Maid with Necromancy

Experts, theorists, historians, and adventurers descended on Oorty’s Tomb. Rumors ran rampant around campus. None of the ones that crossed Harmony’s ears involved a first-year tertiary. Though Von Trell did give her an extra-long look with a light grunt.  

Warden’s Rest and the dungeon could be avoided for now. There were plenty of things to distract herself with. Harmony thumbed gently through Milwep’s latest attempt to challenge her skills at restoring damaged books. He’d started out with a few damaged sheets of paper; now he provided a small water-damaged pamphlet on Wind Blade Techniques.

Using magic alone would be a pain. Shortcuts were not bad if they worked. The water-warped pages were wrinkled and brittle. [Disintegrate] separated each sheet from the binding, then [Manipulate Dead] and [Renew Spirit] attempted to both breathe life into some of the sheets and add flexibility as she placed them between two heavy metal sheets as a press to flatten them out. Once it was flat and slightly more flexible, she could work on restoring the writing and pictures on the paper. [Recall] forced into the dead sheets of paper to bring back memories of what the words were. Something probably difficult for others if they didn’t have synergy and connections as stats to bend such rules, as long as she eased into those attempts.

Understanding Stats for Progression had helped her with that technique. Guest lecturer, Perrier Wilton, discussed how giving up on forcing activations had helped squeeze power out of his stats of elasticity, permanence, and wit, without the catastrophic incidents created when trying to force usage. Not that Harmony was going to buy into that completely, but there was a time to relax and let that part of her exist in her work, and that happened to be when she was handling fragile, faded, and damaged bits of paper.

Even once she completed this work, Milwep was absolutely allergic to the idea of her working on Byerly’s text; this would be a long process of proving to him she could handle it, all while she had free access to books to copy and send over to Hazeldown.

[Recall] reminded her it was time for her first volunteer shift at the Ricort Healers Association, so she set the half-finished book back into the metal box she'd received it in, woke up the lightly snoring Hyacinth, and stepped into the shadows for that visit.

There had been no avoiding the gloom paths even after getting trapped in the dungeon club. Walking was for those who couldn’t, and the transition between her defense class and material manipulation had made it clear that it would be impossible to make that choice, but there hadn’t been an issue since.

The second defense class involved summoning a spirit willing to read and report a hidden message. Often considered the invisible spies of necromancers, summoning one was supposed to help you know when other spirits were present.

Harmony’s spirit had taken one look at her and gotten paler, even after she accentuated her eraser profession over that of her class to hide her necromantic nature. It certainly gave her accurate results, as the spirit didn’t balk or fight; only the exorcist bullied them better. Professor Flint jarred them up into glass vials, which was disappointing. Not being able to keep one, but now she had the technique, if not the resources, to summon more. Being finished early at the end of class meant she stressed less about reaching the overlapping one, but she still managed to shave off a second and avoid demerits.

Becca was disappointed at the abrupt departure. Talking to the resident associate was on her list. But right now it was volunteer time. Harmony dropped her wandering thoughts as she exited the third shadow she'd hopped through to get close.

Volunteer positions for the Healer’s Association were handed out by seniority. Those who had been there the longest worked with experts to heal the most difficult cases, advancing their skills and levels. Those who joined recently got the advantage of tutoring at the ratio of one hour of knowledge for five hours worked, but had to do the worst jobs. Those that a healer would balk at.  After all, what healer would want to help process the dead when there was no experience there?

The healer who ran the funeral home was showing her wrinkles in more ways than one. She’d stalled before reaching her second evolution. Bitter lines in her face were paired with a sourer tongue. “Not so special. Even a tertiary has to start from the bottom, here– With a class like revivalist, I hope you’re not meaning to heal the dead– I bet you quit quicker than one of those not-so-secret societies shakes an invitation at you– Have you even seen a dead person, girlie?“  It was a rapid fire of bitter and snide comments.

Harmony had even shown up in her “rugged” travel clothes, the one set of thick woven breeches and a shirt made from the fibers of Naewauld's sturdy weeds. She’d tailored it to fit her new body by cutting the sleeves from long to shoulder length and pants to shorts, but it was thicker where it covered skin.  It didn’t cover up her identity with how Mortician Mell was talking to her. Not that Mell actually had that profession, the Healer’s Association just stuck her here forty years ago, and it became her name.

“I’m here to work.” And eventually commit some light thievery, but that could wait until she knew the ins and outs and what no one would notice went missing.  With the stench of death in the air, it almost smelled like home.

“Pshaw, like you’ve ever worked a day in your life. I’ve never seen softer skin on a girl. What, are you allergic to calluses?”

Between [Manipulate Dead] for exfoliation, [Renew Spirit] for vitality, and [Beautician], it would look that way. Harmony didn’t tell her that and merely took the abuse as Mell ran her through her duties.

“We get the bodies of those who don’t have or aren’t worthy of their family’s metal mausoleums. We either prepare samples to send over for the Gregory House anatomy classes, or those who are really in debt have their bodies processed into pet food. We don’t get the ones fresh enough for dragon kin chow, but others, we’ll see if your dainty hands can work a spirit knife. It’s mostly corpses of those who sign up for the disreputable delving companies, and don’t survive the challenge.”

 Harmony had been around actors enough to at least pretend to look shocked when Mell pulled a body out of a metal compartment with two limbs crushed and a head bashed in, typical of a death in the dungeon here.

“Knew that would get cha. But if it were up to me, this training wouldn’t count as your volunteer hours. Too many people get the five hours, tutor for one, and then quit. You’re a quitter, I smell it in you.”

Harmony had run into the type. She’d spent many hours cleaning Coodly Manor’s Latrines despite a lack of optimal skills those first few weeks there, in an attempt to scare her away more than she cared to think about. Bates hadn’t assigned it to her, but he knew it was going on.

So she hauled the bodies to the processing stations, impressing Mell with her strength. Iron bodies were the most common body type and were heavy. Other volunteers worked on the cuts, preserving, and processing. She’d get to that on future shifts. They griped almost as much as Mell did, and in that way, Harmony knew it was a social thing. “If I have to lug one more corpse over to you, my back will give out.” A lie, but she contributed to the complaints.

Mostly, she watched.

“You’re not so bad, White,” Mell said, handing her the completion token worth one hour of tutoring. “Most new students are begging for their mamas. Don’t be quitting on me here, and I’ll lay some hex on you for the end-of-the-quarter tournament.”

Tournament? Harmony didn’t ask. Probably some gnomeshit like the carnival at the beginning of the year. Alex would be sure to talk her ear off if she wanted to know. What does a girl need to do to avoid public displays of power?

It was a silly question. The mechanisms for authority required public displays, adoration, and excitement. It was Ambrosia’s concerts that did the heavy lifting for her rise to the aristocracy. How about if she instead wondered if she could still win while handicapping herself? That’s about what she had been doing so far.

The walk back to the dorms brought Adric unexpectedly. “Oh, gods, you smell like Old Bone’s used leggings.”

“This was my first day volunteering. I don’t recall summoning you.”

“It’s Tasha, she’s going to the Sniper’s Ball, and needs your magic fashion touch. I know no one better than you at making that happen, but first we need to take a detour to bathe you.”

 Opening up to doing more things with Xera had led her to agree to do more things for the rest of her teammates. Adric still managed them, but with no conflicts, this wasn’t something she could easily bow out of simply because she tossed iron-laden corpses around for five hours. It helped that Adric was right, both about the clinging stench and her abilities.

One public bathhouse later, and she was at the rented house Alex and Tasha shared. This was Harmony’s first time here. It wasn’t big enough to host the whole team, so taverns and the practice grounds were the preferred spots. Two rooms attached to a tiny communal space, only big enough for a small stove and two chairs. A clear line of cleanliness divided the area’s inhabitants.

Alex rushed about picking up cans on his side. Metal was so common because of the dungeon; most food and drink were delivered in them, and Alex’s mostly smelled of alcohol.  “Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming.” He still winced in fear because of the bear training when it seemed like he felt like he might be a disappointment to her.  At least she didn't need to do that anymore. The bear performed well in practice.

“Not here to see you,” Harmony announced as she rushed by and followed Adric into Tasha’s room, promptly shutting the door.

“Girl!” Adric squealed.”I have brought the mistress of beauty to you! My question is, how much do you want to stand out?”

“I want all the girls there keeling over like I’ve shot them dead,” Tasha answered.

Flashy, high-concept, and completely within her skill set. She'd done garden parties with giant headpieces that couldn't be moved, makeup, and costumes for the Flows who wouldn't stop moving, both with goals and themes attached to the efforts. Be it Lady Coodly wishing to subtly insult Lady Crocker's overcooked biscuits with her hair design, or Stiriling looking like a flaming tornado as she did her fiddle solo. Who were Tasha's girls? What did they like? What was the goal of the ball? Would there be dancing?

The sniper’s ball gathered members of several clubs who focused on ranged attacks; it was both a social event and a way for groups to show off members who shared an interest in hitting things at a distance. Not all members of the hunters' society went, but those who liked to do their work from a safe distance away from their prey would.

To be noticed there, you had to make yourself a target, and Harmony did this literally. There were two types of targets that ranged-attackers practiced on in Ricort. One was a radially separated circle with center rings for accuracy point competitions, which she added to the dress, just above her hip on the right side. There was no way she’d put a target in any place where, if someone took an actual shot at it, a lethal outcome could happen. The second common target was the reinforced upper chest  piece of the tomb’s metal guards that held their control crystal. Rather than a mock-up, she had Hyacinth fetch the one she’d kept from her dungeon dives.

“Is that real?” Tasha asked.

Rather than answer, Harmony told her to hold still while she fitted it. Fashion trumped experiments. Fitting it while accounting for Tasha’s breasts took some shaping. Then, Harmony opened a small coin-sized hole to reveal the red control crystal inside. She could have left it a dull metal piece, but wanted to show off that it was real, and as a splash of fashionable color.

While those two aspects were key to the plan, it wasn’t the only way Harmony made Tasha stand out. She adhered the black dress to her, leaving bare arms and sides; this would mean no fabric would interfere with any movement needed for ranged attacks. Night was the inspiration as she sealed the fabric to Tasha’s skin. [Mend] with [Manipulate Dead] for an extra layer of skin, attaching the fabric as a non-glue adhesive.  

“It’ll stay on, but I had to remove your hair.” She used a test strip to demonstrate removal. “It will sting a little when removed, but you don’t have to worry about it falling off.

The hair was fun; she deepened and added depth to Tasha’s natural red color, creating a nested crown on top of her head with a few loose curls.

The look was almost complete.“This needs your weapons.”

“You didn’t leave me any pockets.” Tasha reminded her, her hands nervously going to her naked hips and outside thighs.

“I’ve seen you float your ammo in practice. I know Adric has been having you practice. Can’t you create a halo of twelve around your head?”

“Do you know how difficult…”

“Beauty is pain. If you can’t do it, just tell me.”

“Fine.”

The look was perfect. Mostly.  It ran into a practical issue when the spinning balls nearly hit Adric in the face whenever the taller man approached.

“Go steal Alex’s empties,”  Harmony ordered her pet.

The Material Manipulation class improved  her abilities in Harmony’s skills around working on basic materials not related to the dead. After crushing the cans into platforms to attach to Tasha’s shoes, [Mend] and [Disintegrate] worked to make them into a structurally sound base. Tasha was now taller than Adric, which should put her above most attending the ball. If she could walk in them.

“It’s like having anvils tied onto my feet.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Harmony let her hands adjust Tasha’s spine with [Poise and Bearing] and [Style and Grace] as she walked her through how to move in the shoes. [Renew Spirit] worked to boost the girl’s energy, but a body type was what she needed to close the missing gap in strength and endurance. “When are you getting your half-step body?”

“Maester Gregor’s last batch wasn’t up to standards, but he’s working on it.” Tasha tried and failed to sound unworried at that.

Watching students work and fail at potions, she knew exactly how finicky they could be. The girl’s window for taking a potion before she was able to gain levels again post-evolution was narrowing, and that would increase the risk.

Ignoring that worry, Harmony added the finishing touches to the makeup, adding a few years of sophistication to her first-year face. “Well, I think you’ll hit dead center with all the girls at the ball tonight.”

Adric had covered up the polished metal mirror halfway into the planning, as it had been a distraction. Now he ripped off the fabric.

A shocking image, despite being firmly set, the outfit created the illusion that one slight move would have both halves of the black dress fall off due to the amount of Tasha’s skin that was showing on her sides. That was merely the dressing to what would draw people's eyes to her, as they were trained to with hours of repetition in the two targets. It was all finished with  a crown of red hair that sparkled like a little fire from the slowly circling polished spheres.  “Oh, wow. You are everything Addy said and more. You must have learned from the best maids ever.”

“Go, the magic won’t last forever.” Harmony ushered her out. It should last most of the night.

Adric signaled he’d escort her there.

Harmony allowed herself to plop down on Tasha’s bed. That had been more effort than the five hours of hauling corpses. More satisfying, and nostalgic of who she was, at the same time satisfyingly normal. School, a volunteer job, helping a friend. Not a single surprise. Harmony released a long stretch, and as she returned to form, her hand settled around a handle, one that naturally fit into her palm; it wasn’t empty air or a fist. Harmony looked down at her hand, and blood pulsed in it.

It had been weeks since she’d left the blood sickle in the Ascendant Games, lost like all the items created inside that pocket of reality. This curved blade had been crafted from her blood, crystalized with bits of that reality in a unique scenario calling for the kind of violence only her physical body could provide.

She created an artificial bit of container, soul, blood, and a bit of her essence. It was so complete that a copy had been made with [Stride Before the Fall] when that quantum bound skill altered her place in reality to choose which of her lived or died.  So, she had half thought it would come with her, and when it didn’t, she’d abandoned it as lost forever.

Why was it here, now, in her hand? A sickle made of blood; was there a more necromancer-based weapon? “Bleed me forever." With the leftover scraps in the room, she crafted a metal coating over the weapon and committed to going straight to bed a little early tonight.  

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