re in luck cause I’ve got a newly discovered tomb that’s claimed one life already. Due to–, get this–, a trap.”

Together they oohoe’d and aahe’d

“Any other information about it?” asked Jeremiah.

“Just a rough location, not too far from here, relatively speaking. Found by the scout corp, buddy of mine sent the letter, and thus far unexplored. I say we take it. Any objections?”

“Just need to file some delay requests,” said Delilah.

“Nope,” said Bruno.

“I’ll let Thurok know, don’t think he’ll care honestly,” said Jeremiah.

There was an awkward silence. Glances were exchanged around the table, none for Jeremiah.

“What?” he asked, a foreboding settling on him.

“It’s just…well now that you’re not a necromancer, we need to consider if it’s safe to bring you adventuring,” said Delilah. She reached out and began petting Gus again, looking to Bruno and Allison for confirmation.

“Sorry Jay,” said Bruno, “but you might be a liability. You can definitely come with us to the location and help.”

“And you’re a part of this adventuring company, so you’ll still be getting a cut no matter what,” Delilah quickly interjected.

Bruno’s face screwed up for just a moment before continuing, “Er, yeah, I suppose. But unless you know enough about enchanting yet to actually help us…”

Jeremiah was offended, hurt, sad, and angry all in the span of a few quiet seconds. But when he looked at the trepidation on his friend’s faces, he knew this was something they had already discussed, and they were fearful of his response.

“You’re right,” he said, though it hurt to admit say it., “I’m not going to be as useful as I once was. Maybe one day I can kit us out with some proper magic equipment, but not now. Still, I’d want to go with you guys and help. Staying here would drive me stir crazy, and I’d worry,” he took a deep breath and nodded to them, affirming his decision.

"Well, alright," said Allison, "glad you understand," the awkward silence came back with a vengeance. "Alright! This is officially an operation! You have three days to prepare. Terrain is mountainous and likely cold. Jay, I want you securing provisions. Bruno, prep for spelunking. Delilah, you…uhh," Allison looked down at the pile of papers, "you deal with everything I don't understand!"

"Allison please, I’m only one woman,' said Delilah. She dodged a swat from Allison.