The misadventures of the necromancer

He sits down carefully in front of the two men.

They glance at each other and become extremely still, seemingly having a silent discussion. The only conclusion is that they are debating who should start talking. Neither wanted the hot potato.

Deciding not to interrupt, he studies the situation, or rather, the surprise.

Because he had never believed he would see the two “Assassins’ Guild” killers again. Honestly, the outcome he had expected was for the pair to flee.

But here they are.

Which leaves the question: why?

In one possibility, they joined forces with the soup idiot and are here for another attempt. Which would mean they are currently waiting for the opportunity to strike the moment he gets distracted.

Of course, the other possibility is that they taught the soup guy a lesson, as he had told them. And are here to tell him about it. Which would explain the term Sena had used: “They’re here to present their report,” when she pointed out the two sitting here.

Of course, that might simply be the excuse they plan to use to gain his trust!

“Lord Nero,” the taller one begins.

A form of address that immediately puts him on alert, because everyone who starts with “Lord” always either wants something or is trying to get out of something.

Still, considering the situation, it is probably best not to address that for now.

He had been careful to cast Ortan’s Shield on himself. But the spell’s resistance would not last forever, and this conversation might end up being long. So it is better to move things along.

Thus, he merely gestures with his head for the man to continue.

“Well…” the man begins, glancing at his companion, clearly seeking support. “We are here to report that we completed our mission.”

A polite way of saying, if he believes them, that they have just returned after beating up the soup idiot.

Still, this does not seem like the moment to comment.

“No one died, as ordered…” the other suddenly says, with the unmistakable tone of someone eager to make very clear that the job was done exactly as instructed.

Then the tall one speaks again.

“Yes, yes. But we can guarantee they received the message.”

“How?”

After all, they just made a claim that is difficult to verify. And one they would certainly lie about if they were still working for the soup idiot.

“To begin with, without magical healing, Telvat will limp for the rest of his life,” the tall one comments rather casually.

Then he realizes the tone perhaps doesn't carry the… seriousness they are aiming for. So he falls silent and straightens up.

The moment his companion speaks again, drawing attention to himself:

“As Avast said, Telvat certainly received the message physically. Besides that, we remained in Arrowhill for several days.”

If true, that is a smart decision. Observe what the other side does afterward.

So he nods for the man to continue. The more they talk, the better he can evaluate their story.

“When his father found them, he quickly arranged for his son to leave Arrowhill,” the man explains calmly, sitting with his back straight as if presenting a report to an officer.

That almost makes him smile.

“Yes, apparently they went south to stay with a relative. If you wish, we can provide exact directions,” the taller one interjects.

Best to reject that outright, mainly because he has no interest in the fate of this Telvat fellow.

So he shakes his head.

Verifying the story would be possible, but would it justify the time and effort?

No. The important thing is not the fool, but these two men.

These assassins…

Which raises another question.

“How does some brat in a village in the middle of nowhere manage to hire two idiots pretending to belong to the Assassins’ Guild?”

“As we explained before…” says one of them, referring to the time he had them tied up in the shack. “The one who arranged the contact with us was Fendat.”

Which he assumes is the bodyguard he fought during the soup incident.

But that is still a weak explanation.

Though the lack of hesitation in answering is a good sign.

Even so, he clearly wants more information.

“And?”

“Fendat was a well-known bandit around here. So he had the contacts necessary to reach us,” the shorter one answers immediately.

“And how does some spoiled child end up with a bandit like that as a bodyguard?” he asks, though he is beginning to remember something from his discussion with the clown’s father.

“The Mayor of Arrowhill controls much of the access to the abandoned regions…” the taller one begins.

“And he belongs to the Cork family,” the shorter one finishes, as though revealing some great secret.

“Who?”

The annoyance in his voice is impossible to hide from these people, expecting this to clarify anything.

They glance at one another again before the tall one answers.

“The Corks are merchants who control the Rainbow Stoles.”

“Right!!”

After all, what else is he supposed to say? Does he look like someone who goes around shopping for stoles? With the clothes he wears?

Fortunately, the other one comes to the rescue.

“Rainbow stoles are highly sought after along the coast. Their prices are obscene.”

“And the Corks are the only ones who know how to produce them. Apparently, they have a secret process that gives them all those colors,” the tall one explains.

“And the main source for the fur they use…” he continues until the shorter man interrupts him.

“According to the rumors we’ve heard.”

“Yes, that. It comes…”

“…from the abandoned territories,” is the natural conclusion for him. That, the two nod in confirmation.

So Western North Hills is the source of the fur they use.

And given the conditions of the clans there, they likely pay little more than they would for ordinary pelts. Ensuring all the profits remain on their side as both the sole buyers of the fur and the sole sellers of these famous stoles.

Which is simply magnificent.

Because it means that in the end, his real problem may be this Cork family.

“Do those stoles have any magical importance?” Because if they do, the situation could become much worse.

“No. They’re just fashion pieces,” the taller one replies.

At least that is good news.

Not that he can afford to underestimate the power of money. But it should make the problem somewhat more manageable.

Not that he is planning to escalate things.

On the other hand, if those merchants become troublesome, he could always visit the clans of Western North Hills and have a little conversation about economics and resource management.

The mere idea draws a smile to his lips as he imagines the merchants’ reactions.

Of course, all of this depends on whether the information is trustworthy.

“Nero!” Grumpy’s voice echoes from behind him.

“What?”

“If you don’t need me and you’re not finished yet, I think I should go meet up with Saca.”

Need him for what? If this turns violent, he will be completely useless.

But instead of saying that, he answers:

“Well, I think I’ve heard the report. So… goodbye.”

As he begins to stand, the two men nearly jump from their chairs.

Which makes him raise a hand, wondering if this is where everything explodes.

“Lord Nero!!” they both blurt out simultaneously.

Which is actually a good sign.

They pause and hold another brief silent conversation before the shorter one speaks again, glancing around to make sure no one is listening.

“Lord Nero, we would like to speak with you a little about the Guild.”

And with that, what they really want is finally revealed!

Which makes him sit back down and mutter to Grumpy:

“You go ahead. Looks like this is going to take a while longer.”

Why, why did it have to be the damned Guild? Its missions weren’t even that great. There were a ton of games with much better assassin organizations than this one. The only reason he had joined the Guild with Nero had been because of the skills that were easier to obtain through its missions.

Among the active and passive skills he had acquired, if he attacked a tank from behind while invisible with a knife, the poor bastard probably wouldn’t survive more than two hits… Which reminds him that maybe Sena’s idea of carrying a knife wasn’t as useless as he had first thought.

So honestly, he doesn’t actually remember that much about the Guild.

Even so, letting out a sigh, he has to ask the two men, “And what exactly do you want with the Guild?”

Once again, they look at each other, but this time they seem encouraged, as if motivating one another.

“We wanted to learn more about it,” the taller one answers softly.

Were the two thinking he was an idiot? Who wants to learn more about an assassin organization without some ulterior motive?

“For what?” he asks, unable to hide the irritation in his voice at this nonsense.

The reaction is immediate, both men straightening up tensely.

“Well…” the taller one begins slowly, which naturally earns him another irritated look.

“Ever since we first heard about the Guild, we always dreamed of joining it,” the shorter one replies quickly. Almost too quickly, though fortunately, it seems he caught all of it.

Leaning slowly back into his chair under the anxious gaze of the two men, he takes a moment to think about how to approach this subject.

In the end, the truth seems the better way to go.

“In that case, I can’t help you.”

“What do you mean?” the two ask almost simultaneously.

Which of course means he now has to figure out how to untangle this mess without revealing that this world comes from a game… or something like one.

“Do I look like I’m still in contact with the Guild?” A question even an idiot should be able to answer. If that were the case, how could they possibly have fooled him, even for a moment, into thinking they were members?

They don’t answer, and he doesn’t have the patience to wait, so he keeps talking.

“Yes, I was a member. And I know quite a lot about the organization.”

“But the connection wasn’t that strong. And it’s been a long time. I might not even still exist in the Guild’s records as a member anymore.”

A vague enough explanation. And fairly accurate too, because judging from the experience in the Temple of Divine Trials. There likely are no records of Nero in the Guild at all.

Of course, if it became truly necessary, he’s fairly certain there are other ways to prove he belonged to the organization.

Meanwhile, the two men seem lost in thought after hearing this. Possibly discouraged…

“We understand,” the shorter one replies, receiving a nod from the other confirming his agreement.

A calm and peaceful response. Not at all what he had expected. Which makes him suspicious that something still isn’t right… that this could all just be part of the trap they’re building.

“Do you think the Guild still exists?” the taller one asks softly.

That leaves him thinking, because it’s actually a good question. And with that, even though he knows it’s a mistake, he relaxes again.

“How long have you been wearing those rings?” he asks, looking at the rings belonging to the assassin group.

“Almost twelve years!” one of them replies.

Twelve years! That answer says everything by itself.

“Then… no.”

There isn’t the slightest chance the Guild would allow someone to walk around with one of its rings for that long. Of that, he is absolutely certain.

Because one of the Guild’s beginner missions is exactly about that scenario. Some random NPC wanders around a city pretending to be a Guild member, and the PC has to kill him publicly. So everyone gets the message.

Once again, the two remain calm, as though that was the answer they expected. Which perhaps makes sense, after twelve years without any contact…

“Nero, Nero! Something’s happening!” exclaims a distressed Sena, appearing almost out of nowhere.

Immediately, he looks at the two men, expecting betrayal. But the pair rise in confusion, raising their hands as if to say they have nothing to do with whatever is happening.

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