The misadventures of the necromancer

“I was hoping to avoid this idiocy,” the necromancer continued speaking, even taking into account the pause his previous comment had caused.

Letting out a sigh that seemed equal parts irritation and frustration, he went on, not appearing to address anyone in particular.

“Let’s change things up. You just worry about defending those poor souls…” he said, indicating with his head the spot where his companions and the girls stood.

“The skeletons will handle my defense… not that it’s needed.”

The cold look he cast at Neven and those closest to him made perfectly clear how little he cared about any of them.

“In principle, there shouldn’t be much risk of them flanking us. Their flanks will be the first to disappear. But be careful, they don’t slip past you.”

A comment that drew only silence—caught somewhere between the arrogance of what was being said, and the madness of apparently revealing his own plan.

Not even Neven knew how to respond.

But the most ridiculous part was that after he finished speaking, the mule that had been standing beside him turned and slowly began walking toward his companions—making it seem as if the instructions he had just given were meant for the pack animal.

Perhaps noticing the incredulous stares, Nero spoke again in an amused tone:

“What!? The necromancy specialist didn’t notice the mule was an undead!?”

A shocking revelation, since the creature had been accompanying the other boys all this time.

Meaning the threat he had made earlier—turning his attackers into undead and sending them to assault the clan—was not so exaggerated after all.

A realization that, at this very moment, was certainly destroying the morale her grandson had worked to rebuild.

And seeing the mule position itself in an ideal spot to intercept anyone who tried to reach the group behind the necromancer—and considering its nearly inexplicable behavior—it was a revelation impossible to deny.

Casting a gaze that seemed to take in all those before him, he said:

“Your only chance will be if you guys manage to strike me… But I doubt you’ll have the time for that!!”

As he began to raise his hands, for what would be the beginning of the fight, and without a doubt, the beginning of the end of her clan.

She stepped forward and shouted, almost in panic:

“Stop!!!”

The warriors of her clan stopped at the sound of her voice, as expected. The necromancer turned toward her with an annoyed expression before speaking in a tired, ironic voice.

“Finally, the real leader shows herself…” and looking directly at her, he added, “What? Do you want me to pretend I’m surprised?”

Looking around at the group of strong, capable men surrounding her, and then at herself, the contrast must mean something. It wasn’t hard to guess she was someone important.

And to aid it wasn’t hard to assume that Sena must have told him who she was as they approached.

Taking care to compose herself, she tried again.

“My Lord, we…”

Only to be interrupted by the necromancer’s amused voice.

“Lord, Lord—you’re a bit slow… usually everyone starts with the ‘my Lord’ the moment they see the first spell…”

“And that way I can avoid having to use something more persuasive means.”

He gestured toward the cold, impassive skeletons before him, ready for anything. And she couldn’t help but notice the thinly veiled threat.

Trying to ignore both the insults and her own irritation at having her plans in the hands of the arrogant young man before her. But she did persist in her attempt to find a solution.

“I understand, my Lord. But I’m certain we can reach a compromise.”

He tilted his head slightly and replied in a cold voice, “Compromise!?”

Behind him, the child’s crying grew louder while the girls looked worried—aware this could end badly for them.

Sena immediately tried to help Saca calm the child, perhaps sensing this was the worst possible moment for the baby’s crying to irritate their only protector.

The elder woman, meanwhile, felt moderately satisfied to see some opening for a dialogue.

“Yes, of course, we can reach a situation where we can all be satisfied and avoid trouble…”

A sentence she had to fight not to let sound like a threat, considering how he might react.

He merely gestured for her to continue.

This left her with the problem of defining her offer.

Looking at the young man’s heavy expression, she knew this was the worst possible moment for drawn-out negotiations.

She had to consider that the only thing that might interest the young man in front of her was the two girls—after all, why else would he interfere now?

And with the crying echoing through the camp, she had no trouble believing he might even be relieved to get rid of the child who would only bring him trouble.

Normally, she would offer one of the girls, then eventually agree to let him keep both. Something easier for him to persuade the girls into themselves. But considering he was a necromancer, perhaps he had other ways of “handling” them. And she certainly had no incentive to make his life easier.

So she went straight to the point:

“You can keep the girls, and we will take the child.”

Neven showed clear displeasure but remained silent.

And although she understood he didn’t want to lose both his wives, as the necromancer had pointed out, it wasn’t as if they were interested in him right now.

The girls also showed their displeasure—Sena especially, who began moving toward them, only to be stopped by the necromancer’s dark-haired companion, who held her back, shaking his head and saying something too soft for her to hear.

The necromancer simply tilted his head to the side and commented,

“And what sort of compromise is that for me?”

She hesitated, unsure how to respond, but finally tried:

“We both get what we want!”

He looked back at the girls, then at her, before replying,

“But the only thing I want is for you to leave. Without my having to waste magic and time massacring you.”

Taking a small step forward, he added,

“And for that, all it takes is for you to disappear before I have to make you disappear.”

She didn’t quite understand what he meant, but as she watched her plans unravel, she couldn’t restrain herself and exclaimed furiously,

“No!!”

That surprised him, and she continued, pointing toward the small group behind him:

“That child will want revenge in the future, and this cursed conflict will never end!”

To her surprise, it was Saca who answered—something that would normally please her, seeing the girl learning to stand up for herself.

“You already deceived and killed our whole clan…”

And with a bitter, tearful voice, she added,

“Just leave us alone!!”

Sena rushed to her side and tried to comfort her, but the confusion only made the baby cry even louder.

In the midst of all this chaos, the elder woman decided to clarify something.

“I’ve known your grandfather and your father far longer than you’ve been alive. So if you think your marriage fooled them, then you’re even more foolish than I believed. They knew perfectly well what we were preparing—because they were preparing the same thing.”

Letting out a sigh, she finished:

“We were just faster than they were.”

At that moment, the necromancer’s voice—almost forgotten in the commotion—echoed again:

“An interesting idea. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not going to let you kill a baby.”

She couldn’t help but answer him:

“Even if that means the death of our clan.”

He shrugged, as if what she’d said had no importance.

“I would prefer that not to be necessary…”

But hardening his eyes, he finished,

“…but if you force me…”

“So we have to choose between facing you today or him tomorrow!” she replied, unable to contain the anger as she pointed toward the child behind him.

“A simple choice then. At least one of them gives you a little more time.”

She couldn’t help but be struck by his arrogance—while also wondering to what extent he was simply stating the truth.

But he did not stop there.

“That, and you should be careful with self-fulfilling prophecies. They tend to end badly.”

She could only stare at him, trying to understand what he could mean by that.

Seeing this, he seemed to decide to continue.

“You know, this reminds me of a story I once saw.”

She barely had time to think, "Saw!??" Before he continued calmly, as though they weren’t on the verge of a battle.

“I’m not much of a storyteller, but here we go…”

He shrugged, and with the baby finally calming down, he began.

“So, two kings go to this oracle and are surprised when both are taken inside together. The explanation they receive is that, unusually, they both have exactly the same prophecy.”

When the necromancer paused and looked around, asking, “Anyone guess??”

Seeing that no one dared to answer such a question, he shook his head and continued:

“Come on, the usual one—a child born on a certain date will lead you to your death.”

She tried to understand how she was supposed to guess that, but his expression as he looked around suggested he had expected someone to answer.

“Oh, of course. Really, what else could it be?”

Eventually, he continued.

"Right. Anyway, they leave the oracle and separate. The first king was the more powerful—he had conquered several of his neighbors and had come to ask who his next enemy would be. And he gets this news…”

The necromancer began pacing slowly.

“But fortunately for him, he quickly concludes what the solution is…”

For a moment, he looked around, as if expecting someone to say something, but seeing only the passive audience, armed and confused, he seemed to give up.

“Of course, he’s going to kill every child born that day! Leading to a small civil war, since several groups oppose the idea. But he is a skilled warrior, and in the end, he wins.”

A wide smile appeared on his lips as he added:

“Or so he thinks. A number of years later, a new army arrives, and at its head stands the last survivor of the massacre of the innocents. Coming for his head—both to secure his own survival and for revenge.”

The necromancer added in a dry, ironic aside:

“After all, what else would happen, right?”

“Well, anyway, that leaves us with the other king, who—even though he wasn’t particularly powerful or capable—had no idea why anyone would want to harm him. So he waited several years before making his decision.”

“He also decided to find all the children born on that day. Except he gathered them all and chose to care for their upbringing, keeping them close. Because only that way could he watch over them and discover who might try to kill him and why.”

“And so the years passed. During those years, he had several suspects, but none were confirmed. And in the end, he found himself in bed, gravely ill. An old sickness had returned, and it was certainly going to be his end.”

“Lying in his bed, he raised his eyes to see his young doctor—one of the children he had taken in. Beside him, the maids caring for him were also girls born on that day. And at the door, at least one of the guards shared the same characteristic.”

“And all of them had tears in their eyes as they kept him company in those final moments, guiding him toward a peaceful, quiet, painless end.”

Finally, the necromancer’s tone shifted, signaling the end of his strange tale.

“As you can see, the same prophecy and different reactions led to different outcomes.”

Focusing his attention on her again, he continued:

“Fortunately or unfortunately, much of your prophecy will depend on them…”

and he gestured toward the girls behind him,

“…and not on you.”

“At this moment, your decision is another one, and I hope you choose wisely. Before I finally lose patience—and then the one making unpleasant decisions will have to be me.”

And she understood perfectly what he wanted: that they leave before he had to act.

With all eyes on her, and considering everything she knew, she truly had no alternative but to turn away and withdraw.

Even if they could handle this necromancer—which she doubted—they would never survive the forces surely supporting him.

And at least in this one thing, the necromancer was correct: it was better for them to survive today.

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