An unexpectedly intense reaction.
But my surprise was short-lived.
For now, I checked the name of the Grimoire.
'Underground Guide Grimoire?'
The name alone suggested it was related to necromancy. Wasn't the underground seen as the realm of the dead? Moreover, the aura emanating from the Underground Guide Grimoire felt strikingly similar to that of the Gravekeeper Grimoire I'd seen before. In other words, there was a high chance it contained necromancy.
"Baron, there's a strong likelihood this Grimoire holds necromantic spells. It's exactly the kind of item a wicked mage would possess."
At that moment, my master spoke while gazing at the Grimoire. The Neville Baron, who had been sitting in his chair listening, slammed his armrest with force and shouted.
"I knew it!"
Was it because he'd safely kept this legacy of a wicked mage for so long? I could sense pride emanating from the baron. And my master gilded his face even further.
"To possess a Grimoire like this, he must have been quite a powerful mage. Defeating such an enemy is astounding. Your grandfather must have been an exceptional knight, Baron."
"Indeed. I still remember him vividly. He was always so dignified."
The baron's eyes lost focus, as if lost in memories. My master waited patiently for him to reminisce about his happy past, then slowly spoke.
"We'll handle this dangerous item ourselves. So please, set your mind at ease."
"Thank you."
The baron replied to my master's reassurance. Their conversation showed mutual respect. It was a heartwarming scene. But as I watched, I thought it was odd. It felt like we were the ones dealing with his troublesome junk, rather than him rewarding us. Wasn't the host and guest reversed?
And it seemed I wasn't the only one thinking that.
"I offered the Grimoire as a reward, but now it looks like you're the ones taking a loss. This won't do."
The baron said as much. My master remained silent. It was tacit agreement. This was surely another ploy—no, plan—to extract more support from the baron.
"As I said earlier, I'll make sure you're well compensated. And once more, my thanks. Digori, Heros—truly, thank you for protecting the territory."
"Wasn't it you who sent us to that village in the first place, Baron? So this is your achievement as well."
"Yes, we were just doing what we had to."
The baron was sincerely grateful. My master and I accepted it with smiles. After that, they exchanged various small talk, but nothing about the missing villagers. After all, the fact that his grandfather had been an outstanding knight in life mattered far more than the deaths of some peasants. That was the world we lived in.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
After receiving lavish hospitality and staying the night, we departed Withill.
True to his word of not sending us away empty-handed, the Neville Baron gifted us a cart. He even thoughtfully packed it with food, travel money, and winter gear like coats and furs. He offered a packhorse too, but my master declined. The reason was that they couldn't afford the water and hay a horse consumed daily. Winter was tough on animals as well.
In any case, we'd received quite a lot. But the most valuable by far was the Neville Baron's letter of introduction. Showing it to the lord of a nearby territory would earn us quick trust. We might even be treated as guests. No more worrying about starving, at least.
"A noble's letter of introduction is always better than none. You never know when or where it might come in handy."
My master said this as he pulled out a bag from the cart. He opened it and placed the letter inside. Glancing in, I saw not just the baron's letter, but dozens of other neatly folded parchments stored within. Each sealed with wax stamped by different crests—they all seemed to be nobles' letters of introduction and recommendation.
Thud.
After stowing the parchment away, my master tossed the bag back onto the cart. Seeing him handle something priceless—unbuyable even for a fortune—with such carelessness felt strange.
'Someday, I'll have lots of noble acquaintances too, right? Ah, by then, I might even have my own territory.'
As I imagined a hopeful future, the low rumble of the cart wheels rolling along echoed softly. With my ears enjoying the sound and my eyes watching the golem pull the cart, I fully savored this peace.
How long had we traveled like that? When we reached the spot where the zombie soldiers were hidden, my master called my name.
"Heros."
"Yes, Master."
"What does the Underground Guide Grimoire say?"
My master handed me the Grimoire as he asked. As I took it, its voice rang out.
[I ask for little. Pray sincerely. Then I shall permit you to read my contents.]
Prayer, huh. This was a fresh demand.
"It says to pray."
"Simple enough."
My master nodded. He stopped walking. The golem pulling the cart halted, as did the zombie soldiers flanking us.
"You're at a crossroads now."
With the journey paused, my master said.
"A crossroads?"
"I took you as my disciple to use you. To teach you necromancy, then create perfect undead using your magic."
He accepted me as a disciple to achieve his own goals? I didn't mind. It wasn't a bad outcome for me either. Thanks to that, I'd become a mage. So I replied briskly.
"I'll assist diligently."
"Learning necromancy will haunt you forever. The label of necromancer could make your life miserable. Still want to learn?"
"Yes."
Whether to learn necromancy. I'd anticipated this day would come, so I'd pondered it long before. Thus, I answered without hesitation. I'd made up my mind ages ago.
'Necromancy is just magic. No harm in learning it.'
Reading a Grimoire grants new spells and increases mana capacity. No reason not to. Even if misunderstood as a necromancer and shunned, it wouldn't be worse than before meeting my master—back when I was an outcast in the village.
'And I don't want to part from Master.'
If I refused necromancy here, I'd likely have to part ways with him. That ominous premonition. Truth be told, it was the biggest factor in my decision. I enjoyed traveling with my master. I believed he'd protect me no matter what. It was the first comfort I'd felt since arriving in this world, and I wasn't ready to lose it yet.
"Think it over carefully."
"I've thought it through plenty."
"Didn't I tell you before? Necromancers don't live long lives. They'll die miserably."
"I remember. But you also said there's always exceptions. So maybe I can be one?"
"...Fine. If your resolve is that firm, I won't stop you. Read the Grimoire."
Before reading the Underground Guide Grimoire, I had a question for my master. Pure curiosity.
"Master. What if I'd said no to learning necromancy?"
"I'd have escorted you to the nearest village and parted ways. Then sought a new disciple."
"Good thing I chose to learn, then."
With that, I looked down at the Underground Guide Grimoire. It still demanded prayer from me.
[Pray. With sincerity!]
How does one do that, exactly? After a moment's thought, I closed my eyes and prayed. To let me learn the magic within the Grimoire. Soon, its voice responded.
[Hmm, not desperate enough. Try a bit harder.]
The Underground Guide Grimoire said my desperation was lacking. So I prayed even more fervently.
'I want to learn magic and grow strong. To fend off the myriad dangers in this world.'
As I prayed with eyes shut, suddenly, the Grimoire's laughter echoed.
[Good! Your desperation pleases me.]
Right after, the Grimoire's cover opened on its own, and the pages began turning automatically. A familiar sight.
[Thanks to you, I can rest easy. My thanks.]
As the book neared its end, the Underground Guide Grimoire's voice spoke. Soon after, the back cover appeared, and the Grimoire turned to a handful of dust.
'Let's see...'
My first action was to check what magic the Underground Guide Grimoire had contained.
[Spell Learned: Thought Body Summon]
The spell's name was Thought Body Summon. A magic that called forth lingering thoughts from objects touched by the dead. It consumed an enormous amount of mana. The Grimoire granted 50 mana, but the spell cost 100 to cast.
How incredible must this magic be to require so much for one use?
'Not sure if it's good or bad. Should I ask Master?'
As I pondered, my master spoke to me.
"Heros, what magic was inside?"
What perfect timing. I answered promptly.
"A spell called Thought Body Summon. It summons thoughts from objects touched by the dead, but honestly, I don't quite get it."
"Take it literally. Thought Body— a form made of thoughts."
"Different from souls?"
"Yes. Similar, but distinct. A Thought Body is a trace left by a person, not their soul. It takes their form but isn't them. Ultimately, an illusion. Still, being able to converse with the dead makes it incredibly useful."
Listening to my master, it sounded pretty good. I could summon the dead and ask questions. No guarantee of answers, of course.
"I'll have to try it sometime."
As I said that, my master handed me something from his pocket.
"Try it now."
What he offered was a large scythe-shaped metal ornament. It belonged to the black mage who controlled the Flesh Golem. He'd probably picked it up when leaving the cabin.
'Will the black mage appear with this?'
With that question in mind, I cast Thought Body Summon. A massive surge of mana drained from my body, and the scythe ornament floated into the air. And then the ornament...
Bang!
...shattered to pieces. Fortunately, no shards flew my way. The fragments swirled in place, turning to fine powder that scattered everywhere.
'Did something go wrong?'
As I thought that, in the spot where the metal had vanished, a person—or rather, a translucent, ghostly figure—appeared. A young man with hollow eyes. Seeing his gloomy, familiar face, I knew my spell had succeeded.
"Damn it, even in death I have to see your faces! This proves death isn't eternal rest."
As I observed the young man, he spotted us, stood defiantly, and picked a fight.
'Summon successful, but now what?'
With the new spell verified as working, I'd achieved my initial goal. The problem was this lingering ghost-like thing. I wasn't sure how to handle it.
As I pondered, Master spoke up.
"Do you know about the grand scheme?"
"Hey, I'm no saint. You think I'll spill to the murderers who took my life?"
"You're taking the long way to say you don't know. As expected. Honestly, I didn't expect much. A small fry like you wouldn't have high-level info."
The young man sneered, but my master calmly rebuked him. His confident enunciation lent his words credibility. Perhaps because of that, veins bulged on the young man's forehead. He was properly provoked.
"You bastard...!"
The young man glared at my master. Then he relaxed his eyes and sulked.
"Trying to goad me into spilling what you want? I'm not falling for cheap tricks."
"Do as you like. You only got orders to cause trouble, right? That's why Eremus mages have been so active lately."
"Blab all you want. You won't get the answer you crave."
"Doesn't matter. Your face shows every thought. So shut up and stay put."
The young man's face twisted at my master's words. But ignoring the black mage, my master continued questioning, observing his reactions. About ten minutes passed like that.
Whoosh.
The young man, red-faced and glaring at my master, his form blurred and vanished in an instant. The duration of Thought Body Summon had ended.
"What a waste of time."
My master clicked his tongue at the empty spot. Having accumulated questions from their exchange, I quickly asked my master.
"Master, what's the grand scheme?"
"Just what it sounds like. Eremus—or rather, its leader—has a big plan. Clearly aimed at plunging the empire into chaos, but what really intrigues me is the underlying motive. Why do it?"
My master said, furrowing his brow. Then he looked at me.
"Heros."
"Yes, Master."
"Turbulent times are approaching. If we don't prepare, we'll be swept away. Let's hurry on our way."
"Yes!"
The journey resumed. To meet my master's friend.
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