Maid with Necromancy

A dream, a nightmare, a tortured existence. The void was a welcome respite from the time in The Ascendant Games.

If that’s what you think happened, let me tell you the time I possessed a little girl and had a priest come running to the rescue. Vomit everywhere.

Max reached for the cage, but it was gone. The [Chaos Seed], no, that was wrong, it was a [Chaos Sapling], having blossomed out inside of himself, now housed the possessor.  And now they spread their roots and vines through every part of his soul. The faint scent of flowers from his beard reminded him it was his body too.

“Is everything a joke to you, Saccerate?”

You know you missed my humor. Being trapped in that creature changes you. You don’t know how dangerous he is.

The flowers in his beard shook as the chaos spirit shivered.

Memories of Rosaline cutting out Saccerate’s caged form were fuzzy, all filled with twisted love and what he wanted rather than who he was… was… was…his sworn’s agent… the heir’s consort… an honorable knight…  a scribe… lover women… family’s hope… singularly sworn… the lady’s agent of chaos.

SLAP!

The metaphysical impact took him out of the loop, having been punched on the inside.

“I was nearly done.”

Since I am bound to you until you die, I will give you the first inkling of what it is to be a being of chaos. Live in the moment. There is no past; it is better that way.

Half-truths and half-lies, mostly to herself. He knew from something growing in him.

​

Congratulations! You’ve earned the title: Real Boy.

Greatly increased mental resistance. Ability to detect lies and make your lies feel true.

​

The transitional void dropped him into the guild transport room in Hazeldown, half standing, but with an awkward weight draped across him. Rosaline in his arms. It was an effort not to drop her; the weight of their recent interactions heavier than her limp body.

“Princess!” cried one of the courtiers waiting. There were two as the guildmaster Hemlock stood to the side with an annoyed look.

Maxell’s own greeter waited beside them, his dark beard and disapproving look on his face. Neric Bitterly.

“Hello, Father.”

“And I thought you were going to finally make us proud with that engagement,” Neric said flatly.

The courtiers had to interrupt this touching father-son moment. “Let the heir go! We saw where your loyalties lie.”

His loyalties? The now-thicker fate bond between him and Rose ached as clothes kept their skin apart. Sworn to White, but a heart tied up with a girl who’d been used and controlled him. “Ha.” He couldn’t even hold in the laugh, and with the chaos he gained from the act, why? “Ha. Ha. Ha.”  In that moment, to be his lady's agent of chaos.  “Necromancer White no longer twists me, and I am Heir Rosaline’s official consort. Our fate bond is stronger than ever after our trials in the games.”  [Armored Presence] touched the branches os the [Chaos Sapling], branching to different options. [Armored Field] or [Assured Presence], this new change to how chaos worked in him felt like loaded dice. [Assured Presence] radiated out, stopping the courtiers in their tracks.

Touch them. I can be subtle.

Shifting Rosaline up over his shoulder, Max took advantage of their hesitation to put a hand on two of the courtiers. “Don’t worry, I have this handled.”

Their pupils flashed pink as Saccerate did her thing.

“You’re keeping the engagement?” Neric asked.

“Yes, father, you’re looking at the future consort to the next Queen. Her best interests are mine, and right now she needs medical attention. Yet, I see no one here capable of giving such aid.”  Max half accused everyone in the room.

A fissure ripped a hole in the middle of the private guild area, and out stepped a man in a multi-colored leather suit, Maekus Von Trell.  “Sorry, I’m late. But there is a part of the charter where I can assist in the recovery of the heir. If I get permission. You have that legal power now due to your fate-bonded engagement, don’t you, Maxwell?

Broken swords, did he? No, if Maekus implied he did, then he did. Princess Rose had spoken of the man who restored her brother to official living status. “Yes, with my power, I grant you permission to tend to my future wife.”

The fissure widened, and seven hairy arms reached out. A slight motion of Maekus’s head showed Max what to do. Placing the Heir’s body in the grasp of all those arms and watching them drag her in was a bit surreal as they pulled her in before the fissure closed.

As for why the courtiers didn’t stop this, they twitched, frozen in place.

“Thank you for allowing me to fulfill my Charter duties, so rarely are the options accepted. There are other legal questions, like which school would be best for the future queen’s higher education? I have some wonderful options with open scholarships. The best ones will leave her away for years, but you’ll be here to watch over her responsibilities,  managing the princess’s interest alone or through correspondence.”

Max felt the man’s arm go across his shoulder. Saccerate shrunk as quickly as possible to the center of the [Chaos Sapling]. This was not a man to mess with.  

Run away from some woozes only to jump straight into the Bastard’s mouth.  That was the tale of his life. Avoid responsibility only to fall into a manure heap of it in the attempt. What would Lady White want? What would she do?

Are you looking to that woman for inspiration? Maybe this will be a chaotically good time. Saccerate commented from her hiding spot.

Was there a way to get back to that void, at least for a short vacation? Wish dashed, Maxwell moved forward.

“Tell me all the options. A consort can’t be uninvolved in their wife’s affairs. Years… I’ll be strong for her, as only the best education will do.”  

Saccerate giggled at the center of his core as Von Trell talked about school options for Heir Rosaline.

Negotiations were held. Choices were made.  Impulsive, wild, and ready to serve what Harmony might need. The chaos of influencing the world by subverting expectations and outcomes against the set order of things seeped into Max’s blood and fed his soul. Little sparkles of energy danced through his beard, bringing it to a more vibrant color.

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