Jan IV

Rotten teeth were aimed at the young boy's supple and fresh neck.

Yet, they did not find purchase. Some part of him, deep within, buried until then, was awakened, and he instinctively - without even knowing, managed to respond in time fast enough to save his life.

He did this by swinging his sword in a haphazard manner, lacking skill and grace and finesse, fuelled only by rage, adrenaline, and the urge to live.

The steel caught the undead hound right in the eye with enough backspin and force behind it for the blow to be interrupted, as the boy delivered a devastating backspin upon the black dog.

Though this swing of his sword did not kill the beast - it was not even close, the boy was simply too weak to achieve such a feat, it did buy him some time.

The boy quickly got up and picked up the sword that he dropped on the cold floor and aimed it at the black dog of death. When he looked at the sword though, he saw blood black as night on the blade, dripping. The sword itself looked no worse for wear, which surprised Jan, as he thought the unholy nature of the undead would cause the sword to rust and decay, but perhaps there was not enough contact, or perhaps these undead were too weak for such a thing. It did not matter.

Jan aimed his sword at the dog, and locked eyes with it. The dog's crimson eyes, filled with hatred for the living and lust for human flesh, lacking in pupils much like they lacked in anything except a murderous desire to bleed him dry and devour his entrails - were met by Jan's light brown eyes that looked so much like light brown olives.

Within those eyes, there was no fear. Jan felt no fear, strangely enough. He felt only determination, and the will to live.

He would not follow his family into the grave, not now. Not while he was so young. Not while he had so much of the world to see and so much to do. Not while he had not accomplished anything of note.

His hands gripped his sword so tightly that it felt like he might break the hilt, or his arms, but either way he felt like something would break.

'Come on. Let's do this. I won't die without taking you down with me.'

Jan repeated in his head these words as he waited for the blow, the lunge, from the beast.

For some reason, he felt strangely certain in himself. Perhaps it was unearned confidence, but he felt like he could at least take out this dog before he died.

But when he thought a bit deeper, his will wavered.

'Will I become an undead monstrosity? What about Riku and Rin? Will they find me? Will they save me? Or will it be too late? Will they follow me into the grave?'

These evil fear-filled whispers of madness bounced around his head, like a bat flying through a cave, until he felt fear again, but he banished that fear not too quickly after it came.

However, while waiting for the blow that never came, he noticed something. The black dog, while standing upwards on all four of its ugly feet, and preparing to strike, never actually did. It merely barked, growled, and bared its teeth. One good red eye stared at him with hate, angry that its prize had been denied.

Until, he heard another noise from behind him, and it was already too late.

By the time he had turned around, another dog, identical to the first, had gone for his ankle, its rotten teeth biting.

The first thing he noticed was the pain.

The second thing he noticed was that the dog's bite was accurate.

It refused to let go.

The third thing he noticed, as he lay flat on his back, staring at the dog in front of him that was dragging his foot, was that the dog with one eye, the one that Jan had survived the first blow from, was not going in for the kill.

Perhaps they meant to torment him before putting him out of his misery?

Perhaps that necromancer didn't care about innocents as much as they claimed to, or perhaps it was simply a bold-faced lie.

Perhaps the necromancer's control over her pack of death-dealing dogs was not as solid as she thought it was.

Either way, it was hard to think, what with the undead hounds, the screams, the blood, the potential of death, here, in this gods-forsaken place, with no one left to mourn, with no possibility of even a proper burial.

Thus, Jan did the only thing he could do.

He screamed. He raged. He cried, tears welled in his eyes, his cheeks grew red, his breath grew erratic, his heart beat so quickly it would nearly erupt, adrenaline flooded his bloodstream.

And he swung, as hard as he could. He hacked, he slashed, repeatedly, at the undead hound's skull.

Blood seeped on the floor.

Teeth continued to tear into his limbs and ligaments.

Jan continued to swing.

Until, all of a sudden, he felt very cold, and then he lost consciousness.

Sunlight shone onto Jan's closed eyelids. It woke him up.

He did not know what happened. He was confused.

His eyes opened, almost shyly at the beginning. He tried to remember what happened.

He drew a blank, until he no longer did.

'The fight in the sewers! But… I'm still alive? How? Why?'

For some reason, he still drew breath. And he felt strangely fine. He inspected himself again once over, but found that not a single part of him was harmed.

He was completely fine. Not a single wound on him.

Another inspection towards his left ankle only confirmed what he suspected.

He was alive and well, but why?

It was necessary to take in his surroundings, and see what exactly was going on.

Jan was in a room. Not a barebones room like the one in Miss Frenja's cottage, or an impoverished room in a village, but an honest-to-gods room.

He was lying in a bed, with a comfortable feather pillow on him, and a wooden support for the bed that isolated it from the brick wall behind him. To his right, to the east, was a window, currently closed, with the curtains pulled back allowing sunlight to stream in.

Above Jan's head there was a shield with dried blood on it, and a steel axe and hammer crossed beneath it. Also, he found something akin to a good-luck charm to the side, with feathers and wooden sticks and threads tying it all together.

To Jan's left there was a small nightstand, with a single drawer, closed, and atop the nightstand, what appeared to be an oil lamp and a copper goblet. Jan inspected it. It was filled with water. He was thirsty, thus he took a risk.

'It's probably not poisoned.'

He drank the entire goblet of water greedily, and he wanted more. He would probably ask for more, wherever he was. His host wouldn't mind. Probably.

Then he thought a bit more.

'Wait… did that necromancer woman save me? Shit.'

He did not know what that meant, but it was probably nothing good.

'Was there something in the water? I better hope not… If there was, nothing I can do about it now though.'

Jan continued to look around the room. He saw a wooden chest with iron hinges, closed, he saw scraps of paper on a table.

All around, the room looked lived-in, and it looked like it belonged to someone who had a decent amount of coin.

But it still didn't explain why he was there, why he was still alive. And why he, when he sniffed himself just now, did not smell like shit, or why he was in clean clothes that were not his own.

'Did this woman bathe me? What the hell?'

For a few seconds, he contemplated his next move. He would have liked to perhaps get advice, instructions, on what to do, but that was impossible… whatever magic Miss Rin used to contact him, he could not use in return, thus, it was a moot point.

'It's either wait here in this bed… or get up and walk around and see what's going on.'

Those were his choices, yet the choice was made as soon as his feet touched the ground. He found himself in no time at all at the wooden door, and he opened it and walked through a small hallway, a dozen feet long, with a closed door in the left wall. He walked past the door into another room, where he smelt the distinct sound of food being cooked, and he heard the sounds not long after he smelled them.

One foot after the other, he continued walking, until he entered the kitchen, and he saw… a woman.

A regular woman, completely bland.

A little old, perhaps, late twenties or early thirties, Jan could not gauge people that much older than him accurately, but it was clearly a woman older than him or even Miss Rin or Mister Riku. She had her reddish-brown hair tied into a braid that fell on one of her shoulders, and she was wearing a light blue that covered her from her neck downwards, but still looked comfortable and light to wear.

Her back was turned to him, but when he walked in she turned around, looked him up and down, and with her knife - still dripping with red juice, she gestured for him to take a seat.

Wordlessly and absentmindedly, she did.

He was too stunned to even speak.

'Is this the woman that ordered dead bodies from criminals and then attacked me?'

The difference between evil necromancer witch and housewife was just… too much for him to comprehend, so he did nothing.

He simply pulled back a chair, and sat at the table. One eye he kept constantly on her as she cooked, as she sliced and diced, as she fried and poached and boiled and mixed and prepared an early morning meal that smelled better every second that passed.

Before long, she placed two plates before him, a big plate with two poached eggs on black rye bread, thin slices of sausage, baked beans and oats all mixed together, and on the smaller plate, he noticed a single piece of what appeared to be cake, made out of all kinds of things he could not tell apart at a first glance. The cake looked to be made of dark brown and creamy colored and even some pinkish things. He did not know what the cake was made of, but it looked delicious. As for the other meal, it was mouthwatering, and he definitely grew hungry just by looking at it.

The smell brought him nearly to the point of salivation, and when the wooden knife and fork were placed upon the table, instinctively his hands reached for them, but before he did anything foolish, he stopped himself and looked up at his savior.

The straight nose, the sharp jaw, the steel-gray eyes, all combined to give the woman a rather strange, masculine, sort of beauty. She was definitely not unattractive, but compared to Miss Rin, she was lacking and comparatively plain.

Nonetheless, in those eyes, there was a guarded expression that Jan couldn't quite decipher.

The woman sat down opposite him. There was no food on the side of her table.

"Are you feeling well? Any lingering pain? Any symptoms, sores?" She asked him bluntly.

Jan shook his head. "I feel fine."

The woman smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.

"I am glad of it. I… I am sorry for what happened last night. It was a… misunderstanding. A mistake on my part, one that won't happen again."

"A mistake?"

"Yes… I thought you were a member of the gang that tried to swindle me… the boy that ran away, but I was mistaken."

Ah. A classic mistake. Completely understandable.

"So… how am I alive? Why am I alive? You're a necromancer. You're evil."

She cocked an eyebrow and had the dignity to look slightly offended.

"Evil… huh? I can see why you'd think that. But… I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let's remedy that. Please, eat. I have prepared food for you, and it'd be a waste for it to grow cold."

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"I already did. Please, eat, it is not poisoned, I will taste it for you if that is what worries you…"

"No… I know that you don't need poison to kill me. It's just… Why are you doing this? You don't owe me anything."

"Eat and I will tell you everything. Oh, and to answer your question, I used a very expensive healing potion I was saving for myself, on you. And I cleaned you from the shit you had smeared on yourself, and I burned your clothes and gave you the ones you're wearing right now. You're welcome, now eat."

It took a moment for the words to set in, and when they did, Jan felt… violated, somehow.

He also felt tired, and hungry.

Tired of the woman insisting he eat, and tired of his stomach grumbling, he did as he was bid, and dug in.

The poached eggs were the first thing he tried, and they were delicious. As was the sausage, the bread, and everything else. Jan ate like he was starved for days, and in a way he was, and within minutes he ate everything on the table save for the cake that he left for last. In between his bites he took glances at the woman who stared at him with those gray eyes while he ate, but he continued to ignore it and continued to wolf down his food, as a growing boy should.

"Do you have some water?" He asked after eating the main course.

The woman smiled at him, and then grabbed a tankard from one of the cupboards.

Then she did something he didn't expect. Instead of getting the water from a sensible place, she conjured it out of mid air. Before he even blinked, a blob of water hovered in front of her hand, and then fell into the wooden tankard.

She pushed the tankard towards Jan. He did not feel thirsty.

'What the fuck was that? Magic water?'

"Not feeling thirsty?" The woman asked.

"Not anymore, really." He admitted.

She frowned somewhat. Then she grabbed the tankard, drank the water, and frowned even more.

"Still tastes like dirt. Don't blame you. Real water is much better." She said and then stood up, grabbed another tankard, and this time filled it with a bucket of cold water she had placed to the side. This time, when she gave it to Jan, he drank it instantly.

The woman sat down again.

"My name is Rigrit Bers Caurau. What's your name?"

"Jan."

"No last name?"

"Nope."

"Where are you from, Jan?"

"From Taewe Village."

"Taewe Village. Heard of it, but I've never been there."

Something bitter stirred in Jan's heart and he could not contain it within.

"You won't get the chance again, I'm afraid."

"Why's that?"

"Well, it no longer exists."

The woman looked at him strangely before waving her arm as if to wave away the previous topic.

"Huh. We'll shelve that topic for later. What were you doing in the sewers Jan? They are hardly the place a boy your age is supposed to be."

Knowing that lying would probably not be the smartest thing, and with the knowledge that he was most likely not a good liar to begin with, he told the truth."I was sneaking into the city."

"Through the sewers?"

"There was a drain that led to the outside of the walls, I crawled through there."

"I suppose that explained the smell… but why?"

"Guards didn't let us in."

The woman raised her voice in an inquisitive fashion. "Us?" She asked and waited for a response. She received none. Jan remained silent. 'Shit.' He thought, as he realized he made a verbal slip.

"Hmm. You're hiding something, but it doesn't matter. So, you were trying to make it into the city by way of the sewers when you came upon me and those men, correct?"

He nodded.

"I suppose you think I'm terribly evil, do you?"

He remained silent. But the expression on his face must have been easily readable, for the woman knew what to say.

"Raising the dead. A horrific crime, right? Well, I thought so as well once before… no matter, no need to explain myself to you. But I am still at a loss as to what to do with you." She sighed.

Jan didn't know what exactly she meant.

"Do with me? Do you plan to kill me?"

The woman laughed a bit, a small chuckle that escaped her lips helped lighten the mood somewhat.

"Kill you? Gods no! No, I wouldn't, not unless I absolutely had to."

'What do you mean unless you had to! You crazy woman, your dogs almost did!' Jan screamed internally, but he managed to not let those thoughts show on his face.

"But you do know who I am now." She stated.

Who was the woman? A necromancer? A magic caster? A woman?

"A necromancer named Rigrit?" Jan asked.

Her eyes lit up.

"Correct!" She pointed a finger at him. "A necromancer named Rigrit. But you see… necromancy is, as you might know, illegal. Thus, the fewer people know of this, the safer I am. I don't want the Mage-Hunters coming after me."

"Mage-Hunters?"

"They're… well, you're just a peasant, so there's no point explaining it to you, but I think you can understand when I say that the fewer people know of my existence, the better. And there is no benefit to me for you to know of my existence. Yet, I cannot kill you."

"You can't?"

"Well…technically, I could easily, but I don't want to… I'd be a hypocrite. So now… I don't know what to do with you." She rubbed her face with her hands and her eyes were covered. After a while the fingers parted and an eye peeked out and she muttered.

"I suppose letting you go back home wouldn't work."

"Nope."

"And I can't let you wander around the city… you'd be a security risk."

Jan shook his head. "I won't tell on you to anyone."

Her eyes squinted as she stared at him.

"Hmm. Not even to your friends?"

"No." He lied.

"Not even the Mage-Hunters?"

"No." He lied again.

"Hmph. If only you knew what you just said. You even believe it, I can see that.

Ignorance is bliss, truly."

The woman then didn't ask him anything else. She remained silent and tapped her fingers on the table again and again and again and again in an unnerving rhythm, as the only sound that echoed across the room was the sound of fingers striking wood.

It was unnerving. Jan decided to break the silence.

"What's a Mage-Hunter?" Jan asked sheepishly.

"You really don't know?" She leaned forward as she responded to his question.

"No."

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Hm… I suppose you wouldn't. It happened about a dozen years ago, when you were still in your swaddling clothes. Have you ever heard about the Banquet of Sorrow?"

'The Banquet of Sorrow… I heard many things. Elves, assassins, mages, demons, nobles, a half a dozen different stories and peoples to blame for what happened. An event that is spoken of in hushed whispers and with a different re-telling every time.'

"Just from what I've overheard."

"Just from what you've overheard… Well… The year was 388 After the Descent of the Six. It was the 17th of the Upper Fire Month, shortly before the Summer Solstice. King Morrian had just died of some incurable disease or maybe old age, I can't remember which. There was to be an elaborate funeral. Extravagant was the best word to describe it. A festival was to be feld, feasting and games and tournaments to honor the dead king. Many important people were in attendance. Nobles from all across the Kingdom, wealthy merchants, heads of guilds, powerful magic casters, envoys from foreign nations, and of course, the Crown Prince, Prince Darian and his future bride-to-be, Lady Caria. The entire Royal family and the bride's family attended as well, of course. Seeing as the Crown Prince Darian was engaged at the time, but yet unmarried, and he was set to be crowned as well since his father died, the powers that be decided to tie all three events into one. Funeral, marriage and coronation. Out with the old, in with the new."

The woman with the braided hair explained with intense animation. Her hands were whipping back and forth across the air describing this and that. It may have been a dozen years since but the events were still fresh in her mind.

"Do you know what happened?" Rigrit asked the boy.

"They died?" Jan replied, giving an answer that wasn't really an answer.

"Blunt, but not incorrect. Let me explain it to you better, since I was actually there, still apprenticed at the time."

'She was there?'

"But I was a promising talent, so my master took me along. He said that as a magic caster, in the future I would be serving noble lords, so it was better for me to learn politics now and get in good with someone actually worth serving. Or if possible, to get into the good graces of the royal family and eventually perhaps gain station with them. Sadly, it didn't go as planned. Do you know why?"

Jan shook his head.

Rigrit's hands opened wide as she gestured in the air. "Picture the scene. You're in Revenza Palace, the most prestigious, most opulent, and most desired place to be. There's a grand ball, a floor wide enough to fit a thousand guests and a thousand more servants. The music is playing, the lights are shining, the new King, King Darian and the new Queen, Queen Caria are looking down on their guests with pride. Food is being thrown around, wine-glasses are clanking together, it's a lively affair. Can you picture it?"

In truth, he couldn't. What Jan imagined was only a fraction of the extravagance that noble parties had, as he was still a country bumpkin, but what he imagined was still far more than he had ever seen.

"Yes."

"Good. Now, double what you've imagined. Then… imagine the floor collapsing beneath your feet, and plunging 12 feet into sharpened steel spikes that impale you before you can even realize what's going on. One moment…jubilation, the other, death."

Jan gulped audibly.

"That's more like it. Once the floor opened and the dancers died, chaos ensued. Swords were unleashed, spells started flying, masked men and women entered and started killing off people left and right, nobles started dying, guards started flying through the air, blown apart by magic. The elves, distrustful bastards that they were, thought they were being ambushed, and got out of there first thing possible, but not before grabbing the king's sister on their way out. The spell-casters tried to follow them, only for teleportation to be disabled. Then, words of treason started being thrown around, more chaos ensued. In the chaos, the newly-crowned King Darian died. They called him, and some still do, in hushed whispers of course, 'The King for an Hour'." Rigrit exhaled and when she noticed that Jan had not been eating his cake, quickly grabbed it and devoured it herself within seconds.

"It was, simply put, a clusterfuck." She declared bluntly.

"Huh." Was all Jan could respond with as his brain needed a precious few seconds to process the information. Once it did, he managed a more dignified response. "Do you know what happened? Who attacked, and why and how?" He decided to ask, somewhat boldly.

"No. But I do know this. Signs from the investigation pointed toward the floor being undone by some sort of magic. And that led to magic being looked upon differently. 'Maybe the wizards did this for more power, so they could control the king better' some whispered. 'No, it was the elves, they have always been good at magic and little else, thu they envy our strength' others cried. 'Nay, it was Slane, they seek to control us as they did in the past' others argued. But it didn't matter. An investigation, a thorough one was conducted, but nothing came up. And when the ashes were sifted through and not a trace of treason was found, when there was no one's head to put on a spike, when there was no enemy… One was made. Allies turned to enemies in the blink of an eye, and madness replaced reason."

"And magic- Jan was interrupted.

"Ever since then, magic was looked upon with suspicion, then it was shunned, then outlawed. All the magic casters, save the priests in their temples - who were exempt - were shoved into towers, to be guarded by an order of magic casters trained to control and fight other magic casters. This organization was sworn directly to the Royal Family, and before long, a law was decreed. All magic casters must live in Towers, to be built in every city, and all magic casters must carry documents and an escort whenever they leave the Tower, to state their purpose and to state how much time they will be out of the tower. Fear of magic gripped the land, and people didn't want wizards and warlocks running around without permission, causing trouble."

Jan was not versed in the politics of the nobility, but from what this Rigrit woman told him, this event may be what led to people like Count Van Drek becoming such a colossal cockhole.

"How was this even enforced? Aren't magic casters super strong?" Jan decided to speak up. He had seen the power of magic first-hand. He doubted many soldiers would be willing to charge a mage after seeing them turn their friends to ash.

"Offensively, yes, but defensively, not really. A blade to the gut kills them just as well as any other man. But the goal isn't to kill. It is to control. First off, the Mage-Hunters wear armor that is enchanted to be resistant to magic. Useful when fighting mages. Second off, every mage had to be sent to a Tower and to get their education there. Under a watchful eye. To make sure they don't get too ambitious or too arrogant or too disdainful of the Royal Family. Third off, when they do arrive, a sample of their blood was taken, to be used to track them down in case they ever ran away. You can't outrun your blood, Jan. There is no better tracker."

"Blood magic?"

"Outlawed, yet used. But it gets better. You must be wondering, what if some mages didn't agree to this?"

"Well, yes?"

"Many didn't, but went willingly for fear of shedding blood, theirs or others. Many didn't, and managed to flee. Many didn't… and they did not manage to flee. But for the most part, magic casters unaffiliated with the Towers are sparse in this Kingdom. Those that fled either went to the Elf nation or to Slane. I knew a fool who decided to ply his trade with the beastmen to the east, but he is likely dead by now." Rigrit trailed off.

Jan wondered one thing only.

"Why tell me this?"

"Because, I want you to know. I want you to know that the Mage-Hunters are diligent, unyielding and effective. Because there are spies everywhere. Because crime is rampant to the point of day-time murders being all-too-common. Because the Kingdom is on the brink of igniting like a keg full of lamp oil. Because a single wrong word from you, overheard by the wrong person, will lead to you being abducted in the middle of the night, stuffed with enough potions to fill a cauldron and then interrogated under the effect of mind magic. Because that interrogation, should it happen, would lead to my capture and eventual death."

Jan defended himself.

"I don't get it. I won't rat on you, to anyone."

"Not now, but what if you get drunk in a few years? You are at that age, and men are especially fast and loose with their tongues when enticed by wine and women. Can you promise that one day you won't meet a pretty girl, and in an effort to win her hand, or at the very least take her to your bed, you won't blabber on about the time you defeated the hounds of death in a sewer before slaying an evil necromancer?"

The insinuation wounded Jan. Did people truly brag about things that never happened?

"That didn't even happen." He replied instantly.

"Doesn't have to. People lie. Or have you never lied in your life before?"

'Shit. She's got me there.'

"Thought so. Now, I will ask again. What were you doing in the sewers, and who are you working with?"

The abrupt change in topic was not that abrupt now that he thought about it.

"No one." Jan lied.

The woman exhaled and cupped her face with her hand.

"Let me explain it again, for the last time. I truly, and I mean this, truly, do not seek your death but… if I have to justify it to myself, to justify what I have to do in order to fulfill my promise, I will, and you will die. Thus, I need you to give me a very, and I mean very, good reason, as to what you were doing sneaking into the city. If you cannot… well, the rest is better left unsaid."

'She's forcing me to rat them out… No choice, I suppose. I hope they forgive me.'

"Well, here goes nothing I suppose. My name is Jan, of Taewe Village. A year ago, a monster appeared in the nearby forest. It killed my mother. My father and a bunch of the men from the village went to kill it - but it killed them as well. Over time, some animals disappeared, eaten by the monster or its progeny, but we learned to avoid the forest."

"A monster terrorizing a village… nothing strange so far, but do go on." She gestured with her hand for him to continue, which he did.

"At any rate, about a week ago, two foreigners came out of nowhere and spoke with the village chief. They negotiated with him to kill the monster. Surprisingly, they did. However… A few days after they did, the village was attacked by dozens of monsters just like the one they killed, and hundreds of smaller monsters that served them. Except for me, an old woman, and the two foreigners, there are no survivors from the village to my knowledge. The two foreigners, they believe the swarm - because the monsters are giant insects that can fly - is headed this way, and will consume the entire city."

"Huh?" The woman blurted out, no doubt stunned by this knowledge.

"So the plan was to warn the city of an incoming attack, but I am not too privy to those details. When we didn't get in, the three of us split up to each find our own way in -

He was interrupted, again, by one of her questions.

"Three of you?"

"Miss Frenja… She died on the way. Her heart, she said. It couldn't bear the stress and the heat."

"This Frenja… She was someone close to you?"

Jan nodded.

"I'm… sorry to hear that."

A lie. The necromancer did not care. Or perhaps she did. Perhaps she wanted her bones? If so, she would not have them. Jan did not trust her, and he did not like her.

"No you're not. Anyways, we were supposed to meet today at midday in front of the big church with the six towers."

"The Cathedral of Six?"

"Yes, that one. I was supposed to meet them today, at noon. Roughly. Is it noon yet?"

"No." The woman answered.

"Good, so there's still time."

"To meet your foreigners?"

"Yes."

"Do they have names?"

"Riku and Rin. Riku is the man, Rin is the woman."

The woman seemed lost in thought for a while.

"Strange names… You said this man and this woman came to your village together. Are they married or something?"

"I do not know. But I do know this. They are more powerful than you can imagine. I've seen them cut through bandits like a hot knife through butter. And if you don't let me go, they will find out that you've been keeping me captive. Then they will find your place and your Mage-Hunters will look like a paradise in comparison."

This was Jan's gamble. A bluff. A bold faced lie, meant to intimidate the woman into guaranteeing his freedom. If it didn't work… Well, he was fucked.

"Now you've got me curious." She leaned forward.

"You said the Cathedral of Six. Noon. Today. Correct. You and this Rin and Riku were to meet up there and then somehow warn the city - despite having no proof but your word - of an incoming monster swarm that you can only speculate is coming this way. How were you to do this? Were you just going to walk into the Count's palace and talk to him like old friends? Or were you going to try your luck with the Head of the City Watch?" And she leaned even forward still until her nose was inches away from his.

Then, abruptly, she leaned back and sat on her chair with such force that it wobbled.

"You know that's foolish, right." She declared as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why? Strange things happen." Jan countered. "Why would what happened to my village not be believed when, as you said, the floor crumbled and hundreds died in a single night?"

"Because, dear Jan, they were important and wealthy, and because of that their words carried weight. Your words, comparatively, do not."

An insulting statement if he ever heard one. Jan's low birth continued to be rubbed into his face at every opportunity, and he was growing frankly tired of it.

"Hmph." He snorted.

"Do you still plan on meeting these foreigners of yours?" The necromancer woman asked him.

"Yes. If I do not go there, they will come and save me."

A bold-faced lie. They likely had no idea of finding out where he was, and even then there was no guarantee they could find him even if he managed to describe his surroundings to them in detail. He doubted he could go outside and memorize the description of the street to such a degree that when next his mind was entered by the magic caster he would be able to give her a good description. But perhaps she did not need one, in which case his lie would be no lie at all.

"Great. Let's go." The woman stood up abruptly, calling his bluff.

Jan was stunned and didn't know what to say. "What?"

"Let's go, you and me, now. Let's see if your bandit-slayers and bug-squashers live up to the story."