The misadventures of the necromancer

The urge to scream with rage is almost uncontrollable. That, or to begin crying from frustration. But in the end, he can only start laughing—after all, what else can he do… what had he really expected?

In the end, he can only laugh, and even so, he can’t help being surprised by the sound of his own laughter, considering the circumstances.

Behind him, he can hear his small retinue shifting about, the light scuff of their feet on bare stone, but thankfully, they remain silent.

That is, until the baby starts crying, reminding him of the problem the child represents and of the risks the little one faces, being so far from everything. The only stroke of luck is that the milk has been holding up so far, probably due to the attempt at pasteurization when he had insisted that the milk be heated and then rapidly cooled.

However, he has no illusions that this will ensure the supply of milk lasts much longer. Not with the archaic procedure he used, and considering containers that offer little guarantee against bacterial contamination.

Even so, the child has been suffering from colic and diarrhea, which has already forced them to give him a few drops of a health restoration potion. The improvement had been almost instantaneous, but even so, it was not a good sign that they had to resort to potions so quickly.

The echo of the crying against the bare walls is truly irritating, which must have forced Blondie to open his big mouth.

“Nero, is this what you wanted to find?” asks the fool, as if anyone would really want to find an empty room.

The only response he finds within himself is to turn toward the idiot and give him a death glare.

To which the idiot remains unfazed, asking the next obvious question. “So what were you expecting to find?”

Hearing this, Grumpy shoves Blondie as if telling him to shut up, while the girls try to distract the child, quieting him down.

Seeing no point in saying anything else, he points to the corner immediately behind Blondie, announcing, “Back there, behind you, there should have been about twenty sets of armor stacked.”

Then he slides his finger along until he points to the wall right next to Blondie and continues, “There should have been a pile of weapons there—mostly swords. But also some knives and… I think an axe.”

Next, he moves to the opposite wall. “There should have been a writing desk with potions there…” and looking seriously at the fool, he adds, with considerable frustration as he remembers, “proper potions.”

Pointing to the space beside it, while imagining the crates that should have been there, he adds, “There… there should have been boxes with common and rare ingredients. And in that corner…”

And looking at a corner that should have held a series of strongboxes, “the strongboxes with gemstones and gold bars.” Since he had never stored coins—those were always easier to carry and spend on acquiring new equipment.

That comment, in turn, causes a shift in their attitude, and a glance reveals several open mouths. Grumpy, for his part, simply moves his lips, wide-eyed, repeating, “gold bars!!!”

The shock can’t help but amuse him, even under these circumstances, easing his own disappointment a little. After all, if they react like this to junk, how would they react to the last corner? The one where he kept the good equipment—gear that simply wasn’t very useful to him anymore, since he could walk around equipped with even better things.

Magical artifacts, including at least two enchanted and rare daggers that alone were worth more than the entire pile of gold he’d kept in this room.

Or perhaps the enchanted cloak that increased his physical and magical resistance, which should also have been there.

Something that, considering the state of his clothes, stung a little more—even if he didn’t see himself wearing a cloak. Still, it would have been an improvement over looking like a beggar.

Realizing that the shock hasn’t reached the little one, and that the crying is worsening an already bad situation, he turns to the girls, who are trying to process his description, and says, “Take him outside. Maybe find something that will distract him.”

This jolts them into motion, and murmuring their agreement, they start climbing the stairs, leaving him alone with the other two, to whom he gives a look telling them to disappear. They understand immediately and clear out.

Leaving him completely alone in the empty room—which is a good thing, because he needs to think.

For a moment, he lets the despondency win and sinks down until he’s sitting on the cold floor, contemplating his failure. The situation reminds him of how he felt when he discovered that he was now Nero, a necromancer in a world that doesn’t appreciate them at all.

He had made the effort to come here mainly to try to recover some of the resources he had accumulated during the game. But at the very least, he had expected to get some answers.

Even if in the end he were to conclude that Nero had never existed in this world, as the Temple of Divine Trials seemed to indicate, that would still have been important information.

The problem is that the empty room reveals nothing that proves or disproves that hypothesis, which leads him to stare at the wall opposite the stairs.

If Nero had never existed, then the quest that would have led him to discover this room would never have been completed. And thus on that wall there should have been an enchanted sword—the relic of the family that built this house. A sword he had been hired to find after it was lost.

But the wall opposite doesn’t even have the damned sword mounts embedded in it. Who in the hell would take the miserable mounts, too?

So he has no way of concluding whether someone other than himself discovered the sword, or whether someone had the luck of a lifetime and found everything he had left here.

And worse, since the city is abandoned, there’s no one to ask about anything at all—leaving him exactly where he was before, just with one less option…

So he stares at the bare wall, trying to think of what else he can do. Nothing comes to mind.

He stays there without noticing the passage of time until his light orb disappears, plunging him into darkness. For a moment, he remains there, but eventually casts the spell again, lighting the room once more.

Again, he lets time pass until the new light orb fades. But instead of illuminating the room again, he decides to admit defeat and leave.

Returning to the surface and seeing what remains of the city around him, he begins to think that perhaps he can remember some other quest he did in the city. That way, maybe he can get something out of this trip after all.

Suddenly, he notices the guys approaching.

As they come toward him, they exchange silent glances, as if debating something. Then, beside him, Grumpy asks, “So what do we do now?”

A good question, one that can only be answered by moving forward. “I think we set up camp and rest a bit, and eat something.”

They nod their agreement, but looking around, he remembers something.

“Hey! The girls?” he asks, since he neither sees them nor hears the baby.

“Oh! They found a dog, which helped distract the kid. And they went down the street playing with it,” Blondie replies with a smile, pointing down the street where they are. If he remembers correctly, that’s the direction of the Temple of the Huntress.

Nothing important—they can prepare things without them. That is, until he remembers that it doesn’t make much sense for there to be dogs around here. After all, how would the animal feed itself?

Which makes him look back in the direction they went and start running while shouting, “Damn it!!”

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