The wooden carriage was rolling along the dirt road that cut through the unspoiled natural landscape between the small village of Embleton and the destination of the two passengers. The green plains, covered with trees, were being wet by an almost imperceptible rain and the only sounds that could be heard were those of the horses' hooves and of the large wheels of the carriage.

"Ours will be a quick job," Erle Berzinsky muttered, inspecting his revolver. "But we must be careful. Do you understand that, Ingo?"

The young disciple, sitting opposite his teacher, nodded enthusiastically. "What must I do?"

"First, it'll be necessary to check that there are no traps of any kind in the mansion; that will be pretty easy. We just need to pay attention to the details, even you can do it." He put the gun in the holster under his jacket. "Second, you'll have to make sure that the target's research is in the mansion. You'll have fifteen minutes at most at your disposal, don't forget it. You'll have to be quick and also cautious; extremely cautious. We're in enemy territory and we cannot let our guard down. I'll keep him busy, but you'll have to find a good excuse to leave."

"What if there's no research?" he asked worriedly.

"I'll decide what to do, then. Your only goal is to take a quick look at his office. According to my informant, that's where he should keep all the paperwork. Search the room, come back to me and give me the signal: index finger raised means 'no papers', index finger and thumb raised means 'papers found'. I'll do the rest."

"And if he fights back?"

"He will. Anyone would. You do your job, I'll do mine. Let's not have unnecessary doubts." He moved the curtain to look through the window. "What a fantastic view... and a disturbing one, too. It's perfectly suited to the Philosopher of Death." He paused briefly to admire the wet alders and poplars that jutted out into the muddy street. "I wonder, though, why he decided to live in Britain."

"He used to live in Romania, right?"

Erle nodded. "Taking refuge here, knowing there's a bounty on his head, was brave, I'll give him that." He moved away from the window. "Ingo, whatever happens, remember your training and never let your guard down. One last thing: remember that Isaac's office is on the third floor."

"Are you sure the information is correct?"

"I trust my informant... that said, you have to be ready for anything."

"That's not very reassuring..."

"In this job, nothing is." He looked out the window. "We'll be stopping soon. Are you ready?"

He nodded anxiously.

"Good."

The carriage stopped.

"We've arrived.," Erle said, taking another look out the window. "Let's hope the target doesn't discover our plan."

The Crimson Mansion was a mysterious gem near Embleton. It was a building that was more than seventy-five years old. It had a solid appearance, made of cold stone like a castle and decorated like an aristocrat's palace. In the center of a large garden inhabited by oaks and elms, the building was composed of four floors and to reach the entrance one had to climb twenty-four stone steps. Two caryatids held up an entablature decorated with a frieze depicting terrifying dragon-like creatures; beneath it was an immense wooden door.

"Does he know about our visit?" asked Ingo in a low voice.

"He invited us himself," replied Erle, quickly scanning the area with his eyes.

The door opened. Erle Berzinsky entered first, Ingo Galliasta second. A strong lavender smell permeated the immense atrium covered in wood and decorated with panoramas framed in silver and gold. Steel armors seemed to guard both the doors and the large wooden stairs in front of the two men. The door closed. Ingo turned and noticed a skeletal hand let go of the handle and run, like a spider, towards the stairs.

"Necromancy..." Erle murmured. "Don't worry, it won't hurt us."

A young man began to walk down the stairs calmly. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," he said in a gentle voice that caressed the ears.

He was tall, with slightly messy, short brown hair, characterized by a fringe that marginally covered his charming hazel eyes. He had a thin face that would've been attractive even to another man. He wore a dark red jacket over a brown waistcoat and a white shirt. Around his neck he wore a black ascot, while on his legs he had long brown trousers that matched elegant shoes.

"Pleased to meet you. My name is Isaac. Isaac Aravilar." He held out his hand.

"Erle Berzinsky," he shook hands politely.

"Ingo Galliasta," he did the same.

"I understand that you represent the Clock Tower. Are you interested in my work, then?"

"The Vice Director wanted to know the details of your research, Lord Aravilar. In London, in the mage community, such news travels quickly. Necromancy is generally viewed with a certain disdain by some colleagues, and so it's logical that your studies have attracted attention."

"What you say is unfortunately true," he muttered. "Not all magecraft is seen the same way by magi, one has to live with this harsh reality. However, I would like to clarify one important point: I have no intention of working with the Clock Tower, I prefer to conduct my research freely. I only invited you out of kindness."

"I know. I've not forgotten the pleasant chat we had in Embleton," Erle said. "However, I'm still interested in your work."

"You're quite kind, that's not common."

Ingo noticed that Isaac's left hand was bandaged. "What happened?"

"Hmm? Oh, this? It was just an accident. Things like that happen when you work with corpses..."

Erle, meanwhile, took a quick look around him. Everything seemed normal; maybe even too much normal for him. It was said that Isaac, the Philosopher of Death, was a very intelligent and even cunning individual; the state of that mansion suggested otherwise. Erle wasn't convinced.

"Is something wrong?" Isaac asked.

"I was just admiring your beautiful paintings," Erle answered.

"Come with me, I have one that you might like even more."

Isaac led the two men into a living room on the ground floor. The fireplace was lit, casting warm light on the fine furniture and the strawberry-colored sofa. The young owner of the mansion showed the two guests a painting depicting a beautiful medieval city surrounded by wild nature.

"Very nice," Erle commented. "What place is that?"

"Targoviste, my hometown. It was once the capital of Wallachia and was also the operational center of my house. The Aravilar family, in fact, has been living in Romania for more than four hundred years. It is said that my oldest ancestor was actually an advisor to Prince Radu II. At that time the Aravilars were not yet necromancers, for that we had to wait for the ruthless reign of Vlad III."

"I have heard that it was he who gave you the knowledge to 'rule the dead'," Ingo said.

"No. He inspired us, but he didn't give us the knowledge to do that. Vlad III was a bloodthirsty king, not an intellectual. Yet despite this, his quest for immortality, his... um... vampirism, inspired my family to conduct in-depth research on the subject."

"And why have you never collaborated with the Mage's Association?"

"Why would I? I don't like taking orders from other people. I just follow myself and my instincts. The same thing can be said about my family, in fact."

Erle looked around, just like before, but again he noticed nothing unusual. The longer he was in there, the more suspicious he became.

Isaac led the two men back to the hall. "This, however, is the first time I've spoken about my family's past with other people. Unfortunately I don't have many guests so... I'm sorry if I seemed a bit too long-winded."

"You weren't at all," Ingo said smiling.

"Thank you for your kindness."

"Are you already talking to guests without waiting for me, darling?" a female voice asked.

A young woman with pale skin, pointed ears and cherry-colored side ponytail, tied with a black bow, walked down the stairs. Her eyes were a dull blue, almost gray, and her face was thin and pointed; like Isaac, she was someone who could immediately attract the attention of those who looked at her. She was wearing an unusual dress: it was red, tight enough to show off the curves of her body and was also cut in such a way as to show one shoulder and one leg in their nakedness. Her black stiletto heels made her about the same height as Isaac.

The two men were shocked. Neither of them knew about her, especially not Erle.

"Um... you are...?"

"Oh, sorry, I should've introduced you right away." He held out his hand to the lady in red.

She placed her hand on his and let him lead her to the bottom of the stairs.

"This pretty lady is my wife: Lady Spinel of Embleton."

"Lady... Spinel...?" Erle wasn't convinced. Those long elf ears worried him.

"Is something wrong?" the lady inquired politely.

"No, I'm sorry, it's just that... um... I don't mean to be rude, but she looks quite unusual."

"She's a special daughter of a special man," Isaac said. "That's why I married her." The two exchanged a smile full of affection.

"Of course, I see..." He turned to his disciple and noticed that he was still enchanted by the scarlet princess. "Ingo." He patted his arm.

"Um! Yes! You really are very beautiful, Lady Spinel." He bowed slightly.

She let out a small, embarrassed laugh. "You really are very kind. I hope you enjoy yourself tonight. We've prepared a delicious meal for you both, and there will be dessert, of course."

"Well, when it's like that, we can't refuse," Erle replied kindly.

"This way, then. Follow me," Lady Spinel said with a graceful wave of her hand.

The two men were led to the first floor. After a long corridor, decorated with paintings of illustrious men and women, they arrived in the dining room. The table was set. Lunch had already been served. The flames of the candles lit up tasty beef, seasoned with oil and aromatic herbs, and also thin glasses ready to receive a fine red wine.

Erle was astonished, but also very skeptical. He had the impression that the two hosts were a little too kind, but he played their game carefully.

Isaac sat at the head of the table, Erle and Ingo sat to his right while Lady Spinel took a seat to his left. They began to eat.

"A delicious meal!" Erle said. "I must compliment the chef!" He was referring to the young woman.

She shook her hand embarrassedly. "I didn't cook this delicacy. You have to compliment my husband."

"Oh? Really? I didn't expect that..."

"Why not? I'm an expert on flesh," he replied with a wry smile.

"Ooh! Hahaha! Good joke! I didn't think necromancers had a sense of humor. It's often said at the Clock Tower that you're very gloomy and pessimistic. I'm glad those rumors have been disproved!"

"Can I ask you a question?" Ingo requested Lady Spinel in a low voice. "What's your last name?"

"Rosefree. Spinel Rosefree."

"Nice last name, I like it."

"My wife is a beautiful woman, isn't she?" Isaac exclaimed, turning the spotlight on Erle's young disciple.

Ingo fell into an awkward silence.

Erle gave him a reproachful look.

"Come now, I understand," Isaac said. "I too couldn't help but stare at her when I first met her." He put his hand on hers. "She's a work of art. She's the envy of the princesses of the Royal Family! There's no one I love more than her."

"However... I didn't know you were married," Erle said. "At the Clock Tower, we thought you lived alone. Again, I don't mean to be rude, it's just quite... curious, that's all."

"It's not like that anymore, as you can see."

"Right, right..."

"How did you two meet, if I may ask?" Ingo inquired, shyly.

"It was so romantic," Lady Spinel replied, blushing. "Isaac, my Isaac, saw me by chance while I was working with my father. Our eyes met and it was love at first sight. The next day he brought me a beautiful bouquet of red roses and invited me to walk with him in Embleton. I'll never forget his kindness and also his patience. I also remember our first kiss... Oh!" She looked at her husband. "Can I talk about it?"

He nodded.

"It was an almost perfect experience. We kissed under a beautiful starry sky. We were both a little awkward, but we both wanted that moment and it was... unforgettable."

"When did you get married, exactly?" Erle asked, suddenly.

"A few days ago," she replied with a gentle smile.

"A private ceremony, of course," Isaac added, placing his hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Of course," Erle repeated quietly.

"I suppose you don't want to chat about such things. I understand, they're irrelevant topics for a busy magus like you. I myself tend to give priority to work. So, let's talk about the Clock Tower. What do you want from me, exactly?" Isaac asked after sipping some wine.

"Well, first I would like to know the nature of your research in detail, if that's possible."

"I cannot share such information lightly, as you can imagine. However, I can explain the purpose of it. You see, the study of magecraft isn't just a job, it's part of the very nature of a magus. As you well know, magecraft is full of limitations and each scholar, in their own way, seeks to break them. I want to do the same. For years I've been trying to understand the limits of necromancy with the sole aim of surpassing them and achieving what you might call 'perfect necromancy'."

"Perfect necromancy...?"

"Yes, I—"

Ingo stood up shyly. "I should... go to the bathroom."

"Unfortunately, the one on the first floor needs to be renovated. On the second floor, fourth door on the left, you will find a bathroom that still works. If you have trouble finding it, know that it's located near a bust of Charlemagne."

"Thank you very much for your kindness." Ingo left the dining room.

"As I was saying, perfect necromancy is a goal I've been pursuing for almost seven years now. Never having received a salary for my work, it hasn't been easy to continue my studies, but I've managed to obtain good results with the tools I have."

"And this 'perfect necromancy' how does it work?"

"How it should work, you meant. The theoretical apparatus I've developed is immense and I personally don't believe that the Clock Tower would ever be interested in such research, but if you want to have an idea of how it should work I can try to explain it."

"It would be a pleasure for me. There are many things I would like—"

Lady Spinel stood up. "I'd better go get dessert. What do you think, darling?"

"A wonderful idea, my love."

The lady in red left the dining room.

"So," Isaac began to explain, "everything that exists is perishable. Whether it is biological or abiological is irrelevant, everything that has a beginning must have an end. This is what is called the Concept of Death. As I imagine you know, death doesn't happen, it's, instead, written into life itself. You could say, in other words, that to live is to die. The moment something begins to exist it also begins to decay. However, when we look at necromancy, we see that it's a magecraft that only works on animals and, presumably, also on plants. That's strange, right? And what does that mean, exactly?"

Erle shrugged.

"It means that necromancy is limited. If necromancy is limited, it's an imperfect magecraft and if it's imperfect it cannot be used to its full potential. Therefore, my goal is to reach a new type of necromancy and proceed even beyond it."

"Beyond it?" He narrowed his eyes. "In what sense?"

"Paradoxically, necromancy has nothing to do with death itself. It's a magecraft intimately connected to the concept of biological life, in fact the necromancer can only act on that which is dead after having lived a life, or, to use a more metaphysical language, on that which, before dying, had a soul. For a philistine this is irrelevant, but for a necromancer like me, it implies that necromancy, while being the magecraft of death, doesn't act on everything that has a Concept of Death. So what's the solution? It's obvious: perfect necromancy. Detach it definitively from life and make it a magecraft that acts on everything that has a Concept of Death."

"No, you cannot," he exclaimed with wide eyes. "Your theory is nonsense—"

"Whether it makes sense to us or not is of little importance. What matters is whether it is possible to rewrite the code of necromancy and allow it to act on a concept of 'death' that goes beyond the biological domain. Imagine: with this necromancy it would be possible to reconstruct what time has destroyed, whether small objects, buildings or entire planets! It would no longer be simply 'perfect necromancy', but a true miracle!"

"However, necromancy acts on bodies, it doesn't bring back life..."

"An imperfect miracle, I give you that, but it could be useful nonetheless. It could open the doors to new research, it could reveal various mysteries of our universe and who knows how many other things... Necromancy would become the antidote to the Concept of Death itself!"

His was a passionate way of speaking. He had a fire that burned in his eyes and that raged wildly in his heart. Erle had understood that he was in the presence of a visionary who, if left free, could change the order of the cosmos itself.

He was eager to shoot him and waited, nervously, for his disciple to return.

Ingo Galliasta wandered through the deserted corridors of the mansion in search of the office. He opened every door, silently. The rain had become louder and the strong wind shook the windows and howled constantly. The lighting was dim and Ingo moved cautiously, trying to make as little noise as possible.

He heard a loud creaking behind him. He immediately turned around. There was no one there. He was sweating with nervousness and the only thing that managed to calm him was the knowledge that his mentor had the situation under control; if something unexpected happened, he would know immediately and intervene.

As he inspected the rooms, Ingo began to think about the beautiful lady in red and what her fate would be. A part of him wanted to take her, bring her to safety and maybe marry her one day. He knew that, considering the situation, his thoughts were ignoble, but she was still the wife of a man who was about to die, so he felt a little less guilty. However, another part of him knew that Erle would kill her too for safety. He was known for his ruthlessness. A poor and defenseless girl like her didn't deserve to die, but Ingo would never dare stand in his mentor's way.

On the fifth try, he finally found Isaac Aravilar's office. He closed the door and immediately headed for the desk. He opened the drawers, looked through the documents one by one.

"Here they are!" he exclaimed in a low voice.

They were all closed in a drawer. Hundreds of neatly arranged papers. Research on necromancy conducted by Lord Aravilar. Ingo was over the moon. He had succeeded in his mission and was ready to return to his mentor and complete the mission.

He closed the drawer. He walked towards the door. He grabbed the handle.

At that moment he heard a loud noise coming from behind him. His heart stopped. The blood froze in his veins. He turned slowly. There was no one there. He heard that noise again and realized that it was simply the wind hitting the windows.

He breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door.

"What are you doing?" Lady Spinel asked.

His entire body stopped.

She was behind him.

"My lady, I—"

"You're a curious rat, I see. A disgusting rat that sticks its nose where it shouldn't be."

Her voice had changed. The princess' delicious and seductive accent had suddenly been replaced by a cold tone full of repugnance. Ingo couldn't understand, but he thought that she was acting like that because he had violated her husband's privacy. He immediately turned around, grabbed her shoulders and said, looking into her eyes:

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this! But if you value your life, you must run away from here! Your husband's hours are numbered! Live, Lady Spinel. You must live! There's no reason for you to share the same fate as that man!"

She was shocked by the man's naivety. She smiled.

"Lady Spinel...?"

She pushed him to the ground with superhuman strength.

The man was paralyzed with fear. He couldn't understand how such a frail figure could have such might. "Lady Spinel—!"

She put a hand over his mouth. "I don't think you understand the situation you're in, you filthy sewer rat. You see, the truth is, I have at least three good reasons for sharing the same fate as my Lord. The first is that we like the same things. Now I'll show you..." A sadistic grin appeared on her face.

It was the end.

Seventeen minutes had passed.

Ingo had not returned yet. Erle was deeply worried.

Isaac Aravilar was standing in front of the window, looking out at the beautiful rainy panorama. "I love this place. There are few things I love as much as this place... one of them is, of course, my job."

"I understand you..." he said, still thinking about his disciple.

"I know you understand me. After all, you love your job too, right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Everyone at the Clock Tower loves to do research."

"Yeah, everyone..." he muttered.

"Are you okay, Lord Aravilar?"

Isaac turned. "I just hope your friend makes in time for dessert."

"Another treat you made?"

He shook his head. "I've never been good with sweets. I left it up to my wife to make one. She has talent, you know? She'd like to be a pastry chef someday. One time we were somewhere far from Embleton and she gave me a lovely gift: a delicious cake that she had baked and that she didn't want to eat alone. That was the moment I knew I wanted to marry her. My wife loves to make people happy with good food. It's in her nature."

"I find that quite hard to believe," he said immediately.

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows.

"A woman like her doesn't look like she'd make food for other people."

"What does she look like, then?"

"Do you want me to be honest?"

"Well, it would be a problem if you were," Isaac said.

"What do you mean—?"

At that moment Lady Spinel entered with a small trolley on which was a covered tray.

"The dessert has arrived, my love!" she exclaimed, smiling.

"Fantastic! I can't wait to enjoy it—"

"Lord Aravilar," Erle Berzinsky said harshly, rising from the table. "What did you mean, before?"

He smiled. "Do you really want to close the curtain right at the best moment? Tch. You're a person without theatrical talent, of course—"

"Explain yourself. Now!" He was ready to draw his gun.

"Will you draw your weapon, Berzinsky? Do it. It wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't even be a dramatic turn of events. Do you know why? Because neither you nor your colleague have been good enough at lying. What we've been doing so far has been just a game, an act. We were having fun, nothing more, nothing less. The reason I agreed to open this cheap theater is because I knew from the beginning that you were here to kill me, and so I took the opportunity to fool you. Believe me, I would never have put on this show if you had really been who you claimed to be."

"How did you...?"

"Let's just say your informant wasn't very careful and you, idiot, could've avoided relying on someone so incompetent that he couldn't even lock a door. When I found out that you, an Enforcer, were staying in Embleton and that you had crafted the identity of a Clock Tower magus, I connected the dots and decided to play your game. Our meeting in Embleton wasn't a coincidence. I had everything planned down to the last detail so that I could have you here and give you what you deserve."

Erle unsheathed the revolver.

"So you want to get straight to the point, Enforcer? You don't even want to enjoy your dessert?"

Lady Spinel lifted the lid. On the silver tray, smeared with blood, was Ingo's head, his heart in his mouth, surrounded by his still-warm viscera. His eyes had been gouged out and the dedication 'For Erle' had been written on his forehead with the use of a blade.

The man was shocked. He imagined, in his own skin, the suffering his disciple had endured at the hands of that beast disguised as a woman.

"She has a natural talent for these things, don't you think?" Isaac asked with an amused grin.

"I've heard enough!" He pulled the trigger, but his hand was suddenly moved away and the bullet hit the wall. "What—?!"

It was as if some kind of invisible thread was tied to his arm. His other arm was also grabbed and, in a matter of seconds, Erle Berzinsky found himself completely immobile in some kind of web that he could only feel on his skin. He was lifted into the air.

"This isn't your doing... is it?!" he asked Isaac.

He shook his head.

Lady Spinel walked towards the man calmly. "Did you really think I would let you shoot my dear husband?"

"Enough of the nonsense! Who are you, really?!"

"Oh, Berzinsky, you really don't get it yet?" Isaac asked, peeling the bandages off his left hand to reveal a red symbol tattooed on the back of it.

"A Contract...!" He looked at the woman. "So that means you're... a Servant!"

She bowed slightly. "Nice to meet you, dead man."

Erle shook his head in terror. "No, wait! We can come to an agreement, Lord Aravilar! This isn't the only way!"

"I fear so, Berzinsky." He held up his fingers. "I fear so." He snapped them.

In an instant, his body was cut into many pieces. Those thin threads sliced through flesh, organs and bones. Only a pained scream escaped from Erle Berzinsky's mouth and then there was only silence and a mass of human remains on a large pool of blood.

Isaac was silent for a while and then asked, "The first kiss under a starry sky?"

"The colors of the sunset are disgusting. Better at night."

He sighed. "You could've at least warned me that you would improvise. But you did a good job." He headed for the exit. "A prostitute pretending to be an awkward girl, it was almost comical."

She followed him. "Deception is my art, Master."

He looked at her. "It's our art, Archer."