The misadventures of the necromancer

Sena struggles to keep smiling and not yawn while serving drinks. But even so, the customers, a table of regulars, comment on how tired she looks. So she lies, saying it is nothing serious.

Only after delivering the drinks, while moving toward the kitchen to collect the soups they had ordered, did she finally give herself the chance to release the yawn she had been holding back without risking bothering a customer.

Ever since they had started trying to practice magic, she had been tired.

At first, she had not thought much of it.

The first week had simply been repeating the spell’s name while trying to copy the boys’ actions. The boys practiced alongside them and encouraged them to imitate everything they did, insisting they imagine themselves doing exactly the same thing. However, at first, there were apparently no results at all.

Only a few days ago had Saca first commented on a tingling sensation in her fingertips. That had immediately attracted Seres’s attention. Some time later, Sena herself had felt a shock in the hand she held out where the orb of light was supposed to form.

That had made both Seres and Adar quite excited, so much so that they had called Nero, announcing that the girls had finally begun accessing their magic.

Which of course had immediately led her to ask: if that was true, then why had neither she nor Saca created any ball of light?

That was when Adar explained that they had merely begun attempting to cast the spell, not that they were succeeding at it. Until now, they had simply been reciting the spell’s name without actually doing anything.

Seres had tried to encourage them, saying that taking such a short time to begin using their magic was genuinely impressive.

Then Adar had declared that from now on, they needed to carefully repeat whatever they had done and prepare themselves to wait, because actually casting the spell could take time.

Naturally, they had asked how long it would take.

At the time, they had both been rather excited at being close to doing something few people could: use magic.

But the answer from all three boys had been a shrug.

Then Nero had explained that now they were basically dependent on chance. Eventually, they should succeed, but whether that would happen in ten days or ten years, there was no way to know.

Immediately afterward, he had commented, “Which is why I want to see if I can transfer the spell.” And then he had begun ordering Saca to repeat the experiment of transferring the spell. Which, of course, had ended in yet another failure.

Since then, they had begun trying again with renewed hope.

Unfortunately, they could not always feel something that seemed to indicate progress.

In Sena’s case, she usually had more success when she remembered the moment Nero had summoned the orb of light to intimidate the assassins, then placed herself in his position. Imagining herself summoning the ball of light when saying, “The Last Light of Magic.”

What they later noticed was how much more tired they had become after achieving even that small success. Leading her to ask about it the previous night.

Nero had shrugged again, saying, “Oh yes, that makes sense. Since you’re spending all your magic trying to cast the spell, until you recover a decent level of magic, you get a small fatigue penalty.”

It had sounded like an explanation, but had still left Sena and Saca staring at each other in confusion. She even suspected the boys had not really understood either.

That had left Nero frustrated, muttering, “Look, just accept that you’re going to feel more tired. Try to eat better and rest whenever you can.”

And so the discussion had ended, leaving them more or less exactly where they started.

Which, at this moment, as she steps out from the kitchen door into the inn’s main room, makes her reflect on their situation.

Both she and Saca have to spend the day exhausted while doing their daily work, only to spend the night training the spell and becoming even more tired.

“How do normal mages even work like this?” she wonders to herself.

Then something freezes her in place.

Right there in front of her, on the opposite side of the inn, seated at a table, are two faces she recognizes.

The only time she had seen them in person, they had looked helpless, tied up as they were, enough to make someone almost pity them.

But she is certainly not foolish enough to ignore how dangerous the two men truly are.

What snaps her awake are the bowls in her hands.

Her sudden freeze nearly sent them crashing to the floor.

Recovering some composure, she slowly approaches the table she is serving so she can set the dishes down. While doing that, she continues to keep a careful eye on the table with the two men.

Who seems to have noticed that she noticed them.

At that moment, the bowls almost slip from her hands again, as she briefly considers drawing the knife she carries. Ironically, a knife that had once belonged to one of them.

Fortunately, they do not appear to have any aggressive intentions for the moment.

That makes her continue working, unwilling to create a scene.

With one of the most forced smiles of her life, she places the dishes before the customers with a, “Here you are. Enjoy your meal.”

They thank her kindly while continuing their conversation, to which she pays no attention whatsoever, having far greater concerns.

She steps away from the customers and faces a choice.

Run and try to find Nero as quickly as possible.

Or approach the two men.

The first option is by far the more appealing.

But the truth is that she does not know exactly where the boys are right now. And leaving this crowded place would leave her even more vulnerable.

Approaching the men might at least create an illusion of safety, which—even if false- should protect her for a little while. With luck, at least until the boys come to pick her up.

The two men remain seated quietly at their table.

What makes her calm herself a little more.

But last time, they had hired others to harass her to test Nero. And nothing prevents them from doing it again.

Perhaps they even intend to kidnap her to lure Nero into some ambush.

After weighing her options, it ultimately feels better to simply speak with them and see what happens.

So she heads toward the table that technically should be served by another girl. But no one would find it strange for her to speak with the customers seated there.

As she approaches, she scans the room around her, considering the possibility that someone working for them might appear. Because of that, she slips a hand beneath her apron, feeling the knife’s handle and preparing herself in case she needs to use it.

And cursing the fact that she still has not learned the lightball spell. Just as Nero had said, it would be extremely useful right now!

The two men glance between each other and her.

There is anxiety in them, something they try to hide, but she is paying enough attention to notice it. Their bodies are too rigid for ordinary customers, and then there is the intensity of their eyes upon her.

The men resemble each other so much that they must be brothers.

The only difference is that one is slightly shorter than the other. And his cheeks seem somewhat fuller.

Other than that, anyone unaware of what they are would assume they were ordinary men.

When she reaches the table, she gets the absurd impression that they are almost afraid to speak to her.

But the thought quickly passes, and she speaks.

“What do you want?”

Her voice is harsher than it would be with a normal customer, and weaker than she would have liked while speaking to these two men. But it is not as though she dares more than that.

The shorter one looks toward the taller one, and they seem to hold a brief silent conversation.

Then they rise slightly from their chairs.

The sudden movement prompts her to draw her knife.

But she freezes the instant she hears a hesitant:

“Mylady…”

She stops.

Even when she had been married to Neven, the clan leader, no one had addressed her with such respect. And considering the slight bows of their heads and the careful tone in their voices, they appear sincere.

“…we would like to present…” the taller one continues, drawing her attention.

“…our report to Lord Nero,” finishes the other, making her look toward him.

Now she no longer knows what to do.

“Report?”

The word reminds her of Nero’s… well, orders to them.

But even so, does this mean they actually did what Nero told them to do?

The silence stretches until the taller one speaks again.

“Considering our last interaction… we thought it best…”

“…not to approach the Lord directly, so as not to… disturb him!” the other finishes while his companion nods.

Sena may come from the clans, but she understands perfectly what the men mean.

They are afraid to approach Nero directly, afraid he might do something.

Something Adar would certainly consider intelligent.

And so they came here to her workplace.

A place where they know Nero will appear.

And where there should be enough people to limit Nero’s outburst if he dislikes seeing them.

As for her, all she can do is nod and tell them,

“I see. He’ll probably still take a while. You’ll have to wait.”

“Yes, yes. Certainly,” they answer naturally, as though they had already expected that.

They stare awkwardly at one another, unsure what to do next, until she decides to simply behave like a waitress.

“So, would you like anything?”

They look around the crowded inn, seeming to assess the situation, until the shorter one says,

“Perhaps a soup.”

“Very well. I’ll let the girl serving this table know.”

With that, she steps away, heading for the kitchen to do exactly that.

As she walks, she cannot help but think how interesting it will be to see what happens when Nero finally arrives.

But in the end, she simply yawns tiredly and continues her work.

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