"This is the worst magic training in my life," I sighed heavily, feeling pain in my legs and a slight dizziness. My body is not designed for such stress, and after just a week of training in Ban Ard, I have been through so many trials that adults would not be able to pass. What can we talk about if we are talking about a small child with a frail body? One thing saves me: I am making every effort to get myself in shape. In addition, I do not even have the thought of relaxing until I reach the peak of human capabilities. The stronger I become, the more power I will gain.
Kings own nothing. They only reign. Their power is limited, each of them is forced to fight for his throne. But one thing is constant: in troubled times, especially in the early Middle Ages with its magical component, they die like flies. I do not need to seek such power, nor do I want to rule the whole world. I want to have power over my life and death, to decide for myself when the first will end and the second will begin. For this, an inordinate amount of power is needed, much more than those who have a heavy crown on their heads.
"As if you've ever learned magic," said my mentor Palladius, my necromancy teacher, sarcastically. Half an hour earlier, he had been calmly laying out the tablecloth, food, and expensive drinks, as if he were at a picnic and not a cemetery. "Less talk, more action. Corpses won't dig themselves out of their graves. Be bolder, hold your shoulders wider, raise your shovel higher. And get to work. Time is running out, we might meet a village man with an axe, and that will be a pain in the ass. A flying axe to the head is faster than many spells, remember that."
"I understand all the risks of our work," I winced from the cold night that froze everything above and below the waist, and continued to warm up the blood with active work.
- You? If anyone finds out that we're digging graves, we'll both end up at the stake. Do you think so? - He began his lecture in a mockingly explanatory manner. - There are hanging hooks in the torture chamber. Big and damn sharp. Their ends fit perfectly into the ass, mind you, and also hold the future victim of the executioner well. They'll hang us on them, and then they'll torture us for three days and three nights, in a row. When the executioners reduce us to the state of rotten vegetables, then they'll probably burn us at the stake.
He was hardly joking. Necromancy somewhere outside our academy will be punished to the full extent of the law, and no one will be able to stand up for it. No one. Even here there are risks of ending badly if the temporary rector is "the wrong sorcerer."
During my short time at the Ban Ard Academy, I heard too many stories to think that they were all made up by lazy people. The group was a motley crew: newbies with four years of experience, as well as almost fully-fledged magicians. Each of them considered it their duty to tell what they heard from friends about the fate of this or that sorcerer. Thus, one vivisectionist, a master of dissecting still living people, was killed like a fly in a smoldering furnace. A shitty and inglorious death. Many dangerous insects, hungry and angry, were released through his ears, and his brain was eaten for all it was worth.
At first I didn't attach any importance to it, but reading several history books made me think seriously. Historians describe torture of non-humans and magicians in too much detail, therefore, executioners constantly practice and improve. So, there is material for honing skills. And I would not want to taste a red-hot poker for today's sins, on this frosty night, in places not intended for its storage.
We are in a cemetery where a peasant woman was recently buried after a raid by bandits. According to rumors, one girl was fucked in front of her parents, whose eyes were first gouged out "for good intentions." In general, the bandits were having fun as best they could. Since they haven't invented any good fairy tales here yet, and everyone is raising a toast to the harsh reality, they - the bandits - left the village with impunity before the local lord's troops arrived. More precisely, the bandits fled in vain, since these troops did not even want to come close to such a small-town event as robbing a village. Is there a reason? The village elder did not pay taxes. Not of his own free will, but one of Ban Ard's disciples used earth magic and, accidentally or intentionally, made the arable fields unsuitable for sowing. And the funniest thing is that he did not receive anything for it, only a reprimand.
He was lucky, we have really good leadership. It is capable of turning a blind eye to many things, and also shielding a student from angry peasants with pitchforks. Not all, of course, but many are not without sin. A sinner will always help a sinner, so that if something happens, he himself will be helped.
Okay, you son of a bitch of a bitch! There's so much dirt that they'll easily confuse me with a dead man if I crawl out of here. I've already dug about a meter and a half... Okay, let's keep digging. What was I thinking? Exactly! The management of our academy.
The rector and founder of the academy is Gerhart of Aelle, a huge fan of necromancy and Palladium's first teacher. He is engaged in secret research and is on "do not disturb" status.
Mardin of Ricquerelin, the vice-rector for student affairs, has immersed himself in research with the academy's founder. He is rumored to be a dangerous figure among students. He is obsessed with rules. If someone breaks them, Mardin will report them to the relevant authorities and impose disciplinary action - a fee, often in the form of the offender's eggs. One or two, depending on the severity of the offense and how publicized it is.
Now the rector is temporarily replaced by Stregobor - an influential sorcerer who will support and side with another sorcerer in any case. It was under him that an unpleasant incident with wheat fields near the neighboring village, located near Ban Ard, occurred. In addition, my mentor really dislikes Stregobor and believes that he adheres to his principles too much. Although, I think the reason is his talent for illusion magic. They say that the "three-hundred-year-old dick" can even organize an orgy without the participation of living people - such rumors are running around the academy. In theory, the research of our current rector, sooner or later, will come to an end, and I will not see this guy again. In the coming years, for sure.
Dorregaray is a madman who believes that monsters are an important part of existence, and he is willing to protect them, support them, and kiss their asses. At the same time, he has great power and influence, and rumor has it that he will become the next rector if the current one dies of old age some century. He is currently traveling, and rumors have spread about a new unique creature on Skellige. Upon hearing this, Dorregaray went crazy to protect the swords of the Monster Slayers from the "poor and unfortunate monster."
Ugh...
But this is the leadership, all of them, some of the most important people. And what can be said about them in general? It depends on who is speaking. For example, an ordinary blacksmith living next to these wolves in sheep's clothing will only say a couple of curses, and even then, no one is listening yet. I, in turn, have collected too little information about each of them to form my own opinion.
Gerhart and Mardin have gone into research, Dorregaray has gone on a journey, Stregobor is running the academy and covering for his students, making debts for himself among the future advisers of kings - and what else he is planning, only God knows, if God cares.
- Finished? - I asked myself when the shovel stuck into something soft. There was no coffin, the body of the dead peasant woman was simply covered with an animal skin and then buried. I was lucky. I was already thinking that I would have to mess around with dismantling the coffin. There was no claw hammer, but that should not bother my mentor, he would have made me hit the boards with stones. According to him, magic is capable of leaving invisible traces, arrows leading to the necromancer. And there is a grain of truth in this.
"Excellent, kid," the satisfied voice of the mentor was heard from above. Pallady came closer and threw down the rope. Clearly, not for the grave robber to climb up. "Tie the end around her body, then tighten it well, and then climb up yourself."
"Okay," I nodded calmly.
I had never worked with corpses before, they emitted a sickening smell and caused disgust. The only consolation in this situation was the chip, which was able to maintain my emotional state. In my head there was always a psychologist, a master at raking up all sorts of shit. Without him... I would not have had the acting skills to work together with my mentor. I would have had to go into despondency for a couple of days.
Having tied the victim well, I immediately threw the shovel up and tried to climb up, using the recently settled earth. My fingers dug into it unpleasantly… And I would have to eat with these hands? With nails in which part of an earthworm was stuck…
They didn't feed us badly, but they didn't feed us well either. We got our food anyhow, and ate it according to the same principle. There was no table etiquette in this world, especially in the north. Kings ate like normal barbarians - with their hands. Nobles and the offspring of the sewers were no exception. As if they were somehow better than His Majesty. The entire table assortment consisted of only one spoon, and it was given out only when thick soup was served.
"Hey, cross-eyed mute, come here!" the mentor shouted loudly towards our cabby. He had a terrible squint, the left pupil seemed to be hidden on the back of his eyeball. His face was also covered with the effects of an ulcer or leprosy, which gave him the appearance of a man with whom no one would ever communicate of their own free will. The perfect accomplice in crime. But what made him even more perfect was his tongue. It was torn out for insulting a knight. Since the guy had an ugly mug, could not write or speak, there was no better candidate for the necromancer's servant.
The man staggered towards us, looking at the dug-up grave with eyes full of fear. After which he almost crossed himself. But he pulled himself together and grabbed the rope, starting to lift the corpse, untie the knots. It took a long time to untie... And carry the little body to the cart harnessed by the lame mare.
- Well, what? Aren't you going to ask why you're digging and not him? - asked the mentor, looking at me appraisingly.
- What answer do you want to hear?
"For friends," he winked cheerfully.
"So that I can quickly get used to corpses and everything connected with them. You probably want to give a practical lecture on dissecting human bodies right now, which will be useful for my growth," I explained calmly.
- Bull's eye with an arrow, your mother, you're a genius! And how did you even understand? - he asked sharply and shook his head. - Ah, the pot of rooster's blood gave me away. Yes, we will dissect the corpses in my hut. It is problematic to do this in the academy itself, you know, now necromancy is under the close control of the Chapter due to the unethical nature of research. But no big deal. We will draw special circles so that this girl does not appear in our nightmares, and then we will work properly with her body. You must know each part, external and internal, where to pour power and how it modifies the meat of this rotten little body.
- Basic necromancy?
— More precisely, necromancy for children? — he took over the question. — Still, you are far from basic necromancy. You, kids, are still only learning the theory. It is too early for you to know how to work with bones or create corpse eaters. So yes... Not basic necromancy, alas, you have not grown up to it yet. But you have grown up to my private lessons, be proud of yourself. And say thank you to yourself that you have mastered my works in a week. And I, in order to write and publish... a manual on the structure of people from the point of view of a sorcerer... Forbidden by all conventions... I can't remember right away. But I have definitely dissected about twenty dozen, if not more. And you will only have one. Oh, the first corpse is the most important. I remember my first corpse... I'll tell you now... Sweet and beautiful...
I listened with half an ear, because the information was useless.
I thought more about the future.
To dissect a strange girl. The poor thing was raped in front of her parents, whose eyes were gouged out, and then brutally murdered. And now her last path will be desecrated by an experienced necromancer to give me practice as a reward for quickly mastering the theoretical part of human anatomy.
He hurried to complete his assignments and made the corpses laugh.
"Are there any problems?" Pallady asked with a little concern, suddenly tensing up from my silence. Our trust has not yet grown strong enough to entrust us with our lives. I am sure that the sorcerer has spent this week collecting information about my every sneeze. But since I am silent and secretive, I decided to trust a small adventure.
Founder Ban Ard would get his student off the hook, Palladius was sure of it, so the stakes weren't too high for him right now. Perfect for setting a credit rating for the boy he'd picked up from the ashes.
"No problems, just a little worry," I answered honestly, shrugging my shoulders.
"What?" he asked, gently placing his hand on my shoulder.
"Infection," he expanded his answer, carefully choosing his words: "When working with corpses, there is a risk of catching an infection, so I'm thinking about how to minimize the risks."
- Are you an idiot? It's obvious that with charms and potions. Or did you think that I would let you near this rotten piece of meat without protection? You're offending your teacher, oh, you're offending him, - shaking his head, he went to the cart, where I followed. - I even have ways to protect you if someday, when you grow up, you decide to spend a passionate night with a beautiful, but alas, dead girl.
I don't even want to ask how he developed these methods and whether he tested the effectiveness of this obscenity in practice.
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