I lifted a hand, pulling a spell from my memory. Not the best way to do it, but as I'd told Reginald Finch, I'd traded my necromancy grimoire away some time ago.
And I didn't regret it.
Still, I trusted my memory.
The Vengeful Spirit didn't attack as I finished stumbling my way through the rather simple little array that formed a circle around us both.
I could hear the distant clank of chains as the spell linked our awareness within the circle. Normally, Vengeful Spirits are just silent balls of rage wrapped within a necromantic veil.
It's almost impossible to talk to them.
But within this array, communication should be possible.
I waited a few breaths for the array to finish settling and then nodded at the wispy creature in front of me.
"Hello," I said, tapping my ear. "Is this easier?"
"Yes," it said. The voice came from within the thing, rather than from any mouth as it didn't really have one. Only two dark pits within the pale sheet of its form. It froze as the word vibrated within itself. "Hey! I can talk!"
"With this array, yes."
"Oh, wow. It's been so long since I said anything," it said, its voice full of excitement. "Listen to me! This is my voice! How now brown cow! Moo!"
"Yes, yes," I sighed. "It's absolutely thrilling, I'm sure."
"You don't understand," the creature said, its sheet trembling with joy. "I've tried so hard to talk for so long. How long? I don't know how long. But it's been a very very long time. In fact, I'd say it was decades. Maybe even longer. Time became so meaningless after a while. I was haunting a house, you see. And then he came and captured me. It was such a nuisance. But I thought at last I'd have someone to talk to, but then he didn't even bother trying! He just bullied me into the armor and chained me like a dog! A dog! Do I look like a dog to you? It's so humiliating. And we didn't even know each other! He didn't even try to get to know me at all!"
"You're a woman, aren't you?"
"Yes!" She paused. "How did you know?"
"Call it a wild guess."
"Well, I'm very glad to talk to you. Are you going to bind me, too? Should I call you Master? My name is Penelope, by the way. Who are you?"
"Someone having second thoughts," I muttered.
Had she been anyone else, I might have just destroyed her. Vengeful Spirits were unable to move into the Resurrection Wheel. I would need to end her existence for her to find any peace.
Or, in this case, for me to find any peace.
However, I am a gentleman, and she was a lady. Sort of.
And a gentleman wouldn't walk away from a lady in trouble. And she was in trouble. If I left her, she'd soon revert o her rabid self and start killing anything and everything until either the Mage Guild or the Church sent someone to deal with her.
Or another necromancer came along and enslaved her.
The very least I could do was bind her. That would resolve some of the insanity.
It wouldn't, unfortunately, prevent her from talking.
And I had a feeling she was going to continue to do a lot more of it in future.
"Stay still," I said. "And, if you can manage it, stay silent. I need to concentrate."
"Oh. Of course. I'll zip my lips and keep quiet for sure," she rambled. "I'm not really much of a talker anyway, you know. My star sign is the Two Fishes, you know. So, I'm, you know, really an introvert by nature. You know, because I'm so creative? I like to crochet. Do you like to crochet? I'd be real happy to crochet you a blanket. It's the least I could do for all your help."
I pursed my lips.
Maybe I should just destroy her.
No.
Gentleman.
The Old Twit would be very disappointed in me if I just destroyed her.
I could feel His nod of approval as I calmed my twitching nerves and lifted my hand to begin sorting through the armor and remembering the runes I needed to imbue them with.
The first step is to prepare the shell. I coated every piece of armor with a thing layer of condensed life force. This would allow the runes to sink deeper into the metal while providing a firm layer of protection for Penelope's spirit within.
The better this layer, the less likely a pesky priest could do anything to unravel my work and destroy her.
After coating every piece, I started layering on the first runes. These worked mostly to reinforce the binding array which I would place next.
Reginald's original binding technique had been to add one onto each piece of equipment. This was terrifically stupid as it interrupted the flow of Penelope's spirit through the overall shell.
I would instead place a single binding array and connect it to the rest of the armor via nodes. That would give her the freedom to move about a lot more smoothly within the shell and then she wouldn't need to shuffle about all over the place.
Then I reinforced the skeleton, growing the toe bone with some condensed life force, and repairing a few others which had splintered or cracked.
I covered those with more runes to strengthen them, too.
After that, I wove cords of life energy to mimic muscle and tendons. Reginald's knowledge of basic human biology had been poor, so his had been more like puppet strings.
I was sweating by the time I'd finished, and was feeling a little light-headed.
Maybe I shouldn't have had the gimlet.
No.
No, I was right to have the gimlet because gimlets are amazing and you can never have enough gimlets.
I swayed gently in the circle, before continuing.
Animating any kind of undead is a fiddly process. Even more fiddly is the process of merging.
In this case, I'd be merging a spirit with a skeleton and a skeleton with a lot of armor plating.
Tricky.
With Penelope still babbling in my ears, I pushed through a wave of exhaustion and started planting the main binding array onto the breastplate.
The thing was a complicated mix of runes, symbols, and circles.
All drawn with lines of thinly condensed life energy.
As I etched it into the metal, I had to use my sleeve to wipe sweat off my face.
I could feel the Old Twit hovering behind me, His countless eyes were all focused on my work. His tentacles shifted and I tried not to feel his critical humming as I worked.
As I finished the array, I injected it with a small portion of mana. That would charge it a little more than if I used just life energy. I felt the two energies spark and hiss, then melt together like two metals superheated into an alloy.
The array gave a sharp flash and, before she could finish her sentence, Penelope was sucked into the armor with a long panicked wail that echoed with despair.
I tried not to smile.
And most likely failed.
Almost at the point of falling over, I thrust my arm out and was promptly given the gin and tonic which had been waiting for me. Ice clinked as I took a long draw on the glass and let out a heavy sigh of relief.
I don't care what anyone says. Gin is the only ingredient required to perform proper necromancy.
The Old Twit was still focused on me as I gave my work a quick once-over. I could feel His tentacle slowly reach out in my mind and give me a proud little pat. Despite not wanting to eat its results, He was always most interested in the art of necromancy. I think He thought it was funny.
After that, I added a few more final arrays. Mostly to enhance her strength, defence, and dexterity.
Finally, I wrapped everything in another shell of life energy to protect it all and then kicked a bit of mana through the entire construct.
With a fizz and a pop, she slowly rose to loom over me.
Her dreadful aura filled the room like a dark shadow as icy cold mist was exhaled from within the helm. Crisp blue light flickered to life behind the eye slits.
She raised her gauntleted hand and curled her fingers into a fist. The sound of it was like glaciers grinding against each other.
I raised my glass, staggering out of the circle and almost collapsing into Grimsby's arms.
"It lives!" I cried.
"No. No no no! Impossible! Inconceivable!" Reginald wailed, bending over and grabbing at his chest. "A Death Knight! You created a Death Knight in less than an hour! How? How? This isn't happening. It isn't! This is a dream! A nightmare! If I cluck like a chicken, I'll wake up!"
He ran around the room, clucking like a chicken while slapping his face.
What a silly little man.
"Hmm," I said, turning my head towards him. "Are you still alive? Grimsby, why is that rat still alive?"
"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I didn't want to get any blood in your gin and tonic."
"Tsk," I hissed. "Always an excuse with you! Penelope? Be a darling and smoosh his head, would you?"
The Death Knight swiveled gracefully, bending down to pick up a rusty old sword. I'd need to get her a new one.
Her voice was hollow.
Drenched in evil.
"Master," she said. "I obey…"
"Finally," I sighed. "A minion who obeys me."