The door to the graveyard was rusty and filled with vines. Its walls crumbled, as the townsfolk dreaded to visit the dead in their slumber, burying them on the outskirts to prevent the spread of disease and presumed negative energy.
Not me, though; I went right in, caring little about the dozens of tombstones that created little paths that looked almost like a maze made out of rock and marble.
All of that being pointless, of course, as the reality was that all graves were eventually put on top of each other. In a hundred years or so, all of these tombstones will be gone, replaced by the new dead.
Of course, sometimes the soul fails to move on. That's why I am here. I am a Necromancer...it's my job to make things right.
"Oh, esteemed Necromancer! Finally, you have come! For two hundred years I have been trying to find my grave..."
I look around the graveyard, trying to find the iron tombstone, completely ignoring this guy.
"It is pure dread, I tell you, pure dread! They took it away and built a new one! And now I can't find it...Oh, esteemed Necromancer..."
He was flying around me, trying his best to get my attention. Just like the horseshoemaker, he was a green specter made out of bones. What did you expect? I already told you...We all look the same in Death. This one is more withered, though. He has been here a long time, haunting this graveyard.
"I have time on Wednesday," I murmured uninvolvedly, getting my small leather notebook out. "I am sorry, but I am occupied with another matter at this time."
I hate these loose undead. No one will pay me if I get rid of him. What am I, a Samaritan?
"No, sorry, Thursday," I say, pointing to an empty space in my notebook with a quill made from a cursed goose. The Spectre looked at it with awe.
"You play Cricket?"
Oh no, he saw what I have in my timetable.
I scratched my head.
"Well, not really hah...I am just trying to find a hobby, man...but nothing sticks...I just keep trying new stuff...And a guy I know said cricket is fun...so..."
The ghost laughed wholeheartedly. That's a sight that would frighten your average Joe to Death. But not me. I am a Necromancer. This is just a daily occurrence.
I lick my lips nervously, as I realize I may have some meat there from the chicken.
"I have never heard of a Necromancer who plays cricket! What is next, skittles?"
Okay, this guy is asking for it.
"Those are games for little women and children! Real men play cards! Do you know the Devil's Wheel? Come, esteemed Necromancer! I want to play cards with you!"
I am not here for you, man. And you can't hold cards!
"I am here on business, actually. That goes first. Maybe on Thursday, friend."
I say dismissively, looking around the graveyard. But except for him, I don't see any other ghosts here. That's strange. Usually, these village graveyards are just brimming with undead life.
"Oh, business? Man, this place is dead. Nothing unusual happened here for one hundred years! I can certify it, I was here after all..."
I look around at him and frown, gently tapping my staff to the ground.
"There is supposed to be a loose ghost around here..."
The Spectre before me started laughing again, interrupting my speech.
"Well, of course! That is me! I've been haunting this place for one hundred years! And yet, even now, my name brings dread! The Gambler Spirit, Maever, they call me! Surely you have heard of me!"
I chuckle. Quite a boastful ghost.
"No, sorry. Not you. I am looking for a woman. Loriette. Blacksmiths daughter. Her grave is supposed to be rather peculiar, made out of iron, with her portrait on it."
The Spectre Maever crossed his hands.
"Wait, the villagers think SHE is more haunting than me? I am a great gambler! And look at me! I am simply terrifying! Just recently, I gave an elderly widow a heart attack! So, how come I am not the problem, but some young lass is?"
It seemed he had taken a rather prideful approach to his new living. This happened often with these loose, chaotic spirits. Sometimes they find scaring people amusing. Those are the most difficult to pass on. Especially if his grave is lost. Now his bones can be who knows where, under all that dirt.
"I told you, no worries, Great Gambler. I will have time on Thursday. Now, it's Monday. Since I have promised to play with you, could you point me in the direction of her grave? I can't seem to be able to find it...even though I presumed it would be quite standing out..."
Maever the Gambler crossed his arms, seemingly not happy about having to wait a bit. He was possibly quite bored. Then he shrugged his transparent shoulders.
"Some thieves took all of it about a month ago. Rotten bunch, wanted the iron. Don't know them. You know, back in my day, we stole too. From the rich nobles, of course. Ah me and my group, we were the most famous, daring bandit-"
They TOOK IT?
Inhale, exhale.
"They robbed her grave?" I blurted out. The Spectre caught wind of my plight, and if he could, I imagine he would even smirk.
"Why yes. They took the coffin too. I mean, it was metallic. I suppose someone tipped them off that she had valuable stuff. But I didn't really see them all that well..."
I hate Death-Loops. This sort of stuff always happens. So now the Shoemaker is waiting for me to deliver it, but I can't deliver it because the entire grave has been stolen, God knows where. Since her spirit is not here, it traveled with the body!
Luckily, this situation is not entirely helpless. I am a Necromancer after all. Something like this has happened before. I am no amateur.
"Where is the gravesite?" I ask him more directly.
"They put a new grave over it. The elder lady I gave the heart attack to... I think."
Oh, this guy is a joker.
"Of course I know which one it is...And I am willing to show you, if you play cards with me...and manage to beat me."
I lean back, cracking my neck.
"Fine. But not the game you mentioned. I don't know it. It's been a hundred years!"
That caught the Spectre off guard. He seemed flustered, his green flames igniting around in the air. It is never good to make a ghost agitated.
"Well, I can teach it to you! It's a fun game!"
I tilted my head to the side, suddenly being more interested.
"Why, why didn't you start with that. If it's fun, I'll do it. Anything is better than working man..."
That pleased Maever, who quickly sat on a tombstone.
"I don't have any cards though...and can't touch them..."
I smirked, moving my staff closer. The green gem at the top of it igniting with a sharp beam.
"That won't be a problem at all. I am a Necromancer. At least I will use this magic for something interesting. Just tell me what the cards look like. I will make an inanimate phantom that looks and acts like them..."
This made Maever almost fly to the sky above us with joy.
"Aw, man, you are awesome! Okay, it's not that complicated. The deck has twenty cards. We each get ten. There are pairs of cards. One for each player. The Devil, The Angel, The Ghoul, The Wheel, The Witch, The Hero, The Sky, The Elf, The Ground, The King"
I suppose I can get creative with making of the cards too.
My eyes lit up with green energy, coursing through my body. The staff ignited, as a green spectral magic was unleashed, tearing the fabric of life and Death and bringing forth something new. Something twisted. A mimicry of life, a phantom.
Phantom of a deck of cards that ghosts could play.
"Phala!" I shouted, the sky above us getting cloudier and cloudier, with green thunder in between.
Maever was more than happy.
"Oh, you made the Elf sexy! How did you know we made them sexy back in the day, too? This is awesome, you should have been part of our troupe! I could think of a hundred ways to find use for someone like you! A magician! A lich! Wonderful!"
Maever looked at the cards, scrolling them in his hands.
"I like it, I like it." He nodded happily.
"Alright, here are the rules. They are quite simple. You give out a card, the first card doesn't matter, and say what three cards can be dealt next by your enemy. So, for example, "Angel, Ground, King". You following so far?"
I merely nodded. It seems simple enough.
"Then I deal one of those cards, and tell you the three you can use..."
He mixed the cards in his hand, keeping them close to his chest, as if I could see them.
"The only cards you, however, can't say are the Devil and the Wheel. Therefore, the title: Devil's Wheel. You can play the Wheel any time you want, when it's your turn instead of your normal card. The Wheel switches two cards in my hand with the ones in yours. Simple enough, right?"
I skimmed over my cards. There were only ten cards for each player, meaning that, regardless of the rules, this game would be pretty fast-paced and dealt with rather quickly, leaving little room for strategy.
"The game ends when only the Devil is left in someone's hand. Those are the rules."
He was beaming happily, eager to play already. I leaned forward, looking at the table.
"And that's it? No extra rules?"
He shook his head in disagreement.
"No, no, my friend, that's it. If you want, we can play a test round, so you get the gist of it."
I nodded. That seemed reasonable enough.
"Alright...I pull the Elf since you like it so much...And I say you can only play the Angel, the Sky, or the King!"
Maever quickly drew his phantom card, pulling it down on the tombstone. It was the Sky. A pitch-black card with a rough outline of the stars and the moon.
"You can only play Hero, Ground, or King."
My gloved fingers slipped through the phantom cards until my hand stopped at the Ground, pulling it on the tombstone.
What is the core strategy behind this? Should I keep track of what cards he has left? That seems to be the case...
"Hero," I murmur, pulling a card with an image of a heroic man in full armor with a sword.
"Wait a second...Did you model this card after yourself?" Maever suddenly blurted, lifting the card up and comparing it to my face.
Oh no, did I?
"Muhaha, you are hilarious!" He continued laughing, but I cut him off with my order:
"Witch, Ghoul, King..."
Maever looked at his cards. "Hmm...Witch, Ghoul, King...alright...So, anyways, do you have a girlfriend?"
He said, pulling the Ghoul card on the board. His question caught me off guard. I blinked multiple times to confirm I had heard it right.
"Ehm...no, no...I am a Necromancer...Most women I talk to are dead..."
Maever wheezed so loudly it made the winds of the graveyard tear the leaves and small branches.
"Well, no wonder, if you talk like that. But you are a funny man; you will have your chance eventually. As long as you are funny, you are good. I should know...I was ugly as hell in my life, but women were swarming over me. That old Rebart...Cut off my nose when I slept with his wife. Do you know how ugly you are when they cut off your nose?"
I have no idea, but I cannot believe I am getting life advice from someone who was boasting about scaring an elderly widow to Death.
I merely shook my head in disagreement while he dealt the Witch.
"Oh, you made this one hot too...You got a thing for nice ladies, huh?"
He tried to jolt me with his elbow, but it was phasing through me.
"It's just a drawing..." I murmured.
"Well, I ain't judging. Hell, you should see what sort of drawings our band has! When you are an adventurer or a bandit...well, you want something nice to look at during the long days, you understand, man?"
I sighed. Being a Necromancer sometimes leads you to the strangest of places and the most bizarre of conversations.
"Angel, Ground, King," he leaned back against the tombstone. "That Loriette man. How come her spirit doesn't have a rack or ass or anything? Her portrait was totally different than her, like a ghost form or whatever..."
I sighed and rolled my eyes a bit.
"We all look the same in Death and in soul...those things are physical...not ethereal...Stuff like breasts or ass is related to human biology...souls don't need something like this..."
He seemed disappointed about it. "Well, that's a darn shame now, ain't it? Suppose it explains how my enormous c-"
"GROUND!" I shouted, stopping him before he could finish that sentence, placing the card on the tombstone. "Hero, Elf, King. Let's get this moving!"
I can't follow the book with this guy. And honestly, maybe I don't want to. I am bored as hell anyway. But I don't need him to overshare all his business.
"King," he said, drawing the card. "King, Sky, Witch"
Wait...The game...I should focus on the game!"
"Ehm...Sky..." I hesitate, drawing the card. What cards does he have right now? I lost focus! Wait, let's see, there was...uhhh...Sky...Witch...
"And you can draw...Angel...uhh...Ground...Ghoul...?"
Is this the point of the game? The options are making it somewhat difficult to track. He has seven cards left...
"Ghoul," the ghost stated simply, immediately drawing the card and then saying: "King, Witch, Angel."
Wait...But since I started, he is at an advantage! I have already drawn four cards, while he only has three out! He is always one step behind...but that in this game is one step forward! I don't know this game, nor have I ever heard of it. Did he make it up? Or did he remember the rules correctly? He claims to be a gambler and that this is just a test run. But we are normally playing...He is a spectre.
There are no test runs when you are a spectre.
"Did you perhaps have some sort of a magical talent when you were alive?" I asked coyly, drawing "Witch" on the board. "Hero, Angel, Elf"
The cards may have a specific meaning. Perhaps they tell a story?
"Nope. Just your humble bandit. Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor. My real magic was in the bedroom, perhaps your mother would know, you should ask her about it."
I chuckled and then laughed wholeheartedly.
"You have not seen my mother." I commented while he drew "Elf" on the board.
"Well, not yet, but why do you think I still linger around this place? I am hoping she comes for a visit or something. To clean my tombstone, if you catch my drift. That's why I need to find it. Angel, King, Ghoul"
Wait...except for those three, I only have the Wheel and the Devil! So if I draw one, and then it's my turn...
I closed my fingers around the cards more tightly, my lips growing into a daring grin.
I lose, don't I?
My eyes scan the board and the cards that have already been drawn. He has more cards than me. I could play the Wheel, but that only switches the cards and doesn't add any new ones. And he has a Wheel too. If I miss it, he can just switch them back.
And what if I pull the Devil and have two? That's a guaranteed loss.
Goddamit, this game is rigged and I fell for it. Is it even a real game?
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
If there was one thing that father taught me, it is that spectres are always at their core unnatural and dangerous. This person, a criminal, has been around this graveyard for a long time. He clearly lingers in this world. He enjoys tormenting others. We didn't establish what would happen if I lost the game. But games with the spectres are always a messy affair. For starters, he won't leave. And some of my black magic can transfer to him. And he probably won't tell me where the girl's grave is.
Mondays.
"Let me ask you something. Have you ever lost this game before?"
His green flames burned around mischievously, showcasing his boastful nature. His blackened teeth mangled into almost a crooked smile.
"No. And don't let it get to you, but my practice was, whoever I defeated, I robbed. Fair and square, don't you think? After all, poor people don't play such games. Only those rich in power can afford to bet on nonsense."
I chuckled. So that's what happens when you lose.
"Fine then...I'm bored anyway, so I respect the love of the game. And therefore, there is only one thing I can say.
"The Wheel"
I drew the card out, putting it on the tombstone. The wind rose up. He was not the only one with power here. In fact, he was just a mere lost spirit like a pet that ran away from the barn.
But I was the Barnkeeper. And the Barnkeeper always wins.
"Oh...This is getting interesting. Go ahead."
He said, offering his cards for the switch. It all depended on the cards I picked now. If it were the Devil, it's over. If it was something else, preferably the Wheel, I am still in-game.
My fingers traced the outline of his cards. There was no real way to know which was which. He shuffled them in advance.
But those were not the real cards after all. They were my phantom. My spell.
And not just the only one I had at my disposal. If two cheaters play, it's all about who can cheat better.
He failed to realize that.
"Phanx," I thought to myself. After all, who said that I have to say all of my magic out loud?
Suddenly, the true nature of his cards was revealed to me. They were transparent the whole time, after all. But out of respect for the game, I gave them back covers. Since it was made from my power, a simple trick made me see through it.
"Hmm, how about this?" I pull the Angel so as to not catch him off guard.
"Interesting...Only one card left. Better pick wisely!"
Indeed, I will.
I say, pulling his Wheel. That caught him off guard. I could see it. His sphere became agitated.
"The Wheel," I say again, slapping it on the tombstone under us.
He murmured, suddenly being dead silent. Was he perhaps wondering how I did it?
"You cheated...somehow..." He said, his tone laced with anger, as I switched everything so that his hand became basically unplayable. Even when he has cards, there's no way of winning anymore. All of the outcomes lead to his defeat.
He burst laughing.
"Well played then! I forfeit, friend! I forfeit! I am a swindler, but I respect the craft!" He flew up.
"I will show you the grave! Follow me!" he gestured, as I tiredly lifted myself from the grave we were just sitting on. It was only then that I saw the name on it. It's withered, destroyed by time and water. But I can make it out, "Maev-"
So he lied about that, too. He really just wanted to play.
I followed him, the rain slowly hitting the top of my cape. It was beginning to rain.
Man, can't wait to get back to the inn to sleep and read.
I stand above the muddy grave. It's clearly recent. There are no remnants of the iron casing anymore. They buried someone else here. In a natural way. Into the ground, with fertile soil. Essentially returning them to nature. Good.
I wasn't going to disturb this grave. However, I intended to utilize the residue of their crime for my own purposes.
"Deathsight"
I say, hitting the ground with my staff. My eyes lit up green.
[NECROMANCER TERMINOLOGY WINDOW: "DEATHSIGHT" - An ability that allows Necromancer to see the things related to someone's Death. ]