The misadventures of the necromancer

With this “Decide,” he truly hopes they’ll make the right choice and calm down. And judging by most of their attitudes, he’s betting he’s right.

But knowing he can’t just assume things like that, he starts looking around to determine the best initial target, if it comes to that. At first, he thinks maybe somewhere near the caravan would be the best spot.

Unfortunately, that area seems to be where the civilians are at the moment—older folk, women, and even a few children. Which reminds him that he really doesn’t want this to go on any further.

And speaking of children, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Grumpy wisely, slowly pulling the two kids they rescued back—most likely trying to get them out of the danger zone.

But none of that changes the choices in front of him, especially given that the best strategy that comes to mind is a very bad one. More specifically, the only thing he can think to do is hurl one, maybe even two fireballs at the surrounding groups. With some luck, he should be able to place them close enough without hitting himself.

Even if the blast does reach him, he has Ortan’s Shield to protect him. Of course, not everyone’s that lucky, he thinks, casting a glance at the mule with Blondie beside it.

Unfortunately, if this ends in stupidity, he’ll have no choice but to do just that—because letting this many people attack him at once, Ortan’s Shield or not, is a bad idea.

That reminds him that the spell’s effect must be running out, and waiting for that will end badly for him. True, he can always cast Ortan’s Shield again, but that’s time he could spend better by throwing more of Draco’s Flames or even Moon’s Shadow to disappear entirely.

But that means he’s running out of time. So, he has to push them into making a decision again. Leading him to take a deep breath and bark out, “Well!?”

The world freezes as everyone looks at him—tense faces exchanging quick glances—but no one steps forward with an answer. Which makes him increasingly exasperated, realizing these wretches are forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to.

As he starts raising his hands, a voice rings out:

“Lord mage! My lord, what decision do we need to make? Your kindness is plain for all to see.”

It’s that captain stepping forward and speaking, clearly trying to push his companions into agreeing with his opinion, while trying to butter him up.

“Not to mention your mercy in allowing these… fools to speak so insultingly,” the man continues with a forced smile, turning to face his companions.

Thankfully, several seem to be nodding in agreement, persuading him to let the man go on.

“What!? You’re all cra—” the chattiest bandit starts to say, only to be interrupted by a kick from the young blonde woman.

“Shut up, you wretch. First you attack us, and now you want to stir trouble between us and the Lord Mage,” she snaps, raising the axe she’s holding to threaten the bandit.

“Yes, exactly that,” the captain says, still scanning the crowd to regain control of his people. He even has to shoot some harder looks at a few armed caravan members. In the end, though, he seems to be succeeding.

“In that case, stop staring into space like that, and keep on capturing these bastards who attacked us and injured so many of ours. Instead of harassing, who helped us,” the man concludes in an authoritative tone that seems to do the job.

Reminding them that those who spoke most against him were the same ones who had attacked them seems effective. Under the captain’s watchful eye—whom he assumes is the caravan’s guard captain—they get back to dealing with the aftermath of the battle: tying up the bandits, helping the wounded, and clearing the battlefield of anything valuable.

“We’ll hand them over in the next town,” the captain says as he approaches.

Allowing him the opportunity to study the man carefully. Initially, he’d assumed from his appearance that the guy was mostly a fighter. Fortunately, he’s shown himself to be intelligent and diplomatic. But, being the possible captain of a caravan’s guard, that’s not so surprising—being just a thug doesn’t get you far in that position.

He takes the moment to give the man a nod, but says nothing. While he’s pleased by the apparent mercy of not killing all the bandits and instead handing them to the authorities, part of him can’t help wondering if the man simply doesn’t want a pile of corpses near a necromancer.

The man hesitates for a moment, then returns the nod before saying, “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to see to.”

He nods, and the man starts walking away, though not without adding, “Once again, thank you for your help.”

Watching the man leave, he lets out a sigh, easing a bit of the tension he’s been under—when a familiar voice speaks behind him.

“So, Nero, what do we do now?”

It’s Grumpy, accompanied by Blondie, coming closer, the mule not far behind them, and looking utterly unfazed by all the chaos.

“The children?” he asks, remembering seeing Grumpy with them not long ago.

“I found someone they recognized and left them with her,” Grumpy replies. He nods, glad to be rid of that potential problem.

He then turns to Blondie, and though for a moment he thinks of scolding the boy for the ridiculous stunt of pulling the arrow from the mule, he decides to simply ask, “How’s the mule?”

“She’s fine. The arrow didn’t do much damage, and the hole’s small enough that no one will notice unless they’re looking really close,” Blondie answers, for once serious. But in the end, the news is good—the last thing he wants is to lose the mule, and too much visible damage may force just that.

As he thinks to himself how nice it would be if he could stop having to put the versatile mule in danger again, Grumpy asks once more, “So what do we do now?”

“What do you think? We leave,” he replies, wondering what else they could possibly do. Even though no one is attacking them, the looks they’re getting from the people around are heavy.

“So we go back? Because the way ahead is blocked,” Grumpy says, pointing toward the road they’d been following, where the caravan is still blocked by the rocks the bandits must have rolled into place.

Remembering that, he pauses for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Nah, no good. We keep going forward.”

That way, they can move on while avoiding the rumors that are sure to spread about three men and their undead mule. Only by pressing forward, counting on the caravan’s slower pace, can they keep going without troublesome suspicions catching up to them.

As such, he continues forward along the road in the direction of the caravan. Behind him, he can hear Blondie’s and Grumpy’s footsteps following.

At first, no one reacts, but eventually they realize where he’s heading. This inevitably results in fearful glances and fingers pointing toward him to warn others. And, of course, people are starting to grab their weapons.

But what else can he do? Turning back and going around wouldn’t be a solution.

The mule could hardly make it over the rocky hill. Trying to go down into the ravine on the other side is dangerous for everyone, and he doesn’t even know if it would be possible to climb back up further ahead.

As such, he has to either go forward or find another path, which could allow the caravan to pass ahead of him, ruining his chances of avoiding the rumors.

On the other hand, simply waiting would only serve to bore him and slowly increase everyone’s tension. So he might as well face the problem head-on.

Naturally, as he gets closer to the caravan, more and more signs appear that they’re preparing to resist. The looks grow heavier, and the tension in their bodies mounts.

But in the end, their eyes shift to a point behind him, and they move aside slightly, giving the signal that he can pass. Looking back, he sees the captain approaching with a tense expression, who, upon noticing him looking, forces a smile.

Realizing the man must have signaled for them to let him through, he keeps moving forward.

“Lord Mage, may I ask what you’re doing?” the man asks, unable to hide his hesitation.

“We’re continuing on our way. So, goodbye,” he replies, trying to be as clear as possible. With that, they reach the place where the caravan’s wagons and animals are being held up.

“But… the road is blocked…” the captain says slowly, still following them and apparently trying to calm the caravan members they encounter.

These, in turn, watch them pass with confusion, some fear, and uncertainty about what to do. More than one person grips something they can use as a weapon, like a knife—though whether it’s because of him or the recent attack, he can’t say. But given that they seem to be mostly old folk, children, and women, he figures the risk to himself is low.

“Yes, yes. I know. But only when I see the blockage myself can I think of something. Besides, I intend to be the first to go through once it’s cleared,” he tells the captain.

Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—another issue arises: the road isn’t that wide, especially with the size of their wagons, which means that the animals pulling them and the undead mule are rather close. Something he hadn’t considered, but which is certain to cause problems.

The mule has no issues, but the other animals all try to flee from it, forcing the caravan folk to struggle to keep them under control. At one point, a couple of horses almost go down the cliff.

At least this distracts them a bit from the group’s passing, as they deal with the more immediate problem. Even so, he has to admit the fault is his—but since there’s nothing he can do about it now, he keeps quiet.

Either way, it doesn’t take them long to reach the section of road covered in rocks.

With the huge boulders piled, he turns to the captain, who now has a good number of his companions with him, people who must have joined as they made their way here. And though he hesitates briefly, wondering if this gathering could be a risk, he finally says to the man: “We have to get these rocks out of the way.”

“Yes, yes, I understand. But we have other matters to deal with—the wounded and some damaged equipment. So I don’t know how many people I can put on this,” the captain replies, glancing around as if to gauge what resources he can count on, before sighing and adding, “It might take a while.”

For a moment, he doubts the man, but then again, why would he want to keep him here? Especially considering that not long ago he’d threatened to kill them. And given that he doesn’t really know what casualties they suffered in the fight with the bandits, he can only assume the man is being sincere.

That reminds him of what he was thinking about before the mules' discovery. With a sigh that lets him release some of his irritation with all this nonsense, he turns to Grumpy.

“Minus two potions—give them the rest. They’ll probably need them.” Though he doesn’t like losing most of his potions, in the end, it’s not that much work to replace them. As such, he can just feel a little nice with this small act of generosity.

Grumpy, in turn, seems to hesitate for a moment as if he wants to say something, but finally nods and goes to the mule to fetch them.

With that, he turns back to the captain, who looks surprised by what he’s heard and seems ready to thank him. But not in the mood to waste more time on such things, he speaks first:

“As for the rocks—use the bandits.”

For a moment, the man doesn’t seem to understand, prompting him to clarify:

“The bandits. They made this mess—they can fix it,” he says, pointing toward the boulders ahead. “There should be enough of them in good condition to push the rocks off the road.”

Finally, the man seems to get it, nodding before turning to his companions and giving orders to bring the bandits who are still physically capable. He also points out to whom Grumpy should hand the potions being offered.

A few minutes later—during which they awkwardly watch each other—the criminals responsible for all this arrive, escorted by guards.

When they’re told what they have to do, they glance at each other in clear displeasure, but seem ready to get on with it. That is, until the annoying one who’d discovered he was a necromancer steps forward and declares almost proudly:

“I’m not doing anything a necromancer wants. I don’t serve the darkness!”

Even Blondie nearly shouts: “The darkness… You’re a bandit!!”

As for himself, he simply steps up face-to-face with this idiot, places a hand on his shoulder, smiles—a smile that isn’t even hard, since this guy is a clown—and says calmly:

“You really are dumb.”

The man turns red with anger and tries to shake the hand off his shoulder. But without letting himself be pushed back, and taking care to keep smiling, he goes on:

“Well. Haven’t we already established that I’m a necromancer?”

The statement forces a heavy silence over everyone present, as if the confirmation of what they all already knew might change something. The fool, for his part, stares into his eyes, unsure of what to do with what he’s just heard.

This allows him to continue, still smiling:

“As such, the question is never whether someone is going to do exactly what I said.”

Here, he lets a short pause hang in the air, drops the smile, and leans in close to finish:

“The only question is whether you’ll do it before or after you’re dead.”

Letting go of the man’s shoulder and stepping back, he gets to enjoy the sight of him thinking it over. Deciding to put the smile back on—just to spook them a little—he’s interrupted when someone says:

“I don’t want to become a servant of Dekart.”

This sends the bandits scrambling to the rocks. The idiot starts to look scared before running after his friends. Not that he personally notices much else, since in his mind, the only thing echoing is the phrase “Servant of Dekart.”

He feels like shouting at the top of his lungs that it can’t possibly be that simple—that something he’s spent so much time on can’t be so basic. The hope of having discovered something so important and useful almost evaporates in the face of it being so elementary. It leaves him frustrated—and, at the same time, eager to test it to see if it’s true. But looking at the tense faces around him, even he has to admit it’s not the best moment. Which only irritates him further.

While he turns the thought over and over in his mind, the only thing he really notices is Grumpy’s voice saying:

“We don’t need much space to pass. And the sooner you clear that space, the sooner we’ll be gone.”

With those words, the bandits gain fresh energy and enthusiasm for the work, and even some caravan members offer to help. But in the end, the only thing he truly cares about right now is: “Servant of Dekart.”

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