NOVEL SIMPLE Letters to a Necromancer
Taking off my fancy coat and undoing a few of the buttons of my shirt to get more comfortable, I stand up off the bed and walk towards Opalina. “So what sort of strange ideas have you been putting in the young Lady’s head while I was busy?”
“Nothing too strange,” Opalina dubiously claims. “I was actually praising her for reaching out to you. Abigail saved me the trouble of having to orchestrate a meet-cute.” The doctor teases, although I don’t think she’s joking.
“Yes, nothing more romantic than telling our future children how I first saw their mother’s scary undead skeleton bear in grandfather’s creepy library, and the rest was history...” Opalina giggles, apparently finding my sarcasm delightful.
Although she means it in jest, I look into her eyes with a small spark of defiance on my face. “I’m not trying to add her to my Guild, Opalina- or my bedmates. I hardly know Abigail, and I don’t even know what she looks like. First Snow, now this... you’re developing a habit of getting ahead of yourself regarding my love life, you know? Sure, you’ve always looked after me, but... just try and reign yourself in a little bit. Please?”
Opalina considers my sentence for an awkwardly long time. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m afraid it’s far too late in this case.” She shifts her eyes to the left to escape my inquisitory gaze. “Just go on and talk to her, alright?”
I try and say something in response to her loaded comment, but it’s no use. The old witch maneuvers behind me and pushes against the flat of my back, ushering me toward the open door. She slams it on me, and I hear the clanking of a metallic lock setting in place. Apparently, I won’t be returning until I’ve spent a long enough time with the noble Necromancer Opalina wants to hook me up with.
I’m grateful for every last member of my harem, but apart from the ‘destined’ girls hand-picked by Luxy, I don’t want to just keep adding and adding every new girl I meet. I know myself, and I know I will end up with a much greater number than the roster I have right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to rush in just because Opalina is telling me to go for it.
If- and I absolutely mean if- I were to grow interested in Abigail Gloomcrest, I would want it to be natural and not just because the option is available... then again, I can’t help imagining the political benefits I would get for dating a Duke’s daughter... and if she could be convinced to take up an adventurer’s mantle, having a Necromancer would be an invaluable asset... hm...
Damn my over-active mind for business, always searching for exploitable opportunities...
However, all this supposition is useless when considering the most significant factor- Abigail’s own feelings. From what little I know about the girl, she’s a troubled recluse with a tragic past. No matter what Opalina has whispered into the girl’s ear, that doesn’t really scream ‘single and looking to mingle’ to me, and I’m not about to push her just because it would be beneficial.
Right as I sigh from the stress that thinking about all romantic turmoil gives me and take my seat, the doggy door on Abigail’s door opens up on the opposite side of the hall. Two skittering creatures of cold, dead bone exit the young lady’s chambers. One is the familiar dog with who I’m well acquainted, while the other is undoubtedly a cat.
The dog drops its message on the floor by my feet, hopping up onto the chair in an oddly adorable attempt to lick me with a tongue it no longer has. It doesn’t seem to mind that it can’t actually express its affection, judging by how vigorously the dead beast wags its rattly tail.
The cat, as cats so often do, takes a roundabout way to get my attention. It jumps gracefully onto the arm of the chair, walks up along the back so it can rub its body against the back of my head, then settles into the opposite arm and looks at me with a confused stare like it doesn’t understand why I’m not already petting it. I give the cat’s skull a cautious rub, and it begins to purr. I’m getting used to the sensation of touching these things.
Abigail’s dog remembers it was here with a job to do. Scooping up the message and the quill back into its jaw, then standing up on its back legs so I can take them.
On a brand new piece of parchment, a new message from the young Lady herself is sitting right there waiting to be read. ‘Hello, me again. I’m happy to hear your meeting with Sully went well. Thanks for coming back to talk more. Sorry if Opal is still being weird about me...’
I never imagined someone calling that stony old gargoyle a cute name like Sully, but strangely it fits. ‘No thanks necessary. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be tonight. Opalina has a habit of trying to play matchmaker for me... please disregard anything untoward she suggests. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me- I’m not pressuring her to do this.’
‘It’s fine... you’re very nice, you know? Saying you don’t have anything better to do than talking with a weird, creepy, shut-in who can’t even talk to you in person... especially when you could be enjoying Opal’s... company... it’s very sweet of you, even if it’s a lie. I know it’s not your fault that she’s pressuring me to... flirt... with you.’
‘Wait, she’s telling you to flirt with me?’ I almost can’t believe it. Does Opalina really expect this recluse to just jump out of her dark dwelling right onto my lap? ‘Is she really being that forward about it?’
‘Yes,’ Abigail admits, and I can imagine the sigh behind her words. ‘Actually, flirting was one of her tamer suggestions... I could never bring myself to repeat the lewder ideas she proposed, not even in writing... she... suffice to say she has some very creative ideas about the ways the mail slot on my door could be used.’
I knew in my heart that the old witch was making things worse, but... I underestimated how bad it was if she’s trying to tease this noblewoman into doing glory hole play with me. ‘Gods, I’m so sorry.’
Abigail rushes ahead in her response, trying to take the blame. ‘No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Besides, Opal just assumes you would like me enough for... that sort of thing. It’s not like I’m pretty or anything, and I’ve grown to accept that... oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be negative or anything...’
‘It’s fine. I’m overly cynical myself. Still, though. Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, so it’s an awful large assumption of you to make that I wouldn’t find you attractive. For all you know, my tastes could be vast. Not to mention that you’re a mysterious noblewoman with magic powers locked away in a castle- you’re one Prince Charming short of an Everafterian fairy tale.’ After the dog takes that one away, I notice how flirty it sounds. Too late to fix it.
Her response is shakier. ‘I know you’re just joking, but no Prince would ever touch me. I like the idea, though... it makes me feel warm inside... I guess part of it is just that I’m so excited to actually talk to you.’
‘Why? I’m hardly anything special. I’m just a random guest of your father’s.’
‘This might sound strange, maybe even creepy, but I’ve known about you for a lot longer than you might think... please don’t be creeped out?’
She’s coming down very hard on herself. Not sure why she thinks I’d be creeped out just because she knows about me, especially when it’s plain to see the reason why. ‘It’d take a lot to unsettle me. You’re fine... though I’m guessing Opalina has told you about me before?’
‘Mhmm... but we can’t keep circling back to Opal, you know... we’re more than the connection we share with her. I’m... terrible at talking, so I’m forcing myself to write this, but... even though I know a good deal about you, you still know next to nothing about me. If there are... you know, any questions you have for me... or about me...? Then you can... oh, please tell me you know where I’m trying to go with this. Opening up is so exhausting...’
I’m really starting to find myself charmed by this neurotic girl. It’s right there on the paper how hard she’s struggling, but for every voice inside of her head telling her no, Abigail is saying yes. And for what, just so she can talk to me? How could I not be flattered?
‘I’d love to know more about you, for sure. Let’s see here... well, what better place to start than telling me about your friends? Thus far, I’ve seen your bear, your dog, and a very presumptuous cat. How many pets are there hiding in that room of yours?’
This simple question sparks a fire in her, and the young Lady Gloomcrest writes up a storm of impassioned words that I couldn’t have imagined only moments before.
‘A lot more than those three... this might be a little heavy, but when I was only six, I lost my mother. Father tried many ways to make me happy until finding that indulging my love of animals was enough to dull my grief. Since we’re rich, there was no upper limit on how much he could spoil me...
My cat is named Misery... as you can see, she’s very arrogant and uppity. Rather unbecoming of a lady of her standing if you ask me. The good boy passing our messages back and forth answers to Woe. Calling him man’s best friend is an insult to his character- it’s simply not enough. Lastly, the bear you met in the library is named Sombre. He’s a quiet one, but don’t take his silence as a sign of apathy...
Oh, dear... after rereading this message, I’m starting to think I went on for too long. I’m sorry... I shouldn’t assume you’re interested in hearing about all this...’
Woe, Misery and Sombre? Well. She’s got a consistent theme going on, at least. From the joyous and playful way she writes about them, it’s obvious Abigail loves her pets beyond measure. I just wish that this topic didn’t lead down a road paved with eggshells. It’s hard to avoid the big, ‘So, why are all of your pets dead?’ question... asking what happened to them straight up would be incredibly rude, and asking indirectly would be nosy.
I end up choosing a safe, middle-of-the-road response. ‘Silly girl. I asked the question- of course I’m interested. Woe is very sweet, while Misery reminds me of another cat I know. Somber was a bit harder to digest. I didn’t even know that he was a bear at first. It took me until I saw him walking on all fours to realize.
Still, you’re fortunate to have a father who cares enough he’d fill his castle with beasts as long as it meant bringing a smile to your face.’
‘That’s one way to look at it, I suppose... it’s true, though. I love my father. He’s the best a girl could ever ask for, and I trust him more than anyone... after everything that’s happened to us, it’d be crazy not to.’
Now that sounds like a bunch of potentially painful memories I’d do well not to drudge up. Better to change topics and see if Lady Gloomcrest will tell me a bit about her skills. ‘When did you become a Necromancer? I’d love to hear more about your magical abilities, Abigail.’
‘Oh, I’ve been practicing ever since I was twelve... it’s nothing really that special or anything, honestly...’ She says, as if raising the dead were just something anyone with a bit of free time could pick up as a hobby. ‘It took me a long time to move even a single bone, and even longer to summon the souls of all my friends.’
‘How does it work? As a Guild Master, I know a fair deal about different magic but Necromancy is an unfortunate blind spot in my knowledge. It’s not something you can just go and buy a book on.’
Similar to asking her about her pets, this gets the girl writing non-stop.
‘It’s a difficult school of magic to learn. You either have the gift for it, or you don’t... it requires extremely precise mana control since it’s essentially a constant, continual drain. The more undead you control at once, the more mana is expended, so you must learn to do a lot with a little. I’m not very good at it, either. I can only control a few skeletons at once...
Wait. Control is sort of a bad word for it. I don’t want you to get the idea that I’m making my pets follow my commands... that would be tier-one Necromancy, basic mastery over bones. My skills go as far as tier-two, infusing bones with their original soul, but I’ve only ever done it on animals...
Goddess below... I did it again. I wrote so much...! Sorry... It’s just that it’s not often someone asks me about Necromancy, and I sort of just kept getting carried away with myself...’
‘No, please. Keep going, this sort of thing is inherently fascinating to me. How many tiers are there?’ Apart from being intellectually curious with her explanation of this mysterious form of magic, I can’t deny how cute Abigail sounds when talking about her interests. Makes me want to keep spurring her on, really.
Luckily, she’s eager to continue if a little skeptical. ‘I didn’t expect you to be interested... but it’s a pleasant surprise, assuming you’re not just trying to make me feel better... I’m a little flustered at getting to talk so much.
Let’s see...
There are four tiers when it comes to Necromancy. The next level to where I’m at is recreating the internal anatomy and musculature. It’s kind of scary... I’ve only tried it once and... and I don’t ever want to see one of my beloved friends like that ever again.’
Although it’s not my place to judge, I find it humorous that skeletons walking around is fine and dandy but muscled monstrosities dripping with blood is just too much for the Necromancer. Then again, I try to imagine how I’d feel if I could return my grandfather to the Realm of the living only to have him scream at me while looking like a bleeding pile of ground beef...
Abigail’s letter continues with, ‘It’s a shame I can’t get past tier-three because tier-four is recreating the original likeness. Skin, hair, fur, feathers, and so on... sure, it’s not perfect, but when it means you get to see the ones you love again, does it matter if they’re glowing green or have paler features?’
To hear it put like that, I find myself a little surprised. When one pictures the dead rising from their graves, it doesn’t tend to come off as so optimistic and pure... yet Abigail manages to make it ‘I’m amazed to hear you say it like that. I think you have a great point, Abigail. You hear a lot about Necromancy being evil, but from the way you talk about it, it doesn’t sound that way at all.’
‘Just because it’s used by a lot of bad people doesn’t mean it’s evil... It’s how you use it.
Still... you can’t imagine how happy I am to hear that all this doesn’t scare you. I always worried it would, but it turns out you’re a strange, strange man... which is ok. I’m far from normal myself...’
Without much thought, I send her a teasing response. ‘Really? I haven’t noticed.’ After Woe carries it away, I swear for a split second, I can hear the sounds of a cute yet quiet voice giggling awkwardly echoing throughout the castle walls.
