His Beginning

“He said he’d be done soon. It’s been two hours, Erlana…”

“Just give him some time, Fumihito. If it takes any longer, we’ll just go in and check on him. That’s fair, right?”

Fumihito sighed and glanced over at the town from a distance. After their little talk with Scrimgeour, the group had agreed to meet at the outskirts of town once the undead had planted his armor away. It seemed that the guards wouldn’t prevent anybody from leaving since they were keeping their eyes peeled for a walking hunk of metal and death and an accomplice. It was comforting to know they weren’t prisoners, but it was just as strange to see that they were leaving the only place he had some semblance of familiarity with.

He could see that Erlana was nervous to the bone with just how much she was walking around in circles on the dirt road. It would have been a lie if he said he didn’t feel the same way, but he was just hoping that someone who proclaimed to be a thief would find a way in and out. His eyes narrowed and he flexed his hands once again.

That feeling from before, that longing to grasp at something beyond scratched at his neck and skin. He wondered what would happen if he tried again, just one more time. Yet, the idea of facing all that horror and screaming again reminded him of just how terrifying it was.

“Fumihito, look!”

It was only about five more minutes later until Erlana dragged his attention over and pointed him to the familiar frame of their third companion. He could see Scrimgeour once again and the skeleton wasn’t dressed like before. Compared to the heavy rustic pieces of armor that clung to his bones, the undead was dressed in thick brown robes that covered him from his chest to his wiggling bone toes. He raised a brow at the enthusiastic skeleton raising his hand and plopping a hood onto his head.

“Sorry about that, you two, but it took me a while to get behind some of the guards. I made sure to dump the armor and left a bone behind as well. A few warding spells nearly caught me, but I’ve dealt with worse magic in my time.”

He was honestly just glad that they could leave and be done with this town. There was no telling how a town would react to having the founder’s armor returned, but he figured it was leagues better than them finding out that their supposed founder didn’t exactly care at all. That and what they’d do to him if they found out he was a necromancer. Sure, they didn’t seem entirely backward, but they didn’t seem like the type to believe a story.

Even if there was a way to prove it, he’d look even more suspicious and Erlana would be…

“Well, we’re in the clear at last and the Inquisitor probably won’t look further into this now that the armor’s back. Though, I doubt she’ll leave my name alone. My family’s probably going to have words about this with me... At least you made it out, Scrimgeour, but it’s a shame we can’t grab a carriage,” and he was reminded again of why exactly this was going to be so much worse as soon as Erlana began to walk down the long dirt road leading even further away from the city.

Apparently, it wasn’t very easy concealing an undead. Public transportation wouldn’t have been so bad, but if somebody stumbled upon an undead? The reaction wouldn’t have been swell. He had to accept the fact that they were going to be walking for a few days before going to the nearest town. If they were lucky, Erlana could mix up a small concoction and conceal Scrimgeour’s presence.

Well, she had told him it would conceal something called his spiritual being rather than physical appearance. Mostly so that practiced magic users wouldn’t be able to feel anything off about him. The most they had to work with was a pair of baggy robes he seemed to have robbed off a man’s laundry line.

“I can’t believe this is my day so far. I also stand out like a sore thumb too since I haven’t seen anybody wear clothes like mine.”

Speaking of his clothes, he started to notice the way his tucked shirt had become stained with mud and grass. The smell of his sweat clung to his body and his pants weren’t in any better spot either. Seriously, this was the most unfair world he could have been flung into. Why couldn’t someone else take care of this burden?

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I say we buy you a new set of clothes. I can’t just keep stealing either since I tried to put that habit behind me. Being undead doesn’t exactly make it easy either since I got lucky with that score."

It only took him listening to Scrimgeour once more that he realized the supposed paladin of legend and heroics was a thief. That wasn’t something that surprised him too much. All that talk Erlana had thrown at him earlier seemed far too over the top, almost like she was a fan of such a man, but a thief? He wondered how that happened.

He glanced around and took notice of the bright scenery, something that almost seemed out of a fairy tale. Then again, this was a world of magic, but it felt so much more natural compared to Earth. The trees off to the distance stretched higher than any tree he had seen in his life and he could see the abundance of grass and the fresh air that graced his nostrils.

Erlana was the first one to voice it before he could as they made their way across the long dirt road.

“I just don’t understand it. Everything I researched into you said that you were the most courageous man known to… W-Well, man! It just doesn’t add up,” and he wished to heaven and hell that he didn’t turn back to check on Erlana. However, that almost pouty expression on her lip with the slightest quiver sent his heart into a flutter.

‘C-Cute…’

He was going to keep that thought to himself.

“Right, well… To be honest? I sorta had to make that crap up during the war. It was a hectic time and I was just a guy roped in at the wrong moment It’s a long story, but to make it simple, I was a thief. Pretty simple guy who didn’t care too much about how things passed over,” the undead sighed and tugged at his hood further. If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed that was a sign of embarrassment.

“I never paid too much attention to the great war, but I was dragged into it when my city was raided. At the time, I was robbing some bigshot noble and trying to make it out with all my loot. Course, that’s when the rebellion barged through the front gates of the city. I was pretty scared so I figured if I dressed the part of a big warrior, they might leave me alone,” and he was starting to see how things seemed to spiral now that the old warrior mumbled.

“Annnnd I may or may have not accidentally killed the noble in question. I-It was an accident, honest, b-but he was trying to strangle me and the sword slipped and… Well, from there, I had a dead noble, a bloodied sword, and some armor I hopped into. I figured I could get away in all the chaos, but the rebellion group stumbled upon me and the poor sod. From there, it sort of spiraled into more lies until they thought I was someone trying to join the cause.”

Yeah, no, he was beginning to see how all that praise and amazement in Erlana’s eyes was dying. It was almost sad how quickly her face became more solemn with each passing word.

“From there, I just faked it till I made it. Boy, did I fake it… A little too good, ya know? But, hey, I guess having a statue made of myself and legends spread about my deeds was pretty nice.”

He frowned the moment the skeleton chuckled. It was just odd how familiar that tone sounded. Almost the way he tried to sound happy, but beneath that tone, he could hear how sad it sounded.

It reminded him too much of himself.

“But that’s not the point now. The point we should get back to is how this poor sap got the powers of a necromancer. You got any idea, lad?”

Couldn’t they ask something else? His eyes drifted over to Erlana who still held the same curiosity as before, but at least she wasn’t looking at him like he was a liar. Not that he was. He had never told a lie in his entire life.

“I don’t know, really. I was just at home one moment and the next thing I know, I’m here. I don’t even know how I managed this magic stuff. My father was normal and my mo-… Nevermind,” and he shut himself up just before he could reopen old wounds.

He grabbed at his left arm and squeezed it briefly at the feeling that clawed at his chest. Compared to the horrifying monstrous sensation of what was basically hands roaming across his body, this was the feeling of something being jabbed into his heart. He’d have taken that horrifying experience again if it meant he didn’t go through this.

At the very least, Erlana and Scrimegour didn’t poke into it. The man released his arm and sighed before picking up the pace briefly. Moving a little faster wouldn’t help since they were miles away from the nearest place. Maybe even days if he didn’t know any better.

“Still, I don’t even know how I performed magic in the first place. Aren’t you supposed to recite spells and make up a few words?”

He thought it sounded like a genuine question, but the almost insulted look on Erlana’s face made it seem like he had stepped on a landmine. Her cheeks puffed up and she stamped her boots into the ground once as the large skeleton chuckled.

“No! I mean, yeah there are a few incantations, but it’s usually about intent. Magic in general, is drawing upon the mana within our bodies or from the world and displaying intent behind a spell,” the young woman explained with a wag of her finger as they kept moving forward. Scrimgeour had elected to walk behind the two of them while he was side-by-side with Erlana.

“So, it’s just imagination and a feeling and anything happens?”

That also didn’t seem to be the right answer with the deadpan expression on Erlana’s face. Now he was starting to think he was embarrassing himself with what he just asked.

“No, not at all. Yes, thought and feeling play a role, but you can’t just shape things into whatever you want. When you cast a spell, certain phrases can give it power or shape. Like, if someone wanted to cast a ball of fire, they might say, ‘O fire,’ and give birth to a big blazing ball of fire. There’s still something they’re drawing upon. An element, maybe faith, or maybe they’ve been tutored to a specific craft.”

Piecing together magic was becoming a little easier for him, even if he was inexperienced when it came down to these things.

“But, for magic in general, spells can be created to hone something, but they don’t start from nothing. You can’t conjure a flaming bubble if you don’t understand the concept of it. Much like how someone couldn’t just make everything happen. Magic has limitations and while will and spells help, it still has to be directed.”

His eyes narrowed briefly and a hand went to his chin at the thought of it. From the way it sounded, it certainly meant that practice would make perfect. That meant he also couldn’t do anything he wanted. The idea of messing with the dead wasn’t something he wanted any training with.

Not after what happened in Erlana's room.

“I am curious about something though, Erlana. You never told me what kind of magic you could do. Are you like the Inquisitor or can you just…”

But he didn’t expect that wise and warm expression on her face to shrivel up before a slight smile crossed her expression. Compared to the genuine warmth and kindness in her smiles from before, he could. It almost felt cold with just how she smiled at him before she tilted her head and nodded.

“That’s not too important, Fumihito. If you want any advice though, maybe Scrimgeour can help! I’ll tell you about it next time, alright?”

He couldn’t even mutter a word before she had strolled on ahead and quickened her pace. It felt almost hollow in how she dismissed it. There was something up and she wasn’t going to tell him. Scrimgeour walked from behind him and nudged his shoulder once with a simple shrug.

“Women. We just don’t get ‘em sometimes. Take it from an experienced guy, but that’s usually a sign that you stepped onto something you shouldn’t have. I’d be careful about it, necromancer.”

The man sighed and rolled his eyes before glaring over at Scrimgeour.

“Do you have to call me that? I have a name.”

Scrimgeour, on the other hand, felt differently.

“You’re a necromancer until you can get better. Trust me, untamed magic is the worst kind of magic there is. No control means more trouble. Don’t worry though, your little lady’s going to be just fine. Better to let her simmer down.”

A frown crossed his face and he looked back to the rushed form of Erlana up ahead on the road. The brilliant blue skies were clear above and he could still make her out through the dark ensemble she wore. He was hesitant to even ask, but he needed to at least know.

“Scrimgeour, do you… do you know why she acted that way?”

The undead simply looked at him and clacked their jaw once.

“Just a theory’s all. Focus on the road, necromancer. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us if we wanna get to the Center.”

Fumihito hummed softly and nodded. He would have pressed more into the topic, but that wasn’t going to lead him anywhere. The young man quickened his pace briefly and hoped to at least get closer to Erlana.

He had a feeling this was the first of many things he’d experience in this new world.