The misadventures of the necromancer

Tevat stood slack-jawed, staring at the small disaster that had just unfolded. The poor fool who’d been doused in soup let out something close to a roar and slammed his fist on the table before him.

The maid on the floor almost jumped to her feet, shrieking, “Customer!!!”

Ena, sprawled on her back, lifted her head to see the mess she had caused, eyes wide as she exclaimed, “Ohhh Gods!”

The injured man’s companion raised both hands, palms out, shouting, “Calm down, calm down! I have a potion.”

That declaration eased the murmuring that had risen from the other patrons in the hall, some of whom had already stood from their seats.

While all this was happening, Tevat could only think that this hadn’t been his intention at all—that things had slipped a little out of his control.

His attention snapped back when a harsh shout rang out: “Shut up!”

It was the voice of the man who’d been burned. He grabbed a jug from the table and poured what looked like water over his back.

Next, the boy—who, from his movements, Tevat realized was about his own age—reached to tug his shirt away from his back so the soaked fabric wouldn’t cling to the burns.

It quickly became clear that the soup, still boiling hot, was burning him through the drenched cloth.

At last, with his free hand, he slammed the table. For a moment, the light from the street struck him strangely, giving him a faint glow.

But Tevat couldn’t focus on that, for the boy let out a guttural groan of pain before growling through clenched teeth, “Why the hell does this stuff have to burn so much!?”

The maid rushed to his side, stretching out a hand but freezing halfway, trembling on the verge of tears.

“Customer, customer—are you all right? I’m so sorry, I, I...” she stammered.

“No, no, don’t be like that. I’m the one who bumped into you. I’m the one who should apologize... to both of you,” Ena cut in, rising from the floor, clutching the arm Tevat had pulled.

The servant by the door hurried over and declared, “No, it was only an accident. Ultimately, the responsibility lies with us. The inn will take care of everything... If the customer needs treatment, we’ll handle any expen—”

That was when the boy turned, his face more than irritated, and barked—almost—but not quite shouting: “Everybody shut it!!”

The strange thing was that, compared to the scream he had given when burned, the volume was lower, but somehow far clearer. Even Tevat’s father would have been impressed by the control in that voice.

The boy tilted his head toward his companion. “Grumpy, focus on the important thing... How are the clothes?” he asked, pointing a thumb at his back.

Tevat—and, he assumed, others as well—couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

The companion hesitated, paling, glancing nervously around the room, as if even he wasn’t sure what to say.

At last, he spoke: “Doesn’t look too bad... A bit stained, but nothing a little soap can’t fix...”

Nero seemed to let out a held breath at his companion’s words. Somewhere in the hall, someone muttered, “He thinks he can wash that out...”

Another voice replied, “Nah, that soup looked like it was of Brev. His clothes are ruined. Nothing can save them from that stane.”

That made the robed boy glance in the direction of the talking with an expression as if someone had just stabbed him.

But he didn’t have much time to search for the speaker, for Nero’s irritated voice rang out again: “Grumpy!!”

“I, I’ve never seen this soup before! I’ve no way of knowing how it stains... To me, it doesn’t look that bad,” Grumpy answered, shaking his head furiously, as though begging to be believed.

Nero didn’t waste time arguing. Instead, he stepped back until he was leaning against the table he’d been eating at. He shook his head—not in denial but in frustration—before muttering under his breath, “Cursed. I must be cursed. There’s no other explanation.”

He grabbed his shirt, staring at it intensely. “I just bought these clothes, and this is the one that lasted the least. Only a couple of hours. This is completely ridiculous.”

Then he dropped the fabric and pressed a hand to his face. “The Twin Peaks not unleashing anything until we passed by must have burned up all my luck or something.”

The remark made no sense, leaving Tevat, and by the increased murmurs, baffled.

“We can always buy new clothes,” Grumpy offered, trying to help.

And then Tevat understood the whole performance. Nero couldn’t have been hurt badly—the soup must have been cooler than it seemed. So, they were staging all of this to squeeze some money from the accident.

Right on cue, Ena spoke: “Yes, yes. Don’t worry, I can cover...”

But Tevat wasn’t about to let her be taken in. He cut her off. “I’ll pay!”

Glancing at the clothes—acceptable quality, probably worth two or three silver coins—he decided to be generous. Turning to the servant at his side, he ordered, “Give them four silver coins from my account. That should be more than enough.”

“Hey, clown. Who said you could talk?” Nero snapped, eyes hard as he fixed on Tevat.

As if that would scare him? No—if anything, it only angered him further and confirmed his suspicions. Why else would Nero react like that? Obviously, he’d been counting on squeezing more money out of Ena.

She, for her part, let out a frustrated, “Tevat!!” and shook her head before turning back to Nero. Her reaction was nothing new.

“Don’t worry, I can cover whatever’s needed,” she said.

But he refused to allow it. “No, she won’t. You’ll get four coins, and that’s already generous.”

“You’re incredibly rude...” Nero retorted, his gaze heavy. Tevat had seen this type before—fools fresh to town who thought they could intimidate him. They always changed their tune once he explained who he was—or when Fendat did.

“I was kind enough not to teach you manners when you barged in here, causing that uproar. And this is how it ends!” Nero said, gesturing at his ruined clothes.

Once again, Tevat felt his face grow hot as he struggled not to lunge at the wretch.

“Maybe it’s you who needs to learn some manners,” came Fendat’s voice as he descended the stairs.

“The muscle? I presume,” the boy said coldly.

“Tevat, they have nothing to do with this. What happened was our fault,” Ena said tensely, glancing between him and Fendat.

“Yes, the muscle,” Fendat declared almost proudly, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

Nero nodded slowly, muttering something under his breath. Tevat assumed he was realizing what he’d gotten himself into. Just as the light struck him, strangely once again.

“Nero, they said they’ll pay for the clothes. Maybe...” Grumpy began, looking paler than ever, eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. Clearly, he too realized how deep they were in and wanted to calm things down.

But Tevat, after what he’d heard, no longer felt so generous. “Now it’s only three coins. I'm the one that don’t like your manners. And don’t think you’ll squeeze another copper out of this.”

At that, Nero let out a laugh before asking his companion, “Grumpy, how much silver do we still have?”

“Uh, well—we’ve already paid for everything except the meal. So, about two coins and...”

“That’s enough. Put them on the table,” Nero declared grandly, as though announcing they had no need of money. Tevat almost laughed. Did they really think they could impress him with two silver coins?

That was—until he looked properly at the coins Grumpy laid on the table. It was impossible not to notice their size.

When they’d spoken of silver coins, he—as any normal person—had assumed they meant the small ones. But these were large silver coins. Even he and his father couldn’t afford to casually call such pieces “silver coins”—that term was usually reserved for the small ones.

A chuckle rippled through the hall, coming from the still-drenched boy.

“Look at their faces. It’s like they’ve never seen money before,” Nero announced gleefully, glancing around at the crowd.

Grumpy quickly scooped up the coins and hurried around the table to his friend.

“Yes, yes. With this, you have put them in their place. Maybe we should just leave... You know, check if what we ordered is already packed up,” Grumpy said, eyeing his companion and the exit, looking very much like a man worried about what might come next.

Nero scratched his head a little, as if considering what he had just heard, then glanced at Tevat and said, “Maybe, but...”

But Tevat wasn’t falling for it. Yes, the reveal of the coins had been impressive. But unfortunately for these arrogant fools, Tevat knew it wasn’t so unusual for travelers to keep some money as a reserve in case things went wrong.

The two coins, by themselves, were not all that impressive.

And looking at the clothes of these two travelers, it was easy to conclude they weren’t that wealthy. Just judging by the leader—this “Nero”—his outfit couldn’t be worth more than three small silver coins. Even the merchant traveling with Ena wore clothes worth nearly twice that.

So the little story they were trying to sell didn’t hold water with him.

You could tell just by how Nero hesitated instead of simply leaving, as his companion had suggested. After all, they hadn’t gotten anything out of it yet!

“And who said you’re free to just walk away like that?” Tevat demanded, stepping closer, ready to put them in their place. He could hear Fendat following close behind him.

“Tevat! Stop!” Ena cried, darting in front of him.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not leaving yet. After all, you just burned me. And the one that usually gets to roast things is me,” Nero declared darkly, unwilling to back down.

Tevat pushed Ena aside and advanced toward the two arrogant strangers.

Nero stepped forward, too, meeting him head-on. The silence that fell over the inn was broken only by Grumpy blurting out, “Nero, Nero—we might need to come back here. Maybe a little restraint would be better.”

“Yes, yes, that would be best!” Ena added tensely before blurting, “Tevat is the Mayor’s son...”

That made the arrogant Nero pause and glance at them with curiosity. Tevat had expected more shock, some sign that Nero understood the trouble he was walking into. But unfortunately for these two outsiders, after everything that had just happened, Tevat had no desire to be merciful.

It was at that moment, as the two of them stood nearly chest to chest, that Nero turned to his companion and asked, sounding almost surprised, “Is that supposed to be impressive? We’re in some backwater town in the middle of nowhere.”

Tevat’s jaw dropped at the insult, while Grumpy only shrugged as if to say, How should I know?

Unable to hold back any longer, Tevat shouted at the top of his lungs, “Fendat, I want this bastard bleeding—!”

To then, suddenly, he felt a blow to his face. The force knocked him to the ground before the pain even registered.

There was no doubt he had just been punched—but he couldn’t understand where the strike had come from, since Nero, standing right in front of him, hadn’t moved at all... and even looked surprised himself.

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