"Please, Your Excellency, oh highest, esteemed Lich! It is good that finally my voice has reached you..."
It is the Spectre of a dead horseshoe maker, that got killed by his horse in his very shop. They didn't even bury the guy because the horse was so aggressive that he wouldn't let anyone get close. And as he was left alone for too long, they began to fear that a ghost had appeared, and they dreaded entering this place ever since.
That horse died of hunger, being tied down just a few meters from where I am standing, its bony neck still tied to that wooden wall with rope.
Gods...This place stinks.
His Spectre is still walking around the shop like nothing is happening. It's looking for tools, trying to grab them in its transparent, green-toned hands. It's funny, in life, we all look different, but in death, we all look the same.
Well, I suppose I wouldn't want to look like that after death.
I say, lightly kicking his mangled body with the bottom of my golden coloured staff. The blood on the stone-made floor is dry. It's been a long time, and the poor guy has gotten desperate. I heard his wailing all the way from the entrance to the village. The horse really did a number on him. It kicked his head clean off.
A desperate customer.
Of course, only someone like me would hear this.
A Necromancer. It's my family's business.
I can't do anything else, really; this is what I was raised to do.
"Dear esteemed Lich, please! My soul is restless, so restless! I have a lot of work left to do! I wasn't expecting to die! Marcia is usually well-behaved! She was just scared, and then she was scared of killing me! You understand, right?"
It's always the same. No one expects to die. Everyone has too much to do. Does everyone love their job that much? Honestly, can't relate. Well, too bad, mister, but I know from expertise that Marcia doesn't have a soul, so if you are planning on being a horseshoe maker after death, you might have a problem.
"I understand, Spectre...I feel your peril...But I am not a Lich...You got the hierarchy mixed up...I am just a Necromancer..."
I said, my voice monotone and sterile like a bank accountant. It was clear this was just some guy from a village who knew nothing about my job, so he got all the terminology mixed up. He probably heard the word Lich somewhere, and now he is trying to get on my good side by saying it. Thinking it's like a noble title or something. Apparently, that's somewhat widespread in this land.
Please don't tell me he wants me to deliver some package or something because he needs to meet some deadline for a customer...
"Oh, I apologize, I apologize, esteemed Necromancer!"
His spectral fangs rushing, his black skull burning in slow, greenish flame. I keep my face covered by my hood, as the light can sometimes get a little too bright. The green gem on my staff emanates with gentle, corrupted light of death.
"Look, it's fine. Just say what you need, I'll do it..."
I didn't wake up right today. I want to go back to bed and read my books.
Please don't be extra work.
"Of course, esteemed Necromancer! I don't want to waste too much of your time...My soul is restless, so very restless! I left my work unfinished! My work is unfinished, you see! And now, my house is in shambles! And Marcia...ah, she is dead as well! The tragedy! The customer will have my head for this! A mare like her was worth a hundred golden coins!"
Please don't be extra work, please don't be extra work, please don't be extra work.
"But I suppose none of that concerns me as much as it should...I'm dead now... pardon me, it's new to me...I am still trying to adapt to it..."
"It's new for everyone. Take your time."
I said, fighting yawning as I leaned on my staff.
The Spectre touched his heart, mimicking a devastated sigh.
"And my family!"
Here we go.
"My family! What will they do now? I didn't even think about them! I didn't realize, as I was so occupied with my work! Oh, my soul is restless, so very restless! What will my wife and children do now? They will starve in the streets!"
The usual man, she will marry someone else. I heard the mayor is quite hasty with it.
"It will be fine, dear Spectre. I will make sure they are well taken care of. I promise to clean your shop, so that some other craftsman may use it...And to give you a proper burial..."
Ah man...so much work...Of course, this will be done by the gravedigger and the townspeople; I can't be bothered to clean every single death site. That's not my job anyway.
"And will you bury Marcia too?"
His voice asked with dreaded worry, as I subtly smack my slightly green, dry lips.
"Yes, we will bury the horse too..."
Does he really think they would leave it out here?
"Oh, good, good...Thank you, esteemed Necromancer. Thank you. You are a true professional...That makes me at ease already."
I didn't even do any rituals yet, man...But alright...if that's all...
"So, if that's all..."
Man, I can't wait to get back to the inn...That chicken with potatoes looked superb...And it's almost lunchtime...
I took the staff, getting ready to do the most basic, routine ritual I have done at least one hundred thousand times.
So it was just the regular worries. Oh no, my family! Oh no, my work! Oh no, money! It's always the same. I'll be blunt, man, none of this is deep enough to NOT pass on.
"Wait, wait! Estemeed Necromancer, WAIT!"
No man, no, why...
"There is something else...if I may...."
No, no no, no, no. I don't want to. Nah.
"Of course...spectre...tell me..."
Just pass on, man, come on, I want to eat my lunch!
"Well...oh...this is a bit embarrassing...how should I say this, I wonder...I hope you won't judge me for this, esteemed Necromancer...but since I am dead now...I suppose it hardly matters..."
If this guy reveals to me some secret of his that isn't his family's buried fortune in a treasure chest, I am gonna lose it. What is it? You stole a vegetable once? You are closeted? What is it, man? I'd like to take my lunch break!
"Of course, dear Spectre...take your time...it is no place for me to judge...neither in life nor in death...I merely help the dead pass on, so that the balance of things is stable."
All these are by-the-book phrases. Thankfully, we have a manual for interacting with ghosts, covering almost every situation. After all, we have hundreds of years of practice.
"Oh...well...that's good. Good. That is good. Alright...Here goes nothing..."
The Spectre lit up and started darting around the shop, seemingly looking for something. It went through the cabinets and drawers.
"You can't..." I whispered, but it was too late. He phased through.
This always happens.
"Oh no! I can't open it! My hands...they keep phasing through!"
Of course they do, you are a ghost...Why do they always think they can just interact with stuff?
"I'll open it...what am I looking for..."
I say, moving to the drawer he is trying to open with his spectral hands. His desk is covered with tools. Some of those might be valuable. But if I really stole anything, he could come back and haunt me. Unless he gives me something willingly.
"There is a ring there... a valuable ring..."
That's promising...
I say, opening the drawer a little hastily.
Wait, a ring? Isn't this guy married? I suppose he wants to give it to his wife or something like that...
There, indeed, was a ring in a rather ornate box. It was made of silver, with a purple diamond on top of it.
"You see, esteemed Necromancer...I hope you won't judge me for this, but..."
This guy is more nervous than a young girl! Spit it out!
I think to myself, examining the ring under the light of my staff.
"You see, I um...Well, I had a thing going with this younger woman...you understand..."
I inhale deeply.
Oh man, so not the wife, huh...
"So I want you to give this ring to her...She probably misses it dearly...and it's rather expensive...and I don't want my wife to discover it..."
Makes sense, I guess...
"Fine spectre, I'll deliver the ring..."
I really have to fight the urge to yawn on this. The village dramas. Everyone has a thing going with everyone else. I just hope this woman lives nearby so it can be done with quickly.
"Oh really? You would do this for me? Thank you! Thank you! Alright then...Although I have to ask, is it a big problem that she is dead?"
What?
"What?"
Excuse me?
"Well, Loriette died a year ago...I think she fell when she was trying to catch her mischievous brother and broke her neck...And I think she must be suffering because I didn't answer her when she gave me the ring...you see, I have a wife, but she wanted me to divorce her and marry her, so..."
No, no, no, it's a Death-Loop. Not a Death-Loop. No. No. No. NO!
[NECROMANCER TERMINOLOGY WINDOW: "DEATH LOOP" - A cycle of events that includes multiple dead souls, preventing them all from passing on, as their requests are overlapping or in contradiction]
Not Death-Loop! I hate this! I am definitely NOT meeting her before lunch. Nope.
"I see...That won't be a problem, dear Spectre. I will make sure she gets it, and she also passes on...If that's what you're worried about...Can you tell me where she is buried?"
The Spectre was happily twirling around in the air.
"Oh, of course! Our village graveyard, just behind the outskirts, you won't miss it. She is the only one whose grave is made completely out of iron. Her father is the blacksmith, you see, they wanted to do something nice..."
I close my eyes and move my head back.
"I am sorry..." I raise my hand. "Made out of iron...?"
Oh no...Why, man, why would you do something like this...Wanted something nice?...Man...
"Oh yes. They wanted to make it look pompous. Her portrait is even on it. I remember the whole village making jokes about the fact that her breasts are visible."
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. That woman is definitely going to be hysterical about not having a normal grave...and if they laughed about her breasts being visible...oh boy...
"Do you know that unusual burial practices are...well, bad???"
No, no, don't agitate him. Stick to the book manual. Agitated spirits are no joke.
"Oh...I am sorry...Well, it was her family's decision...Her father wanted it to look nice, like I said..."
Inhale, exhale.
I hold my staff so firmly that the gloves around my hands tighten around the wood.
"It's okay...I'll handle it..."
I put the ring in the box in the pocket of my overcoat.
God, this place stinks...and the flies...the buzzing is making my head spin.
I cover my mouth with a handkerchief.
"Thank you, esteemed Necromancer! Thank you!"
Monday is starting nicely, man...