Maid with Necromancy

“Welcome to Fairfax Manor and the Association of Amateur Immortalists, Tertiary.”

The end of the first day of classes wasn’t the end of the benefits and requirements of attending The Academy. There were the cubs and societies you were encouraged to join, be it contingent, like the chosen nine at Warden’s Rest, or class and profession-related ones, or oddballs like this one. While there wasn’t an official rule, a minimum of four was expected, Von Trell had explained.

“The pleasure is mine. They mentioned a library?”

The student manning the door, a third-year by his badge with the number two thousand and twelve, gave a half-bow. “Access will be allowed after the orientation. “

Rotting bones. “Of course.”

It wasn’t just that The Academy Library had been closed during Welcome Week, but it was also only open to students working on projects that required it for research and who had obtained permission for specific sections. A history of theft, destroying primary sources, and vandalism went a long way to make it the most secure building on campus. Hyacinth couldn’t even sneak in with cuteness or slip through the warded shadows. Books were assigned and delivered for classes that required them, but primarily, you were supposed to learn from the teacher and not outside sources. Libraries were rare, and Fairfax Manors required you to sit through their recruiting pitch. She’d miss the chance to sneak in, shadow out, and see if debate club was any good.

Bates and Ambrosia would have dived into all the data she’d collected on the clubs and the private associate invitations that started to show up and selected the best for her, based on needs and schedule. Both had more experience organizing such things. They actually scheduled time for her to get lost in her research. Von Trell told her that clubs were outside of his purview of Academic Advisor and she’d have to select them herself.

Harmony joined the crowd of arriving students, letting [Keen Investigative Awareness] help catch details. Several years of classes were here filling up the room, and only about a quarter of them were fresh off of welcome week. She was the only student above five hundred in ranking.  It was a near certainty that the average gain of ten ranks for people in this association had more to do with student attrition through leaving, misadventure, or the murder problem than any actual help in being here.

The building had seen better days. Even after being freshly polished for the occasion, there were rust spots in the corners, unevenness due to wear on the walls, and bare spots where once decorative, valuable gems and wood had been inserted. Perhaps they should be charging fees. The most valuable thing about this place would probably be that they haven’t spent the money to update the wards, making the shadows ready for easy transitions in and out of Fairfax Manor.

It had once been a grand manor in size, so the entryway could easily have held three times the number of visitors waiting to be addressed. The anemic crowd allowed enough space for cliques to gather and conversations to be whispered, just not privately unless they used  a skill.

“A Tertiary, here?”

“Does she know where she is?”

“I heard she was a healer. Immortality would interest them.”

The closer conversations made it to Harmony’s sharp ears, but even the distant rumble had the words White, Tertiary, and Revivalist in them. It made one feel very alone when you were at the center of attention and had no one to stand with. Perhaps she should have brought Adric, but he was keeping tabs on the team. Additional information was more valuable than moral support.

Part of her still laughed at the idea of being such a focus. Yet, time and time again on the stage, musical, political, and combat, she found that spotlight.  Von Trell scoffed at the idea she should even be as lowly as 3rd. Ambrosia made her a jewel of her performances. Haz’el Ri chose her and helped propel her to becoming an aristocrat. Their actions weren’t a whisper, like those fluttering around this substandard gathering; they were a cry to “own it.”

The question was, of course, how? There were still plenty of secrets that would remain hidden even if she showed off a few.  Her posture was already perfect; [Style and Grace] merely supported her form rather than a crutch. She could make herself glow, have mist rise from the ground, dance, and punch a hole through the wall. It was all ridiculous. The answer was nothing. She released a chuckle, letting the stress of the attention and authority given by the participants in this room bleed into. Connections was able to isolate that attention and direct that into the laugh, shrugging it off her shoulders and adding a hint of weight from her eraser class in finding a solution.

It drew more eyes to her, creating a feedback loop as more power flooded in and briefly turned her laugh into a cackle before she ended it in a more subtle twist toward the kind of giggle one might have at a private joke.

That shook off any nerves, felt like a minor scene. The looks from the other students were more wary, scared, and curious than before, but not the kind of what-in-a-fresh-grave-was-that look she might give someone who had a random laughing fit in a crowd. Power really did let you get away with some silliness.

The host arrived, an older man in a purple coat designed to stand out in the sea of gray school uniforms. He needed something to make an impression, as his two evolutions under his belt and not much further weren’t much in this part of the world. He had to be what, level fifty-two or fifty-three, and with the distinct impression that she could break him? Harmony hoped that the library would be worth it.

The crowd was still looking at her until he cleared his throat a few times. “Welcome to Fairfax Manor. I am your host and president of The Association of Amateur Immortalist, Milwep Fairfax. I’ve come to tell you, with just a little bit of investment of your time, that you too can progress the work of Saren Bylerly and his search for immortality.”

The Academy founder again. They probably sprinkled that local hero into all the local events.  Harmony only kept half an ear open as Milwep made his pitch.  Contribute to the club and recruit more members to help with the work. While there were no fees, he requested that you save a small portion of your dungeon rewards for research.

Beggars in Hazeldown had more sophisticated money-making schemes. The pitch was at least free of any social or influence skills, and a few of the youths here were nodding along. Others were watching her. Would going to the library convince others to join this scheme?

Milwep made a straight line for her as quickly as he finished, with no subtext to his maneuver. “Are you interested in joining…”

“Library.” Harmony interrupted, making it an order.

He froze but gave a short bow. “Of course, Tertiary White.”

Milwep led her deeper into the Manor, and others, curious, followed. The room had a plaque titled Sir Milton Library. The rows and rows of metal bookshelves were mostly bare. Wood, and therefore paper, was clearly valuable. Even at only a handful of books per row, it was still a decent-sized library with titles she’d never heard of before. Basic Potions by Abner, Working Oorty’s Metal! The History of The Academy Abridged Volume Three.

“Apologies for the state of the library; certain editions have made it to alumni and collectors in a show of their support for the association. But I assure you, the book that had you come here isn’t missing at all.”

Huh? These basic books were ideal for filling in holes in her knowledge. Hyacinth peeking from her pocket already was sending assurances that the wards here couldn’t stop a fly, let alone them. Harmony followed the club president to the back of the library.  

Metallic glass shielded a burnt and damaged workbook, a handwritten journal. The writing on it was faint and aged. Imort..is Hunt— That was all that was readable on the cover, but it did have a signature, Byerly - The bane of necromancers.

“As you can see, the basis of our research is perfectly preserved. Recovered three hundred years ago by my grandfather. A lost journal of Saren Byerly.”

An old, damaged, unreadable document, but it was the kind of thing Lord Tyler had loved back in his collecting days. Rare, irreplaceable, she’d only worked on those ones after she’d proved her skills restoring less damaged works. The book was very nostalgic of a simpler time in her life, reading ancient words and figuring out how they played a part in her progression.

“I’ve a fair hand at repair and recovery.”

Milwep stepped back. “I don’t know. We’ve already had experts.” His eyes drifted to the golden badge with the number three stitched onto her jacket. “It would be um…”

“I’m happy to demonstrate my revivalist skills on other works first,” Harmony stated. A hobby, but at least one that would give her a good excuse for being in the library. And more practice of old skills she’d lost focus on. Recent hiccups aside, as turning Monster Girls into a pile of goo had merely been an aberration while she explored her stats. She’d had many more successful repairs in Tyler’s dungeon.

“You’d have to accept a leadership position, Association Archivist. It will be in all of our pamphlets.” Milwep pressed.

Ashes. To have her name associated with this group. The scandal if she were local. But none of the other clubs advertised a library. The damaged book was a pitiful thing to weigh her decision on, but Milwep would use her anyway, unless she gave a strong rejection to the group. Bracing for some minor chest pains, Harmony processed a bit of fate for true sight. The book wasn’t anything like the manual for Von Trell’s desk, but she saw some truth inside it as she dug through the layers of its existence.  In the burnt part, now visible in her sight and written in blood rather than ink, shining red in her sight, the words “Don’t Panic” rose up.  

Interesting.

“I’ll do it, but on my own time,” Harmony answered.

With shadow travel known after the trips with Becca, this skill would eventually leak out. Departing back through the Manor was a poor exit filled with eyes and whispers. Harmony walked to a large shaded corner and stepped away through the darkness. There were other places to visit.

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