"Who are you?" Is my imdiate question. The both of them sit cross-legged in the snow, holding their thighs tightly as if anxious for sothing.
Given the scene of death behind , I can give a solid guess as to what they're expecting.
For their sakes I stuff my bloodied hands into my pocket and act as relaxed and incapable of harm as I can.
The one on the left, a burly man with a sword sheathed by his side, a warrior no doubt, if we get into a tussle, I shouldn't underestimate him, my last experience with a sword-wielder wasn't pretty.
I'm not particularly ready to replicate that event as I stand now with less than a hundred MP left in .
The warrior contrasts his partner; coupled with the plain white of the snow and the dull grey of the hair on his head, the deep auburn of his partners hair stands out like a sour thumb.
The sight of auburn hair brings back so mories and that's how I know for sure, this man, is the Mayor.
He's seated in the snow, strong study boots, several rings on his fingers all of them exuding a magical signature from them and has on a heavy dark coat on for the cold, one lined with the brown fur of an animal.
Soon I realize that within the ti spent analysing them, they've yet to answer my question. I don't need an answer anymore but it's quite rude isn't it?
So, I take a single step forward. This proves to be an act of agitation because the warrior instantly springs forth and falls cleanly into a stance where his blade is ready to be unsheathed.
"Stop!" he screams, the desperation to live in his voice is imdiately apparent. I wonder how much of the battle they saw to be this fearful of .
But it'd be understandable even if they only saw a glimpse. Others quiver in fear and apprehension at the ntion of a Necromancer despite not doing any of my magic.
Even Leriva. I rember vaguely, when she challenged in her office to show that I am truly a Mage worthy of fighting beside her. Back then I was weaker than possibly all Mages.
And yet, rely exuding my mana made her tremble, she didn't even ask for further proof or an act of magic or a display of my skills.
Yes, back then she'd already suspected of being a Necromancer thanks to that blabbering Diviner at Ioina. I suppose my willingness to stand up to her bluff along with the fact that she already began suspecting as a Necromancer doubled her over with fear.
But now, seeing these two trembles before like so many others before, I can't help wonderinghow atrocious were the actions of the last Necromancer?
What did she do to this continent to have everyone quake with fear at the re ntion of the Necrotic class even decades after her death and defeat?
I suppose I should ask Kaylin, or perhaps Lotar would be better since it undoubtably lived through the period of the previous Necromancer.
My conversation with Maylin about it sounded like the previous Necromancer was after sothing, sothing the world wouldn't let her have. Maylin called it greed but I think it's just the singular desire that drives a person forward.
You could call it greed sure but then why punish the pursuit of it? It's the sa pursuit everyone goes through, every human is full of greed, what use is there separating what greed is bad and what greed is good when at the end of the day it's still all greed?
With a sigh I put the deep thoughts away and focus on the warrior standing before on the verge of tears.
The Mayor is still seated though. I wonder why.
"Aren't you afraid of ?" I ask, pointing at the Mayor.
Shakily, he raises his head to et my eyes and says, "No."
"Thendid you co out here to fight ? To chase away? To defeat for your Kingdom?"
With trembling lips and a balled-up fist tucked in the snow, he asks, "Do you need to be defeated?"
At this I'm surprised. II can't help raising a brow at his words. Is he trying to ask if I'm a villain? If I'm soone he should fear and distrust?
Well, I don't like to lie if I can help it, so I don't think myself as untrust worthy, but do I need to be defeated?
With my operations in Aste and the Elven Northwell, the answer to this question may change in the future, for nowno.
"No, I don't think I do. Do you?"
His shoulders drop with relief and the warrior relaxes his stance, looking a bit confused.
"I don't think you should be defeatedat least, not after you've helped defeat one of the Gamma's that surround my city."
I scoff, "Co to think of it, what's the Mayor of a city like this doing out in the snow? Don't you have anyone left to sacrifice to your enemies?"
Slowly, he rises up to his feet and surprisingly stands taller than I do. "They all left once it beca apparent that the Synagogue has forsaken and my House."
"House Carbina." I mutter.
He nods grimly, "Yes, you must know of us then, you must have passed through Carbina Village to get heremy sister was sent to rule there."
Sister? Yes. I suppose they do bear a resemblance. The red hair, curved chin and brown eyessiblings.
"Your sister is dead." I pronounce, "I'm sorry."
A range of emotions wash over his face at these words, but in the end he simply nods.
"It looks like the Cultists are targeting your familyMayor."
"Ah, call Matthias please." He looks back at the walls of his city and sighs, "Unfortunately, that is the case. The Synagogue is tting out punishnt for an insult given by my grandmother, the head of House Carbina. A lot of us will sooner die than bow down and ask for forgiveness."
I frown, "Is that not the case with you? Your sister is dead because of the Synagogue."
He looks at with a shocked look on his face.
"What's that look for?" I groan.
"Ahit's just, you're a lot morenormal than I though you would be. You even understand the concept of familial love." He mutters, his breath vapours from the cold.
"Why wouldn't I?"
He turns sheepish, as if embarrassed by the question, "The storiesyou're a Necromage aren't you? It's said you don't feel remorse for the dead or the living and simply want for a world where all beings are eternally living under your service. You do not understand love, pity or fear because you are spawn and minion of the Evillest Daemons of Reais."
Wut?
"That'sinteresting?" Is this what people think the mont they hear ntion of the Necromancer? This is obviously propaganda. "I'm nothing like that. I'm human still, like you and everyone else."
He nods, "I thought so, or ratherI was hoping so. I can't yet differentiate between the truth and lies of the Synagogue so"
"I understand, you have to be cautious."
I look behind him, to the Warrior who still stands dumbstruck listening to our conversation, "And you are?"
"Huh? ?"
I raise an eyebrow.
"Oh, yes, uh, I'm Leon, Marshal to the Lord of Frozia." He recites.
Marshal huh.
"He's okay, just a bit shockedreally shocked." Matthias says.
I nod and look about, "I'll clear out the remaining Cultists later, for now, don't you think we should head into the city?"
"Ah, yes, of course." Matthias scrambles, "Though I should warn you, there's a Diviner waiting in therethat's if he hasn't run off already."
A Divinerit's been soti since I've laid eyes on such scumbags. Aste only had the Priests milling about openly, though, I'm sure a Diviner wouldn't be one to be seen walking about the streets.
As we trod our way to the city through the snow, I look to the nervous duo, they're a lot calr than I expected given the terrible propaganda about . My lips curve into a smile as I think of it.
, a minion of the evilest daemons. Ha. I've got to hear more of this, as well as the story behind the last Necromancer and if there were any other before her as well.
But for now, I'm just glad to be rid of that hunger. But now that I know the shortest duration before I go mad isn't worth shitI can't let Lotar be. He's got to give more ti or find so sort of compromise else I won't be able to do the work I desperately need to do.
But prayerI was hoping for sothing more on the lines of a magical crystal thingy that lets be talk to him but no, I've got to pray to a Wolf Deity.
By the way, where the hell is Anselm?
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