"I'm... I'm not a necromancer," Dave protested, his heart beating a million miles a minute. "Why would you think that I'm a bloody necromancer?!"

The violin in his soul intensified to a rising crescendo. Dave realized that all sounds around them had faded as if cut off.

"One. I've asked one of the guards about you after you left town this morning," Cedez said idly, bending one finger. "Miguelan was more than willing to talk about you. His Infix thinks you're a necromancer. Two," she bent another finger. "Sister Antiqilla stopped by for her coffee. Her Infix Kitlix also thinks that you're a necromancer."

"I'm..." Dave began.

"Three. Charismancers can't just switch off their Charisma, Dave," Cedez bent a third gloved finger. "They can tune it down, sure, but not turn it off so completely that it will be a big fat zero."

Dave felt like he was falling backwards into a deep, dark ocean. He was too beat up to run away and there were far too many adventurers in the cafe for him to do anything.

"Four," Cedez bent another finger. "I knew a necromancer in my past life. His name was Mad Mage Kells. He had this... peculiar way about him. Always seemed to know things he shouldn't, always moving one step ahead of me. Archmage Kells could switch from being shamelessly Charismatic to unspeakably tough, to moving like a freight train. Sound familiar, Dave?"

Dave's throat went dry. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

"Five," Cedez ticked off another finger, her smile growing wider. "You talk to yourself. Or rather, to someone I can't see. I've been watching you. The way you tilt your head, as if listening to a voice only you can hear. Classic sign of a necromancer communing with the dead."

Cedez's sharp words pinned Dave into his seat like a helpless butterfly that was stabbed through by a needle.

"Six," Cedez added. "You've got this... aura about you. It's faint, but it's there. The taste of death, of the hollow endless void lingering just beneath the surface of your starry Aura. I can taste it far too well. You smell just like the man... who killed me."

"W-what?" Dave choked. "What are you? How did you know my name?"

"For now, consider me just a simple cafe maid, darling," Cedez purred. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Speaker for the Dead?"

"I... I can explain..."

"Explain then," the foxgirl leaned back on her seat. "Don't worry, we won't be overheard. Got a bit of a spell going warding us off from the rest of the cafe. Don't try anything funny either. There's spellchain on your chair that'll chop your adorkable arms and legs off if you attempt to attack me or try to deceive me."

Dave's mind raced, searching for a way out of this impossible situation. He switched most of his points to Wisdom, feeling his heart stutter.

"Interesting choice, Wisdom," Cedez purred. "So you want to weasel out of this with clever words?"

"I'm not... It's not what you think," Dave hissed out, sliding points back into Vitality to prevent himself from passing out. "I don't raise the dead or anything like that. I just... I can sometimes hear them. Talk to them."

Cedez's silver-blue eyes gleamed with interest. "Go on," she purred. "Tell me more about these ghostly conversations. What do the dead say?"

Dave swallowed hard. "There's... there's a detective. Sherlock. He helps me. Gives me advice."

"A detective, you say?" Cedez's tail swished behind her. "How quaint. And what sort of advice does this Sherlock offer?"

"He... he helped me figure out how to deal with the metal bugs for example," Dave explained, his words tumbling out faster now. "And he warned me about you. Said you were dangerous."

Cedez's laughter was like tinkling bells. "Smart man, this Sherlock. Or should I say, clever ghost?" Her expression sobered suddenly. "But tell me, Dave, what else can you do? Surely talking to the dead isn't the extent of these abilities that some would consider unnatural."

Dave hesitated, then decided to push forward with being honest as he was quite thoroughly checkmated. "I can... absorb knowledge from the dead. Their memories, their skills. Switch around my stats. It's how I survived the Felislice."

"Curious, curious," Cedez murmured, her eyes never leaving Dave's face. "And what do you intend to do with these... abilities?"

"Survive," Dave said simply. "That's all. I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to be reborn on Arx, didn't do anything to get my magic skill. I just want to make it through each day without ending up as some monster's dinner. I don't want to overthrow the Shandrian City Watch or attack your goverment. I don't want to hurt innocent people, or build an army of zombies."

"Do you wish to kill me?" Cedez asked.

"No," Dave said. "Why would I want to kill you?"

"Oh I don't know," Cedez purred. "Lots of people want to kill me these days. It's quite the bother."

"I don't even understand what you even are," Dave said.

Cedez leaned back, studying Dave with an imperious expression. "You know," she said slowly, "necromancers are usually executed on sight in Shandria. No trial, no chance to explain. Just... poof. Incinerated on the spot." She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Dave's blood ran cold. "Are you... are you going to turn me in?"

Cedez's smile returned, sharp and predatory. "Now why would I do that? You're far too interesting and useful to let the authorities have you. No, I think I'll keep you around. After all, every aspiring princess needs a necromancer in her pocket."

"Princess?" Dave echoed.

"Aspiring Princess," Cedez intoned.

"What... what do you want from me?" Dave exhaled.

"I want you to accept the Quest I gave you," Cedez purred.

"Slay the dragon, free the princess?" Dave blinked. The Quest came up on his wrist when he spoke of it.

[Cambria Snail Cafe Quest: Slay the dragon, free the princess. Reward: An extra special latte!]

[Accept: Y/N?]

"That's right," Cedez nodded.

"Let me get this straight," Dave said, his voice low. "You want me to accept a quest that involves... what exactly? Slaying a dragon that's actually a blacksmith, and freeing a princess who might be you?"

"Oh, don't be so literal! It's all about your interpretation of reality. Maybe 'slaying' means winning her heart. Maybe 'freeing' means... well, that's for you to figure out, isn't it?"

"Seems a tad vague," Dave pointed out.

"Just think of it as a test," Cedez replied. "If you fail it, you die horribly."

Dave sputtered at the proposal of him dying horribly.

"Are you serious?! What are the bloody conditions?!" He huffed. "You can't just throw a test at me without specifying as to what you want as the end result!"

"I'll do whatever I need to do, hero," Cedez said coldly. "Accept the damn test and stop being so obtuse."

"And if I refuse?"

"Oh?" Cedez's tail swished behind her in mild agitation, blue eyes turning into slits. "Go right ahead. Refuse! Sir Miguelan and the other Gate guards are watching. All I have to do is say one word and you'll be toast. No more flapping around. Accept the Quest for your own good, or else!"

She waved a gloved hand at the nearby Adventurers Gate.

"You're... just like the Dragon God-Emperor then," Dave accused. "Work for me or die... that's what that fat bastard is all about."

"What?! I am nothing like that ancient lardass!" Cedez defended herself. "My Quest is nice! I'm not asking you to pull teeth from the dead! I'm not even asking you to kill anyone!"

"'Slaying' seems like you want me to kill Remicra," Dave pointed out.

"Accept the quest and do whatever you think is right," Cedez said. "If I'm correct about you, then things will work out. Stop overthinking this."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Fine," he hissed. "I'll accept your quest. But I want something in return."

"And what might that be?"

"Protection," Dave said firmly. "If I'm going to be your... whatever, I need to know you'll keep the authorities off my back. No more close calls with the guards or Guild Secretaries."

"No can do," Cedez shook her head.

"Why the hell not?" Dave demanded.

"I'm just a simple cafe maid," the foxgirl replied. "What exactly are you expecting of me? I don't have any authority over the Guild or City Watch."

"A simple cafe maid?" he scoffed, wincing as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his battered body. "Right, and I'm just a regular tourist enjoying the local scenery!"

"Oh, come now, Dave. Don't sell yourself short. You're clearly an up-and-coming necromancer with a penchant for getting into trouble. I'd say that's far more interesting than being a tourist. Accept the Quest. I have many customers waiting for coffee and cakes."

Dave gritted his teeth.

"Yes, to the Snail Cafe Quest," he said.

The blue notification flashed with green, adding itself to his list of unfinished quests such as bringing the Prismatic Beetles to the smithy.

"I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm not interested in being your pawn. If you're not going to help me, then why shouldn't I just walk away right now?" He asked. "Maybe I'll slay another dragon and help another princess in another town, since your Quest is so freaking open ended!"

"Walk away to where, exactly? There are no towns in walking distance of Shandria. The most likely outcome of running away will be your death. I very much doubt that you'd be able to handle another wyvern flight or a Felislice cuddle," she pointed out.

Dave slumped back in his chair, the fight draining out of him. He could feel the violin in his soul playing a mournful tune, as if Sherlock was commiserating with his predicament. "Fine," he muttered. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"To start off, simply get back into my lovely city," Cedez pointed at the Adventurers Gate. "Without dying and getting arrested."

"Get back into the city?" he echoed. "That's it? Seems simple enough."

"It's not as simple as you might think," Cedez shook her dark curls. "Remember, you're practically oozing necromantic energy. One wrong word, one more scan by an Infix Kitlix and you'll be thrown into the slammer faster than you can say 'I see dead people.' Also, if you don't get that blood poisoning affliction looked at, you're definitely going to the land of the unliving in about a day or less. The Kiss of Felislice will cost you approximately two hundred silver to cure."

"Two hundred silver?!" he choked. "I don't even have two copper to my name!"

"Sounds like quite the predicament," Cedez replied. "Perhaps you should have thought about that before deciding to go out of the city without armor."

Dave crossed his arms.

"Actually, I have a question for you... Miss Aspiring Princess," he said, trying to take control of the conversation. "Why is your city so horrible?"

The foxgirl's ears twitched. "Horrible? Whatever do you mean? Shandria is a paradise of opportunity!"

"Paradise?" Dave scoffed. "Every adventuring job literally comes with a side of potential dismemberment or death."

"Oh, you silly summoned soul. That's what makes it exciting! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I left it back in the world where paper cuts were considered workplace hazards," Dave muttered. "Call us crazy, but most people from Earth aren't too keen on being torn apart by metal bugs or getting poisoned by bird-lynx hybrids!"

"Oh, pish posh," Cedez waved her hand dismissively. "You're still breathing, aren't you? Just keep on breathing and put one foot in front of the other."

Dave let out a long, weary whine, his body sagging in the chair. The pain from his numerous wounds and his diresome predicament seemed to press down on him like a thousand ton weight.

"Actually, I don't think I can stand up or even make it to the gate on my own," he confessed. "Whatever that Felislice did seems to have completely effed up my balance."

"Oh, you poor thing. You know what? I'll give you a freebie, on account of you being such a pitiful, sad necromancer," Cedez made a pouting face. "Can't have you dying on me today."

Dave's brow furrowed as he squinted at the foxgirl. "A freebie of what?"

"A freebie handshake," Cedez grinned, her sharp teeth glinting in the overcast light of the rain clouds gathering overhead. "I'll give you a minute to think it over while I go serve customers. Pick whatever Attribute you want to amplify and then shake my hand... that's all."

Before Dave could respond, Cedez stood up and flitted away, her shadow-halo vanishing. A dark tail swished behind her as she moved to serve the growing line of impatient customers. Dave watched in disbelief as she transformed before his eyes, her demeanor shifting from menacing interrogator to the picture of a harmless, sweet waitress.

"Good evening, Mr. Thornterri! The usual Earl Grey for you?" Cedez chirped.

"Ah, Madam Whistera! How are your lovely kittens? I've got that special Fluxnip latte you love so much," she called out to a feline-looking woman.

The violin in Dave's soul began to play a complex concerto, each note seeming to represent a different thought or option. He closed his eyes, focusing on the music within.

"Alright, Sherlock," Dave thought, "what's our play here? We're poisoned, broke, and apparently on the verge of being arrested for necromancy. Oh, and let's not forget the psychotic foxgirl who's offering us a 'freebie handshake.' Any bright ideas?"

The violin's melody shifted, becoming more urgent and insistent.

"Take the handshake? Are you serious?" Dave hissed mentally. "For all we know, it could turn me into a puddle or erase my memories or any other kind of magical bullshit."

A series of sharp, staccato notes rang out in response. Sherlock seemed to think that Cedez was being honest about helping Dave reach the city gate, had an agenda of some sort. As to what this agenda was, Sherlock had no idea.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I don't have many options with the whole blood poisoning thing," Dave thought. "But what should I ask for? Healing? Money? A get-out-of-jail-free card?"

The violin played a soft, thoughtful tune reminding him that he had to pick a specific Attribute to amplify, hopefully something that could help him solve all of his problems.

"Information?" Dave mused. "You think we should try to learn more about this world, about Cedez, about... everything? Suppose that makes sense, Mr. Detective."

He considered his options.

"What about amplifying Vitality?"

Sherlock played a bothered tune.

"Right," Dave thought. "Amplifying Vitality might cure the kiss, but it won't help me avoid the authorities. I need to know what to do about being a suspected necromancer."

A triumphant musical flourish confirmed Sherlock's agreement.

"Information... so, Wisdom, Intelligence or Foresight?" Dave thought, tapping the wooden table nervously with his fingers. "What's the difference between them? Which will provide greater value if amplified?"

The violin played a series of thoughtful, analytical notes.

"Yeah," Dave nodded, "Wisdom is about intuition and perception. It's the gut feeling, the ability to read between the lines. Intelligence is raw brainpower, the ability to process complex mathematics or to remember things I forgot quickly. But Foresight..."

He trailed off, recalling his conversation with the Kitlix salesgirl. Her words echoed in his mind: "Violet Kitlix are associated with luck magic. Owners have reported experiencing prophetic dreams, particularly about potential dangers or death. Some have even developed the ability to glimpse brief visions of possible futures."

The violin's melody became more insistent, urging Dave to follow this train of thought.

"Foresight," Dave thought. "it's not just about predicting the future, is it? It's about seeing possibilities, potential outcomes. If I could glimpse even a fraction of what might happen... of how I could get myself out of this mess."

He straightened up suddenly, his eyes snapping open. "That's it, isn't it, Sherlock? Foresight! It could help us navigate the city without getting caught, find a cure for this damn poison, maybe even figure out what Cedez is really up to."

The violin played a triumphant flourish, confirming Dave's conclusion.

"Alright then," Dave thought, a glimmer of hope in his mental voice, "Foresight it is. Let's just hope this 'freebie handshake' isn't some kind of twisted trap."

As if on cue, Cedez appeared at his table, her silver-blue eyes brimming with curiosity. "Have you made a decision, darling? Remember, move everything into one category. If you leave even a single point in another Attribute... things might not work out."

"Why?" Dave asked.

"Clarity of specialization is better with how I work," Cedez explained.

Dave stared at Cedez.

Unlike all of the adventurers and wizards and guards... Cedez has no Kitlix on her shoulder. What did this mean?

Dave took a deep breath. With a thought, he pushed all of his soul points into Foresight, choosing to trust the strange foxgirl.

"Interesting choice," she mused, "Most would go for raw power or healing. But you... you want to see what's coming, see all of the other party's moves, don't you? Very well."

She began to pull off her right leather glove, revealing a dark, furry, clawed hand with pink pads.

"Foresight is a tricky thing, you know," she commented. "Are you sure you can handle seeing your own death?"

Dave nodded, his eyes fixed on her hand. "I'll manage," he nodded.

"We'll see about that," she said, extending her now bare hand towards him. "Ready?"

"Yes," Dave exhaled, bringing his fingers up.

The instant their palms touched, a jolt of electricity shot up Dave's arm. It wasn't painful, but it was intense, like grabbing a live wire wrapped in velvet. Sparks of something danced across their joined hands, spiraling up his arm in intricate patterns.

"What the—" Dave began, but his words were cut short as the world around him suddenly stretched and distorted. Colors blurred and melted into each other, sounds became muffled and distant. It felt as if the entire universe had become a giant rubber band, pulled taut to its breaking point.

Then, with a deafening SNAP, everything wrenched back into place.

Dave blinked rapidly, trying to clear the kaleidoscope of a thousand violet stars from his vision. His head spun, and for a moment, he wasn't sure which way was up. Gradually, the world came back into focus, and he found himself still sitting across from Cedez at the cafe table.

"Hrmmm," Cedez's voice cut through the fog in his head, "that was certainly... interesting. How do you feel, my hero?"

Dave opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His mind was reeling, trying to process what had just happened. He looked down at his hand, half-expecting it to be transformed or missing, but it appeared completely normal.

"I... I'm not sure," he finally managed to stammer out. "What was that? What did you do to me?"

"I granted your wish," Cedez winked.

"What wish?! I, uhm, I don't feel any different," Dave protested.

"Ehh, you picked your hill to die on. If you didn't acquire what you wanted, it's not my fault, darling," Cedez got up and called over her shoulder, as she fluttered away to another cafe client. "Good luck getting into the city and finishing my Quest!"

"Wait," Dave tried to call after her, but his voice came out as a weak rasp.

He attempted to stand, his legs shaking beneath him. The world tilted alarmingly, and he stumbled sideways, grabbing onto the edge of the table for support.

A wave of nausea hit him, and suddenly his hand let go of the table. He fell sideways across the cold cobblestones, his body wracked with violent coughs. He tasted copper in his mouth, and to his horror, he saw splatters of blood on his hands.

"Hey! We've got a situation here!" A gruff voice called out from the direction of the city gates. Dave lifted his head, his vision swimming, to see two guards rushing towards him.

"By her Shadow!" one of them muttered as they drew closer. "This one's in bad shape. HEALER! We need a healer over here, NOW!"

Dave tried to speak, to explain, but another fit of coughing overtook him. He felt strong hands gripping his shoulders.

"Easy there, lad," the second guard said. "Help's on the way. Just try to breathe."

With another cough that felt like he was being turned inside out, Dave felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness. In a last, desperate attempt not to pass out he pushed everything into Vitality.

"Healer here," he heard a female voice from above. "Oh jeez, this Iron is a mess. Let me handle this."

Something warm brushed itself across Dave's forehead and then he knew no more.