Chapter III.XXVI (3.26) - The Necromancer's Farm

  Despite living next to the village for a decade, Kizu had never been allowed to visit it in person. However, he still knew who each one of the villagers were from hours upon hours of spying on them from the crone’s scrying spells. She’d frequently put him in front of her bowl and tell him to keep an eye on someone while she went off to do something else. Often, he found it extremely dull. Like when watching a man split wood for hours at a time. But Kizu had never once complained about the task. It was the primary reason he was even moderately civilized and could interact with people like a normal human being. It also resulted in a completely lopsided knowledge of all the villagers. He knew their jobs, relationships, interests, and secrets. So much private information about every individual person. While they had no idea he even existed.

  He did his best to act normal as he introduced himself and his companions as they entered town.

  “We’re academy students,” Kizu said. “We’re currently looking into different brewing components that can be found in the Hon Basin. It’s a project for our spring break.”

  “Very nice,” Tatsumichi, the village’s mayor, said. “It’s an honor to meet such distinguished members of society! You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. But be careful, the jungle isn’t kind to strangers.”

  “I think we’ll be fine. We’re mages.”

  “Even still. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you. I can assign my son to guide you if you’d like. It will be no trouble at all.”

  The mayor’s son was a bully who frequently beat kids smaller than him and actively stole from his father’s savings. Not a real threat to anyone clearly stronger or scarier than him, but definitely not someone Kizu was keen to have join their party. The last thing he needed was him interacting with Anata.

  “You’re very kind to offer, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  “Very well.” The mayor sounded put out, but he thankfully didn’t press the issue. “Is there anything you need? Our general store might not have the variety you’re used to up at the capital, but we have everything a person needs here.”

  “We might stop by later,” Kizu said. “Just passing through for now. Thank you again.”

  Other villagers turned their heads as they walked through the street. A few looked suspicious, but most just curious as they stopped their work momentarily or peered out from windows. A child waved at him, looking awestruck when Basil returned the wave.

  “He was certainly welcoming,” Basil said cheerily.

  “They’re not used to people like us stopping by,” Kizu explained. “Most of the time, the village’s visitors are less savory folks. Witches, necromancers, exiles, thieves, tax-collectors. You know the type. And we don’t match that.”

  “I don’t know, your green hair is pretty witchy,” Ione said. “And Anata doesn’t exactly look like an average girl.”

  “But our clothes aren’t ones that belong to witches. We look wealthy and clean.” That, and Mort had elected to stay out of town. A familiar was a dead give-away for a witch.

  “True.” Basil nodded. “Anata’s leaf hat will be the height of fashion when I introduce it to the general population.”

  Her eyepatch was really doing a lot of work in keeping her from notice. It was weird seeing a little girl with an eyepatch, but a lot less weird than a glowing scarlet eye.

  As they exited town, Kizu spotted a girl his age sunbathing in an open clearing. Her large chest was barely covered by a strip of cloth. Basil’s eyes followed her as they walked past. The girl pretended to not notice them, but Kizu knew better.

  “That’s Mitsuko,” Kizu said once they were out of earshot. “The daughter of the only innkeeper in town. She’s also the town flirt. She likely heard about us and ran to that spot while we were talking to the mayor. Last I knew she was dating the mayor’s son. I’m not sure if they split or if she just wants to try to make him jealous.”

  “She’s missing a rib,” Basil commented.

  Kizu glanced over at his friend. “Yes, actually. The crone took it.”

  “The crone took her rib?” Ione asked. “Why?”

  “It may have been for a hex she placed on the family. Or maybe the crone saw some potential future in which she might be able to twist Mitsuko to her advantage. But it’s also just as likely she did it for fun on a whim. I’m not sure the details. The crone’s been terrorizing these people for nearly a century.”

  “Good thing my family has her locked up now.”

  Kizu glanced around the jungle frantically. No sign of people, but that didn’t mean much out here.

  “Don’t say those sorts of things,” he hissed. “You never know who might be scrying on this area or be transmuted into a tree.”

  “Okay, okay,” Ione said. “Chill. You’re just bringing more attention to it with your response.”

  They reached the old farmhouse a few minutes later. Just as Hone had said, it looked completely abandoned. The jungle had reclaimed the land and begun corrupting the building itself. Vines tumbled from cracks in the building and trees split through the windows.

  “Hone?” Kizu called out as they stepped into the doorway. “Shika? Are you here?”

  He didn’t love this. The last time he’d gone exploring abandoned buildings he’d ended up chased by a hoard of zombies. And here he was poking his head in yet another necromancer’s hideout.

  Mort scouted the area around the building, looking through windows and patrolling the area. But, besides scaring off a few birds, he found nothing.

  “What about the barn?” Ione suggested.

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  “Hone said the farmhouse specifically.”

  “Maybe we come back tomorrow?” Basil suggested. “I wouldn’t mind chatting more with the villagers. Do others also have random bones missing from their skeletal frames?”

  Kizu ignored him and stepped forward, out of the entryway and onto the tattered tatami. He noticed a square of the mat was a bit off kilter. He stepped down on it with his monster leg, gripped it with the claws, and ripped it up. The opening revealed a dark tunnel under the floor. Far deeper than a crawlspace.

  “I can think of at least twenty different ways you could have accomplished that without desecrating your poor shoe’s sole,” Basil said.

  “They’re already ruined. I constantly pierce through the soles accidentally.”

  Basil grumbled about wasted materials while Anata leaned over the hidden passage.

  “Hone?” Kizu called down the tunnel. “Are you down there?”

  “Kizu?” a faint echo responded. It sounded like Hone.

  “Is there a way down that doesn’t involve falling into a tunnel of pitch-black darkness?” Ione asked.

  Kizu lit a grape sized fireball then dropped the spell down into the dark. It hit the stone floor below a moment before it flickered out.

  “It’s barely a drop,” Kizu said. He hopped down into the hole and let his eyes adjust. Then he helped Anata down before the others followed.

  Everyone except for Anata had to crouch to avoid knocking their heads on the tunnel’s low ceiling. Thankfully, it was at least an escape from the heat and humidity of the jungle outside. Hone must have set up some cooling and airflow enchantments to keep himself comfortable.

  When the passage suddenly opened up into a hidden room, both Ione and Basil cursed and scrambled, readying themselves for a fight until Kizu lifted a placating hand to calm them down.

  Hone sat on a metal chair surrounded by zombies of varying levels of decay. They were all clothed, thankfully, but they stood around him in a complete daze, awaiting his orders. Body parts hung from chains on the walls and the shower stall off to the side was caked in dried blood with a bucket of brownish-red liquid on the ground.

  Zombies had always been Hone’s specialty, Kizu supposed it made sense to find them with him. With a flick from Hone’s hand, the undead jolted to attention and pulled up several metal chairs for Kizu and his companions.

  Hone himself was far more gaunt than the last time Kizu had seen him. The scrying spell had shown his streaks of gray, but not how frail he appeared now. It was no wonder he didn’t want to crawl out of the basement to greet them. He smiled, but it looked painful, his skin contorting with the motion.

  “It’s nice to see you again,” Hone said. “And to meet all your friends.”

  The other two introduced themselves to the necromancer as they all took seats.

  “And this is Anata, my niece,” Kizu said. He saw no point in hiding his relation to Anata from Hone. And, unlike the others in their party, Anata didn’t look the least bit disturbed by Hone’s laboratory. In fact, Kizu had to pull her away from a side table where she was eyeing several thumbs which wiggled around like fat worms.

  “Ah…pleasure all. I’m sure you know, I’m Hone. A necromancer of the Hon Basin.”

  “We have a necromancer friend who really wants to meet you,” Basil said. “But she’s busy with a project right now.”

  Hone raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? What’s her name?”

  “Aoi. She’s still just starting out as a necromancer. But she’s basically a prodigy.”

  “It’s unfortunate she could not join you. I always enjoy connecting new soul mages to the community. It’s a difficult life pursuit. Community helps many to not break under the stress.”

  “Where’s Shika at?” Kizu asked. He had examined the zombies several times each, but none looked remotely like his old friend. In fact, none of these zombies showed much intelligence at all. They acted more like the mindless thrall skeletons Aoi used on Owl’s Respite than the semi resurrected people that Hone usually preferred to work with.

  “She’s out gathering some materials for me. She mentioned being excited to see you again.”

  Kizu sent a mental impression through his bond to Mort to tell the monkey to be on the lookout for the zombie girl. Mort loved the idea of leaping down on her and scaring her while she picked herbs. The monkey liked Shika a lot.

  “Tea?” Hone asked. One of his zombies lumbered up with a tray of clay cups.

  Kizu declined but Ione and Basil accepted and sipped the drinks.

  “Oh, that’s good!” Basil said. “What’s in this? Cinnamon?”

  “Old family recipe. It uses some of the local flora.”

  Kizu knew a few different plants that might taste a bit like cinnamon. Only one commonly nearby without any adverse side effects. He knew a potion that used it to accelerate growth in specific species of trees. But that was it. He would never have thought to use it in tea. Clever. And a bit of a surprise since Hone usually avoided experimenting with brews.

  “Now,” the necromancer said, leaning forward. “What is it that brings you all the way out to visit me, Kizu? Does this have to do with the crone’s disappearance?”

  “No. It’s not about her. I wanted to ask you about the assassination of the Emperor. People are saying a necromancer did it. When I asked the crone about it, she told me to contact you if I wanted any information.”

  “Hm. Yes. That group. For the record, I do not approve of them. They’ve come to my doorstep more than once, requesting my aid on their crusade against the Hon Empire.”

  “Who are they?”

  “They go by the most inane name.” Hone closed his eyes and sighed. “The Death Party.”

  Ione spluttered in her tea. And Basil chuckled.

  “That’s a little on the nose for a group of necromancers,” Basil said.

  “I am aware. But even had they a decent name, I would still refuse their group invitation. They’re attempting to tear down the Empire and the status quo. Whereas I happen to enjoy my life in the current status quo. Most sensible necromancers learn to enjoy the quiet life. The government only bothers to hunt us when someone in our community is being especially obnoxious or threatening.”

  “How many are in the group?” Kizu asked.

  “Hm.” Hone considered. “Perhaps five or six other necromancers. And a couple of the witches too. All young. Around twenty years old or a bit under. But age is hardly an excuse for idiocy.”

  “Anyone you know, Kizu?” Ione asked. “I recall you mentioning that you were close with a bunch of the witch apprentices your age.”

  “Ah, yeah. Maybe. Who knows?”

  That had been a bold-faced lie. The crone kept him away from most of the other apprentices, not wanting him getting too attached to someone who might be dinner for their master at any moment. In hindsight, it was actually almost thoughtful of her. But, more likely, the crone just didn’t want him whining about a friend’s death.

  “You may know one of the witches,” Hone said, considering. “She’s the daughter of one of the crone’s closest friends. Though, like her, she hasn’t been seen in several months now.”

  Kizu frowned. The crone was laying low, seeming to be waiting for something to blow over. Was it possible her friends were doing the same thing? The Elites would have almost certainly have mentioned to him if they had more witches in custody, but that didn’t mean they weren’t hiding at other places. There was a world of options.

  Kizu opened his mouth to ask about any other missing witches in the crone’s coven, when an emotion from his familiar bond knocked him off his chair.

  Terror.

  Ten Blood Curse Academia chapters (5 weeks) ahead of Royal Road.